👿 Open Post 3

[blastedass]

Open Post

What to hit up Bakugo for some action? Feel free to do whatever here!



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[hairsplit]

( it's almost like he's in a daze; bakugou speaks and he nearly startles, shoulders going stiff--which doesn't work well for the ice pack, clutched to his side, a soft twinge of pain that rockets up him with the movement. he'd offered to just use his hands, but they hadn't wanted either of them to waste energy using their quirks, especially if there's any kind of lasting damage from the whole ordeal. maybe that had been why endeavor had been so outraged and worried: he tries not to let those sorts of angry thoughts flood him, but he can't help it. sometimes they leak out: like maybe his father only cared enough to see that his perfect masterpiece could still use the quirk he had painstakingly designed for him.

none of that matters, now. his gaze slides, to where bakugou's good arm slides over the edge of the bed--and he stares at it for a moment, considering, like it's a puzzle he's trying to work out.

right. he wants to hold hands. that's right, isn't it? with a soft duck of his chin, he skids himself out of the chair, reaching with one arm to slowly screech it across the floor; it ends up nestled right next to the bed, and carefully, he sinks himself back down into it, tucking his knees together since he's given himself a distinct lack of space in order to get as close as possible. his hands shift; the new one holds the ice pack to his own side, gently, while the other lifts, cold, to calmly fold bakugou's hand into his. )

Do you need water? Painkillers? A sweater?

( solemnly, his gaze lifts back up to bakugou's face, as though trying to work out how he feels just by looking at him. it would be easy to call a nurse, though she'd likely tell him to go back to his own bed: and he would, if only to return a few minutes later. he doesn't want to stand in the way of anything bakugou needs.

cold fingers slide, gently, working their way between bakugou's knuckles, clutching his hand a little more firmly. )

You really worked yourself up. ( the shouting match with his mother, he means. a part of him had been almost impressed. ) It sounded intense. I apologized to your mother, but I'll do it again...properly.

[blastedass]

[jumpy. he could have stayed quiet, let todoroki think he was sleeping and given him a peaceful route to his own rest. but also leave him wrangling with his own worry and loneliness. tension lines his shoulders, a muted startle on his face with brows lifting ever so slightly, eyelids widening on his mismatched irises, lips set in a gentle press. barest of responses across his usually glacier calm visage. normally, emotion on todoroki's face is something to enjoy. now, nothing positive comes. he wants to see him placid and comfortable, without the damn lines of concern and stuffed panic under his skin. knowing he's the origin for much of those strains. if he'd been stronger, faster, smarter, better, none of this would've happened, and todoroki would be in his bed tonight, sleeping peacefully.

tch, he'll deal with his guilt later. cool sheets ghost beneath his forearm as he slides it from his side to the mattress' edge, hand hovering over empty space in an offering for todoroki to take. that's what a hero does, right? reaching out to anyone who needs a helping hand. even other heroes. albeit, he's not the nicest hero and ends up clicking his tongue in annoyance when the other boy doesn't seem to "get it" for a few seconds. seriously?]

Oy. Don't make me wait. [he's not hovering his damn hand over empty space for his health. only to bristle instantly as nails rake through his earn and send his hair spiking up even more all over his head.] Dammit! You're so loud! Pick it up first! [bastard's dragging it cross the floor and summoning scrapes and screeches from a fucking four-legged banshee! he's making a damn cacophony in the hospital room! todoroki finally kills it with a plunk beside his bed, cushion huffing a sigh as he sinks down within the frame. mattaku...

cool skin settles on his own, fingers across the hell of his palm before folding over the sides as their palm meld together in a perpendicular embrace. for several seconds, he lingers on the sensation. noting so many things about todoroki's touch. his hand's large, taking his own in matching grip. fingers slender and strong, knuckles rolling under his fair skin as lithe bones flutter on the back of his hand. calloused from work, yet comforting and gentle. a hero's hands, taking so many actions today over his safety. regardless of his own...]

Stop fretting, Half-and-Half. The doctors already did their shit. [red eyes meet teal and slate, holding them with a firm reprimand in their heated depths. no pain, no struggle, only a quiet comfort he takes with his boyfriend beside him. there's nothing he needs right now. water, done. meds, taken. checkup, finished. the last on the list, rest, is gonna happen as soon as he gets this fretting dork settled. fingertips sift into the valleys of his knuckles, smoothing down the back of his hand as their fingers link together. he folds his own over todoroki's clasp, fitted perfectly between his knuckles, tips brushing over his skin.]

Tch. She came in here yelling like a monster. I just told her to shut the fuck up. [hah, as if. he said a lot more, which only set her off again. typical scene between them, given the expression on his father's face.] Don't. You don't have anything to apologize for.

[hairsplit]

I'm not fretting.

( he says it so stubbornly that it's almost too obvious that it's something of a lie; even he can recognize that, as his lips close together, not quite a sulk but not quite a frown, either. instead, he lets his gaze go around the room, just once, as though reassuring everything is the way it should be: beyond the door, it's quiet, there's nothing suspicious anywhere, nothing that he should be concerned about. the machines are all working the way they should, and bakugou's here, being bakugou, so there's little to be worrying about there. is it just that he's still stuck in that place? having to argue with endeavor always puts him into a certain mood, and his instincts are to shut down, wall up, express himself in icy sentences; his free hand lifts, even though he knows he should continue diligently holding the ice pack, combing a few cold fingers in through his bangs just to give the excuse of doing something.

it's not that he doubts him. it's not that he thinks bakugou is lying to him, because he's not that type of person at all. but it's hard to settle in as though things will be okay; it's hard to just brush it off when a part of him still feels the exhausted exhilaration of stress and anxiety, being where they were. it's not needed, now, and yet his body still feels like it has to be there, tense and ready to jump, to protect bakugou--who doesn't even need his protecting in the first place, really. he's not weak. he's definitely not weak, not after everything he saw today, too. but it's like having the threat of something precious, something that he never thought he'd have to begin with, getting taken away--

his hand slides back down, firmly shaking his head. )

No. It's proper. I put you in a situation that wasn't right, for the sake of...

( he doesn't know how to articulate it. how can he say we got into this mess because i wanted to take advantage of being at a love hotel with you that doesn't end up sounding so trite and disgusting? his gaze slides down to their hands, where he gives bakugou's fingers a gentle squeeze. )

...You know. She didn't seem upset with me, but I'd still like to apologize properly.

( at least send her something small, which won't be a problem for him. if anything, he's sure that both parents have likely been talking to each other outside their rooms anyway.

when his gaze lifts, it's to study bakugou's shoulder--and then blink over to his face, trying for a faint smile. )

You were a good hero. I'm impressed. ( he's trying to lighten his own sullen mood--but the words he comes up with almost make him want to laugh, a tease that's so obvious and silly that it almost breaks his own personal tension. ) Let's team up again soon.

[blastedass]

Yes you are! [don't talk to him in that stubborn tone! it admits he's doing exactly what he was just accused of! brat. he should be the one fussing at todoroki! who let the guy out of his bed and allowed him to walk all the way to his room without catching his ass and putting it back in the bed?! does he wanna puncture a fucking lung or put more stress on his were-they-broken-or-just-fractured ribs?! someone's gonna fucking die once he finds out who didn't strap this half-n-half bastard to his bed and make sure he stayed there. even if the old bag of bones came by to smooch him back to better health. did she? given the bandages, not yet. tch. now he's here, in his room, looking around the place like some shitty villain's gonna jump out of a shadowed corner and grab them. way to keep your heart rate down and stay calm during recovery, icyhot. all these gripes and snarls running through his mind as he lies in bed and glares daggers at todoroki without saying anything. right, after bitching out with his father, the other boy's never been best company. even he gets huffy (putting it lightly) on the tail end of an argument with his mom.

of course it's not easy to settle down! they were kidnapped, drugged and dragged to another location in attempt to do fucking something with them! sounded like some kind of thought went into their capture more than petty ransom holding. if their quirks hadn't been muted, they could've brought the place down and been the ones dragging those shitty bastards to the police instead of the police coming to them. he's far too aware of todoroki's feelings right now. a lingering crawl up the nape, wondering if their current area's safe. if they aren't being watched. a human's bubble of safety once popped is hard to repair again without scars. ever alert, ever ready for someone to jump out and grab again. he's been there, faced it, beaten it down, but never completely rid himself of it. and now he has to deal with the other side of that trauma... not his own capture, but someone close to him. was this how midoriya felt after the forest training camp? a roaring frustrating building up inside, flagellating himself with all the "if only" and "what if" scenarios playing out in his mind? a heavy onus if "my fault" crushes at his shoulders and he snarls trying to buck the shit off.]

Haa?! Like hell you did! If I didn't want to be in there with you, I would've said no, you dumbass! [as much as he hates sharing his victories with others (albeit, gotten better about it), he despises someone blaming themselves for a mistake or problem he caused. he's not some fucking coward who hides behind another person or blames the onus of his own mistakes on someone else. so hell with letting todoroki take the fall for their own bad decision. cue crushing the other boy's hand in his fist, definitely enough to "hurt" and snap him out of his glum wallowing.] We both decided.

[shut up brain! there was no way they could've predicted the room was set up as an additional trap! hell, he can't say it was trap designed for them specifically, as they came there following a lead and decided to stake out instead of giving up and leaving. maybe it was an elaborate ruse, but... tch, he's not gonna live a paranoid life.]

Ajisai. [hydrangea. if he must.] She's gonna tell you the same thing. [that it wasn't his fault, that it's okay, that katsuki's fine now and he should've been more alert. all heroes risk this; they knew such when choosing their path in life. he doesn't wanna think about his parents talking with todoroki's outside. who the hell knows what they're saying about them? probably getting along so fucking well right now. he turns his head and directs his glare to the door. hmph.]

"GOOD"?! I'm an awesome hero, Half-n-Half Bastard!! [and now his attention swings back to todoroki, all teeth and fiery eyes yelling at him. he pauses at seeing his face lit up with a silly little smile, knowing it's both true and false. trying to cover up how he's really feeling inside... tense as a wire.] Tch! Ask me whenever you want. I'll do even better than you.

[he eases his grip on todoroki's hand, thumb brushing along his knuckles to comfort him.]

[hairsplit]

( it's in moments like these that he's reminded of how stubborn they both are; he won't try to say that he isn't, although any comparison that someone draws between him and his father tends to land on a cool expression, an icy gaze, and a hardened heart. he can't live the rest of his life thinking that he's so entirely different--just as he can't live the rest of his life thinking that he's so entirely the same. he may be his son, and he may have grown up sequestered only only endeavor's upbringing, for most of his childhood, but that doesn't mean that he has to be him, or that he has to be the thing that endeavor wanted him to be, either. he has a choice in the matter: a choice that midoriya, of all people, made apparent to him. it's times like these, too, that he wonders if midoriya would be a better buffer between the two of them--they're likely going to keep going back and forth about blame and fault and guilt for awhile.

right. he needs to apologize to midoriya, too, and he doesn't think that flowers are going to cut it. this is the second time that bakugou's been spirited away by someone else; that sort of wound cuts deep, even if this time, no one else is responsible for it but him. bakugou might be arguing and saying that it's a shared responsibility, but he's too stubbornly attached to his own blame to allow his boyfriend to take any part of it.

so he sits there for a moment, smile melting down into a stone-faced frown, and doesn't refute it--but doesn't agree, either. in the battle of stubborn wills, sometimes he and bakugou are quite evenly matched. )

Mm. ( a soft nod of agreement, of indication, about the flowers; he can do that easily. ) Then...

( his hand feels a little limp in bakugou's grip; not because he doesn't want to hold onto him, but because a part of him likes it like this, likes letting bakugou take the reins and squeeze or brush or thread their fingers together how he wants it. he doesn't want to get in the way. )

Let's team up now. ( a ghost of that smile returns, only briefly, but his free hand adjusts the ice pack and then, after a moment, reaches slowly so that he can set it on the small table at bakugou's bedside. ) Our mission is to get you back to sleep.

( a slight glance, mismatched gaze focused on bakugou's face, but he's gently freeing his hand from the other's grip so that he can plant his palms on the bed and slowly, carefully, push himself up onto his feet. )

I'll warm you up.

[blastedass]

[he wants the guy who took the entire burden of the league of villains, all for one, shigaraki, and the upcoming war on his shoulders, abandoned the school and friends who supported him for almost a year of his life, sneaked out like a damn coward, left behind personal tell-all notes he couldn't even deliver himself, and then skulked about the country by himself in an ever-degrading state attempting to hold together the snapping seams of society and stop everything bad from happening, all because he thought it was his responsibility alone and couldn't bear the guilt of endangering his friends with his mission... todoroki wants that guy to intercede between them about which of them shares the heavier onus of blame and fault in their shitty kidnapping? what a fucking joke. midoriya would somehow find a way to feel guilty about his classmates being captured in the first place and heap it on his own head like a punishment glutton. they don't need his interjections to handle this. they can work it out on their own.

they'll need to work it out inside themselves too. shame and fury bubble inside him far down at the moment, ready and willing an ascent once he has more clear room to vent his ire. how the hell could he get kidnapped again?! and with one of his strongest classmates at that?! he should've seen the risks, should've stopped them both from indulging, should've contacted someone and made sure they had another set of eyes watching them! so many "should've" ideas swarming about his mind and feasting on his budding regrets. like hell is he gonna let todoroki take the blame.

too stubborn and proud and kind to let such a failure go without debt. yes, they escaped, but they hadn't stopped the person coming after them, hardly had information to give save for descriptions of appearances and the location of the warehouse. (and the love hotel they got captured from. fucking embarrassing mentioning that.) todoroki isn't backing down and neither is he. they both know that.]

Haa? I can go to sleep on my own! [dammit, he would've been asleep if someone hadn't come into his room and sat down to stare at him until a conversation prompted! yet he isn't letting go, fingers remaining curled around a strong hand, thumb tracing between bony mounds of knuckles and along slender tendons tracing the back of his hand. full rein to do as he pleases with the touches. because he demanded todoroki bring himself closer earlier. for this reason.

doesn't mean he's agreeing with someone's plan to team up for sleep, dammit! he clicks his tongue in annoyance as his ice pack slides away, too proud to say thanks because the damn thing was starting to turn his skin numb. as fingers drift out of his hand and the taller boy braces his hands on the bed in preparation, he eyes him with a wary gaze, lips pursed to the side in slight miff. really? he thinks it's a good idea to join him in a fucking hospital bed? ... hmph, not like he has a serious injury. a bullet wound through the arm is nothing compared to getting skewered in the guts.] Stay on my left side.

[they're gonna get yelled at by the nurse later.]

[hairsplit]

( the hesitation there is only for a moment--it's been a long time since he's worried about bakugou's truthful rejection, and it's been so long since they first messed around like this that a part of him forgets what it felt like to wonder. to be so entirely entranced by another person, to fall so stupidly into feelings for him that he could hardly bring himself to consider any alternative, to be afraid that in the end, he might end up alone, forced to contend with feelings and desires and wants that he's never felt before. despite bakugou's attitude and his sharp words and his sometimes blunt delivery, he doesn't think that bakugou would have been cruel about it: but even so, the thought of losing something so precious is a terrifying little thing, and even now, from time to time, he wonders if he's holding on too hard, if he's being good enough, if he's doing anything that might even make bakugou consider any alternative.

it's a stupid idea. he should be good, and go back to his room, but a part of him hates leaving things like this--hates leaving things with a war of stubborn wills, rather than anything else, and even if he can see bakugou, and feel his hand, and listen to the aggravated grumble of his voice, there's something else entirely different about touching him up close, laying his head in the crook of his neck, listening to him swallow and breathe.

he's in a little too deep, here. he knew it before all this, before risking his life, before going boneless in the bath at the love hotel, before their date, before any of it. but rather than drag himself out of it, or pull away, the way that he thinks he's been taught to do--the way that endeavor would likely instruct him to do--he forces himself past the little trickle of fear. forces his hands to shift on the bed, instead of retreat: forces himself to gently, carefully, walk his way onto the bed on hands and knees, careful to shift over to bakugou's left side as instructed.

the bed sinks a little, with his added weight, and his ribs ache--he forces himself to take in a slow breath, measured, as he settles himself in onto his good side, trying to take up as little space as possible while also inching himself in against bakugou's side as much as he can manage. )

...Don't say things like that. ( he decides to finally say, matter-of-fact, as his mismatched gaze rounds up on bakugou's profile; his lips purse together, like he's scolding him a little, gently, and his closest arm lifts up so that he can reach for bakugou's cheek, pinching it playfully between thumb and index finger. )

I don't want you to be able to go to sleep on your own all the time.

( i want you to need me, a little. )

[blastedass]

[how long's it been since he kicked over the table beneath todoroki's arms, shouted in his face for daring to think of anything other than him in their upcoming match? ever since he saw the guy, he pissed him off, erupted a vein-pulsing indignation inside him. for the first time in his life, someone walked in threatening to be his equal. looks, brains, power, drive. it was different than midoriya's looming shadow he always felt was so far beyond him. a rising fire blazing open beside him from nowhere, threatening to wipe out all his progress in one icy swipe. he hated him. because for a moment, he looked at todoroki and despaired. then crushed his own feelings in rage. one interaction after another clawed his way to equal footing again, running alongside his one-sided rival as he snarked orders, yelling his name in concern without thinking, smirking in satisfaction upon hearing of his victory. somewhere along his journey, hate became tolerance, tolerance became acceptance, acceptance to admiration, admiration to affection. the same he feels even now in a hospital bed, letting this dumbass break the "rules" of medical etiquette and climb into bed with him while he's sporting a fucking injury. if he's gone through all that, up to this very point... how the hell could todoroki continue to think he's able to consider any alternative? he left that moment behind him a long time ago. this man is his future. no matter how tightly he holds on, or what stupid thing he does to piss him off.

their fight settles in his chest, tension melts out his shoulders into his bed sheets. what a lie to himself at being alone. each time he closes his eyes, images come back. his boyfriend chained, a man he doesn't know touching him, some sicko looking at his hero with materialistic gaze, todoroki's expression wrenched in pain with each step as they ran. ran away. one memory after another takes a shot into his heart. until a hand settles on his own, a warm voice drifts into his ear, his presence burning away nightmare seeds. fuck the hospital rules.

it's dangerous for a hero to love, isn't it. opening his heart for someone else to plant a cord within his flesh and muscle, forever tethered and vulnerable. day after day, he risks his life, and by proxy, the happiness and safety of the man he loves. what can he say to todoroki's dripping face in the rain as he lies in a pool of blood? the same quiet words he spoke to him in a bath's warm embrace as they indulged in each other's bodies and pleasure? no... all logic slammed his heels into his brain when he realized what happened. called himself a stupid fool. run! avoid it! the strong have no weakness! what a moron, thinking of todoroki as his weakness. hands press to the bed, denting sheet material around his palms as the other hero climbs in beside him on all fours. this man gave him more strength, more reason to survive and live and win, than any weakness or threat he could ever face.]

Don't put weight on your bad side. [as if he forgot todoroki's nursing his own injuries. busted ribs, shoulder impact, each breath a conscious decision. he keeps his body still, one hand half-lifted in case he needs to catch or direct him as he situates. as much as he wants to tell him to lie on his back or front, someone's gotta be a stubborn butt and snuggle up to him on edge. only when he's settled close does he finally slip his arm around todoroki's shoulder and pull him close. chest to ribs, heads close enough to rest his own against soft mismatched hair. the scent of shampoo and medicine and something uniquely todoroki draws in with his breath. balming.]

Hmph. Saying that kinda crap while I'm injured. [as sappy as it is arousing. really should headbutt him for being such a pain in the ass out of nowher-] Ngh?! Oy!! [what the hell's with this cheek pinching bullshit?! he gets two or three good grips before he tugs his head to the side with a petulant snarl. is he some little old lady going after a preschooler?! he hikes his shoulder (wincing slightly, bad arm) and rubs his cheek into it aggressively. even embarrassed, he hears todoroki's underlying words, what he really means... bastard's gonna make his heart go too damn fast! and he's so close, of course he'll feel it, if not hear the stupid thing!] Then start looking for apartments.

[hairsplit]

( like always: it's in one ear and out the other. bakugou might scold him or bark instructions at him, but he knows what he's doing, or rather, knows what he's going to do, no matter who might tell him not to. at this point, he thinks he might even fight a nurse if he had to, just to stay here a little longer--he knows he won't be able to sleep here, permanently, that the nurses will do their rounds and he'll be shuttled off back to his bed with a gentle warning, but for now, there's nowhere else that he would rather be, or, more than that: nowhere else that he'll allow himself to be. he needs to be pressed up against bakugou's side, soaked into the shape of him, letting that distinct, sweet smell curl up into him like a soothing balm.

that cheek gets pulled away from his pinching, but that's fine. the punishment's been made, and more importantly, his point has been made, too. it's stupid to assert that bakugou might need anyone, stupid to demand that he need him, of all people, but that's what a relationship is about, isn't it? being able to accept that measure of weakness, being able to contend with it, being able to understand that there are risks just as much as there are benefits to the idea. oddly, despite all of his bad examples, he's never had a problem with that idea: endeavor might see his family as just an extension of his own ego, but he's never thought of it like that at all.

this situation proves it to him, too--they worked together. they wouldn't have made it this far otherwise.

still, bakugou's words surprise him, in the comfortable haze he's settled into, his cheek pressed softly over the top of bakugou's chest, tucked against him. in silence, he considers them; his tongue races out over his lips, as though trying to connect the dots.

finally, like always, he lifts his chin up, digs it into bakugou's chest to peer up at him: )

I should look for apartments? ( and then, a dash of disappointment: ) You want me out of the dorm?

( it hits him, there, only once the words are past his lips--and then he's pursing them together, embarrassed, a slight frown fit at the corners of his mouth for his own inadequacy. )

You mean an apartment together. For us. ...Together.

[blastedass]

[stubborn bastard. why'd he have to fall in love with someone as willing to move as a glacier? growl at him for wanting to sleep beside an injured boyfriend and those dual-colored eyes stare back at him without hearing a damn word. it'd be fun to watch shouto fight a nurse, but he's too tired to deal with that kind of noise. argue about it in the morning, when he growls at the matron to find a cot and bring it into his room. IF he even needs it. because he'll be doing his damnest to get out of the hospital tomorrow! these injuries are nothing compared to past wounds! fuck wasting away in a stupid bed. doctors prodding and coddling him. piss off, he knows what he can and can't do- OW! fuck! watch where you're putting that hand, half-n-half!] Are you trying to break my ribs?!

[barely a clunk, more a brush, and he's whisper snarling into his boyfriend's face while they settle under medical sheets and blankets. has to tug the entire thing up so those long ass legs can slot down within his own body-warmed wrap and put cold toes to his feet and ankles. che! letting shouto get away with too much. he nudges one leg aside, pushes at the cloth weight tucked so hard below the mattress on all corners, and hooks his ankle over his, gathering those lower legs into his own for a lazy tangle. better than pinching his stupid cheek.

lying on his good side, bad arm resting along his body's skyline, he takes in each facet of shouto's visage. how his bangs hand sideways from his pillow-propped head, broad shoulders taller than his own in this supine position, expression comfortable and bland as always. far better than his concerned frightened face shouting at him and staring worried at his blood. a hero always risks things... not only their own lives, but the people they love and care for. is it weakness or strength to have those bonds? shouto might not have gotten hurt if he hadn't tried to protect him. but that's also part of being a hero... my body, your shield. your love, my strength.

losing sight of his face, he rolls onto his back and lets shouto get comfortable on his chest, head resting atop his heart for each reassuring thud beneath his ribs. no, he's grown up. realized a long time ago people, while annoying, are strengths that come with weaknesses. weaknesses he has to contend with and protect. going back to pure solo... there's no going back to how he used to be. the future's together. fingers slowly drum along shouto's shoulder from where he's hooked his arm around his boyfriend's body, red eyes gazing up at the ceiling in half-lidded contemplation.]

Of course together! Do all that mental gymnastics in your head next time, dumbass. [sheesh! he didn't have to walk him through his stupor turned sadness turned contemplation turned realization. took him long enough to put it together. a wet curl behind his teeth and he clicks his tongue in annoyance tinged with taunting amusement.] Think you're strong enough to live with me?