#this is a disaster ive barely edited this
y'all: deku is your favorite punching bag
me as i post this snippet ive been sitting on for five days: i have no idea what you’re talking about
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“Don’tfucking fall asleep,” Bakugou growls, and Izuku winces at the feeling of fingernails digging painfully into his skin. “I swear to god if I have to—”
“Kacchan, t-that hurts.”
Bakugou flinches like he’s been struck, and the pricks of pain ease. In the dim half-light, he can see the uneasy look on Bakugou’s face. “Yeah, well tough. It’s keeping you awake, so fucking deal with it.”
Is it just him, or is there something incongruous between Bakugou’s words and actions? Izuku’s lips tug in a frown as he churns over this new revelation. “But you—”
“Talk about something,” Bakugou interrupts gruffly. “Just— I dunno, whatever. Shit, it’s like the only thing you’re sort of good at anyway.”
Which is blatantly untrue, Izuku thinks with a flash of annoyance. He’s good at being a hero— he has to be good at being a hero, or else all the effort he’s put into this will be wasted, and he’s not about to let All Might down like that. That Bakugou is sitting here, unharmed instead of crushed between two layers of rock— while Izuku lays slowly bleeding at his feet— is all the evidence he needs.
Izuku licks his lips. They’re starting to go numb, and it makes forming words difficult. His tongue fumbles when he goes to speak; slurring the words together. “Like— like what?”
“I don’t care,” Bakugou says shortly. “One of your stupid battle analyses, for all I give a crap.”
“You— you’ve n-never been interested before—” Izuku starts, but Bakugou’s dark look silences him before he can finish the thought.
“You think I’m actually interested now? I don’t give a shit about your shitty notes or whatever, I just need you to keep talking so you don’t fall asleep and die.”
Izuku gulps, and a muscle spasms in his leg; he chokes back the strangled sound that threatens to rise up, hoping Bakugou won’t notice the tears forming in his eyes.
From the hot glare Bakugou shoots him, he’s not that lucky.
“R-right.” Izuku licks his lips again, casting his gazes at the flickering shadows on the wall. Anything to avoid the almost accusing look on Bakugou’s face. “Um, w-well, there was that battle between Kamui Woods and the villain with a monster quirk, and it gave me s-some ideas for if we ever went up against that—”
Izuku runs through dozens of simulations, letting his mind slide seamlessly into the dissection of each potential battle, analyzing the different Quirks and challenges associated with countering them, throwing in references to his own classmates just for the hell of it. Bakugou doesn’t comment beyond a few grunts that are probably supposed to be encouraging, but Izuku isn’t bothered. It’s easy to keep going once he gets started, and since Bakugou isn’t cutting him off with half-snarled insults or an explosive palm to the face, Izuku can carry on uninterrupted.
He talks until his throat’s dry and his lips are chapped, and its only when he finally pauses to swallow that he notices just how tired he is. The words peter off into silence, and if Izuku wasn’t already being propped up by Bakugou, he’d have sunk to the ground a long time ago.
Maybe it’s the unique combination of blood loss and running obsessively through battle simulations, but Izuku’s mind reels back to the slime villain encounter six months before UA’s entrance exam. Izuku knows this heavy exhaustion that weighs his limbs. He’s felt it before.
It strikes him with raw bluntness: he’s dying. He actually might die today.
Izuku’s breath hitches, and he has to close his eyes against the sharp ache blooming in his chest.
“Hey—” Bakugou’s voice is sharp. “Don’t fuckin'— hey, stay awake, idiot.”
“’M fine,” Izuku mumbles past trembling lips. He’s not sure who he’s trying to convince.
“Open your damn eyes, Deku.”
Izuku opens his eyes. Water leaks from them, and he clenches his teeth past the chattering that racks his jaw. He’s so cold. Where iseverybody?
“Probably figuring out a way to get us out of here without bringing the rest of the place down,” Bakugou replies without his usual harshness, which is jarring enough to distract Izuku from the fact that he apparently said that out loud.
Izuku stares at him. What little he can see of Bakugou’s face is pinched together, forming a deep crease between his eyebrows. It’s different from the patented Bakugou Scowl™ in that it isn’t directed at him, but at the tiny vent in the rock letting in their wavering source of light and oxygen; it’s less hostile and more considering, more—
Izuku sucks in a breath. Bakugou’s worried.
