This fic is kind of a by-product of the Blindzawa fic making me think of more "Class 1-A is a case of Mother-henning" for everyone and the idea hit me and wouldn't shut up soooooo! Join me in MHA hell becuase I've been writing in a frenzy for a over two weeks now!
Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Training in their second year was proving considerably harsher than their first year. It wasn't a surprise, given this was UA and they were heroes-in-training. Combined with how UA's entire thing was pushing its students to their limits and Bakugou was only mildly frustrated with the whole thing. The one good thing about the harsher schedule was the trust that Aizawa had apparently had in them to at least make it back to their own dorms without the need of a chaperone. Still, he was pissed as hell, but he just didn't have the energy to truly express that frustration anymore. Each week was home to at least one day of battle training and that meant sparring and that meant he could at least let out that frustration a bit.
Quirk training was far more helpful with that—he could at least let loose with that—and he would be keeping that up after graduation if only because he already knew he wouldn't be able to use his Quirk to its fullest potential for the most part in the field. It felt good to let off the largest explosions he could manage. It felt relieving. And though the Quirk training was more effective with scratching the itch of the nitroglycerin, sparring tired him out far more effectively.
It was after a particularly good bout of sparring with Midoriya that he found he was more relaxed than he had been the last week. The recent muggy weather hadn't been very helpful in matters. Heat he could deal with if he just used his usual methods of dealing with his sweat. The cold he despised but he could also deal with it rather well by doubling up his layers. It was a disdain he shared with Asui—and one of the few ways he'd actually managed to bond with someone outside of the BakuSquad. But muggy, wet, humid and thick weather that seemed to always tease a storm and never delivered? He hated it almost more than he hated the cold if only because he couldn't figure out how to deal with it. It threw his body and his Quirk into a weird state of odd disarray.
It wasn't like his sweat was going to explode in an instant—though, sometimes it got a little difficult. The moisture in the air did little to actually subdue the explosiveness of his sweat. Water wasn't a great way to hamper the chemical in the first place, so that wasn't a shock. But the weather had finally broken that day and Bakugou was elated to be paired with Midoriya for training specifically because that meant neither would hold back more than absolutely necessary. It'd be an insult to do so.
And they both knew it.
The walk back to the locker rooms was one of exhausted chatter amongst the students. Aizawa had threatened extra homework if they hadn't given it a good try—by his standards, he specified as he eyed the dumber of the BakuSquad—and so all the sparring matches had left the entire class a little more than tired and ready for a good dinner and a good nap. The weekend was underway once they were back at the dorms and Jirou and Ashido had already started planning what movies to binge with whomever wanted to join them in the living room. Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero were discussing their grades. Specifically, how Bakugou had been helping them improve through tutoring and threats. Empty threats, but no one was actually ballsy enough to try and challenge that thought. A good hit with one of Bakugou's stun shots was something they all wanted to experience willfully only once. Sparring was another matter. No one was safe.
Bakugou rolled his shoulders. They were a little stiff from using his Quirk so often in tandem with dodging Midoriya's blows. To his own satisfaction, Midoriya seemed to be just as stiff and worn out. Once they'd finally started to hit the buildings, Bakugou turned to him.
"You've improved," Bakugou says finally. Midoriya looks at him in surprise for a moment before smiling. Praise from Bakugou that wasn't laden in either swears or half-hearted insults was rare.
"Thanks, Kacchan."
"Could still do better on all that hopping around like a rabbit, though," Bakugou adds. Midoriya sighed a little, scratching the back of his head. Bakugou stepped ahead of him a little to shove a finger in his chest as he walked backwards. "But you're getting there, Deku. Don't be such a dumbass and figure that out."
Kirishima smiled at the display. It was rather nice to see when Bakugou wasn't screaming his head off. It always filled him with some warmth when it happened. He stretched his arms over his head, bending this way and that as Bakugou and Midoriya seemed to get further into their conversation.
"B-but I have so long to go," Midoriya started. Bakugou smacked him on the shoulder with a scowl.
"For fuck's sake, we all are! Stop being so damn down all the fucking time!"
"I'm not—"
"Finish that sentence, I dare you."
Kirishima was rolling his neck when he spotted it. A small metal pin on the ground. Normally, he'd just ignore it, but it struck a chord of familiarity in him. Kirishima paused to pick it up, turning it over in his fingers.
"What's that?" Kaminari asked, bending down to see it himself.
"This is...? UH!" Kirishima's gaze shot up just in time with Bakugou's outburst.
"It's fucking annoying!" he shouted, having stopped Midoriya in his tracks. And right on cue, the gauntlet sparked.
Three things happened at once. Firstly, the gauntlet explosion was more than even Bakugou was expecting, considering he couldn't expend what sweat was stored until they'd hit the locker rooms with his personally concocted solutions. Secondly, no one was prepared for the sudden explosion. Ashido and Jirou had jumped back on instinct. With everyone else either jumping or screaming. Bakugou's attitude hadn't been to the level that this level of explosion was necessary, or even anticipated. A few sparks were usually all that would come from this level of aggravation—especially after intense training sessions. He was usually just too tuckered out.
Thirdly, Bakugou was sent flying into the brick wall. Full force and with no preparation.
Kirishima was not the only one who stood stunned for a moment. Aside from the initial shock of the explosive force, and damage to ear drums, seeing their classmate randomly slam into a solid brick wall with enough force to leave a dent was a bit halting. Midoriya was the first to recover and it was with a reaction of panic.
"Kacchan?!"
Bakugou slumped down to the sidewalk. He would have fallen all the way if Midoriya hadn't caught him by his shoulders. Bakugou's head still slumped forward when he caught him. Midoriya gave him one experimental shake and Bakugou was completely unresponsive. Some blood started to slide down the side of his face. Midoriya quickly scooped the boy up bridal style and Kirishima could see now that Bakugou was entirely unconscious. The only reason Midoriya was even getting away with this in the first place, he was certain.
"I-I'm taking him to Recovery Girl!" Midoriya announced hastily, already rushing to the entrance.
Kirishima was right behind them. The instant that Midoriya slid into the infirmary with Bakugou still out cold was the same instant that Recovery Girl was already sighing heavily. She'd developed some sort of sixth sense when it came to Class 1-A. The surprise on her face when she saw that it was Bakugou who was the supposed patient was both concerning and funny. But mostly insulting. Though, no one could really argue that Midoriya hadn't accidently made a habit of coming to the infirmary.
"What happened, exactly?" she asks, motioning to any of the empty beds. Midoriya laid Bakugou down, careful with his head especially, wiping away at the blood until Recovery Girl swatted him away with her cane to start her work, giving him a peck on the temple. "Well?"
"We were walking back to the dorms and his gauntlet went off," Midoriya explained, taking only a single step back and looking ready to take up Recovery Girl's place the second she moved. The green light died out from Bakugou's body.
"I found the pin on the ground, but it went off before I could say anything," Kirishima admitted, holding the offending bit of metal up. Recovery Girl nodded, finishing up her examination and hopping off the stool by the bed. She whacked Midoriya with her cane when he moved to take up the space.
"Not done," she reprimanded. Midoriya pouted but remained where he was. Recovery Girl gave him a once over with a scrutinizing stare. "You got anything I should know about?"
"No…" Midoriya mumbled. "Just sore and stiff from sparing."
"Uh huh."
Kirishima stifled a snort. Midoriya looked thoroughly put out by Recovery Girl's teasing (or legitimate disbelief). She came back soon with a washcloth and some bandages for the head wound. As she wrapped him up, Kirishima took a seat. He looked over Bakugou with a hum. He was certain that his friend would be fine. Bakugou had taken harder hits, it just so happened he hit his head pretty hard this time. And it was rare to see the boy without a scowl. He pulled a chair from the bed behind him with his foot to give Midoriya a seat as well, which the boy gratefully accepted.
"Is he ok?" Midoriya asks tentatively, his hands wringing at his knees. Once Bakugou made a grunting noise and his brows furrowed, he shot up. He stopped only because Recovery Girl raised her cane threateningly. She let it drop when Midoriya returned to his seat.
"He might have a concussion. How long has it been?" Recovery Girl asks.
"Two minutes?" Midoriya guesses. She nodded, prodding at his side and Bakugou was with them enough to flinch away with a grunt. Seemingly satisfied, Recovery Girl nodded.
"Can you hear me?" she asks. Bakugou nodded with a scowl but wouldn't open his eyes. "Headache?"
Another nod.
"You've got three fractured ribs, and your subscapular fossa has a hairline fracture. You're lucky your clavicle and humerus aren't shattered, along with your spine. I'm keeping you overnight for observation," Recovery Girl declared. Bakugou snapped his eyes open.
"What?!" he screeched, sparks flying off his palms. Recovery Girl was undaunted. She pushed him back down with a hefty whack of her cane.
"Over. Night." She repeated. "You exhausted yourself with sparring, so I'm not able to heal you completely. Do you even remember getting here?"
His silence was answer enough. With that she hopped off her stool and towards her desk. Bakugou watched in horror as she fished out a spare pair of jeans and a t shirt that should fit him. He wondered idly if she had a whole range of sizes just for this occasion and cursed as he fell back on the pillow, the headache threatening to form into a migraine if he didn't shut his eyes. He knew there was no arguing with her. He didn't have the energy to do it, either way. And he felt sick. Oh, he felt very sick very quickly and he groaned, turning over.
"That's the concussion," Recovery Girl called over to him. "It'll pass."
"I want to die," Bakugou grumbled.
Kirishima laughed and Bakugou's eyes snapped open a second time. He tried to whip his head around to see him, but the sudden movement almost had him throwing up, so he only got as far as back onto his back. The pain in his ribs stopping the rest of his motion. He let out a growl. He flicked his eyes to the side regardless to see Midoriya of all people sitting with Kirishima.
Oh, hell no.
"Why the fuck are you two here?" Bakugou asks. Recovery Girl dropped the clothes at the end of the bed for him to change into at his own time. He wanted his phone.
"Midoriya carried you—" Kirishima was cut off by Midoriya slapping a hand over his mouth. It was far too late, however, as Bakugou's glare turned murderous.
"Y-y-yo-you were u-unconscious!" he practically screamed. Bakugou brought a palm up to press into his eyes. The pressure did less than he'd have liked to relieve the pain as the sound increased. Midoriya flinched at the action. He took his hand back from Kirishima, bowing to each of them. "Sorry… sorry, Kacchan…"
"You're fine," Kirishima assured him with a sheepish grin. Bakugou wasn't as kind.
"Fuck off. I'm tired."
Midoriya paused a moment. No explosion, but he was still as fiery as ever so that was a good sign.
"B-but—"
"Don't even start, Deku."
"But, Kacchan—"
"You gonna make me make you leave?" Bakugou challenged.
Midoriya's mouth snapped shut. Bakugou tried to ignore that it was more because of his state of being than the actual threat he posed on a regular basis. God, the room was spinning. He might actually throw up, and if he did, he was going to do it on the bastards if they refused to leave.
"I got him, bro!" Kirishima announced, lifting Midoriya from under his arms to drag him out. Midoriya put up something of a fight, but not much, as he was dragged away.
Good riddance.
Bakugou never did get his phone. That alone pissed him off a little, but it was largely due to Recovery Girl locking the doors to the infirmary before anyone could bring it to him, save for Aizawa stopping by to see what exactly had happened.
"What happened?" he'd asked, sounding far more exhausted than he had any right to be, but at least it wasn't Midoriya this time, Bakugou supposed.
"Nothing."
Aizawa stared at him in that half-glazed, deadpan way that was so iconic to him. "You're going to be stubborn about this, aren't you?"
"Damn right."
"He blasted himself into a brick wall," Recovery Girl cut in.
"Shut it, hag!" Bakugou spat. A cane found its way right onto his shin, effectively shutting him up lest she hit his head and knock him into a coma. He wouldn't put it past the hag to do it. Aizawa simply ignored the exchange.
"How long is he stuck here?"
"Overnight, and then after that and another healing session it the morning, give him a week of proper rest and I can evaluate him again. That means no physical training until a week is up. And no mental strain until at least Tuesday for that head injury," Recovery Girl had said pointedly. She jabbed her cane towards Aizawa next. "That means he'll have to make up the homework," the cane poked into Bakugou's chest next, "and no studying until Monday night, young man."
"What?!"
"It won't drop your rank, stop panicking."
That had marked the end of the conversation, and frankly solidified a suspicion that she had kept his phone from him on purpose, and now Bakugou was stuck staring at the ceiling. This was far from how he'd planned his Friday night going. His head was still spinning, it ached, he was tired, and he hadn't even attempted to speak more than a few words at a time or risk he'd slur his words together. Something told him that wouldn't help to get him out of the infirmary on time the next morning.
No, the old hag would strap him down to the bed to keep him there. She had restraints somewhere, he just knew it.
Sleeping wasn't something he let himself slip into easily. The migraine he was nursing coupled with the pain of his ribs healing didn't help matters. He woke up early Saturday after little sleep. He wasn't entirely sure Recovery Girl had even slept. He wasn't sure she did sleep. Of the entire staff, he'd almost agreed with Todoroki's conspiracies that Nedzu, Aizawa, and Recovery Girl were on the Void Plane.
Once she had checked the time and turned her head towards him, he was launching himself from the bed. He stumbled on his rush to the door. She threw her cane at him and got him right in the sore ribs. The monster. He could have sworn they almost cracked again.
It was after that failed attempt to flee (no wonder Midoriya had grown a fear-based respect for the old woman if her aim was that ruthless and on point), and her morning heal, that Recovery Girl had called Kirishima to collect him proper. Bakugou couldn't get out of the infirmary fast enough. Even as Recovery Girl filled Kirishima in on the situation, and on the recovery, Bakugou was halfway down the hall by the time Kirishima had freed himself to catch up.
"Eager?" Kirishima joked.
Bakugou grunted, shouldering open the doors. He was careful not to use his injured shoulder. There was no way he was going back to the infirmary in less than an hour. No way in hell. The old hag would murder him. Past experience be damned, he was convinced she'd injure him further on purpose just for ruining her Saturday any further. The feeling was mutual. The only saving grace was that his nausea and dizziness was subsiding.
"So, you're literally ordered to rest this weekend," Kirishima began. Bakugou glowered at him, narrowing his eyes. "So, you're actually going to relax for once, right?"
"You can't tell me what to do," Bakugou said. Kirishima snorted, bumping into Bakugou's side.
"Aw, c'mon, you can manage to relax for one weekend, right? I mean, it's one weekend," Kirishima says. He watched Bakugou as the glower increased. "You can relax for one weekend, right? …. Right?"
Bakugou didn't answer—and somehow that was more horrifying than if he had, in Kirishima's opinion—until they'd pushed open the door to the dorms. To Bakugou's shock, the common room and kitchen were both full of his classmates, despite the early hour. Granted it wasn't that early, it was only about 8 am, but for a Saturday it was a feat that most of them were even awake. Even the ones who tried to sleep in as long as possible were up. They were all still in their sleep wear, but it was something. And here he thought he'd at least get some peace and quiet before the day truly started.
"The fuck."
Ashido was first to turn at the sound of his voice and she absolutely beamed. "Bakubabe!"
"Don't call me that!" Bakugou shouted. Ashido launched herself off the back of the couch with practiced ease and tackled him in a hug. It took all his concentration to keep his balance, just so she didn't take him to the floor. "Oi! Get off me, Bubblegum!"
"That's new," Todoroki remarked from the kitchen.
"Shut it, IcyHot."
"You're feeling better, then," Yaoyorozu commented coolly from her place in the living room. Bakugou snorted.
"I've had worse," he said bitterly. He turned to where he'd heard her, where she was finishing a cup of tea, the pot still resting on a coaster on the table.
"Midoriya and Kirishima were worried the most," she says equally as cool.
"Hey… it's manly to care about your bro," Kirishima mumbled. It was a poor defense, in Bakugou's opinion.
"Bitch, I've had worse," Bakugou repeated, finally shoving Ashido off. She giggled as she danced out of his reach and back to the living room. She sent Kirishima a wink and Bakugou felt his hair stand on end. The conniving raccoon-eyed bitch had that look in her eyes. "What—"
Kirishima grabbed him by his arm and then his thigh and lifted. Shock subsiding after about three seconds, Bakugou was immediately trying to kick at him, swearing up a storm, even if he was raised above Kirishima's head. Deadlifting a whole person aside, he fought down the innate blush that was trying to rise to his cheeks as he swatted at Kirishima's hair. His stupid, stupid hair.
"OI!"
"Get him over here!" Ashido commanded, bouncing back towards the couch. She grabbed a spare blanket, unfurling it. Even as Kirishima made his way hastily across the space, Bakugou had stopped moving at some point, his face twisted in pain. At least he had an excuse for the redness, now.
It had been a while since Bakugou had had to endure a full impact of his Quirk without the mental or physical prep of the explosion when he set one off. Even before official UA hero training he'd been honing his own body's resistance to the physical blowback of his Quirk ever since he knew what resistance training was, and he hadn't been that caught off guard since before middle school.
His typical explosions didn't bother him at all, anymore. But his full gauntlet shots? Even with all his training he could only continue to fight through it with the mental prep. His Howitzer Impact had taken months of training to use just once or twice in a fight before he felt an almost insurmountable ache in his arms. It was, he thought, comparable to his muscles tearing apart. He had no actual experience with that kind of injury, but he was certain that's what it felt like.
He could power through it, of course. He was Bakugou-fucking-Katsuki and he would not let his own Quirk best him in a battle—that's how Heroes died. However, he'd forgotten how much it hurt to have the reverb in his muscles without the proper tensing and relaxing that he needed to use his Quirk on any regular basis. The ebb and flow of muscle tensing was a balancing act. It was one thing to accidently set off an explosion with his temper. He'd learned how to clench his fists just so to keep the sparks and the small bursts largely contained, and the ones he did set off were all within the smaller range of blasts he could manage currently.
When his half full gauntlet had ignited, somewhere in the back of his mind, in the midst of being hurtled towards a brick wall of all things (because of course the universe couldn't have let it happen when he was still in front of an open stretch of land, no), he had the knowing thought that the gauntlet's pin must have been dislodged. Leave it to his brain to process 'I'm moving way too fast, that was an explosion, that was my Quirk, shit the pin' in one fell swoop of about .3 seconds before wall impact. Not that it did him any good, it had just slipped out. Perhaps he'd overused the gauntlets and put off tinkering and repairs for too long and it was biting him in the ass. Perhaps he hadn't double checked they were secured before training began. Actually; now that he'd thought of it, he had let himself slip on double checking their sturdy positioning before training for a while now. He had to get back on that, obviously.
Whatever the reason, he was pissed as hell.
And not just because his body still hurt like a mother. Recovery Girl had not fully healed his ribs in one go that morning, either. They were back in place, but he could feel the pain blossoming when he moved too much, and that meant they were definitely still fractured. She wouldn't have let him leave with a risk of puncturing his lungs but god it hurt. He'd broken a bone before (Midoriya had far more experience with it, though, the idiot) so that wasn't exactly new, but it'd also been years since he'd done that. He almost forgot how it felt.
It was a good thing he could take some punishment.
But, no, Bakugou was pissed because he'd let that happen in front of everyone, especially his 'squad'—especially Izuku—and he'd gone out like a light almost instantly.
Unacceptable.
He had a very vague recollection of slamming into the wall, specifically, with the brick splintering at the base of his skull just before it all went rainbow and then black. No doubt he'd had the misfortune of hitting the corner of a brick at just the right angle to shock his spinal cord into 'black out' mode, or whatever the hell caused that instantaneous of a knock-out. That vague recollection extended only to the point of "Ow, that fucking hurt" and the thought that his bastard classmates better not have laughed. Or someone was going to die.
Finally, blissfully, Kirishima set him down on his own two feet. Ashido wrapped the blanket around him. She muttered something about letting them pamper him for now before he told her to shove it, but he wasn't worried about that, just the pain in his sides and back. And it took about that long for everyone to pick up on the fact he'd fallen silent halfway to the couch. He turned slowly to Kirishima.
"Do not do that again."
His lack of bite was enough to clue Kirishima in. The boy's eyes darting fearfully down to where Bakugou's ribs were. "Oh shit."
Bakugou ignored his repeated apologies in favor of collapsing onto the couch. Mostly out of exhaustion, if he were completely honest, and biting back a groan as the pain blossomed anew. That was stupid of him. He could admit that to himself. He would never admit it aloud. He readjusted his shoulders against the pillow and armrest.
The couch was… it had seen better days. Bakugou wasn't sure where the teachers had initially bought it, but he was surprised that they hadn't replaced it yet. A few skirmishes and some loss of control with Quirks had led to the couch being patched up in various places. Personally, Bakugou (and a few others) thought it gave the couch some much needed character and history. And they'd all be fighting over who got it once they graduated. Legal possession be damned, one of them was taking it, and they all knew it.
For now, though, it was serving its purpose to twenty kids who often sorely needed it. And right now, if Kirishima bodily lifting him off his feet to force him onto it was anything to go by, a few of those nineteen other kids had a very pointed thought on who needed it most. Frankly, though he'd never admit it either, he agreed with them. He was exhausted.
"Oi," he said, getting anyone's attention. "Anyone draws on my face if I sleep and I'm killing all of you."
A voice started to pipe up.
"Especially you," Bakugou added. He didn't care who it had been (the choked sound of indignation told him it was Kaminari) because he meant it. Jirou and Sero had started laughing immediately, sending digs their friend's way. Kirishima plopped down on the floor in front of him, giving him a reassuring smile.
"I got you, bro," he said. His smile widened to blinding degrees.
He just gave him a single nod. The kid knew that if he failed, he was first to go. Bakugou trusted Kirishima to do the job properly. The boy was like a wall that could not be moved when he used his Quirk. An immovable object, one could say.
The rest of the class milled about the common area or migrated to their dorms. Some left for the day—the weekend was a blessed time—but Bakugou didn't care about any of that. Tsuyu had disappeared up to her dorm room and come back ten minutes later with a weighted blanket. He looked at it a moment and then up at her, face neutral.
"What the fuck do you want?"
Tsuyu held the blanket up higher. "It's comfortable," was all she said. Yes, he could see that. In fact, it looked divine and he'd heard rumors of how nice they felt. Without a word he tossed off Ashido's offered blanket. He heard her squawk indignantly from the kitchen. Served her right for the backhanded tactics to ensure he laid down as fast as possible. The traitor. And then he grabbed one end of the blanket and draped it over himself. Tsuyu laid it out at his feet and set a finger to her chin. She seemed satisfied, nodding, and then left to get herself something to eat from her assigned cupboard.
He didn't try to think about what was in that cupboard. What did Frog-Quirk users eat? He never wanted to know.
Once settled, he draped the other blanket back over himself and settled down with a barely audible but content sigh. Midoriya sauntered up to the back of the couch, a plate of food in his hands, still steaming. Bakugou raised a brow at him.
"What?" he asked.
"Hungry?" Midoriya prompted. Bakugou hadn't even thought of it, but now that he could smell it…
"What do you think, Deku?" he shot back. Midoriya set the plate down at his lap with a small smile. Bakugou sat up, shooting him a questioning look.
"What?"
"This is yours."
"No, it's yours," Midoriya corrected. "Mine is in the kitchen."
Bakugou narrowed his eyes at him. "You better not just be saying that, so I'll actually take it."
"Never, Kacchan," Midoriya answered. Bakugou took a swing at his shit-eating grin but the boy dodged it too easily. "Enjoy! Sero made it!"
Bakugou took any claim that someone else could cook with a grain of salt. He could cook circles around everyone in the dorms, but at least Sero knew what the hell he was doing, so the plate of waffles, eggs, and sausage wasn't half bad. Not as good as his own cooking, or even his mother's, but it was alright. Alright enough that his starving self ate the whole thing. It wasn't until he'd finished that he remembered he'd hadn't gotten a proper dinner the night before, being stuck in the infirmary. By the time he'd finished, with half the class eating in the living room as well, it was almost nine.
As Tokoyami and Shouji cleared plates, Yaoyorozu approached him. Bakugou bumped his knee into Kirishima's shoulders, and he glanced up at her as well. Bakugou refused to repeat a parrot of "what" every time someone came up to him today—he was already annoyed by it—and so just stared Yaoyorozu down until she cheekily reached for her stomach, revealed by her mid-riff tank top that she slept in. The obvious justification was for emergency Quirk usage in the middle of the night, but frankly, to Bakugou the tops just looked comfortable. Breaking out of his thoughts as he heard Kirishima express a small "uh?" he came back to his mind to see Yaoyorozu just finishing pulling out what looked like a very comfortable pillow.
She held it out to him, smiling smally and pleasantly, but he could see the ghost of nerves on her face and the slight tremble in her hands. He blinked slowly at her, processing that she was, in fact, offering him a custom-made pillow with an atom bomb cloud imprinted on the top. Lovely.
"Bakubro?"
Bakugou blinked again, stuck staring. Yaoyorozu's expression turned concerned, and she leaned towards Kirishima just slightly, whispering.
"Is he still concussed..?"
"Um… bro? Hey," Kirishima prompted, shouldering his knee. That snapped him out of it entirely, pulling his thoughts from the weight of the blanket, and he steeled his glare.
"What the fuck is this?" he asked.
"There he is," Kirishima sighed. Yaoyorozu seemed to relax a little as well, re-presenting the pillow to him.
"It's for you. Your head," she said matter of factly. Bakugou started staring again. After several long beats, and the curious attention of easily a third of the class, Yaoyorozu huffed and shoved the pillow between him and the arm rest. "Enjoy, Bakugou."
Bakugou didn't say a word, choosing instead to watch her as she returned up the stairs to her dorm, no doubt to change. He noticed most of the girls were gone to do just that. He vaguely remembered hearing about a girl's day for the weekend when the topic of plans had come up a few days prior. He wiggled down further into the cushions, his scowl softening despite his best efforts. He sat up suddenly.
"Where the hell is my phone?" he asks Kirishima, poking him roughly in the temple. Kirishima snorted, standing.
"Gimme a sec," he says, dashing up the stairs. Bakugou watches him go, knowing what he was doing already. He wiggled back into place on the couch, trying to get comfortable enough that his ribs didn't throb.
Several classmates joined the common room, flipping the TV on. Asui was first to return from the staircase, regarding Bakugou with a tilt of her head, and the barest smirk. Bakugou raised a brow questioningly at her but she just sat at one of the spare chairs to wait without a word. Next was Jirou and Yaoyorozu. Bakugou pretended to watch the HGTV-esque home improvement show that the class had flipped on while they toured their phones. He could see the proud smirk from Yaoyorozu out of his peripheral. The two disappeared into the kitchen.
Bakugou was laying with his head resting against pillow and armrest when Sero came up to the back of the couch. He bent over it, shooting Bakugou a smile when he was hit with a side-eyed glare. Before he could even think of parroting his question again—before he could be pissed enough to consider it, anyway—Sero was speaking.
"How ya doin'?" he asked. Bakugou blinked at him, too tired to do more than turn his head to scowl head on at the boy.
"Take a wild fuckin' guess, Staples."
"Sore?"
"…It's sad you made an actual guess," Bakugou mumbled. Sero gave an offended gasp.
Kirishima came bounding down the stairs, Bakugou's phone in hand, and dropped right back where he had started at the foot of the couch. Bakugou wrangled one hand from under the blanket to snatch his phone up. Predictably, he'd gotten spammed in the "Bakuquad" chat, and had missed everything in the group chat. No calls or texts otherwise. What little social media he had was just the usual amount of notifications that he swiped through absently.
"Hey. Hey." Sero waved his hand behind Bakugou's phone. He lowered it, glowering at the "Walking Tape Dispenser". He'd never admit it, but that was one of his favorite names in the class chat. "Seriously, you need anything?"
"I can get you anything," Asui offers offhandedly.
"I, too, am available to do so," Tokoyami chimed in.
Bakugou's eyes slid from each face as more classmates chimed in, some even making vague offerings. Yaoyorozu entered the room, daring to fluff his pillow. Bakugou shot up, shoving Sero away so he wouldn't headbutt him by accident and give himself a migraine.
"The fuck is everyone suddenly offering for?!" he screamed. Sero gave him a pitiful smile. A far cry from any answer Bakugou wanted. He collapsed back into the couch's arm rest with a gruff sigh that was borderline growling.
Kirishima turned to him with a sheepish grin. "So, um… what did Recovery Girl say, exactly?"
Bakugou stared at the TV for a long moment before figuring that he wasn't going to be able to avoid the topic forever. If he didn't tell them, Aizawa would. So, instead of fighting it (and he was blaming his exhaustion on the lack of his typical bull-headed-ness) he just scrunched his eyes shut and breathed a heavy sigh.
"One week with no physical training. Mandatory mental rest until Tuesday night," he repeated. Kirishima stared at him a second. He turned to Sero.
"He's going to die," Kirishima said empathetically. Bakugou kicked him.
Bakugou woke up disoriented. Normally he was able to recognize he was in his room, under his own covers, the room half lit-up by what should have been a rising sun. Instead, he was not in his bed, and he was surrounded by the bickering voices of his self-proclaimed "Bakusquad". It took him a second to recognize that he was on the couch still, and he really had fallen asleep. He couldn't even quite remember what he had been doing last.
His phone wasn't in his hands, nor could he feel it under him, so he had either dropped it or Kirishima had taken it before it could fall. It was likely the latter. He let out a huff of a sigh that went utterly unnoticed. Coming back to himself more he realized the shadow that had been over him was Kirishima's.
"—just once!"
"Be a bro, bro!"
Bakugou cracked an eye open. Kirishima's back was bent over backward in what could not have been comfortable. Bakugou felt some gratitude that the red-head was maintaining that pose. Jirou and Kaminari were draping themselves over either shoulder, markers in their hands.
"Just try it! I won't save you if he wakes up!" Kirishima scream-whispered back.
Kaminari snapped back something about 'favors' and his gaze fell back on Bakugou's face as he lowered his hand, fingers on the very end of the marker, just to try and poke one mark on his face. Their eyes locked. Kaminari froze and paled instantly.
Ah, the sweet, sweet scent of fear.
"BA—!"
"You're dead."
Bakugou launched up, snatching Kaminari by his hair. Jirou shriek-laughed, sprinting away. Ashido was right behind her, though Bakugou couldn't see a marker in her hands, he would be interrogating her about why she fled when he saw her next.
"Traitor!" Kaminari shouted after her.
"I'm a survivor!"
Kirishima snorted, the only thing keeping Bakugou from tackling Kaminari to the ground. His shoulder and arm were sandwiched between the two. Kaminari was leaning away about as far as he could manage with Bakugou's death grip on his hair.
"Kiribro! Help me out!" Kaminari wailed dramatically. Bakugou whipped his glare towards Kirishima, who was smiling widely and unconcerned. Kirishima turned to the lightning user.
"Bro, I did warn you," he says. Kaminari's look of horror and betrayal as Kirishima slipped away was quickly replaced by fear as Bakugou tackled him.
It was Satou who eventually pulled Bakuogu off the blonde, after a few small explosions, leaving the boy smoking a little, but largely unharmed. Bakugou's first instinct was to kick at Satou's shins. Satou grunted, dropping him in favor of rubbing at his sore legs. Bakugou barely kept on his feet, the pain in his ribs blossoming across his torso as he landed. The blunt soreness that had been nagging the back of his mind up until that point as far more pronounced as a stabbing pain now that his adrenaline was dropping.
"Was that necessary?!" Satou asked, dropping onto the couch.
"Hey, be happy his feet don't explode, too," Kirishima pointed out. "I was gonna get him."
"I should have let you. You're the indestructible wall," Satou grumbled.
Bakugou tsked at him. He fought the urge to hug his sides as he pushed past Kirishima to the stairs. He stopped short, hearing Kirishima started to ask after him, and spotted Midoriya standing in the entrance of the stairs. He casually stirred a spoon in a teacup. He was not blinking and Bakugou would never say it aloud, but it was beginning to get unnerving. The look of determination was one he'd seen on Midoriya's face plenty of times. But he was a stubborn bull.
"What, Deku?" Bakugou snapped. Midoriya smiled at him in that aggravating way that just screamed he was about to make this difficult on the blonde. "Wipe that smile off your face."
"What smile?"
"Listen here you little bitch—"
"Kacchan, did you have lunch yet?" Midoriya cuts in, false sweetness dripping from his voice. Bakugou glared at him. Obviously he hadn't, he wanted to say, but instead clicked his tongue at the boy.
"No, Deku, I haven't. Move your Pine Tree ass aside, I'm taking a nap where I'm not under attack by these idiots," Bakugou spits. He moved to push past Midoriya, and the boy side stepped into his way.
"I can make you something," he offers.
"You're not going anywhere near any of the food I'd put in my mouth," Bakugou replies immediately. Midoriya took a sip, never breaking eye contact.
Unnerving.
Bakugou chewed the inside of his cheek. He could try side-stepping Midoriya all day and get largely nowhere. He could blast him, too, but then the reverb would send pain shooting down his torso and legs. As much as he was sure Midoriya wouldn't hurt him just to get him to comply he, for once, was not keen on fighting the green-haired boy.
"I'll eat after my nap," he concedes with a growl. Midoriya regarded him a moment before his smile returned.
"Thank you, Kacchan! I'll bring it up for you," Midoriya says, waltzing off towards the kitchen.
Bakugou glowered after him. He spun around just in time to catch the gaping looks of Satou and Kirishima before they could wipe them off. Kirishima gave him a wavering smile, scratching at his cheek.
"Not a fucking word," Bakugou warned. He stomped up the stairs, intent on sleeping through lunch just to spite Midoriya.