A/N: So, I had a flu for two days and it inspired me to write this. My second bnha fanfic and it's another Bakugou-centric one! I find it funny since Bakugou's just my sixth favorite character in the fandom and I had a lot more ideas about my top five but I always end up finishing the Bakugou ones first. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this one as well!
Btw, thanks to those who favorited and followed 'I'm Sorry, Izuku' Unlike the reviewers, I had no other way of thanking those kind souls since I only ever use the app and so I'd be using this opportunity for it. I wanted to let those people know that I truly appreciated it.
Disclaimer: I proclaim NO ownership to Boku no Hero Academia!!
And so, on with the story!
= Flu Day =
Cold.
Hot.
An absolute zero on the outside, and an infinite blazing hell in the inside.
Who would've thought that being sick could make you feel like some half n' half bastard?
That arrogant piece of shit.
How could he handle those two opposing temperatures like summer breeze. No. Not summer breeze. Like fucking breathing.
Wait.
Fuck! It's literally part of his system. How could Katsuki forget?
Goddamn sickness. Goddamn flu. How could someone think straight while dealing with this shit?
More importantly, how could Katsuki, of all Goddamn people, catch it?! What kind of hero got bedridden over something so pathetic?!
Katsuki had always taken care of himself to the best of his abilities just to prevent this very instance. He ate all his vegetables, he slept properly, he exercised regularly, he even participated in memory games and solved quizzes to keep even his brain healthy. So, how the fucking hell could he have gotten sick?!
His nose crinkled and without much warning, he couldn't be ready for what's coming.
"Achoo!"
Bakugou pulled another ply and wiped the trace of the disgusting excuse of a virus on his face. He threw the crumpled tissue to the yellow, red, and blue trash bin beside his bed. It settled itself on top of the mountain of the same kind perfectly — because Katsuki would never settle for anything less.
He then felt his eyes water, not because he was hurt nor, pray tell, sad but because of his high temperature that unbelievably felt like it was already frying his eyeballs out.
He immediately brushed his forearm on his face. He sneered at yet another reminder of his weak body. Of his weakness.
He pulled up the thick baby blue blankets — the old hag's choice of color, obviously — and tried again to find the perfect position.
He stirred. He adjusted his pillow. He switched to the left. He switched to the right. He went back to his initial form, leaning his head farther his back than before. His eye twitched and he could imagine his hands caused several explosions because of his discomfort — of which would have if not for the fact that he couldn't produce sweat at the moment.
Katsuki growled and clamped his eyes shut. He tried to drown out the ringing in his ears that came everytime he swallowed. Unfortunately for him, the pain creeping up the back of his neck was only making everything worse. He would've lowered himself and find the soft fluffy sensation his head was looking for in the price of his nose getting clogged, but in this case, having a stiff neck's way better than breathing from your mouth. Bakugou Katsuki would never subdue himself from that kind of embarrassing behaviour.
Katsuki clicked his tongue at the sudden gush of memory of a particular blond who once fell asleep on the couch of the shared space of his class's dormitory. There's no way he'd ever look as stupid as that idiotic walking charger, especially not with those annoying extras around.
Wasn't Katsuki just thankful that he got sick on winter vacation. Dealing with the freak-haired or the nagging four-eyes would be the last thing he want. Or worse. Dealing with that fucking Deku. Knowing him, he'd be squeezing himself in Katsuki's room and alternate freak-haired in changing the wet towel on his head. Probably even stay the night and cook him soup.
That fucking nerd!
Why couldn't he just accept that Katsuki's capable of taking care of himself?! Couldn't he just mind his own business like everybody else?! That little piece of—
Slam!
There flew the door and in came the matriarch.
Bakugou Mitsuki marched in the room, a wide smirk on her face and a trayed bowl and glass in tow.
"I brought you your favorite soup~!" She chimed in a singsong voice.
"I told you not to bother. I can cook on my own," Katsuki grumbled as he stared at the tray laid on his lap. Despite his contests, he still sat up and narrowed his eyes as he investigated the contents of the bowl.
"Just stop complaining and eat!!" Mitsuki retorted as she screwed a knuckle on the younger Bakugou's head.
"Grr!" Katsuki swatted the hand away. This was definitely the worse time for his mother to be worried. Yes, worried. Not irritated or angry. The action was of worry. As weird as that might have sounded, it was that part of Katsuki's life that he just grew to be used to. She did things differently than most mothers do, or that's at least what Katsuki thought. Deku's mom definitely didn't do any of the things he experienced to her only child.
It just came naturally to Katsuki that dealing with the old hag meant that one should be of equal temperament and volume. Hence, his explosive personality. Not like he had any problem with that, of course.
Katsuki stared at the soup for more seconds before pushing the tray away — a bit gentler than how he normally would have — and stared back at the woman beside him.
"I can get one myself," he grumbled as he squirmed out of his blanket, watching the tray intently as to not let it fall.
"No. Eat that one." Mitsuki blocked an arm over the edge of the bed and pushed him back to place.
"Hell no! I'm getting one myself!" He screamed, his voice cracking as pain crawled up his throat.
"Sit down and eat!!" Mitsuki ordered as he took the tray and let it sit on the bed table. She then pushed Katsuki back on the futon with much force that the latter was left lying down.
"I said no!" Katsuki seethed. He shot a glare at the older Bakugou. Instead of backing out, the other took it as a challenge.
The two then started to wrestle each other with Katsuki being single-handedly put down on the bed, unsuccessfully able to get Mitsuki's right grip out of his forehead. Her left palm flat on his chest didn't help him either. This was definitely the flu's fault, Katsuki surmised.
"Hey, you're getting better," she said in a mocking tone. "Your temperature's gradually lower now," she added as the force on her palm multiplied.
Katsuki didn't take that news any better. Have he always been this helpless against her? She said his fever was going down, so how could she be so much stronger still?! Damn black-belter old hag!
"I got the medicine, dear. Sorry I took so long." Bakugou Masaru entered the room, not at all surprised at his two favorite people wrestling each other.
"How did you get in?!" Katsuki spat, only barely able to hold the grip the older ashen blonde had on his hair.
"Your door's open," Masaru simply answered with a smile, he stepped closer to the two and handed the medicine to his wife's free hand.
"I told you not to talk to your father like that, didn't I?!" Mitsuki, after accepting the medicine, went back to their only son. The latter glaring back at her with his bloodshot red eyes.
Masaru sighed at the two's nonstop debacle. He couldn't help a smile travel his face. He might not admit it but the noise had truly been nothing but music to his ears, especially after having experienced the sensational kidnap of his son. And he didn't want it any other way.
= Fin =
A/N: The symptoms mentioned are only those I felt some days ago so it might not apply to everyone. Also, I'm really enjoying writing about the Bakugou family. Their dynamic is just really so fun to be consumed in. I do hope that the grammar doesn't make you cringe.
Feel free to call me out on my mistakes! More importantly, thanks for the read!