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The power went out just after midnight. The emergency lights flickered on, throwing pale yellow across the walls.
The sudden silence was deafening. No more crackling popcorn in the microwave, no more muttered commentary on the latest movie. The snow storm outside howled against the windows, rattling the glass with each gust of wind.
Class 1-A had been deep into their movie marathon, a mix of comedies and action flicks that had them laughing and shouting at the screen. But now, as the storm surged around them, it felt like something much bigger had closed in. The quiet was unnerving. For a moment, no one moved, and everyone seemed to be waiting for someone else to say something. Almost immediately, everyone realized what else had gone dark.
“The heater’s out!” Mina whined, clutching her blanket. “We’re doomed!”
“Calm down, Pinky,” Bakugou grumbled, though his own voice came out in a puff of misty breath. “It’s just a little cold.”
Aizawa’s voice came through the emergency comm before cutting out again: “Stay inside. The storm’s severe. Power should return soon.”
Easier said than done.
Within minutes, the dorm’s temperature started dropping. Frost was across the windows, and everyone huddled in the common room with piles of blankets and flashlights.
“Everyone okay?” Kirishima asked, moving from person to person.
Tsuyu was curled up near the couch, trembling. “I… I’m not doing so good,” she croaked weakly. “Frogs can’t handle the cold, ribbit.”
Ochaco quickly wrapped her scarf around her neck. “Hang in there, Tsu. We’ll keep you warm.”
As Kaminari tossed another blanket over his shoulder, a low, muffled curse came from the corner of the room. Everyone’s attention shifted as Bakugou's voice, sharp, and frustrated cut through the murmur of the group.
"Damn it," he hissed, rubbing at his arms, his shoulders tense under the strained silence of the moment. His breath came in short, harsh bursts, and there was a slight tremble in his fingers as he gripped the armrest of the couch.
He was alone on a couch, too far from the group to be part of the huddle they'd started. His posture was hunched in a way that was rare for him, more defensive than usual, like he was bracing for something but didn’t know what.
Kirishima frowned. “Kats, you okay?”
Bakugou didn’t look up at first, but when he did, there was a brief flicker of something, exasperation, embarrassment, maybe even a trace of vulnerability before he wiped it away with a gruff sigh. “I’m fine,” Bakugou bit out. But his teeth chattered on the last word.
Kirishima crouched beside him. “You’re not. You’re freezing.”
“‘M not!”
“Yes, you are,” Denki interrupted, holding a flashlight up to Bakugou’s face. “Dude, your lips are literally blue.”
“Turn that thing off before I…” Bakugou started, but his voice wavered.
Kirishima frowned deeply, suddenly remembering something Bakugou had explained months ago during training. “Wait, your quirk. Doesn’t cold mess with it?”
Bakugou’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t answer. His eyes flicked to the side, face hardening with that familiar mix of pride and irritation, as if admitting anything would be giving too much away.
Izuku, sitting a few spots away, glanced over, then spoke up quietly. “It does. Kacchan’s sweat is nitroglycerin-based as you know, it’s how he creates his explosions. But it only works well when his body temperature is high enough to keep the sweat in a usable, liquid state.”
He paused, glancing at Bakugou again, who still hadn’t said a word.
“In the cold, his sweat thickens. Basically, he can’t ignite anything. And because his quirk burns off so much internal energy when he’s using it, once he stops, his body cools down even faster than normal. So it’s kind of a feedback loop, cold makes his quirk stop working, and when his quirk stops working, it makes it harder for him to stay warm.”
The explanation hung in the air for a moment. Bakugou didn’t look at anyone. He stared at the floor, jaw tight, hands still clenched in his lap.
Kirishima’s expression shifted, his brows furrowed, his mouth pressing into a concerned line as the full picture settled in. “Dude… you’ve been sitting there freezing this whole time and didn’t say a word?” His voice dropped slightly, more serious than usual. “Why didn’t you just tell someone?”
Denki blinked. “So your quirk’s literally making you freeze faster?”
Bakugou didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The silence, the set of his shoulders, the pride in his silence, it all answered for him.
“Well then,” Kirishima said, already moving closer, “we’re not taking chances.”
Sero, who was sitting nearby tossed a pile of blankets toward them. ““Wrap him up, Red!”
Bakugou shot him a half-hearted glare.
But when Kirishima grabbed the blankets and threw them over him, he didn’t resist.
“You gotta keep your core warm,” Eijiro said firmly, sliding in behind him. “Don’t fight me on this, Kats.”
Bakugou made a weak sound of protest. “I don’t need…”
Kirishima didn’t listen. He tucked the blankets tighter, wrapping one arm around Bakugou’s shoulders to pull him closer. The contact was startlingly cold. Bakugou’s skin was ice against his own.
“Wow, you’re freezing, man,” Eijiro murmured, voice gentler now. “You gotta stay with me, okay?”
Bakugou shivered violently. “T-told you,” he stuttered, his words slurring slightly, “I’m fine…”
“Like hell you are,” Kirishima said, rubbing Bakugou’s arms in firm, steady motions. “You’re shaking like crazy. Kats, listen, if you get any colder, it could be dangerous.”
Izuku knelt down on Bakugou’s other side, worry etched deep into his face. “Kacchan, you’re gonna start getting sleepy soon, and you can’t let yourself do that yet.”
Bakugou huffed weakly, his breath visible in the air. “Already… tired…”
Izuku swallowed, the air in his lungs sharp and cold. “You can’t fall asleep yet.” He turned, looking at the others. His tone dropped low and urgent. “This isn’t just the cold, it’s his quirk reacting. It’s happened before.”
That got everyone’s attention. Kaminari froze, the flashlight beam wavering slightly. “What do you mean ‘before’?”
Izuku’s hands clenched on his knees. “When we were kids, there was a winter where it snowed for three days straight. Kacchan was showing off outside, he was trying to make explosions with the snow, but it was so cold his palms stopped sweating. I thought he was just mad when he started shaking, but then he…. he just dropped. He couldn’t move. His hands were so cold I couldn’t even pry his fingers open.”
Kirishima’s jaw tightened, his hold around Bakugou firming instinctively.
“What happened after that?” Mina whispered.
“My mom and his rushed out when I screamed for help,” Izuku said quickly. “They got him inside, wrapped him in blankets, and his mom slowly warmed his hands for almost an hour before his temperature came back up. The doctor said his quirk makes him run hot, but if that heat drops too fast, it’s like shock, his body doesn’t regulate right.”
Denki’s eyes widened. “So he could literally pass out from hypothermia faster than any of us?”
Izuku nodded, voice shaking. “If he stays cold too long, his quirk basically shuts his body down.”
Bakugou made a faint sound, trying to roll his head toward them. “Don’t… talk about me like I’m not… here…”
Izuku blinked back the sting in his eyes and leaned closer. “You are here. That’s why we’re not letting you sleep, okay?”
Kirishima rubbed Bakugou’s arms more firmly now, trying to coax warmth into him. “You hear that, Kats? We’re all right here. You’re gonna be fine.”
Bakugou’s eyelids fluttered, his breathing uneven. “Dumb… nerd…” he mumbled, the words slurred, but the insult oddly gentle.
Izuku actually smiled, watery and nervous. “Still grumpy, huh? That’s a good sign.”
Mina glanced between them. “Should we move him? Get him closer to the huddle or something?”
“It’s too risky to drag him around right now,” Kirishima said. “We’ll keep him here and keep him warm.” He tugged Bakugou closer against his chest, wrapping the blanket tighter around them both.
Izuku reached out and pressed a hand to Bakugou’s cheek. His skin was cold, unnervingly so. “He’s still dropping,” he murmured, voice trembling. “Kacchan, you’ve got to keep your eyes open for me, okay? You scared me once before when we were little. You’re not doing it again.”
Bakugou’s brow furrowed faintly, his voice barely a rasp. “Stop… worrying…”
Kirishima’s heart twisted. “We’ll stop worrying when you stop turning into an ice cube, man.”
That pulled a weak huff of laughter from Bakugou, a sound so small it almost disappeared into the hush of the storm outside. But it was something.
Izuku met Kirishima’s eyes, his expression tight with concern but steadier now. “Keep him awake. He always tries to fight everything alone when he gets scared or hurt. Don’t let him this time.”
Kirishima nodded once, determination flashing in his eyes. “Not a chance.”
He shifted, rubbing Bakugou’s hands between his own again, murmuring against his ear. “Hey, Kats. Don’t bail on me now, yeah? You promised we’d hit the gym in the morning. Can’t do that if you’re frozen solid.”
Bakugou let out another shuddering breath and murmured something that might’ve been, “Idiot…” before his eyes drifted open again, still unfocused, but there.
Kirishima grinned in relief. “That’s it. Keep calling me names, tough guy. Whatever keeps you awake.”
Bakugou’s head tipped back against Kirishima’s shoulder, eyelids fluttering. “Hate… the cold,” he muttered.
Kirishima let out a small, shaky laugh. “Yeah, I kinda figured.”
Denki reappeared with a couple of water bottles wrapped in cloth. “They’re warm, not hot. Momo said to use these.”
Denki crouched nearby, concern flickering across his face. “Uh… should he be this sleepy?”
Kirishima’s stomach twisted. “No. He’s lost too much heat.”
He rubbed Bakugou’s arms briskly. “Hey, hey, look at me, Kats. You gotta stay awake, okay?”
Bakugou’s head lolled slightly against his shoulder. “Tired,” he muttered.
“I know,” Kirishima said softly, voice trembling just a little. “But don’t sleep yet, yeah? You gotta wait till you’re warmer.”
“‘S annoying,” Bakugou mumbled, eyelids fluttering.
Denki gave a nervous laugh. “Even half-frozen, he’s still cranky.”
Sero smiled faintly. “Classic Blasty.”
“Guys,” Kirishima said, tightening his hold. “Not helping.”
He pressed his forehead to Bakugou’s. “Come on Kats, you’re the toughest guy I know.”
Bakugou’s voice was faint. “You’re s’posed to say that,” he mumbled. “You’re biased.”
Kirishima chuckled shakily. “Damn right I am.” He adjusted the warm water bottle resting on Bakugou’s stomach and shifted the blanket around his shoulders a little higher. “See? You’re warming up already.”
Bakugou grunted, low in his throat, but didn’t argue. He was half-reclined, nestled back against Kirishima’s chest, arms crossed under the thick blanket that had been thrown over both of them. The heat of the water bottle radiated through his core, and Kirishima’s steady body heat at his back had done more for him than he wanted to admit. His breathing was steadying. The shaking had all but stopped.
They were tucked into the far corner of the common room couch, just out of the direct glow of the emergency lights, shielded in shadows and warmth while the rest of Class 1-A carried on with their impromptu midnight storm party.
Kaminari’s flashlight flickered like bad horror movie lighting, casting streaks across the ceiling. Someone shrieked, Mina probably, and pillows went flying across the room. There was laughter, snorting, groaning, and the occasional shush from Iida, who was valiantly trying to maintain some sense of order.
Not far from the chaos, Tsuyu sat curled up on the furthest couch, her usual composure dulled by the chill clinging to the air. Her limbs were drawn in tight, skin looking cool to the touch. Without a word, Uraraka draped a blanket over her shoulders while Jirou quietly tucked a hot pack between her hands.
Bakugou watched all of it from the safety of his corner, half-lidded eyes flicking lazily across the scene. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just breathed, slow and deep, letting the warmth seep back into his body, carried by the steady beat of Kirishima’s heart behind him.
Kirishima’s hand came up again, this time resting lightly on his shoulder, no pressure, no fuss. Just there.
The storm outside cracked like a war drum, but it barely made him flinch now. The heat from the water bottle was steady, and the blanket cocooned around him kept the cold at bay. Kirishima’s presence behind him, unmoving and reliable was grounding in a way he never would’ve asked for, but didn’t mind having.
For a while, there was no spekaing, just the steady, rhythmic sound of fabric shifting as Kirishima worked to coax heat back into him.
Then, quietly, Bakugou exhaled, a long, soft sigh that fogged the air between them. His shoulders, always so tense, finally slackened. He leaned in without a word, his forehead pressing weakly against Kirishima’s chest.
Kirishima stilled for a second, afraid to move. Then he smiled small, relieved, and a little teary-eyed. “That’s it, man… Just breathe. You’re okay.”
The seconds ticked by in silence, broken only by the muted hum of wind rattling the dorm windows. Kirishima could feel the heat slowly returning to Bakugou’s skin through the layers of blankets. It was fragile warmth, like the flicker of a dying flame fighting its way back.
Denki crouched a few feet away, flashlight balanced in his hand, the beam aimed low to avoid shining it in anyone’s eyes. His voice dropped to a quiet murmur.
“Is it safe for him to sleep?”
His eyes flicked from Kirishima to the bundled-up form of Bakugou resting against his chest, noting the steadier breathing.
Kirishima nodded, voice just as low. “Yeah. He’s warming up fine now. Body temp’s stable.”
Denki let out a slow breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Man… you scared us there, Bakubro.”
From the couch, Izuku rubbed at his eyes. “His color’s coming back. Look, his hands aren’t as pale anymore.”
True enough, a healthy flush was beginning to return to Bakugou’s fingers, the blue fading from his lips.
Kirishima kept rubbing slow, comforting circles over his back. “He’s finally warming up. It’s like his body just… gave up fighting it.”
“Sounds like him,” Sero said quietly, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Can’t relax until he’s completely wiped out.”
Kirishima laughed under his breath. “Yeah. Stubborn to the end.” He brushed a thumb gently over the back of Bakugou’s hand, his voice softening. “You did good, Kats. You’re safe now.”
Bakugou’s lips twitched faintly, but he didn’t stir. His head was heavy against Kirishima’s chest, the rhythm of his breathing slow and even now.
Izuku scooted a little closer, still watching his oldest friend with a mixture of worry and relief. “It’s weird,” he murmured. “When we were little, he used to hate when anyone touched him like that. Said it made him feel weak.”
Kirishima smiled faintly, adjusting the blanket once more. “Guess he’s changed a bit, huh?”
“Yeah.” Izuku’s voice softened. “Guess he finally learned how to let someone help.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, gentle and true.
Outside, the storm had begun to fade, the howling wind replaced by a steady breeze. Inside, the common room was filled with quiet warmth. A few of the others had drifted off, wrapped in their own piles of blankets. Momo had placed the last of the warm water bottles by Bakugou’s side before curling up herself.
Kirishima stayed awake, still holding him close, his hand never stopping its slow, reassuring motion across Bakugou’s back. Every so often, Bakugou would shift, murmuring something inaudible against his chest, half words, half dreams.
Denki yawned from across the room, voice groggy. “He really is out, huh?”
“Yeah,” Kirishima said again, quieter this time. His fingers brushed through Bakugou’s hair absently. “Out cold… well, warm, finally.”
He chuckled to himself at the lame joke, the tension finally slipping from his shoulders.
“Get some rest too,” Izuku whispered. “You’ve been up with him this whole time.”
Kirishima shook his head lightly. “Nah. Not yet.” His eyes stayed fixed on Bakugou, watching the rise and fall of his chest, steady and sure. “Not till I’m one hundred percent sure he’s good.”
But as the minutes stretched on, warmth from the newly working vents spread through the room. Kirishima’s head eventually tipped back against the couch, and his eyelids grew heavy.
Bakugou was safe in his arms, his body warm and relaxed, his breathing calm.
For the first time since the power went out, Kirishima finally allowed himself to breathe, really breathe.
The room had gone quiet now, except for the occasional gust of wind outside and Uraraka’s soft voice across the way. “Tsuyu’s temperature is improving,” she said gently. “We should all be fine now that the heat has returned.”
“Same goes for Bakugou,” Kirishima said, glancing down at the bundle in his arms. Bakugou’s hair was a mess, his usual scowl replaced by a rare, peaceful expression.
Kirishima smiled faintly and brushed a hand through his hair.
Denki yawned, wrapping himself in his own blanket. “Man, never thought I’d see the day Bakugou let someone baby him.”
Sero smirked. “Don’t worry, he’ll deny it by morning.”
Kirishima grinned, whispering, “He can yell at me all he wants later.”
And when morning came, Bakugou would wake up to relentless teasing from his friends, but for now, he was still and warm in Eijiro’s arms.
-———————————————-———————————————-——————————
Sunlight slipped in through the frosted windows, golden and soft. The heater had long since kicked back in, and warmth now filled every corner of the common room, casting away the chill of the night.
A groggy groan broke the peace.
Katsuki Bakugou shifted beneath the mountain of blankets swaddling him like some kind of oversized burrito. His eyes squinted against the light, his limbs sluggish, and his mouth dry.
“Ugh… what the hell…”
He tried to sit up but found himself stuck. Very stuck.
There was a warm, solid weight wrapped around his waist.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” came a familiar, too-cheerful voice from right behind him.
Katsuki craned his neck just enough to see a mop of red hair resting beside him, one arm slung casually around his middle.
“…Eijiro.”
Eijiro smiled, looking far too awake. “Hey, Kats.”
“What the hell happened?” Bakugou muttered, his voice rough. “Feels like I got hit by a damn snowplow.”
“You nearly froze, man.” Eijiro sat up a little, keeping a hand on Katsuki’s back. “Your quirk makes you lose body heat. We had to warm you up and fast. You were scaring the crap out of everyone.”
“I know how my quirk works, idiot…” Bakugou started, but the sound of muffled giggling behind him made him freeze.
He turned slowly.
Half the class was sprawled around the room, blankets everywhere. Kaminari, Mina, and Sero were all wide awake, watching him like hawks.
Mina beamed. “Good morning, Snowgou!”
Katsuki scowled. “The hell did you just call me?”
“Snowgou,” Kaminari repeated helpfully. “Because you almost froze your explosions off. Cute, right?”
“I’m going to murder you.”
“Too late,” Sero said, grinning. “You were the sleepiest little bomb last night. Eijiro had to keep you awake like five times. It was, dare I say… adorable.”
Bakugou sat up fast, too fast and nearly toppled over. Kirishima caught him instinctively.
“Whoa, easy! You’re still de-thawing. Don’t go exploding out of bed just yet.”
“I wasn’t asleep, I was resting.”
“You were drooling,” Kaminari said with a wink. “On Kirishima’s shirt. Right there.”
Bakugou glanced down. Sure enough, there was a small damp patch on Eijiro’s chest. Kirishima didn’t even look bothered, in fact, he looked like he was proud of it.
“Oh my God,” Bakugou groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “I hate all of you.”
“I dunno,” Mina said, teasingly. “You didn’t seem to hate being wrapped up in Eijiro like a spicy little taquito.”
Katsuki opened his mouth to shout, but a yawn escaped instead.
Eijiro leaned in close and whispered, “It’s okay, Kats. You can pretend to hate it later.”
Katsuki elbowed him in the ribs, but it was weak at best. “Don’t think this means I owe you or anything.”
“Of course not,” Eijiro said with a gentle grin. “But I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.”
Katsuki stared at him, not with his usual fire, but with something quieter. Something a little too soft for 7am in a room full of witnesses.
“Thanks,” he muttered, just loud enough for Eijiro to hear. “…For staying.”
“Always,” Kirishima said.
And when Bakugou leaned back into his side, just for a moment, none of the others dared say a word.
Except Kaminari, who whispered, “Still totally a taquito,” and immediately got hit in the face with a pillow.
END 💥❤️