AN: Uraraka has a weird dream that leaves something behind, and Bakugou is full of contradictions.
A boat.
She feels exactly like when her quirk first manifested. An uncontrollable rocking that makes it look like the ceiling is moving. As if on a tiny, barely seaworthy, boat.
Or, maybe she's moving.
But Uraraka's pretty sure she's in a bed, she thinks, feeling around in her half-waking stupor to double check that she's actually on something, and not in the air.
Something solid, indeed, rests below her.
And it's hot. Unbearably hot to the point she kicks at a sheet on top of her and buries her face under another to block out what little light she can see.
That's all the permission she needs to slip back into sleep.
Sometime during sleep, the heat turns off, or the room is plunged into an icy-hell - it's hard to tell. It can't possibly be her.
Except, she feels an ache deep in her bones, from her legs up through her neck. Everything is full of pressure and soreness that no stretching can touch.
She shifts to feel for the blanket she discarded earlier, but everything may as well be dipped in ice for how little it does to relieve her shivering.
Despite the chill, she drifts off again, and this time there's images behind her closed lids.
Everything's a blur, like a day on fast-forward; the classroom bleeding into the courtyard, all inside and out of her room and she's being lead somewhere by someone she can't quite see.
Along the way, she greets hazy blobs of other students, waiting to run into someone she knows. The one gripping her hand tightens and the feel of it is comforting and familiar.
A hand she's felt clasp hers a thousand timed somewhere else.
It's a signal; they're letting her guide them. And together they navigate the chaotic mess around them.
Eventually, they end the day, winding through the crowds to head back to Heights Alliance, and up to her room. They're talking, she thinks, and it's nonsense that goes nowhere and everywhere, and it fills her with content.
Then she's leaning back in bed, and the person she can't see is there, coming closer, wishing her goodnight, taking her into their arms.
For one quiet moment, they pull her in for a kiss, and a tiny, but painful, shock shoots through her chest.
She's suddenly not so cold anymore when everything falls away before her eyes, and she's also in darkness.
All she feels is the sting in her chest.
"Cheeks! Get up!" She hears, like a muffled voice coming through two cans and a string. She'd know it anywhere.
From there, she's pulled up, out, and into the soft light of her actual room.
"Bakugou?" She says, eyes blurry and unfocused.
He's moving things around, and the clank of dishes reminds her of the fact that she's no longer in the gym.
"Yes. You can still say my name, glad to know that fever hasn't fried your brain. Here. Sit up."
For some reason, there's pressure behind her eyes, like she'd been about to cry. She covers her face with the blanket, buying time to sort herself out. "What happened? How did I get here?"
She's in her room.
"You passed the fuck out at the gym, Cheeks. You've been asleep about three hours, give or take."
"Oh." She coughs and sniffles.
She sneaks some tissue from her nightstand to blow her nose because she's feeling empty after that funhouse style dream, and the tears cannot be stopped. But the pain is finally gone.
Something scooting closer to the edge of her bed breaks her thoughts, and she finally pulls the sheet off of her head.
Before her, on her kotatsu, is a kettle; two bowls of rice topped with scallions, plus a few green peppers; and small dishes to the side filled with okaki, salmon, something crispy that might be a type of bacon, and condiments on the side. Bakugou grabs one final closed container off of the tray he's carrying and places it on the table without revealing its contents.
Without realizing it, she slides down to the floor, in abject awe at the spread before her. The smells alone could potentially make her move mountains to reach it, so getting up, for this, doesn't seem like such a chore.
She tucks herself under the kotatsu, swiping at her eyes, waiting patiently.
"I made Ochazuke. Thought it made sense." He chuckles like he's done something clever as he takes a seat across from her. She can feel how close his legs are to hers under the table. She finally feels warm.
"Here, let me." He says, before laying toppings on her rice.
She still doesn't know what to say or do. So she does nothing except continue to watch Bakugou serve her.
"This is American style bacon," he points to the brown slices of meat on top of the chunk of salmon he's placed in the bowl. "...and it's way fucking crispier than our stuff, and I love it! Thought it would help."
She can't help but notice how oddly excited he seems as he talks about the food.
"Now the tea." He says, then pours the contents of the kettle over the small hill of food in her bowl. It's green tea.
The combination of smells is so sumptuous her eyes roll back, and she realizes just how hungry she is.
It's tough not to cry again.
"You...did this, for me?"
"Don't think too hard, anyone would."
She laughs a short nervous huff and reexamines everything on the table. It looks like it took a lot of effort.
Uraraka wants to tell him, 'No, Bakugou. Not many people would,' because it's the truth. She's been here almost three years, and the most she's gotten is cards and tea when she's been sick. Not that her friends don't love her, but everyone is all so busy. Does he not find this - weird?
She is simultaneously full and empty, and everything feels tingly.
"Oi, oi! Eat Cheeks! No more passing out on me. After this, you're gonna get back in bed. I bought some hot packs we can put at your feet, and a cold pack to keep this fever down." He explains, reaching across the table to put the back of his hand to her forehead.
His touch pulls the breath from her lungs, and she shudders with an ache she can't quite describe. An ache that's been growing.
He doesn't notice though, seemingly all business.
"I bought some painkillers if you're hurting." He pulls a small bottle from his pocket and slides it to her across the table. "I don't really touch the stuff, but figured you might want the option."
"Neh, Bakugou?"
"Eh?"
"Thank you." She says softly, pulling her bowl closer to her. "This is very sweet."
Bakugou freezes.
The look in his eyes at her comment is one of sheer terror, the melodramatic kind like he hadn't realized he was doing anything abnormal. He looks to the door like maybe he's considering exiting, before he looks at the bacon and back at her, and relaxes a bit.
"It's nothing. Today was already a complete waste of time, so what difference does throwing together a bowl of soup make?" He shrugged, "You need to get better so we can get back to our shit." He says before shoving a spoonful of soup and bacon into his mouth.
Uraraka wilts, and the pang she felt earlier in her dream returns like he's cast a small stone at her. She can feel it ripple within. For such seemingly insignificant words, it's mighty painful.
How many times is he going to sing that tune?
She knows he cares. If not for her, at least others in general because you don't go through all this effort without caring. Except, he's said it already, and it feels like all the things he's doing are deliberate; a way to suffocate something inside her.
All she wants to know is, why?