Chapter 17

Izuku woke up to a splitting headache. He didn't move for a long moment, as he tried to catalog his injuries. His cheek ached, but that might just be from hitting the curb. Slowly, he tried moving each limb. To his surprise, it seemed like he could move. Painfully, but not painful enough to signify broken bones. Cheered by the idea, he tried to stand.

Then fell back down, his head swimming, vision blurred. His heart seemed to flutter in his chest, struggling to circulate enough blood for movement. Slowly, slowly the world seemed to come back into focus. He was still in the plaza, or rather what was left of it. His skin burned as he moved, pain lancing deep. Shit. Gingerly, Izuku looked down. Much of his hero costume had been burned away, and red, angry-looking burns covered his body. The injuries hurt, but he figured they wouldn't kill him if he walked around. Once he'd verified that he could walk, he looked around for Kaminari and Bakugou. The former he found quickly, collapsed next to the fountain.

Pushing away thoughts of Bakugou, Izuku ran over to Kaminari, worry clawing up his throat. He ignored the shake of his muscles, the ache of his joints, the shooting pain from his burned skin stretching as he moved. None of it mattered because Kaminari wasn't awake. He ran through the standard first aid check-ups and was relieved to find a steady, albeit faint heartbeat. However, Kaminari was out cold. Izuku wouldn't risk moving him in this state, so he set out to find help.

Maybe he was more injured than he realized, because the next thing Izuku knew he was being wrapped in a foil blanket and tucked into the back of an ambulance. Well, sitting on the back edge of one, as it seemed to be functioning as an emergency first aid station.

He'd told them about Kaminari. He thought he had, at least, and the last time he'd tried to tell someone they'd shushed him and said I know, so that was good, right?

He didn't relax until a stretcher bearing Kaminari's body came into view.

"He's alive but unresponsive," a kind man told Izuku.

"Thank you," Izuku said quietly. "And Kacchan?"

"We don't know who that is," the man said, a note of frustration lacing his voice. As if it wasn't the first time Izuku had asked. Izuku forced himself to focus on the man's face. He had a broad nose, and smile lines around his eyes. He looked nice. Izuku could tell him things.

"Katsuki," Izuku managed to say, his tongue feeling thick. "Why am I so, uh, it's so hard to think?"

"You were unconscious for several hours," the man sighed. "You're suffering from shock, electrical burns, and we suspect a mild concussion. You also may have heart issues and experience confusion or dizziness from the electrical charge affecting your brain."

"You sound smart," Izuku told him.

"Was Katsuki nearby?" The man asked, very patient. The sort of patience a very rushed person has. "This area was evacuated before most of the damage, but there could have been stragglers."

"Bakugou Katsuki," Izuku explained, trying to pull his thoughts together. "Ground Zero. Hero. We were fighting Striker and…"

The man's mouth scrunched into a frown. "We recovered Ground Zero already. He was about half a kilometer away from here. The madman leveled four city blocks! We can only hope no one was there when he did it."

"Is he okay?" Izuku was getting a little loud. He tried to stand but immediately was forced back into a sitting position.

"He's fine. Idiot knocked himself out, but woke up soon enough. He's over by triage if you want to see him."

Izuku was up and walking before the man's sentence was over, looking for the triage. He felt a hand grab his shoulder, presumably to stop him, but he jerked away violently. His searching gaze finally found what must be Katsuki, lying on a stretcher while several people hovered around him. As Izuku watched, one of them did something to his arm. There was an audible sound to it, then Katsuki screamed. The kind of scream that came from horrible pain, so loud and sudden that the people helping him flinched away reflexively. Izuku ran to him, foil blanket flapping behind him.

Izuku was at his side in an instant, rudely shoving an EMT out of the way. Izuku could only see Katsuki's face, clenched in pain, eyes screwed shut.

"What did you do to him?" Izuku was shouting.

"Set the bones in his arm," the EMT said, sounding miffed. "He was out for the other one. Would you mind backing up? We need to finish wrapping it."

"I would mind," Izuku hissed, dangerous as a viper. He bent over Katsuki's head and cradled his cheek. His too-pale cheek. Tracks of dried blood traced down his forehead, evidence of bashing his scalp open on something. Izuku ran his thumb over one sharp cheekbone. "Kacchan, I'm here. Can you hear me? Can you-"

"Zuku," came a hoarse mumble. He was awake. Izuku suddenly breathed again, the knowledge that Katsuki was alive and awake somehow righting the universe. And just like that, the fight left Izuku, and he collapsed onto Katsuki's chest.

"Deku," he heard Katsuki rumble, almost soundless. "Get the fuck offa me."

Helping hands pulled Izuku upright, and the world swam before his eyes. "I got electrocuted," Izuku told Katsuki, feeling like he had to excuse his behavior. He completely ignored the EMTs around him, too distracted to feel bad about it. They took the chance to wrap up his arm, and Katsuki hissed in pain. His costume had been partially burned away, and there were bloody gouges on his chest and shoulders. Katsuki coughed, hacking up blood onto his chest.

"Izuku?" his voice was hoarse. "This is real?"

"Kacchan," Izuku said, throat seizing up. Was Katsuki delirious? Then his eyes snapped open, and he sat up suddenly.

"Izuku," he snarled, turning on him. "You're here?"

"I'm here, we're okay," Izuku told him, reaching out to take his face carefully in his hands. Katsuki's expression was fierce and angry, but Izuku knew it was all just how he was processing the intensity of everything that had happened. Izuku gently pressed a kiss to Katsuki's forehead. Katsuki let out a shuddering breath.

"Deku, my hands. How are they?" His eyes were locked on Izuku's face, like he was afraid to look down at his arms.

"I-I don't know," Izuku stammered. One of the paramedics huffed in annoyance.

"If you'd let us do our job, we could tell you," she snarked. Izuku allowed it only because he knew how thinly spread they must be. "We can't completely diagnose it in the field, but you've broken your hands and forearms. Both sides. You'll need surgery in a hospital; there are too many shards to successfully set it now. We can't tell how well they'll heal without better equipment."

Katsuki hissed out a breath. "But otherwise… I'm fine?" He looked at the splints on his arms. The paramedic sighed heavily, pushing sweaty bangs from her face.

"Sure, if that's what you want to call it."

"Great, I'm getting up," Katsuki growled, swinging his legs over the side of the cot.

"You shouldn't-"

"You've got people dying out there," he sighed, meeting the paramedic's eyes. "Pretty sure all I did was bust up my arms and fuck up my landing."

Izuku slipped an arm around his waist steadying him. He guided them to a nice chunk of rubble and sat them down with a sigh. Katsuki stared at his hands, wrapped tightly up to his biceps.

"They'll probably be fine with a healing quirk," Katsuki said, almost inaudibly. Like if he spoke too loudly, it might not be true. He might not be fine, his arms might not heal, and... it was hard to even imagine Katsuki with shattered arms, Katsuki with no quirk. It hurt.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Izuku told him, but the words tasted ashy in his mouth. They weren't enough; nothing would be enough until Katsuki was healthy again.

"Speak for yourself," Katsuki snorted. "You smell like burned hair. It's disgusting."

"Wow." Izuku laughed slightly, then winced at the pain in his ribs. Katsuki leaned in, as if to kiss his hair. But he stopped short and sniffed.

"Yep, really gross."

"Kacchan," Izuku protested, but he found himself smiling for the first time since he'd woken up. Katsuki sneered at him, but the menacing expression only comforted Izuku. It was something familiar and safe and a desperate, tragic situation. Next to Katsuki, he found himself relaxing slowly. He was alive, Katsuki was alive. They would both recover from their injuries, at least for the most part.

Some of the fog was slowly clearing from Izuku's head. The first responders had set up the triage site around them, complete with equipment to treat minor injuries and triage worse ones. Katsuki had been on one cot of many, and more people were arriving on stretchers every so often. If this was anything like the typical disaster response,, this was the first stop for emergency treatment or triage before people were transported to the hospital. Then Izuku turned around and nearly fell over in shock.

The street behind him continued for maybe thirty meters, then vanished in a jagged edge. Where he'd expected to see streets, abandoned shops, maybe some crumbling buildings, there was a vast, gaping crater. It had to be at least four city blocks in diameter, curving downwards. Chunks of concrete and rebar littered its slopes, having slid down at some point.

"Um," he said, his voice hoarse and frail. "What the fuck?"

Katsuki didn't bother turning around. "I got a little upset."

"Katsuki! You did this?"

Katsuki threw him one burning, red look. "Who the fuck else would?"

"That means… Striker?"

"Dead." The word was ground out between clenched teeth.

"Oh." Izuku bit back the flurry of questions rising in his throat. Katsuki, like every other hero, avoided killing except when there was no alternative. Whatever had happened, it couldn't have been good. And as destructive as he was, Katsuki was usually painfully precise about what he exploded.

"Yeah."

"If you want to talk-"

"I don't," Katsuki said quickly, biting the words out.

Izuku bit his tongue and nodded. It was his nature to poke and pry until he dislodged answers at any cost, but he'd spent a long time learning when to back off. He knew he had to trust that Katsuki would come to him when he was ready. Still, a small doubt-shaped feeling sat in his chest - had Katsuki killed her out of revenge for hurting Izuku? Was Izuku the cause of her death? He couldn't tolerate that. Katsuki's career had so far resulted in a statistically normal amount of villain deaths. Izuku's time as a hero had resulted in absolutely zero. But this was about trust, and Izuku had to let Katsuki bring it up when he was ready. With a light sigh, Izuku gently leaned against his shoulder.

"It's a pretty impressive crater," he said, foregoing everything else swirling in his mind. Ego-stroking was always a safe bet where Bakugou Katsuki was concerned.

"You're not slick, Deku." Katsuki snorted.

"So big, so impressive," Izuku insisted, grinning at his boyfriend. "Best crater I've ever seen."

"You think I'm a fucking preschooler who can be cheered up by praise?"

"I know you are," Izuku said, and kissed his dirty, handsome cheek.

"I hate you." But despite his words, Katsuki's mouth twisted into a reluctant smile.

"You can hate me all night long, baby."

"You're ridiculous. And I hate it." It was said fondly though, and Katsuki's gaze caught his. Katsuki's eyes burned like embers, sending warmth through Izuku's chest.

He leaned in until his forehead bumped Izuku's. "Gonna hate you for the rest of my life."

Izuku's heart swooped like a bird in flight. It felt like a confession of something. Something like commitment, love, something bigger than what they'd expressed before. "Kacchan, I-"

His words were cut off with a scream. Izuku's head snapped around so quickly it hurt. A streak of red ran past, skidding to a halt by Kaminari's cot. Izuku's heart sank. It was Kirishima, and he was screaming Denki's name. The paramedics were talking to him, trying to calm him. Eventually, something must have gotten through because he collapsed on Kaminari's chest, sobbing.

Izuku was on his feet before he knew it, held back only when Katsuki snarled, "Deku, wait!"

Izuku turned, angry, then saw Katsuki's splinted arms raised uselessly. "I should go-"

"Give him space," Katsuki insisted, his face uncharacteristically serious. "He's not… there's stuff he doesn't want to express with an audience, okay?"

Izuku frowned and looked back at his friends. Kirishima looked completely wrecked, his face buried in Kaminari's neck. They'd been flirting, hadn't they? They'd seemed more than just friendly at the club months ago, and suddenly Izuku wondered how deep that affection went. Katsuki was watching with a frown.

"We'll be here for him when he's ready," was all he said.

The light atmosphere had dissipated, though. Izuku was too aware of Kirishima's shaking form, of Katsuki's labored breathing. He knew that sound well, the broken, aborted breaths that came from forcing down pain. Katsuki hadn't complained about his arms, but he didn't need to. Whatever painkillers he'd been given wouldn't be able to cover that kind of damage.

Izuku awoke with a jolt, jerking sideways. He'd barely even processed that he'd somehow drifted off against Katsuki's shoulder, when he saw Katsuki storming towards Kirishima.

Katsuki was on a warpath, lifting a foot and literally kicking someone away from Kirishima. Then Izuku saw the video camera, the man behind him with a boom. The press had come out. Izuku got to unsteady feet and headed over. At the very least, he could prevent Katsuki from kicking anyone else.

"Back the hell off," Katsuki was saying, his voice tight with anger. Behind him, Kirishima was holding one of Kaminari's hands, his face wet with tears.

"Red Riot," the reporter said, pushing past Katsuki. He hissed in pain, moving his arms out of the way. "Can you tell us your version of the attack?"

"He can tell you later," Katsuki snapped. Kirishima looked up, obviously trying to pull himself together.

"I, um," he said. His eyes looked empty, his cheeks wet with tears. "A lot happened. I just-"

"How is Chargebolt? You are close friends, right?"

"Hey, dickface, I'll be the one answering questions." Katsuki's snarl was getting more pronounced. He was losing his temper. Izuku hurried over, catching his eye. "Deku, get them out of here," Katsuki snapped.

"Exactly how close are you to Chargebolt?" another reporter asked Kirishima, who just looked panicked. He looked down at Kaminari, then back up at the camera, mouth working silently.

"Is now the fucking time?" Katsuki shouted, reaching critical levels of pissed. "We just had a fucking catastrophic villain attack!"

"We report what the public's interested in," the second reporter said cooly, adjusting her glasses. Katsuki shot a pointed look at Izuku. Right. He hurried over to Kaminari. Thankfully, the cot had wheels on it, and he was able to wheel it away. That effort alone left his limbs trembling. Kirishima trailed after him, looking broken. Suddenly, Izuku was really glad Katsuki had intervened with the press. Behind him, he heard Katsuki shouting about something along the lines of how villain attacks were more important that who was fucking who, a sentiment Izuku heartily agreed with.

Kirishima didn't say a word the entire time, which was deeply disturbing. He hadn't even checked in to see if Izuku and Katsuki were okay, and that was shockingly out of character. Izuku reluctantly left him and Kaminari in the hands of one of the transport teams, and only left once he'd been repeatedly assured they were on their way to the hospital.

It was easy to find Katsuki afterward. One of the perks of having a nuclear reactor for a boyfriend was how easy it was to find him. Just follow the screaming, and bam, there he was, the epicenter of whatever shit was going down.

Katsuki was surrounded by a small crowd of reporters and was flipping his shit. Izuku hung back, not wanting to get involved in the middle of live TV. Well, that and the shouting was making his ears ring in a really bad way. He could still hear at a respectable distance (it was hard not to) and was vaguely enjoying the sight of Katsuki spewing filth at the press.

That is until he heard Katsuki shout, "You want gossip so damn bad? Fucking fine!"

That couldn't be good. The next thing Izuku heard was Katsuki's indignant shout.

"I'm with Deku now! Yes, the goddamn hero. There's your fucking hero gossip. Now can we PLEASE talk about the goddamn villain attack?"

"Deku? Weren't you two already friends? That's not news." the reporter said, shoving a mic in Katsuki's face. Katsuki wasn't able to push it away, his arms rigid at his sides. Despite how little Izuku wanted his relationship discussed on live news, he felt a surge of anger. This was way out of line. Who were these reporters? It couldn't be a major network; the press could be bad but most of them were honest, hard-working journalists from reputable organizations. For a dizzying moment, he saw Striker's point. Were they heroes, or were they reality show stars? How could they risk their lives and then be subjected to this?

"Of course it isn't!" Katsuki was snarling. "The news is the catastrophic attack that just half-destroyed our goddamn city! So if you're interested in that, we suspect Striker was-"

"No one cares that you two are friends again," the reporter snorted. "Now, Red Riot is known for being a manly hero. Will that hold up if he's-"

"No one's talking about Red Riot," Katsuki said, an edge of desperation in his voice. "Now can we-"

"After we talk about Red Riot, I'm happy to-"

"We're talking about me," Katsuki snapped. "Red Riot's out of the picture, now. I'm the one who took down Striker."

"Don't hog the spotlight, Ground Zero," the reporter said insistently. Izuku was honestly taken aback. Who was this person? How dare they? Even the man next to her looked horrified. "Your friendship with Deku isn't what's concerning here. I want to know if Red Riot is-"

"Not what we're talking about," Katsuki cut over her.

"What, do you have something better to talk about?"

"Oh, I don't know, the fucking villain attack that literally just happened?"

"Spicy Heroes Weekly is a gossip magazine," the woman sighed. Why the hell were they the first on the scene? "I'm getting a scoop no matter what, and your little friendship isn't newsworthy compared to Red Riot-"

"What friend thing? We're FUCKING," Bakugo shouted, covering whatever the reporter was about to say. Izuku's stomach dropped.

"Don't make up things for attention," The reporter laughed, as camera flashes went off in Katsuki's face. "Your friendship with Deku means nothing, I want to know about how gay-"

"I'll show you gay-"

"Your friendship-" the woman insisted, and Izuku saw the moment his self-control irrevocably snapped, as his posture turned aggressive, the words ripping out of him like shotgun blasts.

"What fucking friendship? It's DICK IN ASS SEX! GAY ASS FUCKING SEX! IS THAT ENOUGH FOR YOU? NOW can we talk about the goddamn VILLAIN or so help me GOD I'll-"

"So, about Striker," another reporter said quickly, shoving the offending woman back. She stumbled back, looking offended at the intrusion but still delighted. She'd gotten what she wanted, at least.

Izuku didn't hear the rest of it over the buzzing in his ears. Katsuki recited what clearly was a prepared statement to the press, and Izuku waited it out numbly. It was all too much. The frustration with reporters, the deathly worry about Katsuki's safety, and the abject humiliation of having his sex life shouted about on TV. Somehow, Katsuki's tantrums had never included Izuku as collateral damage until now and… Izuku's face burned with shame. He was a family-friendly hero! Children looked up to him! What would they think after hearing something like that? His mother was probably watching this! He wanted to die on the spot. He'd worked so hard to get where he was, and Katsuki had thrown it all away.

He'd ignored Katsuki's attempts to talk all the way to the hospital. He was obviously worried, but Izuku brushed him off, citing lightheadedness. It wasn't even an excuse; Izuku felt like he needed to sleep for a week.

He wanted to sleep for a year. Sleep until the humiliation of having someone shout about their dick in his ass faded into a distant memory. He'd wanted to show the world he was a good hero, no matter who he dated. So much for that.

Instead, he was almost nodding off in the chair next to Katsuki's hospital bed. His own tests were scheduled for that night because despite being knocked out first, Izuku's injuries were fairly easy to heal, since they were mostly skin-level, or would recover given proper rest. He'd been given a touch up already by a very tired-looking doctor with a recovery Quirk, and his burns had faded from livid to merely red and painful, but he desperately wanted to sleep.

Katsuki needed surgery on both of his arms. That thought alone was taking the edge of Izuku's anger. It was difficult to be upset with the guy when he was sitting in a hospital bed, IV in, looking broken.

"Surgery's in three hours," Katsuki said, quietly. "I'm gonna be out for a while. Can we talk first?" Izuku looked down, staring at the linoleum as if it had personally offended him.

"It's not okay for you to talk about me like that in public," he said, finally. He was shaking a little, maybe from exhaustion and maybe from holding back how hurt he felt.

"I know. I'm sorry."

Izuku looked up and met Katsuki's gaze. His expression was tight, closed off. The apology wasn't enough, but Izuku badly didn't want to fight.

"I appreciate that, but what were you thinking? I can't- I don't have the same image you do! People are going to be shocked, there are children that look up to me and god, our parents…"

"Yeah," Katsuki said, uncharacteristically quiet. "I shouldn't have let that woman get to me."

Izuku could feel the hurt crackling through his chest, and as much as he wanted to fall in that chasm and emerge with righteous fury, he couldn't. Katsuki looked haunted, and vulnerable, and Izuku wanted to be there for him. He swallowed his anger, and sat down in the chair next to Katsuki.

"Kacchan, can you tell me what happened? I know you care about my reputation, so I don't understand. But I want to." Izuku's words were rewarded with Katsuki finally meeting his eyes. To his horror, Katsuki's lips were trembling.

"Izuku," he said shakily. "I know what I said was way over the line. I can't… sometimes I scare myself, and I can't fucking control what I say."

Izuku forced himself to be patient, as he realized that whatever had set off Katsuki must have been really bad. He hesitantly put a hand on Katsuki's shoulder, in lieu of his bandaged arms. "Kacchan, I'm really hurt right now, but I can tell something happened. It would help me to understand why you felt you couldn't control yourself this time."

Katsuki shook his head slowly, hair falling in his eyes. "I thought you were dead, Izuku," he said, instead, voice cracking. "I killed someone. My arms are fucking broken and they think they'll heal but they aren't sure! I'm freaking the fuck out, okay?" His voice was tight and low, and Izuku could see the glimmer of tears in his narrowed eyes. "I know I was way out of line and I could have handled it way fucking better but, honestly? I fucking couldn't, okay? Seeing them go after Ei while he was dealing with Denki's shit made me lose my everloving shit."

"Kacchan-" Izuku tried to say, but Katsuki bulldozed on, apparently unable to stop once he'd started.

"I'm really fucking sorry, Izuku. I should've put you first. I should've seen a way out of that situation without hurting you, and now that I think about it it seems like there were so many other options but in that moment? All I could see was Ei sobbing over Denki, and how fucking cruel it was to take advantage of him in that moment. I couldn't think straight. I said whatever shit came into my head."

Self-hatred drenched his voice, thickening Katsuki's voice to a barely-audible rasp. "I get it, if you don't trust me after this. I'm at my fucking worst right now, Izuku. I'm just hoping you'll let me keep trying to be better."

"Kacchan, stop," Izuku said, loud enough that Katsuki's mouth snapped shut, his eyes flying open to lock on Izuku's. "Can I hold you right now? Please?" Katuski gave a sharp, aborted nod. Izuku leaned over the bed, carefully sitting next to him, helping him move his arm across his body. Izuku pulled him against his chest, running his fingers through Katsuki's hair in what he hoped were comforting circles.

"Kacchan, I'm so sorry."

"Shove it," Katsuki mumbled, muffled against Izuku's chest. He didn't sound antagonistic, just weary. "You don't gotta apologize for shit."

"I was really mad," Izuku whispered into his hair. "But I wasn't thinking about how hard it was for you. I'm so sorry you had to go through all of this. I love that you wanted to protect our friends, okay? I'm glad you could."

"Izuku, you don't have to be like this." Katsuki's voice was barely audible, and Izuku's heart broke a little. Did he think he didn't deserve understanding, forgiveness?

"Kacchan, listen to me. You did go over the line, and I'm not okay with being spoken about like that. But I get how hard it was, and I know you did your best. After everything's settled down, we can talk about it more, figure out what to do in future situations like this. For now though, I just want you to know that I support you. And I'm here for you."

Katsuki's heart seized up. He pulled away enough to look up into Deku's green eyes. This close, they were mesmerizing, brimming with tears and with care. Care for him, like he deserved it for some reason. He'd never felt so simultaneously vulnerable and safe in his entire life, and it was ripping him apart. He hated the way his throat was closing, hated how the wetness of his eyes overflowed. Hated how Deku was bearing witness to some of the worst moments of his life, hated how he didn't think he could bear it if Deku wasn't there with him. It had been a long, long time since Katsuki had been so scared by anything.

"I'm scared," he whispered, barely able to get the words out of his burning throat. Deku's lips parted, soft and kind as always. Katsuki held still, stiff as a board while Deku pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"I was too," Deku said. Katsuki nodded, his head jerking. God, he hated everything about this. Deku's voice lowered to a whisper. "That fight was really hard, and she was so… some of the things she said hurt to hear."

"I killed her," Katsuki choked out. He'd killed her, Deku had nearly died, he'd fucking betrayed Deku on live TV and his friends were hurting worse than he was. "I've never done it like that, you know. Never meant to. But I meant for her to die."

"God, Katsuki," Deku trailed off. "It was a hard situation, okay? It's gonna take time to process. You know I'll be here."

"I don't deserve you," Katsuki murmured, almost experimentally. Deku leaned in, resting his forehead against Katsuki's.

"Sure, big guy. Where else will I find a boyfriend who'll destroy four city blocks for me? Hmm? That's right, nowhere."

"Cute," Katsuki grumbled, but Deku's gentle sarcasm was comforting. Deku's rough hands moved to his face, tracing his cheekbones, achingly gentle. Katsuki let Deku touch him, his eyes fluttering shut.

"We'll handle everything," Deku promised him. Katsuki was starting to believe him.

"I'm sorry that you're the one who has to fucking support me right now," Katsuki sighed, finally opening his eyes. "I know I hurt you, and I'm going to make it up to you. I swear it."

Deku hummed, considering Katsuki's words carefully. It was frightening sometimes, how much thought Deku put into what he said. Katsuki was pretty sure his words didn't usually have nearly as much meaning as Deku could get from them. However, it could also be helpful because Katsuki could admit it wasn't easy for him to put everything into words in the first place.

"Okay," Deku finally said, a slight smile on his face. "I'm going to trust you, alright? I think if we approach it together, we'll get through it no matter what."

Katsuki loved the shit out of this guy, but couldn't quite bear to say it right now. He didn't want that moment to be about hysterical bonding, and he wanted to tell Izuku just how he felt at a better, safer time. So instead, he settled on just saying, "Thank you."

He leaned back onto the hospital bed, making the stiff fabric rustle behind him. Somehow the distance between them made him feel a little more ahold of himself, like a baby bird jumping out of the nest. Deku had his back, and he could handle this.

"Deku, you were basically deep fried. Have you gotten checked up yet?" Deku flushed red, which was a sure sign he hadn't. Katsuki gave him the best glare he could muster up at the moment, which probably was a fairly pathetic one, all things considered.

"Not in the hospital," Deku admitted, eyes sliding away from Katsuki, obviously guilty. As he should be, Deku never took care of himself. Well, at least not up to Katsuki's standards, which were sky-high when it came to Deku's health.

"Look, I've got three hours until they put me under. You go get taken care of, okay?"

"I don't want to leave," Deku mumbled, getting that stubborn edge to his chin. Too bad, Katsuki knew how to deal with that.

"Deku, I don't want to go into surgery worried about you. Please go get checked out?" He watched in satisfaction as Deku's stubbornness crumbled away.

"You did say please," Deku admitted. Katsuki grinned triumphantly until Deku went on, "And I want to reward you for having good manners since it's so rare."

What a sassy little bitch. Before Katsuki could think up a retort, Deku pressed a kiss to his lips and slipped out the door.

Katsuki hated the empty hospital room. The TV hanging in the corner seemed to mock him, reminding him of all his failures. Well, screw that. He was going to fucking take responsibility for what he'd said, and Deku would come out of it fine. He'd managed to half doze off before his phone buzzed. Thank god for voice activation, because without it he wouldn't be able to read the text without calling a nurse, which would be humiliating. He still had to listen to a fucking computer voice tell him,

I am going to help the relief efforts. Kacchan it's so bad out here, I can't stand by and do nothing, I just can't. I'm really sorry I won't be there but I am not that injured and the people need help. I will come back as soon as I can.

Shit. Fucking shit. Fear coursed through Katsuki's veins, and he was suddenly furious at the situation. Furious his arms were broken, furious he was stuck in this bed and furious that Deku would head out again. He should have fucking tied him to the bed, he knew how Deku could get in these types of situations.

Katsuki knew he wasn't really furious. He was terrified. Not just by Deku's absence and self-sacrificing bullshit, but by his surgery and by the fact he'd apparently intentionally killed someone. He took, long, slow breaths, focusing on the feeling of his lungs filling and emptying. Damn, his ribs hurt. He felt himself slowly begin to regain some sense of groundedness. He wasn't going to freak out. He could do this. So, he carefully used voice-to-text to send Izuku a text.

Bakugou Katsuki: Izuku come back. You are too injured to work right now. I want you here, please come back.

What else was there to say? He could only hope by some miracle Deku would look at his phone and actually choose to come back. At this point, knowing Deku, the chances were slim. His calm lasted another hour of Deku not walking back through that damn door.

Fuck.

He'd been through surgeries alone before, sure. He was used to relying on no one. He'd liked it like that, damn it. But somehow along the way he'd started looking to Deku when he was stressed, upset, or frustrated. Deku's kindness and optimism were dependable as bedrock, and Katsuki hadn't considered what it would feel like to lose that when he needed it.

Doctors came in, explaining what they'd be doing and why, preparing him for the upcoming procedure. Katsuki let it happen, feeling numb as he watched the door. Hoping it would open, and Deku would walk through it.

But he didn't, and Katsuki went unconscious under the careful supervision of a room full of strangers.

Izuku meant to go to his check-up. He really did, but somehow he ended up lost in between two of the hospital buildings. His mind was still a little blurry from everything, and something about the esoteric hospital diagram was incomprehensible to him. It wasn't really a surprise he ended up in the small lawn in front of the hospital.

What he saw horrified him. There were people everywhere, many crying or moaning. Some sported lightning burns like him, but more seemed to bear the type of injuries that came from collapsing rubble, from a city that had failed them. Heart in his throat, Izuku asked one of the harried nurses about it. His tears weren't even looked at twice. They weren't out of place in this horror scene.

Apparently, all the petty villains in the city had taken it upon themselves to take advantage of the chaos. Izuku wondered if this is what Striker had wanted all along. If that was why she'd crippled their emergency response system long before striking, if she'd wanted to prove how ineffective the system of heroes really was.

The stress of being embarrassed on live TV faded in the face of what Izuku saw on the hospital's lawn. He was still walking, he could still fight (probably). He saw the people sobbing through pain, calling out for lost loved ones, and he did the only thing he could.

He sent Katsuki a message, hoping he would be forgiven.

Izuku: I am going to help the relief efforts. Kacchan it's so bad out here, I can't stand by I just CAN'T. I'm really sorry I won't be there but I am not that injured and the people need help. I will come back as soon as I can.

Then he headed out into the city and began to look for survivors. Izuku knew what he was doing wasn't the safest idea, but he couldn't stop it. The stream of victims seemed endless, the mountains of rubble insurmountable. While plenty of places weren't harmed by Striker's coordinated attack, they were pillaged by villains in the aftermath. First aid stations had popped up all over the city, and Izuku assisted them with anything they needed. Heavy lifting, search and rescue, fighting off the low-tier villains that threatened them.

It was strange because Izuku didn't technically feel weak. Sure, his skin was a mass of shapeless pain, but with Full Cowling, he could move fine. And though his heart felt weak, and he wasn't sure his limbs would keep obeying him, he was still able to lift slabs of concrete weighing hundreds of pounds.

The only thing Izuku really did wrong was that when the supervisor told Izuku his shift was over and he needed to go home, Izuku had agreed. And then he hadn't gone home, but rather to a different sector, and kept on working. He lost track of how many people he told he was going home. He couldn't leave, not when he was still standing and there were still people out there whose lives were in danger.

Izuku reached for his phone, wanting to call and at least leave a message. Shit, it was dead. He had no idea how long it was dead for, and he felt the sinking guilt of not having checked it sooner. With a defeated sigh, Izuku realized he'd just have to wait until he could make it back to the hospital. Hopefully, Katsuki would understand.

He set out, planning to head back. Of course that would be too easy, because on the way back, there were people trapped in a building. Then there was a young woman being harassed by a villain. There was an ambulance that had crashed, and before he knew it, Izuku was all the way across the city again, wrapped up in countless rescues.

Night brought different complications. It was hard to find survivors in the rubble, every triage center needed lights to keep working on patients, and much of the city's electrical grid was still down. Izuku helped electricians get where they needed to go, fending off villains and moving rubble blocking vital roadways.

By morning, he was exhausted. No, he'd started this whole mess exhausted. Now he was just utterly spent, unable to take another step Yet another supervisor told him to head home, and this time Izuku heartily agreed.

He didn't make it. He'd been running Full Cowling non-stop just to keep himself on his feet, and it finally flickered out. He was still way too far from any hospital, from his apartment, from anywhere he could rest.

But he could let people see his weakness. Not if he wanted to be a symbol of strength. So he stumbled into an alleyway and collapsed behind a dumpster, and fell asleep immediately.

Izuku awoke to something kicking his thigh and the sound of shouting. Groaning, he covered his ears. It was hard to open his eyes past the accumulated crust, and the light was blinding. What time was it? What day was it?

"Oy! Izuku! Wake the fuck up!" The words were angry, harsh, and unmistakably Katsukis. Izuku's eyes flew open, and he winced at the brightness.

"Kacchan," he groaned. "I don't feel well."

"No SHIT!" Bakugou shouted at him. "What the hell are you doing out here? Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was? No one could fucking find you!"

It hurt too much to think about, so Izuku ignored it in favor of just drinking in the sight of his (angry) boyfriend. Katsuki was wearing hospital clothes, and his arms were both in casts that went past his elbow. Izuku couldn't take it. He'd failed everyone. He'd failed to save his city, he'd failed to be there for Katsuki, he'd failed himself by letting this happen in the first place. He broke down, shallow sobs wracking his body. He heard Katsuki swear softly above him, and suddenly Katsuki was kneeling in front of him, precariously balanced on the balls of his feet.

"Baby, I was so worried," Katsuki told him, voice hoarse. "Shit, okay. Look, I can't fucking pick you up I'm gonna call for help. I need you to stay with me until they get here, okay?"

Izuku nodded, the movement making his head throb. "Kacchan, I messed up," he sobbed. Katsuki took a deep breath.

"Yeah, you did," he said softly. "But I got you now, okay? We're gonna get you all fixed up, then I'm gonna chew your ass out for being a reckless idiot."

"Sounds good," Izuku breathed out. God, he felt terrible. His head ached, deep and hard and relentless. He wasn't sure he could stand, or even move. Deep down, he knew he was so fucking lucky Katsuki had found him. He managed to stay awake until Katsuki called 119, then he drifted out of consciousness.