Chapter Text
Izuku hates it when it rains. His head throbs in time with every other muscle and bone in his body, responding to the pressure of the atmosphere in a torturous way. He wishes, briefly, that he could respond to physical pressure in the same way he could respond to the pressure of the helm he carries. Shouldering his burdens alone is how he’s survived his entire life, though now he’s able to lessen it somewhat with help from his peers.
Currently, he’s lying with his head in the lap of one Katsuki Bakugo, something which he had never thought would happen up until several months ago. From this vantage point, if he opens his eyes (he does not want to, not with the lights irritating this migraine already), he will be able to see the scar left from Bakugo’s suicide attempt. Izuku reaches a thin, shaking hand up to his temple to rub some tension out of his face. Bakugo tuts at him, smacking his arm gently and using his own rough hands to massage Izuku’s scalp through his slightly sweaty hair.
“Do you want me to get Aizawa? He’ll have meds you can take.” Bakugo says, voice gruff, but quiet.
Izuku murmurs dissent and leans into the hand rubbing the pain into manageable levels. The rain pelting the dormitory living room’s windows doesn’t let up for even a second, and Izuku whines slightly when a clap of thunder irritates his head. Blearily squinting his eyes open, he looks up at Bakugo before rolling closer, burying his face into his friend’s stomach. Bakugo freezes, uncomfortable at first, but slowly relaxes. He pets Izuku’s hair, rubbing soothing circles into the pressure points of his shoulders. It’s several hours of sitting, watching mindless television, and dozing off before Bakugo is released from Izuku’s hold. Izuku sits up with a groan, feeling almost feverish from all of the aches.
“S’almost like getting the flu.” He mumbles, despairingly. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”
“It’s from breaking your fucking bones all the time,” Bakugo says dryly, stretching.
Izuku almost feels offended, but this is Bakugo’s way of saying “I’m sorry you don’t feel good”, so he lets the comment lie, standing up and shaking out his cramped arm muscles.
“I don’t see why you don’t ask Mr. Aizawa for pain medication, Izuku,” Todoroki says, from the doorway. He’s soaked through, having just arrived back at the dorm from a planned visitation with his mother. Izuku doesn’t mind the wet, though, and wraps his boyfriend in a hug. He’s half-frozen from the rain, but Izuku can tell from the steam slowly lifting that Todoroki is working on that.
“It’s unnecessary. I can work through it.”
“No, you can’t,” Bakugo says. “Not anymore. You can barely move when it gets bad these days.”
Todoroki looks solemnly at Bakugo, nodding into Izuku’s hair. Dropping the embrace, he takes off his jacket, revealing a thick sweater underneath that is mostly dry. Izuku lets Bakugo’s comment sit, again.He doesn’t have anything to say to that. Izuku thanks his friend for sitting with him, and kisses his boyfriend. He pretends that nothing is wrong when Todoroki grasps his bad hand and smiles through the piercing pain that runs all the way up his arm. Todoroki knows better, though, and gently kneads heat into the cramped pads of his fingers, then down to his palms and sore wrist. It helps so much that Izuku can’t help but sag against him.
Bakugo huffs with laughter when Izuku’s legs wobble. “Go take your hero to bed, half’n’half.”
Todoroki nods, and picks Izuku up. Quietly, Izuku tucks his cold nose into the warm skin exposed on his boyfriend’s neck, yawning. He’s asleep before they make it back to his room.
Waking up when Izuku feels this unwell is always an event. Shaking, soaked in sweat, he reaches out blindly for Todoroki. He’s not in the bed, which, of course - it’s almost three AM if the blurry face of his alarm clock is to be trusted. Staggering upright, he untangles his legs from his sheet and almost hurls when the room spins sickeningly. He swipes a hand across his forehead, wiping the sweat with shaking fingers. His stomach lurches again when he takes a step towards the door, and he does lose his bearings then. Throwing up is near agony - his head aching as he heaves up little else but water. He hadn’t eaten last night, in too much pain to even think. Fumbling for the trash can, he winces when his fingers wrap around the cool plastic edge. His rug is probably done for unless he can get the stain of bile out of it, but there’s no reason to make more of a mess than he has to. It’s still pouring with rain outside, the pattering of drops against his window reaching a heavy crescendo. He stands again, once his stomach settles. He doesn’t remember passing out.
Todoroki waking him is a small blessing. A cold, frosty hand feels his heated forehead, smoothing Izuku’s pinched brow.
“M...Midoriya…” Todoroki stumbles through his words. “Midoriya, wake up.”
“M’fine. Don’ tell ‘Zawa-sensei.” Slurring, Izuku sits up.
“Don’t tell me what?”
Aizawa clears his throat, his graveled voice emanating from the side of the room, and Izuku jumps slightly. It jostles every bone in his body, and he cries out softly. Slowly, Todoroki kneads out tight knots from his boyfriend’s arms, and then his shoulders.
“You threw up. Are you sick, or just in pain? ...Or both?” Aizawa asks, slowly. “Todoroki got me when you started running a fever during the night.”
“I-” Izuku is about to say he’s fine, but Todoroki’s eyes meet his, and something in them compels Izuku to be honest. “I don’t know. My arms...my head...It all hurts.”
Aizawa’s severe face softens slightly. “I’m sorry you don’t feel well. I don’t think Recovery Girl can do much for this kind of pain, but would you like to try?”
“Don’t bother her...it’s late.”
“Izuku,” Aizawa says firmly. “You are not a bother.”
Todoroki nods, gently smoothing back Izuku’s hair again with his frosted fingers, leaving beads of condensation.
“Aizawa-sensei, I think his fever has come down. It might have been a stress response.”
The teacher nods solemnly, yawning, and helps Izuku to lie back down in bed, shifting off of Todoroki’s lap where he had been lying prone.
“You will not attend class tomorrow. You will be seeing a doctor and discussing your pain levels if you won’t see Recovery Girl. I’ll have Hizashi take you if your mother is not available. Does this suffice?”
Midoriya scowls, but nods. “I’m fine. I can’t let this get in the way. There’s too much relying on me.”
Aizawa looks conflicted, and Todoroki tucks the blankets around Izuku with fervor.
“You need to take care of yourself, Midoriya,” Todoroki whispers. “Please.”
Izuku stays silent and closes his eyes.