in shine and shadow of the sun

Even though it was the middle of the morning, the hospital room was dimly lit. The overhead light had been left off, but the curtain drawn over the window was thin and sunlight streamed in around the edges. The room was silent except for the slow, steady breathing of the single occupant. Izuku lay under the thin sheet, the cloth tucked up to his chest and his bandaged arms resting on either side of his chest. He drifted in and out of sleep. The pain in his arms was kept bay by painkillers, but they weren't quite strong enough to knock him out completely.

When the door to the room swung in, Izuku blinked blearily at his visitor. It was too tall to be Recovery Girl, though he remembered, distantly, that she had gone away a long time ago. The person hesitated near the doorway, but when Izuku smiled, they ducked their head and stepped in.

It wasn't until they stood at his bedside that he recognized them. Izuku's smile grew wider. "Todo-kun," he mumbled, fingers twitching in his bandages as he tried to move an arm towards his friend. "Heyy."

Todoroki looked down at him, his eyes shadowed by his hair, but the rest of his face was visible as he stood with his face towards the window. His lips were pressed in a thin line and he reached out with a hand- his right- cautiously. "Hey," He replied, "How are you doing? They say...you'll be in here for a few days."

"Mhmmmm?" Izuku nods his head. Or tries to. It just kind of bobs and then turns to the side, leaning towards Todoroki. "Gotta heal," he said, "Busted arms, Todoroki…"

Cool fingers touched his cheek briefly before Todoroki pressed the back of his hand to Izuku's forehead. "Shouto," he said gently.

Izuku stared blankly at him. Why was Todoroki saying his own name? He hadn't hurt his head, had he? Worried, Izuku twitched his fingers again, reaching for his friend. "Yeah," he said, "Tha's you. Todoroki Shouto." His fingers were cold on Izuku's skin. Not too cold to be painful- just cold enough to help with the dull ache of his head. "'Member? I 'member tha'," he added helpfully.

"That's right," Todoroki said. His fingers brushed Izuku's hair back from his face. They moved down his cheek, the chill sending goosebumps and shivers over Izuku's skin. When Todoroki's hand stopped, his fingertips rested lightly at Izuku's pulse. "You should call me that name now, I think." Todoroki pauses. Izuku tries to make some sort of sound but nothing comes out. He feels frozen, but not by ice. Todoroki wouldn't ice him- Izuku knows that. "After all you've done for me, I think you should call me Shouto."

For a long, trembling moment, Shouto stares at Izuku, stares into his green eyes, and Izuku tries to understand why he wasn't calling Shouto Shouto in the first place. He looks so earnest about it, as though Izuku has been stubborn about something that's a bit silly. Or maybe its that Izuku's been silly about being stubborn about it. He's not quite sure which. All he is really sure of is that Shouto is waiting for him to say something.

"Shoucchan," Izuku grins. There's a bandage on his cheek- when isn't there a bandage on his cheek- and it pulls funny when he grins as broadly as he is now, but that dull pain is nothing to the warmth he feels in his chest. Warmth because Shouto's eyes go wide with surprise and his cheeks flush and his fingers go just a bit colder with his surprise.

Izuku twitches his arm again, manages this time to slide it over and brush fingers against Shouto's side. "Call me… I'm Izuku…" He gives a little nod, just a tiny one because things are bad enough that he doesn't need to add dizziness to the rest of his injuries. "'Kay, Shoucchan?"

"Okay," Shouto says, smiling.

Izuku stares and stares at that smile. Wow. Shoucchan is so pretty.

Shouto's cheeks turn very pink and he pulls his hand away abruptly. He looks away, smile dropping and Izuku can't help but feel a little, dare he say it, colder without that look. He absently tries to pat Shouto again with his injured hand but his arm has given up listening to him. In fact, most of his body feels heavy, now, heavy with sleep. It tugs at him in waves like this, and the coherence he had only moments ago is slipping through his bandaged hands.

"Shoucchan?" he mutters, eyes fluttering. He's trying not to fall asleep, trying to resist it. Shouto came to visit him! He should be considerate and stay awake to talk to him!

"Yes… Izuku?"

"Thank...thanks…" Izuku loses the fight with his eyes and they shutter close. "F' visitin'... Thanks… Missed you…"

The silence stretches on so long that Izuku is very nearly asleep when he hears Shouto whisper back, "Get better soon, Izuku. I miss you too."

Smiling, Izuku fades into dreamless sleep.

Izuku jerks to consciousness with a little gasp and a fluttering of lashes. He can tell almost instantly that he's still in his hospital bed- he's been in and out so much that he's not quite sure if it's the same day or not anymore- and that he's not alone.

Someone stands beside his bed, their back to the window and the dim afternoon light that creeps in through thin curtains. He blinks up at this person, trying to recognize them, and, when he finally does, an enormous smile spreads across his face.

"Kacchan," he says with all the friendliness and familiarity that he has- which is quite a lot- and without any of his typical reserve with his former childhood friend. He's medicated still, heavily in fact, and can tell that the pain's significantly lower than the last time he was coherent enough to remember it. He must have just gotten a new dose, then.

Izuku wonders, in the part of his brain that always is focused on observing others and making comparisons and notes for his records later, if other people are like him when they're hopped up on painkillers for two near shattered arms and one badly bruised jaw. He's got so little control over his emotions and his brain to mouth filter that, he thinks, it hides the way his brain doesn't quite, doesn't totally shut down and tune out. Then again, his brain has never been like that, has never really slowed down even when things are peaceful and-

"Shut up Deku," Kacchan snaps, "You're muttering about stupid shit again."

He looms over Izuku. His hands are fists and his knuckles dig into the side of the bed near Izuku's damaged arm. The window lights up the edge of his shoulder, the back of his head, lighting his blond hair and giving a weird glint to his eyes, but his face is almost completely in shadow otherwise. Izuku doesn't need to be able to see him clearly to know his expression though.

He's known Kacchan for years, watched him for years. Izuku knows more about Kacchan than anyone else.

"Sorry," Izuku mutters and relaxes against his pillow. "...doesn't turn off…"

"Eh?" Kacchan's voice is low, Izuku realizes belatedly. He's not shouting. That makes sense, though. He wouldn't want to be caught at Izuku's bed and shouting and exploding things would do that. "What was that shit for brains?"

Izuku's got a bit better control of his arms, it seems, because this time when he moves it to gesture, it obeys the first time. He taps the side of his head with bandaged fingers and say, "My head, Kacchan. Doesn't ever turn off. Goes'n goes. Watchin' ev'rythin'."

Kacchan stares down at him, scowls at him probably, and Izuku gives a smile that would have been timid if his painkillers left any of his fear or anxiety in him. They haven't, though, they've just stripped him of worrying what Kacchan will think, what people will think about him, and leave him just numb enough to think that the prick of a needle won't really hurt. Not that he thinks Kacchan or anything about him is like the tiny, sharp pain of a single needle. Kacchan doesn't have that kind of finesse with his quirk, probably never will, simply because of the fact that it's his sweat that is the source of his explosions and it's hard to be precise with perspiration.

He's only aware his mouth was moving along with his thoughts when Kacchan's palm covers his lips. His skin swarm, weirdly salty and bitter, and Izuku goes cross-eyed trying to look at his hand. Then he blinks and stares up at Kacchan, trying to communicate as many question marks in his eyes as possible.

"It really doesn't ever turn off, does it?" Kacchan has a weird tone in his voice. That, combined with the fact that his hand is still there, still hasn't moved, makes Izuku curious and quiet. "You've got enough drugs in your system to put a horse out and your stupid fucking brain is still running hard enough to get you muttering your shitty little analyzations. What the fuck, Deku. How do you even sleep?"

I study until I can't keep my eyes open, Izuku tries to say against the palm covering his lips. My training regimen helps wear out my body, but I have to wear out my mind too or else I'd never sleep. Kacchan, he thinks, is being rude. Asking a direct question and then keeping Izuku from answering by not moving his hand?

But then again, this is Kacchan. Kacchan is as rude as Shoucchan is polite.

Izuku blinks, backtracking in his brain to figure out when Todoroki became Shoucchan and has the sudden realization that his brain to mouth nonexistent filter almost certainly had him saying Shoucchan was pretty to his face. No wonder he had blushed so much.

Kacchan pulls his hand away suddenly. Izuku feels his face heating up and he blurts out, "I called Shoucchan pretty."

Yeah. Brain to mouth filter? That shit needs some work.

The air is suddenly filled with the distinctive smell of burning, the precursor to Kacchan's explosions when he's trying, actually trying, not to set them off. Izuku shrinks back into his bed, still blushing because he can't forget the way Shoucchan looked, can't forget that smile and that blush and ohh no he's saying that out loud too isn't he.

Kacchan's climbed onto the bed with one knee, gripping the front of Izuku's shirt and leaning in. Izuku can see his face now. He can see the sharp angles of his brows, the hard edges to his teeth, the pull of his lips into a sneer. He can see Kacchan's rage in all of his face. He can see Kacchan's fear in the back of his eyes.

Izuku makes a mental point to never, ever, tell Kacchan how he shows Izuku everything he's really feeling in his eyes. He doesn't ever want to have Kacchan stop looking at him.

"You little fuck," Kacchan growls, shaking him slightly. Or almost shaking him. He's pressing down at the same time, careful, so careful, not to jostle Izuku's wounded limbs. Izuku would smile if he didn't think that would make Kacchan start exploding right away. He doesn't want more burn marks to heal up. And he doesn't want Kacchan to leave, either. "Do you want me to fucking kill you?"

"No," Izuku can think of at least sixteen things he'd rather Kacchan do. Kill him isn't even close to that list. At least not literally. He's not sure what metaphorical killing would-

"Then don't go around calling every fucking asshole who's nice to you pretty you little shit. And don't you fucking call him Shoucchan either. You're not four, Deku, you're a fucking seventeen year old fuckhead." Kacchan leans in again. Izuku can feel his breath on his cheek. Kacchan is scared, Izuku sees, scared shitless.

Izuku can't, for the life of him, understand why.

Well. Maybe the drugs do do something. His reasoning skills have dulled, even if his observation ones haven't. "He asked me to call him Shouto." Izuku mutters, "After all I've done for him, he said, I should call him Shouto."

"After all you've-" Kacchan rears back. He's taking in deep breaths, Izuku notes. Is he trying to keep calm that way? "Is that how he puts this?" Kacchan tears one hand away to gesture to Izuku's bandaged arms. "You save his worthless fucking life, again, again, and nearly shatter your arms for the first time in a fucking year and his reward is that you get to call him fucking Shoucchan?"

"He… he smiled?" Izuku adds, because really that as more precious than the name permission. Shoucchan's smiles are rarer than Kacchan's. After all, a big enough explosion could make Kacchan grin for hours.

Kacchan picks him up by the front of his shirt only to slam him back onto the bed. It winds him slightly, leaves him gasping and wincing as his arms jolt in pain. "Oh," Kacchan snarls, "He smiled at you. That makes everything fucking a-okay then doesn't it! Why don't you just go get your fucking saved-the-day kiss from him then?"

Izuku has not thought about kissing Shoucchan before.

He suddenly has lots and lots of thoughts about kissing Shoucchan.

But that has to be a consideration for when he's not drugged and beat half to hell with Kacchan beginning to pull away from him like Izuku's life has side stepped from superhero story into a romantic drama. His hand aches, hurts down to his bones, but he grabs Kacchan's arm, curls his fingers as tight as he can and tries to pull Kacchan back. His body screams in complaint, the pain brings tears to his eyes but now he understand the fear in Kacchan's eyes and he can't stop himself from saving anyone he can. Especially Kacchan.

Izuku knows in that moment, with absolute certainty, that he would die to save Kacchan.

(Not that he wanted to. Not that Kacchan would want him to. Not that Kacchan would ever forgive him if he did. But if that was the choice, him or Kacchan, Izuku knows he'd die for him, to save him one last time.)

"I don't love him," Izuku says around the pain that makes him want to sob in agony. It's been so long- he forgot what shattered bone felt like inside his own arms- "I don't, Kacchan."

Kacchan doesn't yank away from him, but he doesn't move closer again. He's half off the bed, poised to run like a cat on its haunches, ready to bolt. "What?"

"So what if he's cute?" Izuku curls his fingers tighter. He ignores the pain. What he feels is nothing. "So what if we're friends? He isn't you, Kacchan. I don't love him."

Belatedly, Izuku realizes that he's never told Kacchan that he loves him. They're… friends. Sort of. It's more like, sometimes Kacchan's explosions make his blood pound and the only one who can take that feeling away- the only one that Kacchan turns to when that happens is Izuku. It's more like Izuku looks up to Kacchan still, has always looked up to him even after he grew taller than Kacchan, and measures himself against him. They were childhood friends and then bully and victim and then, begrudgingly, peers. And then, and now, they're-

This.

Izuku in a hospital, injured badly. Hurting himself more to keep Kacchan close. Kacchan there to see him, to check on him. Afraid that Izuku will turn to someone else, someone who isn't him, isn't Kacchan.

Izuku who was the one who came up with their post-battle ritual, of sorts, the one he came up with when he was trying to figure out how to tell Kacchan he was happy to exchange handjobs and blowjobs in back alleys and burned out buildings but, you know, they could have more. Kacchan who accepted it, who instigates it now, because under those sharp edges and snarls and fucking explosions is someone who wants to be a hero- and a hero wants to be cared for, appreciated, needed.

"Hey," Izuku whispers. "Kacchan?"

Kacchan's posture is stiff. He's still half gone already, still upset. "The fuck do you want, Deku." Not a question, barely more than a snarl.

"I saved the day," Izuku smiles.

He waits. He waits and it's the hardest thing he's done- well, not ever, but probably in the last month.

"Yeah," Kacchan mutters, every inch of him begrudging, except his eyes. His eyes which shine in the afternoon light, the red in them burning as he leans in. "You saved the fucking day, idiot."

You really love me? Kacchan stares at him, unflinching even as his lips press against Izuku's.

I really do, Izuku tries to tell him back as he returns the kiss.

Kacchan, for once, doesn't press his advantage. He draws back, licks his lips, and turns his head away with a little huff. Izuku finally lets go of his arm with a little groan. That was a bad idea. He is going to be feeling that one for a while.

Laying back, relaxing a little, Izuku mutters, "Y'know what, Kacchan?"

"What?" Kacchan glances to him out of the corner of his eye. He's still turned mostly towards the window, but he's sitting on the bed and his hand rests on Izuku's knee so that's fine.

"I think you're pretty too."

Those barely contained explosions crackle across Kacchan's palms and Izuku has to turn his head to stifle his giggles into his pillows- Kacchan's blushing face is too adorable, even when it's twisted in his fury. Hopefully, this time, his brain to mouth filter will keep him from calling Kacchan adorable to his face.

From the expression that Kacchan gives him, Izuku thinks that might not be the case.

end