Iida remembers nothing.

The last thing he can recall is brushing his teeth that morning. No, that's not true; he also remembers getting a call from work. Did he get called in to fight a villain? It would make sense. It's… Tuesday? No, Wednesday. So he would have been on call. That checks out.

But he senses that he is lying on his stomach on a hard floor, eyes shut, and he cannot put together what must have happened in between then and now. He tries to remember that call. It must have been a villain, and he must have suffered an injury that rendered him immobile. He can only lie there and feel the soothing coolness of the floor beneath him.

If he is indeed injured, he should be in a hospital room, in a bed and not face-down on the floor. Iida can infer that something else is going on, something he is not mentally prepared for. He tries to clear his thoughts and turn his attention outward, to his surroundings.

The room is silent. The floor beneath his body is free of vibrations. No matter what else is happening or has already happened, in this moment he is safe; he savors that knowledge, because with each second he grows more awake, he feels fear growing inside him, as the absolute wrongness of the situation fully takes hold. Iida knows he will not feel safe for long.

He hears a groan, feels the vibration of it. Whoever is making that sound is nearby, probably not more than a few feet away from him. Iida wills himself to do something, anything – to make a noise, to move a limb, to open his eyes – but he finds he cannot. He must have either been drugged or gravely injured, or he's under some kind of Quirk.

He hears the person nearby shift. Then he feels a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Iida?" the voice says, low and monotone, and, oh, he knows that voice – it's Todoroki, Iida realizes after a second. He tries to force himself to move, tries so hard that in other circumstances he would have gotten tears in his eyes from the effort, but nothing.

He feels Todoroki taking his vitals. His hands are cool on Iida's neck. Iida finds himself hoping his heart's still beating – maybe it's as immobile as the rest of him – but apparently Todoroki finds what he's looking for, because after a moment Iida hears the telltale sound of him walking away. He doesn't go far, just takes a few steps and stops. He stays there for longer, but after a couple of minutes Iida hears him walk off again. The steps go on for longer, around where Iida is lying. Todoroki must be circling the room.

After what seems like hours, Iida finds himself able to move, although just a little. He can wiggle his fingers, and his voice is beginning to work again as well. He lets out a grunt, the closest thing to words he can manage, and hears the footsteps stop and come towards him.

"Iida," Todoroki says again, and this time Iida can open his eyes. He sees Todoroki, but only vaguely – his vision is blurry, and Iida longs to rub his eyes to clear them, but he can't, he isn't able to move his limbs that far.

"Todoroki," Iida says in response, or tries to; all that comes out is another guttural sound. He sees Todoroki frown in concern and glance at something over his shoulder, then kneel down on the ground next to Iida, looking him over.

"Where," Iida says, and that word, at least, comes out sounding like human speech.

Todoroki shakes his head. "Don't know," he says. "I just woke up a little bit ago. Are you hurt? It doesn't look like you are."

"No," Iida says. Talking is easier now, but his mouth's dry, so dry. "Don't think so. But… can't move."

"Let me roll you over," Todoroki says, and pushes on Iida's side. Iida feels himself twist, limp as a ragdoll, limbs splayed out, head facing straight up now instead of to the side.

The ceiling is bright, too bright, and Iida scrunches his eyes shut. "Water?" he asks hopefully, after a moment has passed, and to his surprise Todoroki almost immediately holds something to his lips – a glass of water, the best thing Iida's tasted in his life. A trickle of it runs out the corner of his mouth, but he still cannot move a hand to his face, so he cannot brush it away.

"Bakugou's over there," Todoroki says, frowning. "Still unconscious."

"Bakugou?" Iida echoes, trying to make sense of it. He still doesn't remember anything.

"He doesn't seem hurt, either," Todoroki says. "But I can't really tell."

Iida tried to lift himself into a sitting position. He fails, but Todoroki can tell what he's doing, and leans in to help him, sliding an arm around his shoulders and easing his torso up.

He realizes suddenly why everything is so blurry, so out of focus – he isn't wearing his glasses. But he can observe the general shape of the room. It's not what he was expecting – it's not a lair or a dungeon. The floor is wood or a good imitation of it, the walls painted a soft gray-blue. There are three cots in a row off to one side, but no other furniture he can see, and no windows, nothing on the walls at all.

"Your glasses are over there," Todoroki says. "Can you stay up by yourself?"

Iida nods and Todoroki fetches his glasses; at last Iida gets a good look around the room. For the first time he notices a door behind him. Todoroki follows his gaze. "It's a bathroom," he says. "Shower, toilet, sink. That's all."

But that doesn't make sense. There is no other door, no window – no way for them to have gotten inside, at least not that Iida can see. Is there a trapdoor? A hidden entrance? "How did we…?" His throat is still dry, and he interrupts his own sentence with a cough.

"I don't know," Todoroki says, looking around. "I don't understand it. And we're all wearing civilian clothing, not our costumes." He hesitates a moment, his gaze still on Iida's face, before adding, "And there's something else weird, too."

"What's that?"

"I can't use my Quirk." Todoroki's voice is nearly a whisper, as if he's embarrassed about what he's saying. "I tried and nothing happened."

"When I feel recovered, I'll try mine as well," Iida says. "Perhaps it's just a side effect of whatever they drugged us with."

Todoroki nods, looking unconvinced, when suddenly they both hear a noise – Bakugou waking up, it must be. The noise is a dry gasp, the deep inhale of someone who can finally get enough air after being deprived of it. Todoroki rises and walks quickly over, but Iida still feels too shaky to do anything but look from across the room

"Bakugou," Todoroki says, "are you alright?"

Bakugou's eyes open, and his face contorts into a look of pure terror. He opens his mouth like he wants to speak, but all that comes out is another long, ragged inhale. It's almost too much for Iida to bear; as little as he loves Bakugou's company under normal circumstances, he understands perfectly the shock that comes with waking up immobile. Shakily, on his hands and knees, he makes his way over to the others, and kneels on the ground next to Todoroki.

"Bakugou," Iida says, "when I woke up I was also unable to move. I don't know if it was a Quirk, a drug, or something else, but the effect will gradually wear off over the next ten to fifteen minutes."

Bakugou shuts his mouth and looks at Iida, his gaze direct. It's that look of rapt attention that compels Iida to continue. "Neither of us knows where we are. We're in a room with three cots and nothing else. There's also a bathroom adjoining it. There are no other rooms, no doors and windows."

He does not mention Todoroki being unable to use his Quirk; he feels it's best not to alarm Bakugou too much until Iida can verify it himself. It may be a problem with Todoroki alone.

"I haven't gotten to my feet yet, either," Iida adds. "I got hit by – whatever is affecting you." He turns to Todoroki, struck by a thought. "Were you not affected by it?"

"I don't know," Todoroki says, rubbing his forehead. "I woke up here, but I don't…"

"Water," Bakugou croaks, startling them both. Todoroki brings the glass to him and holds it against his lips, and Iida wonders how thirsty Bakugou must be, to drink from a glass in Todoroki's hand – to ask for help at all.

Within a few minutes Bakugou is moving his hands, and a few minutes after that he pushes himself shakily into a sitting position, turning away from Iida's proffered arm. "How the fuck did we get here," he mutters, more to himself than for the others' benefit, Iida thinks.

"Do either of you remember anything?" Iida says. "I personally don't. The last thing I remember is receiving a phone call this morning."

"Morning?" Bakugou says, frowning. "Isn't it night?"

Iida can only shrug. "My memory is hazy. The last thing I remember is: it was Wednesday morning, I was waking up and preparing for the day, and I received a call. I can theorize that I was called in to help with a villain, but I cannot be certain."

Bakugou shook his head. "Fucking hell – I don't – I just remember Tuesday night…"

"I remember Wednesday morning as well," Todoroki says.

Bakugou groans and rubs at his eyes, then takes another drink of water, this time unassisted. "As soon as I can stand I'm going to bust us out of here. You guys ready?"

Todoroki meets Iida's eyes, saying nothing. They both nod to Bakugou. Iida wants to see what happens when he tries. Maybe Todoroki's observation was a fluke; maybe it will work this time.

It's another ten minutes or so until Bakugou can stand, and they all get to their feet, Todoroki helping Iida when he nearly trips. They hobble to the bathroom and look inside; just like Todoroki said, it looks like a normal bathroom: there's a plain toilet, a sink, a shower, and, weirder still, there are towels – three large bath towels, three washcloths, and a hand towel next to the sink, all white, like the kind you might find at a hotel. There's soap by the sink and shampoo in the shower.

Bakugou tests everything – the water runs, the toilet flushes. Then they all go out again, Iida finding his legs more steady each second. The three of them feel along the walls, looking for an exit and finding nothing, not even the hint of one. Every wall is as smooth and flat as every other, including in the bathroom. They feel along the floorboards, too; it's real wood, Iida finds, but none of it seems to hide a trapdoor or a way out.

Bakugou selects a place, at random as far as Iida can tell, and motions for the others to stand back. Then he puts his hands in front of him – looking smaller than normal, since he doesn't have the massive grenades that come with his costume – and –

Iida can't say nothing happens, because for a moment it almost seems like something is. There's a change to the air, a slight shimmer like the mirage that comes off hot asphalt, but it passes in a split second and then there is truly nothing, silence and still air.

Bakugou's mouth falls open. For a moment he is simply too stunned to move. Then he turns to the others, wordless, waiting for some kind of explanation, some reassurance.

"The same thing happened to me," Todoroki says. "My Quirk wouldn't work, ether – fire or ice."

"You didn't think to fuckin' tell me?"

Todoroki shrugs. "I just wanted to see if the same thing happened to you."

Bakugou lunges towards him, actually grabs at the fabric of Todoroki's shirt and pulls him closer. "You stuck-up little…"

Iida cannot stand to see this, and probably he and Todoroki together could subdue Bakugou, but he doesn't want to fight – not when they might need to reserve their strength for villains or something else. "I haven't tried my Quirk yet," he says loudly – too loudly; his voice echoes uncomfortably in the small room. But it gets Bakugou's attention, and he drops Todoroki with a huff.

"Fine, try it," he says. "If mine didn't work, yours won't either."

He's right, of course, and Iida knew it perfectly well even before the attempt, but at least they're no longer seconds away from an all-out brawl. Bakugou has Todoroki try again, just to make sure, as if Todoroki was lying about his powers not working for some reason. Then Bakugou just… snaps.

He starts banging on the walls, kicking, screaming; Iida can tell he wants to break something, but there is so little there that he can only topple the cots and throw the blankets on the floor. "Come out, you fuckers," he says, "come out and fight us!" He screams until the room is ringing with it, until his voice is raw. Then he falls to his knees in a heap, panting, staring at the wall, but only for a moment; then he's up again, feeling along the walls, staring at the ceiling, looking frantically for a way out.

Todoroki calmly walks over to the corner where the cots are and rights them. Then he folds the blankets up, one by one, and sets them back on top, one atop each bed. After this is done he sits down and continues watching Bakugou. Iida, feeling sick to his stomach and trying not to think too hard about the situation, goes up to Todoroki and sits on another cot beside him.

"Do you have any ideas?" Todoroki asks him, low enough that Bakugou cannot hear.

"It's perplexing that the room is so well sealed off," Iida says, glad to be distracted with conversation. "Bakugou probably has the right idea. Maybe there is a seam in the ceiling or floor somewhere we missed."

"Or someone has a Quirk that involves going through walls, like Mirio's. Or putting other people through walls. Or moving walls. Or creating portals, like that guy in the League of Villains."

Iida nods. He hadn't considered any of this, and the idea of it makes his heart sink, but Todoroki has a good point. "Not to mention, we don't know what is suppressing our Quirks. It could be another person's Quirk, similar to Aizawa's, but on the other hand, it seems to work all the time for all three of us, without them looking… Could it be a drug?"

"I've never heard of anything like that," Todoroki says. Iida knows there's an unspoken But that doesn't mean it doesn't exist, because at this point they both know that anything is possible.

"If you two would finish your little chit-chat," Bakugou says, staring at them with wild eyes, "and help me, that would be fucking fantastic."

"We're accomplishing as much as you are currently," Todoroki says, and unsurprisingly Bakugou lunges at him again. This time Todoroki's expecting it, and dodges just in time; Bakugou hits the cot and slips to the ground. He scrambles to his feet in an instant, growling with rage.

"Stop it!" Iida says, putting himself between them. "You don't know what's going to happen. We may yet need to fight a villain. You need to save your strength! It's foolish to hurt each other like this!"

Bakugou is seething, breathing fast and baring his teeth. But as Iida watches, his breathing slows, and he nods, still looking mad as hell but at least acknowledging Iida's point. "Then you should help me," he says at last, and Iida, even knowing how hopeless it almost certainly is, jumps to do so anyway. He runs his hands along the splintery wood of the floorboards, pressing, seeing if there's a switch or button or the edges of a trapdoor, Bakugou doing the same at his side.

They cover the entire floor. It doesn't take long; it's not a huge room, perhaps the size of the living room of a normal house. They can't reach the ceiling on their own, but they take turns sitting on each other's shoulders, the one on top running his hands along the ceiling much the same way they did to the floor. They switch whenever one of them gets tired; Iida feels he's not at full strength, maybe because of the drug, so they switch often. He can't remember ever working together with Bakugou like this, and Bakugou is as focused as Iida's ever seen him – free of taunts, paying attention solely to the task at hand except to shoot Todoroki a resentful glare every now and then.

They unscrew the handles of the sink; they stick their fingers up the faucet and down the drain. They take apart the toilet and Bakugou even puts his hands in the water, gritting his teeth but not saying a word as he does so. They pry the grate off the shower drain and find damp, tangled hair, but nothing resembling a switch or a button, and certainly no way out.

"It doesn't make any sense," Bakugou says. "It doesn't make any sense!" He slams the toilet seat down and it cracks, a black line bisecting it down the middle.

Todoroki wanders in just at that moment. "I'm glad you found a good solution," he says in a flat, dry tone, and Iida has to get between them again. Todoroki has no sense of self-preservation, Iida thinks, growing angry himself. He's holding Bakugou but Todoroki is right there in the entrance to the bathroom, not stepping back, not giving them any space, and Iida cannot stop Bakugou from reaching him even though Iida is between them; they topple over into a heap, Todoroki on the bottom.

"You are both behaving foolishly," Iida says, very close to losing his cool. "Todoroki, stop provoking Bakugou. While he may be overreacting, his emotional responses are completely understandable under the circumstances. And Bakugou, stop using violence! There may be villains lying in wait, observing us, and if we injure each other we may lose our chance to fight back!"

Bakugou was staring at him. Iida's not sure what he said that's so shocking until Bakugou repeats, "Observing us?"

"We can't know for sure, of course," Iida says. "But I can only assume…"

Bakugou's shaking his head, and Iida trails off, not finishing his sentence. "Leave me alone," Bakugou says, getting to his feet and going into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Iida knows there is no lock on the bathroom door, so the privacy isn't real, but hopefully being in a separate room from Todoroki might work to calm him down at least a little.

Once he's out of sight, Todoroki walks back over to the cot and sits down again. "What now?" Iida asks him, looking over the room for what feels like the thousandth time.

Todoroki shakes his head. "Nothing to do but wait, really."

Iida sits down too. He feels tense, like every muscle in his body is on-edge, ready to spring into action at any moment. In his stomach there's an unpleasant sick feeling, too, and he wonders if he might vomit. In his short time as a pro hero he has never been captured, never even come close to it. The worst part in his opinion is that he can remember nothing. He can't think about what he did wrong and plan for the future, because he has absolutely no idea what he did to get into this mess in the first place.

He has to force himself to remain calm, and even then he doesn't really succeed, but he does slow his breathing. He counts three seconds for each inhale, three for each exhale. He unclenches his fists and rests his hands palm-down on his knees, just listening to the room, seeing if there's anything he can observe.

All he can think to do, if things do not change, is wait to be rescued.

The realization makes his breathing speed up, and he has to focus to calm it again. To have his life so completely in others' hands is something heroes aren't used to. He can't remember ever feeling so helpless, so out of the loop and adrift.

He glances over at Todoroki, who is actually lying down, and when Iida meets his eyes, Todoroki shuts his. "Wake me up if anything happens," he says, and Iida doesn't understand how anyone can be so calm, how Todoroki can even think of falling asleep in this situation.

But nothing changes. There is no way to tell the time, but Iida knows hours are passing. Todoroki actually does fall asleep, and Iida just sits there, hands on his knees, staring at nothing, thinking, rolling the situation over and over again in his mind and coming up with nothing.

He holds it as long as he can, but eventually Iida has to bring himself to knock on the bathroom door and ask Bakugou if he can enter. Bakugou opens it and, when he sees Todoroki sleeping, he laughs incredulously. "That guy's messed up in the head," Bakugou says. "How can he sleep at a time like this?"

Iida doesn't say that he was thinking the same thing. "Please don't use violence," he says instead, a pleading note in his voice he doesn't intend.

"Why did I have to be stuck with that fucker," Bakugou says, stepping away from the bathroom door and letting Iida in.

Iida has to resist the urge to do what Bakugou did and hole himself up inside. Something about the privacy of the room is deeply tempting. The light is dimmer and warmer, and it actually feels like a real bathroom – he can pretend he's in someone's house, almost, if he doesn't think too hard. Everything looks so normal, save for the cracked toilet seat. There's hand soap by the sink and shampoo in the shower, one of the cheap off-brands that leaves your hair unpleasantly waxy, but at least it's something. It is also unnerving, because it makes Iida realize they might be here for a long time. If this were a holding cell, why would they need shampoo?

So, on a whim, Iida turns the shower on. It takes a little bit to turn warm, but the water pressure's fine, and after a little while he decides to actually step into it and take a shower. The rational part of his brain is telling him not to do it; he can't remember what's happened, and he may be washing off vital evidence. But a larger part of him thinks, There is nothing else to do and this is better than sitting around, and showers anyways. He doesn't actually seem particularly dirty, and he isn't injured, so if there was actually a fight, it wasn't a long one. But the water feels nice on his skin, and he takes a longer shower than he has in a long time, using the hand soap from the sink to clean every part of himself with care. He draws it out intentionally with the knowledge that once he's done, there is nothing else he can do.

But finally, maybe forty or fifty minutes later, he realizes he cannot prolong it anymore, and turns the water off. He dries himself with one of the clean towels and puts his old clothing back on. It's his clothing, his jeans and T-shirt, and he wonders again what in the world happened that he should be caught so unaware. He would kick his former self except he actually has no idea whether or not he was to blame.

"You showered?" Bakugou says, as soon as Iida leaves the bathroom. Todoroki is still on one of the cots, but awake and sitting up. Bakugou is standing in the opposite corner, as far away as he can be, but he steps towards Iida when he comes out.

"I – I could see no harm in it," Iida says, gritting his teeth, although he actually could see a million ways it could have gone wrong. Maybe there were poisonous chemicals in the shower water, or in the shampoo or the soap. Not to mention all the valuable evidence that's gone now, literally washed down the drain. But at the moment, he can't take back what he's already done – and, more than that, he doesn't regret it. He feels better now, like the last of the drug (or whatever) that made him weak is finally out of his system. He's growing hungry, but that's better than the groggy fear that had a hold on him up until that point.

"Whatever," Bakugou says.

Todoroki stands. "My turn," he says, and goes into the bathroom.

For a moment after he's gone, there's only silence. Then Iida makes his way over to the cots. He drags the one he was sitting on before into a corner – not the one Bakugou's standing in, but one between them. The room is slightly rectangular, with the bathroom door in the middle of one of the wider sides. Todoroki's corner and Iida's corner are closest to it, with Bakugou's corner further away.

After Iida takes his cot, Bakugou takes one of his own. This is good, Iida thinks. It's best for them to have their own territory, their own turf. He wonders if there's any way to put dividers up, to hang towels or blankets between the cots for some more privacy, but even if they didn't need the towels or blankets – which, he has a feeling, they do – there's nothing to hang them from.

They hear the sound of the shower. Bakugou's eyes flick towards the bathroom door, but he says nothing. He's sitting on the edge of his cot, his arms folded, his legs bent at the knee with his feet on the floor. He still looks entirely on-edge, Iida thinks, like a fight might break out any minute. He wonders how long Bakugou will be able to go without sleep, if he will try to stay up the entire time they are there – however long it turns out to be.

Todoroki's shower is shorter than Iida's was, maybe twenty minutes. By this time Iida is actually beginning to feel tired; maybe whatever drug rendered him unconscious hadn't actually refreshed him at all, or maybe there was something in the air or the water to make him sleepy. He shifts uncomfortably on his cot, wondering if he dares to close his eyes and rest, when the room goes black.

Todoroki throws the door open and Iida realizes the bathroom lights didn't also go out, but they did dim. He can see Todoroki silhouetted, towel around his waist. In the half-light Iida sees Bakugou jump to his feet and he does the same, all tiredness evaporating, his heart in his throat. The three of them meet near the bathroom door.

"What do you think…" Iida begins, but Bakugou holds up a hand and shakes his head. For a long moment they do nothing but listen. Iida hears nothing but the drip-drip-drip of water off Todoroki's hair and their own anxious breathing, but he holds perfectly still for upwards of five minutes, just listening, waiting, watching Bakugou's face in the gloom. The whites of his eyes were visible around his pupils as he stared into the darkness.

"I think it's fine," Todoroki said at last, turning to go back into the bathroom. "It's probably just letting us know it's nighttime."

"'Fine'?" Bakugou hisses. "What do you mean, fine?"

Iida stands there, his arms wrapped around himself. He still feels on high-alert, and slightly sick. "Please leave the door open, Todoroki," he says, not wanting to be in full darkness. What he wants to do is go into the bathroom too, hide out in there, in the light, because he still doesn't know what might happen in this dark room - for all they know someone might warp in at any time.

Todoroki nods and reenters the bathroom, and Iida makes his way back to his cot, where he sits hunched over, keeping his eye on the bathroom door. He regrets moving the cots away from Todoroki's corner now. In the light, the extra space and privacy felt better, but now he wants to huddle together with the others, hear their breathing, know they're there beside him if he gets attacked. He isn't sure how to express that, though. To simply go back to Todoroki's space after he went through all the trouble of leaving it would seem silly and immature, but he's considering it.

When Todoroki comes back out again, Iida meets him at the entrance to the bathroom. "Todoroki," he says, "are you planning to sleep?"

He can't make out Todoroki's expression in the darkness. "I guess so," he says, his voice level. "I don't know what else to do."

"Do you think one of us should keep watch?" Iida asks.

Bakugou's suddenly beside them. Iida didn't notice him approaching, and jumps with fright. He's half expecting to be mocked for his skittishness, but Bakugou only says, "I'm spending the night in the bathroom."

"No," Todoroki says. "I don't want you in there if I have to use it."

"Well, tough shit," Bakugou says, but his voice is quieter than Iida is expecting, and it doesn't have its typical bite. "I'll stay in the shower or something, and you can close the curtain."

Todoroki stares at him for a long second, then nods. "That's fine." He heads in the direction of his own cot, and beyond that, Iida isn't sure what he does; he is lost in the darkness.

Alone, standing at the edge of the light, Iida doesn't know what to do. He hangs around near the bathroom door for a while, intermittently sitting and standing, until he hears Bakugou's voice: "Just come inside already."

Thankful, Iida rushes in. Bakugou isn't actually in the shower as he told Todoroki he'd be, but wedged between the shower and the toilet, looking as pale as Iida has ever seen him, glassy-eyed and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "Don't give a fuck what Half-and-Half says," Bakugou tells him, staring blankly at the wall. "It's too dark out there. Gives me the creeps."

Iida nods. "I feel precisely the same. We don't know what Quirks our captors may have. It seems foolish to stay in the darkness when we may be attacked at any moment. Frankly, I don't understand how Todoroki can be so relaxed in this situation."

Bakugou looks at him then, pausing a moment before speaking. "He isn't relaxed."

Iida is taken aback. He's still unnerved by this softer-spoken, more honest version of Bakugou; he can't recall a conversation where the two of them have ever said this many words to each other without insults. If someone had asked him, before all this, who he thought would be a greater help and comfort in a hostage situation, Todoroki or Bakugou, he would have said Todoroki, but he has since changed his mind, and isn't sure how to cope with that. "What do you mean?"

"He's not relaxed," Bakugou says again, then adds, "He keeps starting shit with me because he's freaking out, and he doesn't know what else to do."

"Oh," Iida says. He has no way of knowing whether this is true, but Bakugou seems confident it is, at least. And it makes more sense that Todoroki would also be panicking, even if he is showing it in a way Iida doesn't understand. "I see. That seems rather… impolite of him."

Bakugou laughs harshly. "You think? God, I hate that guy."

Iida stares at the white tile floor, not knowing what to say, but infinitely glad for Bakugou's candor. He does not think he could bear it if both of his companions had decided to ignore him and go to sleep. They stay like that for a while, silent, each lost in his own thoughts, until Iida realizes he's beginning to drift off.

"I'm going to sleep here too," he says, the decision coming in the spur of the moment, and he goes out to get his blankets and the thin pillow from his cot – the cot itself won't fit, not without entirely blocking access to the sink and toilet, so he'll make do.

He spreads his damp towel in the shower and lies down on it. He gets damp too, but he doesn't really care; the air is a comfortable room temperature, still a little steamy from Todoroki's shower, and he's got the blanket to keep him warm. It's much too small a space to spread out, so Iida has to curl up on his side, his head pressed against the shower wall at an awkward angle. But he strongly suspects, from the fear in Bakugou's eyes when the lights went out, that the other man will be here all night, whether asleep or awake; for Iida to know he's not alone brings him peace of mind beyond words.

He does fall asleep, in the end, though it is restless; his dreams are fragmented, interrupted over and over again as he struggles to get into a comfortable position. His body is still on high alert; every time he wakes he tenses all over, wondering if this is it, if they've finally come to kill them. But every time, Iida needs only to lift his head and see Bakugou, staring off into space, or picking at a seam in his shirt, or doing crunches, to know he's safe, and to slowly drift back off once more.