Merry Christmas! ^_^ Wherever you are, and whatever struggles you might be facing, I hope you experience some joy today. The good things in life are still, and always will be, worth fighting for.

Chapter 2: Fool(s) For Love

"Were you here all night?"

"Good morning Aia-san; please keep your voice down," Shouto murmured.

"Where you here all night?" Aia-san hissed, her hot breath assaulting Shouto's ear.

He shrugged. "I have a change of scrubs in my locker."

"Todoroki-san!"

Shouto flipped the page on Bakugou's chart, reviewing the medication protocols. "By the time they were roomed it wasn't worth it to go home. I slept in the on-call and ate in the cafeteria. I'm fully hydrated; I'm fine. Don't you have patients of your own to check on?"

Fingers like steel claws closed around his elbow and jerked him roughly into the hallway. Shouto stumbled and squinted in the bright morning light. He'd kept the curtains in Bakugou's room drawn so his patient's rest wouldn't be disturbed. The stark difference was almost blinding. He blinked rapidly, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

Aia-san glared at him, her face was spotlit by the light from the window to her right. She was leaning against the door to Bakugou's room, blocking Shouto's way back. "What's going on, Todoroki?"

"Aia-san, stop joking. I need to get back in there."

Shouto stepped forward, but Aia-san's hand pressed into his chest, halting his progress. "This isn't a joke, and no you don't. Bakugou is stable, more than stable. You did a fantastic job in surgery. You did your job. Why were you here so late?"

"This isn't the first time I've stayed after surgery for a patient."

"Alyssa-chan had burns over eighty fucking percent of her body, Todoroki, that was different. That should have been a death sentence, and she was only a child. You did the goddamn impossible for her, but if you overextend yourself for every patient you're going to burn out."

"Bakugou is the #2 pro hero," Shouto replied, fighting the urge to glance past her, through the door's small window. "Helping make sure he can return to work could save more lives than we can calculate. I'm not taking risks without reason."

The hard edges of Aia-san's glare bled away and her grip on his arm softened to a slight squeeze. "Are you sure you're not the one that needs saving, Todoroki-san?"

The expression that crossed Shouto's face wasn't quite a smile, but it was still meant to disarm. It was calculated and automatic at the same time. It was another remnant of his father's… training, and Shouto hated that it was reflex. But, what other choice did he have? How could he explain to Aia-san, or anyone that healing was the only time he felt alive anymore? When he was healing he had a purpose. He could watch hope return to his patients. Because he could give of himself, someone else had the chance to stay with their mother, father, children…soulmate.

Shouto placed his fingers across Aia-san's and pressed her hand closer. He was ready to plead if he had to. He could not fail this mission. "Alyssa-chan was a desperate case, Bakugou is an important one."

"You're not the only healer here," Aia-san protested.

"You're right, I'm not." He lifted his cheeks so the corner of his eyes would crinkle. Hopefully this added some sincerity to his expression. "I'm honored to be able to help, but I'm not the only one. I used to go to school with Bakugou, so I'm probably partial. When he's back on his feet I'll take a few days off. Sound good?"

Aia-san's eyes narrowed, glinting at him. "Whatever you're running from, Todoroki, you'll have to face it eventually, and you don't have to do it alone."

Running was the only option, the only way to give Midoriya the space he needed to live his life. Happiness may have been beyond Todoroki's reach, but he had found a kind of peace through his healing. Without that… it didn't bear thinking about.

Shouto let his smile drop and racked icy fingers through his multicolored hair. "I will take care of myself, Aia-san. I promise. Do you want me to come to another family dinner? It's been too long since I've seen your boys."

Reluctantly, Aia-san nodded. "That would be nice. Imari'd like to see you again too."

"I'll know more about Bakugou's progression in a few days, maybe a week. We can set a date then? Tell your husband I said hello."

He hoped she'd be satisfied enough to get out his way, but the sharp prod of her index finger in his chest brought his gaze back to hers. Damn! Had she seen him looking around her into Bakugou's room?

"Bring your soulmate this time, yea? I want to finally meet her."

The morning air was thick and hard to swallow. "Of course. I'll let her know to expect something early next month?" Fuyumi would be less than thrilled to pose as his platonic soulmate, but she would do it for him, if only because it would get Shouto 'out of the house.' She still held out hope he'd form a new soulmate bond one day. It was a foolish hope, but a sweet one.

Finally, finally, Aia-san was starting to move out of his way. "Don't forget to take your lunch break," She muttered. "And you are going home today. Got it?"

Shouto held up his hands in surrender. "Lunch. Home. Got it," he repeated.

Aia-san's movements seemed inordinately drawn out, like she was moving through quicksand. He didn't think she was the type to make him wait just to be cruel. The pounding in his chest must be nerves, adrenaline. It took tremendous effort to review Bakugou's chart notes until Aia-san slipped from view around the corner.

Shouto forced himself to wait two more minutes before sedately slipping back inside Bakugou's room. The light was much softer and more welcoming here. Warm streaks of sunlight poked around the edges of the blinds and caressed the sleeping forms bundled together on the hospital bed. At some point during the night Bakugou had wound an arm around Midoriya's shoulders, pulling him closer.

When Midoriya had rejected Shouto's confession because Bakugou's name was on his wrist, Shouto thought he might grow to hate the fiery blonde. Even so Shouto had resolved to nurture his tentative acquaintance with Bakugou so that he could be in a better position to help Midoriya with his pursuit. It wasn't until the official announcement that the two up and coming rookie pros were dating that Shouto began to understand his own feelings.

He was happy for Bakugou as well as Midoriya, he really was. It was hard not to feel grateful that two people he respected so deeply had found such profound happiness. When he'd been staring at the candid photo that accompanied the announcement Shouto was surprised that he hadn't felt the slick, greedy tendrils of jealousy tugging at him. Even now, so many years later, Shouto wasn't sure what to call this emotion, but it's not jealousy. There is desire… He wants what Bakugou has, but he doesn't want to take it from him.

The pattern of Bakugou's breathing changed slightly, pulling Shouto's attention back to the present. Long, even pulls of oxygen shortened into a more wakeful pattern. Shouto stepped close beside the hospital bed and watched a small frown wrinkle the skin between Bakugou's eyebrows.

"Bakugou?" It was barely a whisper; he didn't want to wake Midoriya.

Crimson eyes flashed under trembling pale lashes. "…cy-Hot?"

"Yes, it's me." Shouto stepped closer, and kept his voice low. "You're in the hospital. You were injured during a fight with a villain who has a gasoline quirk yesterday. We had to take you to surgery after you arrived. Your abdomen was badly burned in the attack. Several of your internal organs were hit as well. We needed a skin graft to close the wound; you might be feeling sore all over. That's normal."

Bakugou blinked slowly. He was probably still groggy, but his gaze was sharp and tracked Shouto's face closely. "Deku?"

That warm but prickly feeling that wasn't quite jealousy surged in Shouto's chest. "He's in your arms."

Bakugou glanced down and smiled. Shouto could see his arm tightening around Midoriya's slim frame. Midoriya nuzzled against Bakugou's chest in his sleep, lifting his head into kissing range. Tender wasn't a descriptor often associated with Bakugou or his hero persona, but it absolutely fit the image in front of Shouto. It should have been painful to look at, he should have looked away, but it wasn't and he didn't.

"Does he have any injuries?" The question was whispered into Midoriya's hair, but Shouto heard it clearly.

"Only superficial ones. Mild scratches, lacerations, maybe a few strains. He was too hyped up on adrenaline to feel much pain yesterday, but I suspect there's nothing wrong that bandages and some rest won't fix."

Bakugou huffed and threaded his fingers through unruly green hair. "Fucking Deku…" Midoriya groaned softly, pressing his face into Bakugou's shoulder. "Shh, go back to sleep," Bakugou murmured. He trailed calloused fingers across Midoriya's cheek, down his neck, and along his arm."

"Kaachan…" The name was more breath than sound, and clipped short with a rumbling snore.

Shouto thought guilt would be an appropriate emotion to feel for witnessing the gentle curve of Bakugou's lips as he stared down at his mostly sleeping husband. It wasn't guilt though. Shouto felt…privileged. It was a quiet, intimate moment that wasn't meant for outsiders, but Shouto lapped it up like water on a hot day.

"What about me? What's the damage?" These next questions were spoken in a low, gravely voice. Bakugou was barely awake for two minutes and he was already bracing himself for battle, at least mentally. And it would be a battle, but he would have backup.

"You were burned over fifteen percent of your body. Because of the nature of the gasoline quirk a hole was blown in your abdomen, and several internal organs were affected. You sustained full thickness burns to—"

"In real people talk, Icy Hot," Bakugou growled.

Freckled limbs stretched and scared fingers curled in the fabric of Bakugou's hospital gown. "Kacchan…"

"Hey," Bakugou's voice dropped into a low, smooth octave and the fingers of one hand crept up into Izuku's tufted nest of green hair. "I'm right here."

Midoriya's arms tightened then jerked back, releasing Bakugou from the would-be hug before it had properly begun. "I'm sorry!" Izuku jolted, but was prevented from fully rising by Bakugou's arm around his shoulder. "Did I hurt you?"

"Tch. It'll be a minute before I can kick your ass in the training room again, but your octopus cuddles aren't going to injure me.

"You almost lost your spleen, Kacchan…" Midoriya's voice wavered as he peered up into his husband's face.

Bakugou's arms drew tight around Midoriya, drawing him closer. "I can live without a spleen, Deku."

"It's actually better if you don't lose it," Shouto cut in. "Your immune system would take a hit, and the chances of infection are already high."

Shouto felt the sizzle in the air when Bakugou's narrow red gaze snapped to him. "Deku said almost. Did I lose my spleen or not? What's the fucking damage?"

"Your internal organs should recover, but they're not built for explosions. We need to monitor your condition closely through bloodwork and physical exams to make sure you won't need another surgery."

Bakugou's fingers tightened in the fabric of Deku's costume. Beyond this small movement he was completely still. "This could be career ending…"

"This could be career ending," Shouto confirmed. Bakugou was the last sort of patient that needed to be shielded from the truth. "I'm going to do everything in my power to increase your odds of a full recovery."

"What the hell can you do about it, Icy Hot?" Bakugou's lips curled in snarl Shouto recognized as self-defense. "I need more than a fucking cooler."

Midoriya lifted his head slightly, looking at Shouto with the same keen interest he'd always shown in hero studies. "You were doing something more than that last night… What was it?"

Bakugou's eyebrows lifted and his gaze dropped to Midoriya. "You didn't give him the third fucking degree?"

"I had more important things on my mind, Kacchan."

A short sharp kiss followed and Shouto finally looked away. The soft pucker of parting lips was his signal to start talking. "Part of what I offer is cooling, but I can also stimulate healing properties by redirecting the water and other fluids inside someone's body."

Midoriya leaned across Bakugou's chest with a keen look Shouto instantly recognized. "Your ice power lets you interact with water?"

Shouto nodded. "In a subtle way, yes."

Midoriya's thumb found its home under his chin and scarred fingers brushed pale pink lips that had already begun to mumble. "Are you moving blood cells directly? Or can you only affect where the blood settles and how much? How precise does the control need to be? Oh! Can you manipulate the molecules? If you could do that, you might be able to explore molecular separation. That could open a lot of options… But does your strength weaken when you focus that minutely?"

The questions were rapid fire and barely directed at Shouto. The stream of consciousness brought color to Midoriya's cheeks and a calculating sparkle to his eyes. Something warm flipped around inside Shouto's chest.

"Oi, Deku! Can we save the mad scientist act for later?"

The flush spread up Midoriya's cheeks to his ears, and his fingers danced nervously along the back of his neck. "Sorry, Kacchan. It's just such an interesting way to use a quirk!"

It had never surprised Shouto that Midoriya was his soul mate. Midoriya radiated affection and warmth with a ferocity that felled every obstacle in his way. Shouto's heart never stood a chance.

Bakugou grunted softly when he slid his gaze back to Shouto. "Did you choose to work in the burn unit, or did they assign you here?" He gestured to the burn across Shouto's left eye.

"Kacchan!"

"It's fine," Shouto assured Midoriya. And it was. Bakugou's blunt nature made him easy to trust. You never had to wonder what he was thinking. "I chose the burn unit. It seemed…" Shouto shrugged. "…fitting."

Bakugou's sharp snort of laughter cut through the silence of his room. "Yeah, that makes sense." He huffed and winced as he adjusted himself on the hospital bed. Midoriya hovered over his husband, clearly anxious, but Bakugou brushed away his hands. "How does this work, Todoroki? What's my schedule going to be?"

"Recovery time will be about three months, and that's before you return to hero work."

"What the fuck, Icy Hot?"

Midoriya glared reproachfully at Bakugou, but Shouto had been expecting an outburst. "It'll be at least a month and a half until you can return to light activity," Shouto continued, "You're going to lose muscle tone and have to work to build it back up. You can't push yourself too hard or you'll overstress your liver."

"And that will fuck me right back over."

"Exactly."

Bakugou drew breath deep along the back of his throat. It sounded like a low growl, always a sure sign he was strategizing. "Are you going to be my own personal healer or what?"

"I'm not your doctor; I'm going to work alongside them. The doctor will put you on antibiotics to protect from infection, and probably some topical ointments. The nurses will change and dress your bandages sometimes, but I'll do most of them. I'll be giving treatments several times a day to start, and space them out as your healing progresses."

"But I can go home as soon as I can move around on my own." It was more statement than question.

"Almost," Shouto countered. "When you're able to increase physical activity I'll probably increase treatments to counteract the inflammation from use. You can go home when you only need treatments once per day, but many people choose to stay until their treatments are once or twice per week."

"Well fuck that!"

"Kacchan!"

Laughter would be unprofessional, but it still took Shouto a moment to say, "If you want to go home as quickly as possible, you must do as I say."

Bakugou's lips curled away from his teeth. Shouto wasn't the least bit threatened. "You only treat one patient at a time? That's not fucking efficient. I don't need someone hanging over me."

"Kacchan, you need to—"

"You're right," Shouto cut in. "You're more stable than my patients usually are. I'll check in with you frequently for treatments, but I will also be able to make rounds to other patients on the unit. Aia-san will be thrilled."

Green eyebrows rippled in confusion. "Aia-san?"

"She's the lead nurse on the day shift. She assisted during Bakugou's surgery. She was with the response team yesterday, but I wouldn't expect either of you to remember. She'll probably check in during her rounds today."

Bakugou lips pinched together in an irritated frown. "Exactly how much time do you spend here, Half and Half?"

"It depends on my patient's needs." There was no way in hell Shouto would admit the real number of hours; it said too much about the state of his life. "I normally treat the worst cases on the unit to give them the best chance of survival."

"Is that why we don't hear about you on the hero circuit?" Bakugou asked. "You give up being a pro?"

"I still maintain my hero license. I don't want to be forced to the sidelines if the hospital is attacked. I help out here and there, freelance hero work, but being a top pro is not my main priority anymore."

"No shit?" Bakugou snorted.

"When did that change?" Midoriya asked, leaning closer across Bakugou's chest again.

The fingers of Shouto's right hand twitched, and he lifted his arm to rub the old scar tissue. His face didn't hurt nearly as often as his wrist, but all nerve damage was different. "About two years after graduation. My mother offered to treat an injury. I thought she would just bandage it, but she used her quirk. I asked her to teach me, and it felt right."

It had been a few years since anyone had asked about Shouto's altered career trajectory, but the rehearsed soundbite slid easily between his lips. It was the truth. Not the whole truth, but people didn't really want the whole truth. Genuine curiosity was rare, empathetic concern even more so. He should change the subject, focus on Bakugou's treatment plan for today—concrete goals always reduced patient anxiety and agitation, but Midoriya's expressive green eyes pulled at something deep inside Shouto's chest. Since that day, it was easy to feel like those eyes could see right through him…

"It's your quirk; not his!"

Shouto swallowed, trying to resist the welcoming embrace of Midoriya's gaze. It was a useless struggle. "I took some medical classes and that felt right too. I applied to a nursing program and secured an internship here. I liked the work, so I never left. I wanted to move towards something because I chose it, instead of something chosen for me." And he'd needed something to fill the terrible emptiness of his unfulfilled soulmate bond.

The flash of Midoriya's smile shot through Shouto's chest like a bullet. "That's amazing!"

Shouto coughed, using the excuse to turn his face into his elbow, breaking the gaze. "I'll try to live up to expectations." It was seriously time to change the topic. He turned to face Bakugou. He had to keep his focus on his patient instead of helpless heartbreak. "I'd like to start with a brief assessment, then treat your legs and back."

"What's wrong with them?" Bakugou pulled at the blankets until the bandages on his legs were visible.

"We took the skin for the graft for your abdomen from your legs and back. They're not injured, but they will feel sore for a while. Like a bad sunburn."

Bakugou's eyes lifted towards his hairline. "You treated my burn by giving me more?"

"They only feel burned. Your skin should heal normally in those areas; I just want to help it along."

"Alright," Bakugou nodded. "Assess away."

Shouto leaned over his patient and checked his pulse. Slightly elevated, but that might be Bakugou's normal rhythm. He did get worked up easily. Shouto slipped his stethoscope into place and warmed the metal with his hand before pressing it to Bakugou's chest. "Good breath sounds," he murmured to himself. Shouto set his stethoscope back around his neck and reached for the pen light in his pocket. "Follow the light with your eyes… Excellent. Everything looks normal." Shouto leaned towards the end of the hospital bed and reached for the chart to document Bakugou's vitals.

"Todoroki!" The alarm in Midoriya's voice made Shouto glance around, searching for some unexpected attack. He flinched and jerked when strong fingers closed around his right wrist and tugged his arm taut above Bakugou's chest.

"What—" Shouto twitched when Midoriya's fingers brushed across the wrecked skin where his soulmate mark used to be.

"I thought you were bleeding," Midoriya murmured. His fingers traced the rim of Shouto's scar. Tingles rippled along Shouto's arm, raising gooseflesh in their wake.

"I-it just looks like that in certain lighting. I'm fine."

Fingertips dragged across the center of the old injury making the skin twitch and jerk. "Your soulmate mark..."

Shouto wrenched his wrist out of Midoriya's fingers and held the vulnerable limb close to his chest. "It doesn't make a difference." He lowered his arm and took a breath. "The bond is still there; I can feel it." He tapped his chest over the tender ache he'd lived with for over half a decade.

Midoriya eyes lifted from Shouto's arm to his chest, then moved to his face.

Crap.

Did he suspect? He couldn't…right? Rejected soulmate bonds faded to make room for new bonds. The longest ever (officially) recorded started to fade after a year, and that was on the wrist of a man who'd been widowed after fifty years of marriage. Surely Midoriya didn't think—

"Nnnggh!"

Shouto's gaze snapped to Bakugou's scrunched up face. "Th-think we can start with treatment up here first?" Bakugou's arms pressed tightly, protectively across his abdominal wound.

"Of course, I apologize." Shouto eased Bakugou's hands away from the area and pulled back the hospital gown. "Air is going to feel cold, and so my hand. If it's too much, let me know. I can go slower, or use my warming quirk on your unburnt skin." Bakugou nodded and Shouto peeled pack the edge of the dressing. The instant skin met skin the tension rippling through Bakugou's muscles fell away.

"Thanks," Bakugou sighed, pulling a long slow breath into his lungs. "Thank you."

"Thank you." That third set of thanks had been Midoriya. He hovered close, holding Bakugou's left hand to his chest.

Shouto nodded but forced himself not to look over. Bakugou needed his attention, not the stupid wedding rings sparkling aggressively in his peripheral vision. This was going to be his life for the next month, longer if Bakugou returned to him for follow up treatments. And Midoriya would be right beside his husband every step of the way… God this was going to be a disaster.

Midoriya brushed his lips across Bakugou's knuckles and shot another disarming smile at Shouto. "Thank you."

Shouto nodded and forced his gaze back to Bakugou's injury. This case was going to tear Shouto to pieces, and he was holding it close with both hands. But…how could he do anything else?

Thank you for spending some time with my story today, and I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter! I'll have another update Friday next week in the afternoon/evening PST. ^_^