Chapter Text
"Riot," Katsuki wheezes when more crimson fills his vision. Not blood, not this time, but Eijirou Kirishima.
He tries for some kind of scold, the insult on his lips, and fails.
It doesn't help that the words come out barely more than a gasp and when he starts speaking, Katsuki feels something inside him snap.
More red blood pours out of his parted lips, and all he can manage is, "Ya f-fucking lot lizard. Wh't are y' doin'?”
He's not supposed to be here. He can't be here.
Katsuki's very atoms scream Danger and he tries to reach for his best friend, tries to push Kirishima away from here. He can't die here too. He'd never forgive himself.
Riot is tough, absolutely. But he can't be here alone when Katsuki is bleeding out on the cement and there's still enemies to defeat. Ones that Katsuki lost to.
He can't die here too.
Black spots dance in Katsuki’s vision, and his hold on his own side slips with the wetness now soaking his arm. He wavers on his knees, listing to the side. Fuck, did that last hit go through him?
"I'm taking care of this, Dynamight." Riot says, slamming his fist together. There's a look in his eyes--acidic poison that Katsuki rarely ever sees. The spark that his slammed fists make has him looking down-right deranged.
Don't need your fucking help , he tries to snap, but maybe this time, and only this time, he really does need some fucking help.
Kirishima reads him, because he's too good at it. Or maybe he can make out the jumbled mess of Katsuki's words as his consciousness fades. Either way, his focus is way too much on Katsuki when there's villians about.
"Maybe you don't need my help," Eijirou says, entire body molding into a weapon, his face becoming all angles and rock. "But these assholes do. How are they gonna get to Tartatrus without me?"
Which holy shit how long has Kiri been thinking of that line? Deliriously, Katsuki thinks about how much he loves it when Eijirou cusses. It does something to him, makes his heart flutter to know those are Katsuki's words coming out of his mouth.
Or maybe his heart flutters because all his blood is outside of him, and there's nothing left to circulate.
The last thing Katsuki sees before he pitches into the dirt is Kirishima tossing his fucking stupid skirt at him. It hits the ground before he does, catching his face-first fall and giving him something soft to land on.
His eyes slide closed just as Eijirou rushes four villains all on his own.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Katsuki pries open his eyes, nose stinging with smell of antiseptic and death. He comes to gasping, the heart monitor picking up in tempo as he takes in his surroundings, each ping sending a shoot of pain into his head.
Hospital.
He's alive.
Katsuki forces his arms to work. They feel like lead, or fucking tungsten considering how unfamilar and heavy they are.
He grits his teeth against the scream in his throat as he tosses off the red blanket he came in with to look down at himself. He's gotta see how bad it is.
No intubation in his throat. That's a plus. Once, he’d woken up from a light coma with all that shit in him and he still has nightmares about it.
He's got all his limbs, even if they aren't responding quick enough to his instructions. Thank fuck. He'll take his physical therapy with a smile as long as he still has body parts to work with.
Katsuki's fingers shake as he pulls at his hospital gown. He just wants to see the worst of it, needs the physical reminders of what got him here in the first place because his brain's not recalling all the details clearly.
Had he been shot? Drowned? Fuck, hadn't his arm been turned to glass for part of the fight?
Unsteady, he trudges on. The gown slips from him, twice, before he's able to get a good enough hold on it. What little bit of inches he manages to lift the thin material shows long black stitches. Several long black stitches. Shit.
But he's alive. Fuck. He's alive.
Katsuki had been sure he was dead. Four against one, with one wielding a water bending quirk. His natural sweat production had been neutralized. He had burned through his grenades and definitely gotten shot in the process and no one had even known he was out there. How had he--
KIRISHIMA.
EIJIROU!
Katsuki scrambles to the call button, cursing when his body screams in protest and his stupid fucking fingers almost drop the damn thing. His abdomen pulls tight at the movement and almost has him passing out against the mattress even with the drugs they're no doubt pumping in him. He slams his thumb into the red circle over and over and if the doctors didn't open the door any sooner he was planning on ripping out his IV to send the machines crazy.
"Where's Red Riot?!" Is the first thing out of his sore throat. He might be a sack of broken pieces but at least he doesn't have to repeat himself.
At first, no one says anything. Two women just stare at him like he's a science rat they're surprised is still alive.
Fine.
Katsuki comands his arms to work. Really puts mental effort into forcing the smallest movements. He starts to pull off the censors and lines on his arms and chest. He can find Kirishima his fucking self if no one here is going to fucking tell him where Ei is.
"Dynamight!" Someone yells.
"Sir please stop!--"
No! He needs to see Kirishima, even if he has to drag his fucking body to another ward in the hospital. "I need to get to his room." I need to see he's alive.
Another doctor walks in then, one with fuckin’ seahorse ears, just as Katsuki's swinging his legs over the side of his bed and fighting a massive wave of dizziness.
The new doctor’s wearing a labcoat where everyone else is just in scrubs. He’s got a clipboard and taps a pen against it in annoyance when he sees Katsuki trying to undo all his hard work over the last week. "He's not staying here."
Katsuki's stomach bascically drops out his ass. The dizziness worsens, and he barely catches himself on an outstretched hand. "What?" His voice does give in then, and he croaks, "Is he dead?"
He couldn't be. Katsuki would be able to feel it, he knows he would.
The doctor gets in his space, pushing Katsuki back on the bed. He takes off the stethoscope on his neck, avoiding those weirdass appendages of his, and it's only then that Katsuki realizes the machines are sort of screeching.
The doc shoves the stethoscope’s metal disk into the crease in Katsuki’s elbow. "If you'd wait a fucking second and stop trying to get rid of THE DRUGS KEEPING YOU ALIVE, he'll probably be back from the snack cart. Man hasn't ate in six days, we kicked him out. Chill."
The nurses kick into gear as soon as Katsuki sags against the bed. They redo all Katsuki has fucked up in his panic and help him sit a little better in the bed.
His eyes are watering as they work, because fuck, Katsuki really really needed to hear that. He's alive. They're alive.
Katsuki's sipping some water from a straw the nurses forced on him when Eijirou bursts into the room, eyes frantic, until they fall on Katsuki.
He sags, using the door jab for support, visibly relieved. His hair is a mess. His spikes are down flat, like fallen trees. He's wearing clothes Katsuki recognizes from the go bag he keeps in his truck, mismatched materials that even a blind person would know not to put together.
He's fucking beautiful.
"Katsuki." Kirishima's voice is raw. "Don't do that to me again." He croaks.
Do what? He wants to ask. Fight four villains at once? Die? Unplug all his things? Force hospital food on him during his voluntary stay?
I'm sorry lodges in his throat and feels like glass. He's always been ass at apologizing, even if it's Ei.
He reaches out his hand instead because he's much better with actions than words. Kirishima knows this, knows him, and immediately lunges for it to thread their fingers together.
Sometimes Eijirou will push Katsuki for words. He can be a stone wall when he wants to, especially if he thinks Katsuki needs to man up and apologize for some wrong. Katsuki needs someone who calls him on his shit, might even be thankful for it most times, even when he's pissed off about it, but this isn't one of those times.
Eijirou drops in the chair that's already drug as close as it can be to the bedside. Collapses, really. His hold on Katsuki is tight. Like he's afraid his injuries really will kill him at any moment.
"Are you okay?" Katsuki asks, roughly clutching at the only hand he's ever wanted to hold.
"Oh man, Blasty." Eijirou's eyes fill with tears. "Aren't I supposed to ask you that? You have a literal hole in you." His question ends in a strangled laugh born of anxiety and not any real humor. His hand comes up to rub the tears catching in his ridiculously long lashes, and he doesn't let go, doesn't even try, so their joint hands clean away his tears.
"Kiri," he whispers softly, just for Eijirou because he's only soft for him. "Come on. Quit being a shithead," he says fondly. “Answer me.”
Kirishima sniffles again, looking up at the ceiling as if willing his tears to stop. "I'm fine. Just a little cut." He jiggles his arm to draw attention to a small blue bandaid with red cherries on it. "Oh sorry," he says, like he's just noticed the bandage there. "I had some help picking out my bandaid from pediatrics."
A bandaid.
One fucking bandaid.
And Katsuki's sitting in a hospital bed with holes through him and a sewing box of thread in his guts.
"How?" He croaks, fingers on his other hand twisting in Kirishima's damn skirt draped over him like a comfort blankie. "There were four of them and they nearly killed me."
"You weakened them for me. You did the hard work. I just got there when they were all tapped out." Kirishima's canine pokes out when he smiles and Katsuki stares at it, impressiveness and insult swirling in his gut.
He shouldn't have needed help. He's the #3 hero. He's Bakugou Katsuki. He works solo missions when the dossier is miles long. He brought down the entire orange market for trafficking in his prefecture.
Plus, It's not even true. It's fucking sympathy words, lies born of pity no doubt.
When Katsuki had gone tits up he'd seen the villains still attacking with their quirks. And yeah, he'd done some pretty serious damage, at least one of them was deaf now and missing half an arm--
But... still.
Kirishima wasn't even in the top 10. He was close, damn close, at number 12. And yes, Kirishima was notorious in Katsuki’s book for always keeping up with him. For scoring as many points for Villian Take Downs as Rescue but...
"It was a bad match up." He whispers, his thumb stroking softly against the pulse in Katsuki's wrist.
Katsuki isn't sure if Kiri means him or himself.
"But we lived through it, B! And look at it this way! Now you get me as a roommate! Silver lining!"
It didn't seem like a bad match up with Kiri sitting here very much the victor and--- wait. "What?"
"Yep! I know you're big on your space but I'm taking you home and I'm staying until you get a clean bill of health. You'll need help with your bandages, and small things, and if I'm lucky, showering--"
No! Nonono! "I don't need to be fucking coddled-"
"You almost DIED!"
"I almost die like, every year, it's fine-"
"Katsuki." Eijirou's tone hardens, just like his skin. Unyielding. That poison is back, and now it's directed at him. Katsuki won't win this one. Not unless he's willing to break his body further for the sake of winning. "I'm staying. Fuck off with that. You're stuck with me. End of story."
Katsuki grits his teeth. This was not part of the plan. He'd made it clear after graduation, when Kirishima had asked him to move in with him that this could not and would not happen. Sorry, I just don't like the idea of sharing my space, Ei. And we're working at different agencies.. the commute just doesn't make sense.
Lies. Lies to keep Katsuki safe .
"Or what."
"No 'or what'. What exactly are you gonna do to stop me? This might be the only time I can beat the almighty Dynamight in a fight. Try to kick me out. I dare ya."
"Eijirou."
"Katsuki," Kirishima parrots. "It's just until you're better. You survived a villian attack. You'll survive a roommate. Suck it up."
"Gods." Katsuki sighs, dropping back against the bed. "You're taking after me too much. Where's the soft little sunshine boy you used to be." He grumbles.
Kirishima grins, tongue poking out between his teeth. "He turned into a man~."
He's a fantastic roommate all things considered. Not that there had been any question of that. No, Katsuki's reasoning for declining him after school had nothing to do with the 1000 sq footage between two men and everything thing to do with the fact he couldn't trust himself not to eat Kiri the fuck up.
Which it's becoming fucking clear, was a GREAT move on Katuski's part. Because HOLY SHIT--
"Bath's all warmed up!" Kiri shouts from the doorway. He's shirtless, fuck he's pantsless, with his long red hair pulled up in a high bun on his head, and a towel tucked under his arm. "Well, the shower water is warm. No baths for you since you know, you're just a couple of parts stitched together right now. Come on, up!"
Katsuki grits his teeth, hardens his jaw, and pointedly does not look at Eijirou because he ain't a fucking dog and he ain't gonna be called like one.
"Awww, don't be like that Blasty!" Kirishima tosses the towel behind him, probably into the bathroom floor, the animal. "You haven't showered in three days. Up!"
"Fuck you! I can do it myself!"
"Sure." Kirishima says, no bullshit. "You want me to watch you struggle to stand up, probably fall, or do you want to skip to the part where I help you?"
"Tch." Katsuki says nothing, but picks at the red skirt still covering his lap. It kind of just keeps showing up, in his bed, on his couch, and it's warm, and it smells good, smells like... well. So he's not even mad about it. "Fucking fine." He spits.
Kirishima gives him his biggest smile, the one that makes Katsuki fucking breathless, and steps across the living room in like two steps to help him up.
He doesn't let out a godsdamn sound, even though his body feels like unoiled gears rubbing together. He almost bites through his own tongue to keep his shit together and stand on his own feet, but he does it.
He hates admitting weakness, he should be above injury, and when he's definitely not because his body hasn't got the memo, he hates drawing attention to it. But Kirishima, ever watchful of him, brushes his sweaty bangs back from his face and puts a soft kiss on his temple.
"Good boy." And then he shatters the moment, "You want bubbles and my special rubber ducky?"
"Yeah," Katsuki grumbles, trying for pissed and failing. "And your fifty dollar conditioner too."
Kirishima laughs, and herds him into the bathroom like some built-as-fuck sheepdog.
Katsuki has never been shy of his body. Even when they were teens in the communal bath, his philosophy has always been -- what does Kaminari call it?-- big dick energy.
Afterall, he works hard for his physique, and he's a show-er and a grow-er, so what the fuck did he have to be shy about?
Except now, when it's the two of them shoved in his tiny little bathroom, he feels a blush paint itself across his cheekbones and the tops of his freckled shoulders.
Kirishima's already in the water, head ducked under the spray and encouraging dye pink rivets to map out the curves of his muscles. Why the fuck did he get in even? Wouldn't it be less of a problem to just stand outside the shower? And if he did want to get in (because really Katsuki probably can't stand on his own two feet in the shower right now) why get in before him?
Probably something soft and dumb like give him space and a minute to deal with his wounded pride over being a fucking invalid.
Breaking his thoughts, Eijirou kneels down, like some kind of demon, hellbent on giving Katsuki all kinds of lewd thoughts he doesn't need.
Eijirou looks like he's caught up in a rainstorm, hair coming loose to plaster down his neck. He slowly puts his hands on the waistband of Katsuki's pajama bottoms and give him those fucking eyes.
His huge, beautiful crimson eyes, that clash with Katsuki's and fuck.
Ei looks really good on his knees.
"Can I take these off?"
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Katsuki's dick is not getting the message that this is a clincial shower because of medical reasons and not fucking date night with his best friend.
He swallows, tries to think of awful things like his parents in underwear, and says, "Well, I'm not getting in with them on so."
And with a quick lick against his bottom lip, that has Katsuki imagining his tongue elsewhere, Kirishima has him exposed.
It's kinda fucking weird that he went for the pants first, considering Katsuki is still very much wearing a shirt. Eijirou's big oversized one at that.
He goes to say something, until he realizes Kirishima is trying to drag him in the stall with it on.
"Oi! What the fuck are you doing?" Katsuki slams a palm against Kirishima's bare pec and with the water and his injuries, all he can manage is a little heated skin. "My shirt!"
"My shirt", Kiri instantly corrects, lifting Katsuki's leg a little to pull him fully into the shower. "And I figured you'd want some modesty while we do this. Also ya know. The healing bullet hole. Do you want it off?"
Not really sure what the correct fucking answer is, Katsuki crosses his arms and looks to the waterfall blocked by Kirishima's giant back. "Don't know how my tits are more important than my dick, but whatever."
"It's not a shower if you're fully clothed," Kirishima chatizes, grabbing Katsuki's loafa to suds up with his Crimson Riot body wash. Katsuki's non-scented, very functional body wash sits right beside it, but again, he shuts his mouth and lets Kiri work his own scent into his arms.
"I'm not trying to be fully clothed! I'm saying I could have kept my boxers instead of the shirt!" He bitches. He lifts his arm so Ei can scrub from his shoulder down to his fingernails. He can technically do this part, just bending at the abdomen to get at his lower half would be difficult, but he also doesn't say shit to stop Kirishima because his lids are already getting heavy and he's fucking desperate for the touch.
"Sure.” Eijirou says, drawing him back to the conversation. “If only you were wearing boxers." Eijirou says it like it's nothing, pumping more body wash on the sponge to work it into Katsuki’s other arm. "You were the one out here freeballing, man."
He considers saying something about how this is his fucking house and he'll wear what ever he damn well pleases but the massage Kirishima gives Katsuki's sore hands has him fucking light headed, his knees trembling so hard he actually has to press his shoulder into the tiles to stay up right.
Ei grins, like he knows his hands are fucking magic, but he doesn't say anything except a hum of affection.
Katsuki lets Eijirou have his way with him, for as long as he wants. When the water starts to make Eijirou's skin pebble with gooseflesh, he tugs at his wet red hair, in a protest for them to get out.
"Still got your bottom half," Eijirou whispers, reaching behind him to fiddle with the knobs and force out more hot water.
When he next drops to his knees, it almost puts him level with Katsuki's half hard cock. Half hard because Kirishima may be in boxers, but he's still fucking delicious to look at, his hands are magic, and Katsuki's not a eunuch.
Like this, Ei could lean forward and suck the tip into his mouth so easily and just the mental image of it has Katsuki digging his nails into the shower door handle.
He tries his fucking best to keep his dick down, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling and trying so hard to focus on how many little peaks there are in the stipple ceiling. He gets to thirty-three before he can breathe evenly again, as long as he does not look down.
Kirishima starts at his feet, having no idea that Katsuki is mentally waxing poetic about the gagging sounds he’d make with Katsuki’s dick lodged down his throat. He swipes the rag across Katsuki's toes somewhat quickly, because his feet are fucking ticklish and Ei doesn't need kneed in the mouth, but if he keeps fucking around they both know he'll get it.
Katsuki’s calves are washed next, followed by his knees, and the outside of his thighs where he's got his tattoos.
Kirishima swallows as he traces the black, red, and orange ink, loud enough to be heard over the fall of water. They don't talk about his tattoos.
Eijirou stares at them anytime he catches sight of them, brows drawn together like he's trying to puzzle out why a manly guy like Katsuki would get something so delicate on his thigh.
Once, they’d been drunk off their asses, tequila pickling their organs and Kirishima had thrown a sloppy arm over his shoulders and said, “Ahhh! My colors. Did you get those for me?”
They both pretend they were too drunk to remember Katsuki admitting yes, yes he did.
The attention Eijirou’s giving to the fine lines running towards his groin draws his gaze down just as Ei looks up with those damn luminous eyes like he's asking and begging for permission to drag his fucking tongue across his dick or something.
And Katsuki desperately wants to say yes, fuck, touch me, wants to ask so sweetly for Ei to just grip his dick and stroke the soap all over it until he's boneless, but he's still got his pride here and he's not weak.
He can technically wash his own junk. And it'll be less complicated if he does.
One, because once Ei starts, once he wraps his fingers around him one time, Katsuki's going to crave it for his entire life.
Two, because he should probably pretend to be a gentleman here and not put Kirishima in a weird position where he thinks he has to complete every process of his self-appointed caregiver role.
Three, because he will really really never be able to go back to jacking off alone.
So Katsuki slaps at Eijirou’s wandering hand headed straight for his promised land, just as his pink tongue pokes out like he's really focusing on the task at hand. Kirishima's so shocked at the unexpected hit that his whole arm is knocked away and the sponge goes flying.
“Jeez,” he says with an awkward laugh. “If you wanted me to use just my hand you should have said something!”
And before Katsuki can bite out a scathing retort about being the only one worthy of touching his dick, Kirishima has pumped soap into his palm and wrapped his steel, so very warm, fingers around his shaft.
Katsuki gasps, the sound soft and breathless, and embarrassing as fuck. His ears get hot with it, which pisses him off. Absolutely no one, especially not Kirishima, needed a front row seat to how touch starved he was.
“Kirishima,” he grits, his body barely held up by his shaking knees. “Get your fucking hand off my dick.”
Kirishima runs his hand up, quick and professional, and even that makes Katsuki's toes curl. “Grow up,” he says, nearly killing Katsuki as he does the same quick wash to his balls. “This is what friendship is. Now turn around, I need to wash your ass.”
It's entirely pathetic, but there's no way Katsuki survives any more of Kirishima's attentions. He was in the hospital only days ago. His quirk already does some fucky things to his blood/heart and right now Ei is a bomb on the horizon that will literally explode him.
“I can do it,” Katsuki protests, kicking at Eijirou's crouched form. “Just get out and give me a second.”
“I can do it faster. And you'll pull your abdomen stitches reaching back--”
“Eijirou. Fuck. Come on. This is embarrassing enough.” and it is. Even as hot as it might be, it makes Katsuki's stomach feel like rolling acid. He's pathetic like this, not strong at all. How the fuck could Kirishima ever look at him and--
No. That line of thinking is fucking dangerous. They're just friends.
“How is your ass worse than your cock? I can do it.” Kirishima shuffles forward on his knees, binding an arm around Katsuki's thighs which might be the only thing keeping him from crashing into the shower mat. His entire front is plastered to Katsuki's legs, which makes Katsuki’s cock almost close enough to touch his soft chubby cheek--
“EIJIROU. This is ridiculous. I'm a grown fucking man--”
“A man who literally died last week--”
“I can--”
“Katsuki,” Eijirou says, so softly. He's blinking water out of his eyes, and his cheeks are pink too. “Make my life, dude.” His tone is teasing, it's just a fucking joke to him, but Katsuki's entire being tingles with the thought of being desired. “Let me do this.”
Honestly, he still might have kept up with the protesting, if his brain wasn't melting out his fucking ears. But by the time his hearing’s even come back online, Eijirou’s done. Because this isn't a sex thing, it's not an exploration of each other's bodies, it's just… medical.
It's just a task and Katsuki is literally never going to be the same ever again after feeling Kirishima's hands where no one else's has ever been. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe after he heals fully, he needs to take a lover, or six. Completely get Kirishima out of his system.
“You're looking a little flushed there, Blasty.” Kirishima notices, as he shuts the water off and steps out first. “You feeling okay?”
He towels his hair off before his body, leaning over to drip water all over the fucking floor as he runs a towel through his long red hair. Bent over, with a towel in the way, there’s no way Kirishima manages to keep an assessing eye on Katsuki.
Given a tiny window of opportunity, Katsuki takes this sacred moment of no eye contact to ogle every exposed inch of Ei's chest and legs. He'd like to pretend he was checking out Kirishima's gains or the results of his own borrowed intensive workout regime, but Katsuki's well past perv territory, his gaze catching on the gigantic bulge covered by soaked boxers.
Covered-- until Kirishima reaches down with his hair twisted up in a swirled towel to pull at the waistband of his underwear and Katsuki gets a glimpse of dark black hair--
Before his shoulder is somehow slipping off the damp wall where it's supported and he's falling and aware enough to know he's going to land on his wrist but not having the reflexes to catch himself in time--
Somehow, Eijirou catches him before he hits the ground.
Maybe he'd seen something in Katsuki's face to know it was going to happen. He's probably been focused on him since the flushed comment, cataloging illness, waiting for something like this so he could swoop in like a knight.
Maybe Kirishima's got some kind of second quirk. A Katsuki-spidey sense that no doctor would know to test for in childhood.
Or maybe he's just fast for a literal boulder.
Somehow Katsuki is being cradled and removed from the shower without further injury, all while Kirishima's dick is out and his boxers are half way down his legs.
“Jesus Christ.” Katsuki presses a weak hand to his spinning head. “Put that thing away before it touches me.”
Kirishima tosses his head back on a laugh, his wet hair flying and flicking water all over Katsuki. “You'd think you'd be more concerned with your health and less concerned with my 100% All-Beef Thermometer.”
Katsuki feels his eye twitch and part of him wishes he would have died when he slipped in the shower.