Work Text:
It had been three days. Three whole days, an excruciating seventy-two hours. Never before had Bakugou felt so hopeless, so inexpressibly furious, angry at himself and at the world. His fiancé of three weeks, partner of five years, was gone. Taken from beneath him by scum, pure scum that Bakugou swore to kill when he found them. If he found them.
Four agencies joined forces to help the search, with twelve teams actively looking for him. They should have found him by now. He should be at home, safe, curled in Bakugou’s lap with a cup of hot chocolate and marshmallows, cream on the tip of his nose just waiting to be licked off. Instead, Bakugou is on his forty-second hour of the most difficult shift of his life, muscles screaming in protest, head pounding, feeling cold from the inside out.
They had tried to make him go home, force him to sleep even just a few hours, but the apartment had felt too empty without Kaminari’s presence. Bakugou had only eaten a quick meal before storming out again. He couldn’t waste time. Not when the love of his life was god knows where, possibly in pain, maybe even dead. He couldn’t stop searching until he found him. Wouldn’t stop.
His throat feels tight constantly, and the sensation only increases whenever Kirishima lays a hand on his shoulder and tries to comfort him. Tries to calm him down. But the tears that blur his vision are nothing if not motivation; he’s determined to find Kaminari and bring him back home, even if it means sacrificing his own wellbeing.
“Okay, next source is eight miles north. There’s a large warehouse that once stored hero costumes, upgrades, extra parts, etcetera. It’s been a hotspot for drug deals and similar criminal trades after it was abandoned because it’s far from main roads and frequent traffic. I’ll set the GPS up in van three. Is everyone okay with that?”
Bakugou and Kirishima are group three, accompanied by three heroes of a similar standing from another agency that Bakugou hadn’t bothered to learn the names of. He doesn’t care for any formalities, ripping the paper that contained aerial shots of the location from Midoriya’s hands. “Let’s fucking go,” he barks to his team, standing and making for the door. He pretends he doesn’t hear Midoriya muttering worriedly to Kirishima.
“Hurry the fuck up, useless pieces of shit,” he spits as he exits the room when he doesn’t hear anyone following, making for the underground garage. He cares little about his appointed team, and while it would get him in trouble later, he’d rather not spend any time hanging around waiting. He’d rather go alone.
“Hey, you need to chill the fuck out. Shouting isn’t going to help us find him, Katsuki.” It’s Kirishima, the only person that dares to stand up to him excluding Kaminari. Bakugou sneers at him, shrugging his shoulder free of the hand that tries to rest there.
“I’ll chill the fuck out when my fucking fiancé is safe,” he mutters, stomach twisting with anxiety at the mere thought of Kaminari being in danger, alone, afraid.
There is no doubt in Bakugou’s mind that Kaminari had fought back against whoever had taken him; certain powerlines across Musutafu were still sparking. But they had no idea exactly who had taken him, if it was an organisation or just one person, if they had powerful quirks, if they were armed. Bakugou feels sick every time he thinks about it.
“Take a deep breath, alright? I’m going to get us to this warehouse as quick as I can. And for the love of gods, eat something on the way.” Kirishima shoves him towards the passenger side before he can protest, and as the other three heroes get into the back of the van, Bakugou sucks up his complaints and follows suit.
They’re out on the road in record time, specialised sirens blaring as they race through the city. Bakugou hunkers down in his seat and does his best not to think about the worst-case scenario. It’s difficult not to let his mind run, and he ends up snatching a bar of protein something or other from the centre tray to distract himself.
“I’ll go in with Dynamight as soon as we get there, you three check around the outside first, then make your way in. If we radio, come immediately. Stick in a tight group. Let us know if you see anything out of the ordinary.”
“Yes, Red Riot,” one of the younger heroes reply, sounding far too chipper considering the mission at hand. Bakugou curls his lip, but he refrains from insulting him.
His engagement ring gleams under the orange glow of the sky, catching his attention. A simple silver band, engraved on the inside with the date they had first started dating, Kaminari’s idea, of course. Bakugou didn’t usually wear it out on the field, but not having it on while Kaminari wasn’t around felt more than wrong. The thought of Kaminari’s ring sitting on their bedside table makes his stomach twist violently. He has to throw the half-eaten protein bar back into the tray.
“Five minutes away. Radio check,” Kirishima says, not tearing his eyes from the road. Bakugou sits straighter. He doesn’t hold out much hope for this place, but all he can do is cling onto the possibility that maybe this will be their last location. No matter how low his expectations are, anything is worth a try, especially with the chance that he may not even be in Japan anymore.
As soon as the van stops and the warehouse comes into view, Bakugou is out of his seat. He heads immediately to the open entrance, hears Kirishima calling him back but ignores him, desperation seeping in. The warehouse marks the ninth place that they’ve searched alone.
“Come on,” Bakugou calls, voice betraying some of his emotion. When Kirishima joins him by the entryway, he punches Bakugou’s shoulder gently, clearly having heard the break in his voice.
“Let’s do this, Dynamight,” is all he says.
The main warehouse is massive but empty, every window broken, splatters of what looks like old blood decorating the concrete floor. For a place frequently occupied by criminals, it looks more or less standard. It’s cold without any means of insulation, and Bakugou shudders out a sigh as he walks further into the building. One of the main overhead lights are flickering, the rest of them seemingly blown.
“How dingy,” Kirishima mutters under his breath, kicking a piece of wood.
Bakugou huffs, walking off to one of the few side doors. He pulls down on the handle and finds it locked, frowning at the unexpected barrier. “Oi, Red,” he calls, backing up in preparation to kick it down. Kirishima joins him.
“Huh. Might be where they hide the stuff,” he suggests, moving Bakugou to the side as he hardens his leg.
Kicking the door down is easy, and it swings open violently on its rusted hinges. Bakugou takes one last look at the main warehouse before walking through into a similar smaller room. It’s slightly darker with less windows to allow light in, and the walls are lined with rotting wooden shipping containers. He scrunches his nose up at the smell and walks further in, being gradually more wary the deeper he goes.
Then, his heart stops. In the corner of the dark room, Bakugou can just make out a body. They’re in a chair, tied with their head slumped over. “Fuck off,” he whispers, strangled with emotion and disbelief. He doesn’t think twice about dropping his gauntlets and running over, even as his muscles near their limit. Not when he can see blonde hair. Can make out leather pants.
Kirishima calls his name, but he doesn’t hear. He drops to a crouch immediately in front of the unresponsive body; it’s Kaminari, there’s no doubt about it. Only up close does he notice the blood. It’s everywhere, dried under his nose and mouth, framing a cut on his cheek and a severely bruised eye.
Bakugou’s breathing picks up as he presses two shaking fingers to his partners neck, feeling for a pulse. He can’t find it immediately and lets out a strangled cry, vision blurring as he tries to untie the rope instead.
“Step back,” Kirishima orders, placing his hand at Kaminari’s neck. “There’s a pulse. Don’t lose yourself.”
There’s a pulse. He wants to feel relieved, but Kaminari is still unconscious, and from the looks of things has likely been tied here for at least two of the past three days. Bakugou’s hands find his cold, pale cheeks, being mindful of the cuts and scrapes, to reassure himself that Kaminari is only unresponsive. To remind himself that he isn’t too late. Kirishima radios out to the rest of their team to ready the van before slicing the ropes that hold Kaminari to the chair.
Bakugou lifts him before he can fall forward. “Fucking hell, Denki, I fucking swear, if you’re not okay, I-” He cuts himself off, not sure what he’ll do if Kaminari isn’t okay in the end. Kirishima urges him forward with a hand on his back.
“Let’s go,” he says, keeping close to his side as they walk out, picking up Bakugou’s disregarded gauntlets on the way. Kirishima looks as uneasy as Bakugou feels, and he has to remind himself that Kaminari is a friend as well as a partner, that Kirishima must be feeling something similar too.
When they’re in the brighter warehouse, the true extent of Kaminari’s suffering is clear. There’s blood staining his entire front, leather pants ripped, stained and malodourous. Bakugou wants to gag, feels absolutely sick at the thought of Kaminari in that cold room alone, bound still by thick rope.
“I’ll fucking kill them,” he chokes out, looking down to Kaminari’s face. “I- Baby, shit, I’ll kill them.”
“Bakugou, in the back,” Kirishima orders, van already running, doors open. “Don’t lose it. I’ll get us to hospital as soon as I can.”
Bakugou doesn’t have to think twice about following the commands, stepping up into the back of the van. He lays Kaminari out on the seats carefully, still shaking as he kneels on the floor. He keeps a hand under his head, forehead dropping to his fiancé’s chest, the relief of finally having him in his arms, alive, hitting full force. He barely registers being joined by two of the other heroes.
The light breathing that he hears from Kaminari keeps him from imploding, though he’s close. He braces himself as the van begins moving, shuddering out a sigh that catches in his throat. “You’ll be okay, baby. I promise, I’ll make sure of it…” Unable to stop the whimper that constricts his throat, he lifts his head to press a gentle kiss to Kaminari’s forehead. He wishes he had a cloth, something to wipe away the blood. Something to make him look more alive.
“Dynamight, if you’d like… You can use my jacket. It’s insulated, so it’ll keep Chargebolt warm until we get to the hospital.” It’s the young blue haired hero that speaks, and when Bakugou twists his head to meet his eyes, he’s holding out his jacket with a smile on his face. Bakugou can’t find it within him to say no, prioritising Kaminari’s comfort, accepting the offered clothing.
“Thanks,” he mumbles as he wraps the jacket around Kaminari, receiving a thumbs up in reply.
The journey back feels so much longer, like every second spent is another moment closer to Kaminari taking his last breath. Bakugou wouldn’t allow it, and he never moves his forehead, monitoring the light breathing of his unresponsive partner. Tears burn his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall, adrenaline keeping him focused. It feels like hours before the van pulls to a quick stop.
Bakugou wrenches his head up, checking over Kaminari again in the small chance he may have awoken during the ride. His eyes are still closed, but Bakugou swears that his eyebrows have furrowed slightly. He tries not to focus too much on the possibility of Kaminari being close to consciousness for his own sanity, just in case, lifting him as the van doors open.
There is a stretcher ready and waiting for them by the entrance of the hospital, doctors and nurses talking urgently around it. Bakugou hesitates, taking a small step back as one of the doctors says something to him that he can’t make out over the sound of his own heartbeat. He unknowingly tightens his grip.
“Put him down, Katsuki,” Kirishima says into his ear, squeezing his shoulder, “let them do what they need to. Let them help him. He’s safe now.”
Swallowing the urge to ignore him completely, to cradle Kaminari and never let him go again, he knows that his survival is out of his hands. It’s so painful, walking over and laying him down, letting him be taken away into the depths of the hospital and out of sight.
When he turns around to Kirishima, his breath catches in his throat. Kirishima seems to understand, and when he wraps both arms around Bakugou, the abundance of overwhelming emotions finally hits them. Bakugou cries into Kirishima’s chest, releasing everything that has steadily built up over three days, in the car park of the hospital. He has no idea how long they stand there for before Kirishima straightens him out, with tears in his own eyes.
“What he would want you to do now is go home. Shower, change, eat something. Get some rest in a comfortable bed. You don’t want him waking up and seeing you like this, do you?”
Bakugou heaves a breath, shaking his head, “I can’t leave him again, Red, I- I need to be there for him…”
“He isn’t going anywhere. He’s surrounded by the best medical care in Musutafu right now. The sooner you go home and take care of yourself, the sooner you can come back to him.”
Bakugou understands the logic behind the words, and beneath his guilt he knows that Kaminari wouldn’t be best pleased if he saw him in this state. The thought of being told off as soon as Kaminari wakes up is almost enough to bring a smile to his face. But there’s still the issue of his hollow apartment.
“I don’t want to go home, not without… Not without him.”
Kirishima hums in understanding, “we’ll go back to my place together, then. I’ll order us something while you sort yourself out?”
Bakugou doesn’t think he deserves it but selfishly agrees anyway. Kirishima’s apartment is closer to the hospital, so at the very least they were only ten minutes away if something were to happen. Bakugou doesn’t want to stay away for long, wouldn’t allow more than a few hours apart, because he didn’t want Kaminari waking up alone. Not now, and not ever again.
“Get back in the van, I’ll drop the others at the agency and you can grab a change of clothes. C’mon.”
Turning his back on the entrance is more difficult than Bakugou anticipates. “You’d better not wake up before I’m there, dumbass,” he whispers to himself, “but… but if it’s between that and not waking up at all… please do. I’ll be back in a heartbeat.”
Kirishima doesn’t comment, only pulls him back to the van. The blue haired hero gives him a smile from where he jumps from the passenger side, “he can keep my jacket if he likes it. I’ve kind of looked up to Chargebolt for a long time.”
Bakugou pauses, eyes then catching on a black lightning bolt tattoo that adorns the side of his neck. Bold. He raises a brow, but allows himself a weak smile. Kaminari would love this kid. “Tell him that yourself when he’s back at work. I’m sure he’d like to hear it.”
Bakugou walks past him, not missing the look of awe that the hero’s face morphs into as he digests the words. He shares an amused look with Kirishima before jumping up into the passenger side. They don’t talk a lot on the way back, comfortable silence allowing Bakugou to rest his mind, fears and thoughts of finding his partner and being just hours too late finally fading. What is left, though, is the reminder.
“I- Red?” He asks, looking down to his lap, fingers fiddling with his ring once again. He waits for acknowledgement before continuing. “That day… The day he was taken. I was meant to patrol with him. He’d… He’d gone and made sure we had the same shift and everything… When I woke up, I had a fever. He said he’d call in for me and made sure I took the day off… I- I was meant to be there.”
“Don’t,” Kirishima warns, glancing at him, “don’t blame stupid shit on yourself. He wouldn’t blame you.”
Bakugou shrugs, looking from the window, “it wouldn’t have happened if I were there.”
“No,” Kirishima interjects, “you don’t know how it could’ve changed. You both might have been taken. One of you could be dead right now. What matters is that you’re both alive and he’s going to be okay. Right?”
Bakugou sinks a little lower in his seat but nods anyway. He knows he’ll feel at fault for a long time, at least until Kaminari tells him directly that he isn’t to be blamed. Which he will, Bakugou is sure of it, but until then, he’ll shoulder the blame to help him avoid the haunting questions of why. Why anyone would target Kaminari, of all people? Surely not for revenge, so why? Stop thinking.
When they get back to the agency, Kirishima fills Midoriya in as Bakugou goes to get a change of clothes from his locker. He doesn’t particularly want to talk about Kaminari’s condition to anyone while everything still felt so uncertain. When he gets back to the van, Midoriya is gone, and Kirishima motions over to his car.
They only stay at his apartment for five hours, Bakugou falling asleep on the couch almost as soon as they get inside, only to be awoken three hours later by the smell of food. After they eat, he showers and changes, thanking Kirishima for putting up with him, who only snorts and waves him off. There haven’t been any phone calls to indicate Kaminari doing worse, but Bakugou still feels uneasy at the separation, so as soon as they’re both adequately freshened up, they drive back up to the hospital.
Bakugou does feel better, hadn’t realised just how much his head had been hurting until he’d woken up pain-free. He appreciates Kirishima, and for all it’s worth, is thankful that Kaminari had insisted on staying in touch with their friends after their graduation.
“Okay, third floor, room sixty-eight. Right at the end of the hall, apparently,” Kirishima tells him after coming back from the main desk, small piece of paper in his hands.
Bakugou is a little nervous, though tries his best not to show it. Not knowing the extent of Kaminari’s injuries leaves him feeling almost vulnerable. He isn’t prepared to walk into the room and see his fiancé hooked up to life support, or for the doctor to have a long list of broken bones and damaged organs. It’s naive to think there will be no damage at all, but it still makes Bakugou queasy.
And for all of the things he’s expecting when Kirishima motions him inside of room sixty-eight at the end of the corridor, it isn’t for Kaminari to be sitting up, awake, drinking from a plastic cup. There’s a bandage wrapped around his head covering his right eye, clean face now free from all minor cuts and scrapes, the larger gash on his cheek now only a small scar. Bakugou splutters in his surprise, and apparently makes Kaminari jump, choking on his water. Bakugou almost wants to laugh in disbelief, even as his heart lurches and he rushes over to pat him on the back.
“Hey,” Kaminari protests with a weak cough, “I’ve got a blind spot now, don’t sneak up on me.”
The sound of his voice, so warm and familiar, causes Bakugou to tear up instantly. He can’t find his voice quick enough, communicating the only other way he knows how, by dropping his head onto Kaminari’s shoulder and wrapping tight arms around his body.
“Oh, don’t cry, Katsu-chan,” Kaminari whispers into his hair, arms lifting to reciprocate the embrace. The use of the nickname usually only used when Kaminari was out to annoy him now makes Bakugou whimper, gripping onto the back of his nightgown.
“Hey, it’s okay, Kats. I’m right here,” he mumbles, threading his fingers into his hair.
“You- Fuck, don’t ever fucking leave me again, Denks, I thought- It- You were gone for three days!”
Bakugou feels Kaminari press a gentle kiss to the top of his head, and he sniffles, pulling away to look him in the eyes. To smile so light-heartedly just hours after being unconscious in a cold warehouse is so Kaminari that Bakugou has trouble remaining upset.
“I’m sorry about that… Did you find them?”
Bakugou isn’t sure how to tell him that no, they hadn’t found the people who had taken him, and were no closer to a discovery than day one. Kaminari must see the hesitation because he shrugs.
“There were maybe four of them, I think American, if the flag on the back of the van was anything to go by, um… I didn’t understand everything they were saying but I have a feeling they’re not in Japan anymore. Which… sucks, I don’t want that to happen to others.”
“We’ll find them, I swear on that. They’ll be lucky to get just jail time,” Bakugou huffs, taking one of Kaminari’s hands within his. He squeezes gently, then leans down to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles.
“Hm, I’m sure,” Kaminari says, voice softer now. When Bakugou looks back up, he meets gentle golden eyes. He’s sure that his expression is fond, borderline awed, but he doesn’t care to conceal it. How Kaminari can look so beautiful with a bandage wrapped around half of his face is beyond him.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Kaminari whispers, scrunching his face up in mock disgust. Bakugou can’t resist the temptation, landing a kiss to the tip of his nose.
“Fucking can’t help it, Denks… I’ve missed you. Are you allowed to come home?”
He doesn’t know what answer he’s expecting, but sighs in relief when Kaminari nods anyway.
“Yeah, a nurse came in when I first woke up and said that as long as I felt fine, I could go. I feel a bit sick, but… I’d rather be home than here… Please?”
Bakugou doesn’t hesitate, “let’s get you home then… How about burgers for dinner? I’ll cook them just the way you like…”
The way Kaminari’s eyes practically sparkle at the suggestion is answer enough.
Pressing one final kiss to his forehead before standing straight, Bakugou calls someone for the discharge paperwork. He finds out before they leave that Kaminari had a total of eight broken bones and an additional ten fractures, (each now healed,) and that he’d likely have decreased vision in his right eye until the damage could be fixed completely. Bakugou is thankful that it could be fixed, at the very least.
Having Kaminari back at home is a welcome change, one that Bakugou readily embraces. He takes temporary leave from work and spends the following days doting on his fiancé. Despite how much Kaminari pretends to be annoyed with all of the attention, Bakugou can see the comfort that it brings him and devotes himself to making sure Kaminari never feels anything less than comfortable.
“Hey, Kats?” Kaminari whispers one evening from between Bakugou’s legs, wrapped up in blankets, the television playing Spirited Away exclusively for the two of them.
“Yeah baby?” Bakugou says, just as softly, nuzzling into the back of Kaminari’s head.
“Thank you…” Colours dance across his cheeks as Bakugou looks up to meet his eyes. He’s smiling, soft and genuine, leaning further into the arms that hold him.
Bakugou understands the words that Kaminari doesn’t say, brushing his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t need to be thanked, because for Kaminari, he’d do anything in a heartbeat.
“I love you. I always fucking will.”
“Well, I love you more…”
When the news comes, close to a week later, that the kidnappers have been detained somewhere overseas and threatened with life imprisonment, Bakugou and Kaminari celebrate by setting a wedding date. Bakugou never stops holding Kaminari like it may be the last time; they have the rest of their lives.