From Your Hand

Author's Note: I originally published this story on AO3 in March 2019.

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Friday night, Bakugou was lying on his bed, flipping idly through his phone when it began to vibrate in his hand. Kirishima, the screen read.

Bakugou froze. Shitty-hair had never called him before; when he needed something, he sent a text or found Bakugou directly. Not to mention, this time on Fridays, he was supposed to be at his internship. Had he called by mistake?

Bakugou decided to answer in order to sate his curiosity. "Yo," he said. "Don't you have your internship? What the hell are you calling me for?"

"Hello, Bakugou. I'm sorry to bother you. This is Aizawa."

Bakugou froze.

"Kirishima is okay," Aizawa said quickly, perhaps knowing how easy it would be for Bakugou's mind to assume the worst. "I mean... his arms are both broken, but he's okay, relatively speaking. He's conscious and safe."

"Two broken arms doesn't sound fucking okay," Bakugou said, jumping out of bed and one-handedly shoving his shoes onto his feet. The wrong feet. Fuck. "Where is he right now?"

"He's in Recovery Girl's office. He asked for you - that's why I called."

"Tell him I'll be there soon," Bakugou said, and hung up, stomach churning.

---

When he arrived, Kirishima was propped up in a bed with his arms in slings against his chest. Aizawa was slumped over in a chair off to the side - Bakugou couldn't tell if he was asleep or not - and Recovery Girl herself was nowhere to be seen.

"What's the fucking deal?" Bakugou said, addressing both of them. "What happened?"

"I was at my internship and things went south. But don't worry, we won," Kirishima said, and shot him a toothy grin. "We got him, no sweat." But Bakugou could tell he was tired; his movements were slower than normal, his smile more forced. "Recovery Girl did as much as she could in one session and says she'll have at least one of my arms fixed tomorrow, both if I'm lucky and she thinks I can handle it."

"Bakugou, as it is, Kirishima can't feed himself," Aizawa said, apparently awake after all. "We could have a nurse do it, but Kirishima suggested asking you first. You're absolutely not obligated to agree, of course."

Bakugou looked at Aizawa through narrowed eyes. He was obligated to agree, and Aizawa fucking knew it. He could have asked Bakugou on the phone before calling him over, but here, in front of Kirishima himself, there was no way he could refuse. "I'll do it," he said at last, crossing his arms. "I don't see any food, though."

"It's on the way," Aizawa said, checking his phone. "Should just be a couple more minutes."

Bakugou sat down awkwardly and looked at Kirishima. He only dared to do so because Kirishima's eyes were closed; he was breathing deeply, and for a moment Bakugou wondered if Kirishima had fallen asleep, but after a moment he cracked open an eye and gave Bakugou a small smile.

"Food's here!" someone called, entering the room.

They all turned. Fucking Present Mic was there for some reason, coming towards them with a to-go container, which he set on a table next to Kirishima with a flourish.

"Thanks, Hizashi," Aizawa said, rising. "You two, I'm taking off. Bakugou, if you need help, there's a nurse on call." He pointed to a whiteboard, upon which a phone number was written. Bakugou scoffed; he already knew he wouldn't need to call for help. "Just help him eat and he'll probably fall asleep immediately afterwards," Aizawa said, standing in the doorway. "He's supposed to spend the night here, so don't let him leave."