A Kiss Where it Doesn't Hurt/A Kiss in Relief - BkDk
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They didn’t tell him.

They didn’t fucking //tell him//

Katsuki shoves past a pair of sidekicks, part of him hoping one of them will give him shit about it just so he can punch something. https://twitter.com/ophelia_wolf/status/1372300991039692801

But there’s nothing more to reward him than a surprised yelp as he storms on towards his bosses office.

The door hits the wall hard enough to leave a dent but Katsuki can’t find it in himself to care, anger only rising when Hawks seems unruffled by his sudden intrusion.

“I’m leavin’ now,” he snarls. “Find someone to cover the night shift tonight, I’m out.”

Hawks heaves a sigh and pinches between his eyes.

“DynaMight, wait a minute-”

“Fuck off,” Katsuki snaps, taking a warning step forward.

“Deku was evac’d in hours ago. You knew and you told me jack shit. He’s fuckin’ critical and you pretended like nothin’ was fuckin’ wrong. He- He’s-”

His breath comes in short and he falters, head bowed and shoulders hunched.

He spins on his heel to go but something weary and small in Hawks voice stops him:

“I know, Bakugo,” he acknowledges. “But we couldn’t risk throwing you off in the middle of that infiltration. You know that.”

Katsuki hears the slow thump of booted steps crossing the room and doesn’t shrug off the hand Hawks places on his shoulder. And he does know, but it doesn’t settle any of the emotions coiled under his skin.

“Go.”

There’s a squeeze of Hawks’ fingers to accompany his permission-

-and Katsuki jerks to look at him with narrowed eyes. There’s a shadow in Hawk’s face underwriting the apology but Katsuki doesn’t have the time or inclination to ask about it now.

“We’ll sort your cover, tomorrow too. Go and be with Midoriya, ok?”

“Yeah, th-thanks.”

It’s an effort to speak but Hawks makes no mention of the stutter or the bass in Katsuki’s voice before he’s back in the now deserted hallway, skin humming with urgency.

/Deku.../

*****

He remembers nothing of the taxi to the hospital, nor navigating the halls once he gets there, only the term “Intensive Care Unit” that echoes in his head until he reaches the eerily quiet hallway.

A nurse more exhausted than he’s ever seen points him down the corridor with a kind but careworn smile and he thinks he manages to thank her.

Maybe he doesn't, he's not sure...

Katsuki lunges through the door with more force than he intends but catches it in clumsy fingers before it can hit the wall when Inko startles, bolting upright from where she’s been leaning over the bed, leaning over-

“Deku.”

Lying in the bed, Deku looks…

He looks dead.

Or very close to it...

His face is slack, dark bags under his eyes stark against the patches of ashen skin Katsuki can see beneath all the bandages. Even the green of his hair is obscured by bandages and net caps and Katsuki’s stomach rolls at the thoughts of what’s necessitated //that//.

His fingers twitch towards the bed and Inko must see the devastation he’s trying so fuckin’ hard to hide because there’s suddenly a small hand against his forearm and when he looks down she’s smiling at him.

It’s fragile, but it’s kind, even though her eyes are red rimmed and still watering.

“Come on, Katsuki-kun,” she whispers, as encouraging as ever as she pats his arm. “He’s stable now, he’s going to be ok.”

But that’s no comfort really, not over the arrhythmia playing out on the monitor and the mechanical puff-and-hum routine of the respirator. The sounds weave together and Katsuki has to fight not to hurl, swallowing around bile and a hollow lump in his throat.

His own heartbeat rises to drown it out and he staggers sideways, vision smearing.

But Inko steadies him, wrapping small arms around his waist until he comes back to himself enough to stand on his own.

“‘m’fine,” he grunts.

It sounds ungrateful and he has enough wherewithal, just about, to wince. But she just pats his hand and inclines her head towards the bed before stepping away from him and leaning over her son again.

“Izuku,” she whispers, fingers carefully skirting over the net on his head.

“Katsuki-kun is here to see you.”

She smiles but Katsuki can hear the tremor in her voice. “I’m going to call your dad, but Katsuki-kun will look after you while I’m gone, ok?”

Green eyes dart to look at him and Katsuki manages a half-aborted nod, moving closer.

“Yeah, ‘m here.” he murmurs, leaning close to Izuku’s ear.

His cheeks burn under Inko’s gaze, but she’s never judged them before and even now all she does is squeeze his shoulder in thanks, sniffing into a handkerchief as she slips out the door.

“Fuck,” Katsuki bites out once he’s alone. He clutches at the guard rail with trembling fingers and struggles to keep himself together. His other hand finds Izuku’s, limp and cold even through the bandages. Something under his skin burns to chase down the bastards that did this,

but a much larger something, closer to the centre of his chest, roots him in place, keeps his eyes tracking back and forth over Izuku’s face for any sign of life. That same something urges him to lean over the bed, to press the barest kisses to the only unmarred skin he can find.

His lips brush over the delicate skin of Izuku’s eyelids and right at the corner of his mouth. His nose skims the fixing tape of the respirator tube and he pulls back, wary of disrupting any lines or wires.

“What the fuck did you get yourself into, Deku,” he mutters,

dropping heavily into the empty seat. There’s no answer, as expected, and Katsuki swipes a clammy hand through his hair.

He’ll have to call his folks and ask them to look after Inko and, shit, he’ll have to call Deku's boss about cover and leave plans.

“You’re in such fuckin’ trouble,” he grumbles, running his thumb gently over Izuku’s cottoned knuckles. And yeah, he’s not gonna let this go.

He can't this time.

“You promised me you’d stop pullin’ this shit,” he croaks, giving in to the sting in his eyes.

He knows it’s not fair to judge Izuku before he’s even heard the story, but here, alone in the astringent quiet of an ICU room, Katsuki can’t help how this years-old wound reopens.

There’s the barest squeeze of his hand and Katsuki’s head snaps up to find half-lidded eyes on him

Izuku blinks once: slow, dazed, and Katsuki scrambles to his feet, hand cupping his head oh so carefully.

“Deku-” His dry whisper catches in his throat and Deku makes a groggy sound before his eyelids flutter shut again.

“Sleep, nerd,” Katsuki whispers. “We’ll talk later.”

And they will.

When Izuku is coherent enough to explain himself.

They’ll talk, they’ll yell, they’ll cry because Katsuki needs Izuku to understand what this does to him every time and Izuku always feels guilt like a mortal wound.

But that’s for later.

For now, Katsuki just presses another kiss to Izuku’s eyelid and picks up the nurse call bell.

He’d better tell them the nerd woke up.