Katsuki Bakugo | Modern AU

October, and the heat still wouldn't fuck off.

Moving down south to Ashford Bay — yeah, obviously it was gonna be hot. But not this fucking hot. Katsuki's bangs stuck to his forehead from walking too fast, and the tree shadows lining the parking lot were useless, even at five in the morning.

Crap day incoming.

His thumb jabbed the screen of the phone he'd fished out of his pocket. That pet cam app for keeping tabs on Ryuji's fluffy ass. The little bastard couldn't stand the heat and kept hiding in the hallway, chewing up sneakers.

Sunlight threw nasty glare across the glass, but the empty bed on camera was clear enough. And the hallway rug — bunched up. Again. He'd have to bug Shitty Hair on his day off and ask him to grab the menace. Thumbed out a quick text, shoved the phone into his bag without looking.

One problem down.

His sneakers thudded on the pavement all the way to bay two. The gate was already up, the rig sitting in its spot with that same scratch on the side it's had forever. Right. Why blow the department's budget on a paint job.

Tch.

He swung the back doors open and—holy shit. The smell. The night shift had doused everything in bleach again. Every single time. Why couldn't those idiots ever listen? And how was he supposed to run a check when he had to hold his breath? His eyes burned from no sleep, and the bleach-stink only made it worse.

The week had been insane. But even if his brain was still mush from sleep, his hands knew where everything went.

Same as always — cabinets, meds, monitor. Some brochure about pumpkin spice bullshit from the local coffee shop… Pigs. The whole town was into all that seasonal crap — maybe because they'd never seen a real fall?

Bright sticky note on one of the shelves.

Bakugo, don't forget about the intern!!

Yeah, right. Like he could forget. They'd been down his neck about it for a week straight, reminding him non-stop that the team was getting fresh meat. Another student who'd pass out at the sight of blood. Hands shaking through a whole IV.

What was he, a goddamn babysitter?

Eight weeks of babysitting some dipshit who'd shove the shears in the wrong slot, ask the same questions over and over, and get underfoot every chance they got.

Whatever.

He'd deal with it when the clown showed up. Right now the stretcher straps needed checking — after night shift they were all over the place. As he dragged the gurney out, wheels scraping across the concrete, the smell of burnt coffee drifted from the station's windows. The fire crew was already cackling — way too loud for this early, as usual.

Jaw tight, he crouched and hauled the straps tight. Fine. He left the stretcher alone, stepping back to grab the O2 tanks and c-collars.

Took one lousy second.

Then, right behind him — a crash.

What the fuck?

Katsuki spun around, ready to bark at one of the firefighters.

And froze.

No way.

There on the floor, flat on the ground — the one person he never wanted to see again and kept running into anyway. The local walking disaster. Famous across the whole hospital because every damn month, without fail, you'd get into some new mess.

One month you'd pig out on expired shrimp. The next — an allergic reaction to something you didn't even know about. Not to mention the fractures and other crap you managed to pull off on flat ground. And now what? Just waltzed onto the station because you'd run out of places to hurt yourself?

He headed outside, squinting against the bright sun.

Don't tell me…

EMT uniform.

On you.

"You're the fucking intern?!"

The roar echoed through the garage. No way. Some kind of joke. How could someone who was always breaking something work as a paramedic? You'd… you'd fucking trip on a scalpel and drop dead. And he'd be the one answering for it.

He scrubbed a hand down his face — his eye twitched just thinking about it.

This was gonna be a problem. You were gonna be a problem.

"You've gotta be kidding me." Jaw clenched hard enough to make his teeth ache, Katsuki stared down at you. No help offered. "What are you doing here?"

You were nowhere.

Katsuki slammed the back doors shut, forehead pressed to the metal. His head was buzzing. A nasty, grinding hum that wouldn't let him take a full breath, chest squeezing tight. His hand came up, pressing hard into the knot in his chest. Damn...

Same thing every time.

Should've gotten used to it by now — can't save everyone, and all the rest of that crap. Part of the job. He knew it since his very first training shift at twenty, when the senior medic pulled the sheet over the face and walked to the rig to restock like nothing happened. That's the job, kid. You're gonna lose people. Do the work, move on, don't drag it home — start dragging it home and it'll eat you alive.

And he fucking lived by it. Left all of it behind in the rig, going through equipment and cabinets. And then stood here like an idiot, trying to breathe.

Fine. Shift was over. Time to head home, feed Ryuji, crash.

Only...

Where the hell were you?

The second the rig pulled in, you vanished so fast he didn't even get to bark at you. Right... today you found out that being a paramedic isn't some bullshit TV show where everyone makes it. The garage was empty, the crew had scattered... And knowing you, no chance you went to the bar with the driver.

He pushed off the doors and walked across the bay, boots heavy on the concrete. The emergency exit sign flickered in the corner — stairs straight up to the roof. You were definitely up there. People always go up, for some reason... Like that ever helps. Hah. More likely you'd bust your ass falling off while moping.

The door creaked open. Dust inside, and something sweet and gross. He took the stairs two at a time. Three weeks in and you'd almost found your footing... at least your hands didn't shake anymore, and that deer-in-headlights look had turned into something almost like focus. Hell if he knew. But you were getting better. Not that he'd ever say so.

And today you got your first loss.

The look on your face... Blank. Like you shut down. Didn't matter. We all go through it.

Welcome to the job.

If you were waiting for some kind of inspirational speech... No. All garbage. Any version of that bullshit pep talk — worthless.

But leaving you up here wasn't an option either.

Steps clanged under his feet, and his temples throbbed. Top one propped open with a brick — gotcha.

Too obvious.

The heavy drone of the AC units hit his ears, and gravel shifted underfoot. Katsuki leaned into the frame, holding it open. The metal bit cold through his uniform against his shoulder.

"Hey."

You stood frozen against the gray sky, looking like somebody pulled the plug. Why was it always like this with rookies? You had to find your way through it. We all do. Bars, family, or — like him — adrenaline. He never brought anyone along, too much hassle. But the way your shoulders were locked up was practically screaming that you needed a jolt.

But first.

"What'd you expect?" he barked through the hum.

"You signed up for this. Don't tell me you thought everyone makes it. That's not how it works."

Why was he even wasting his time? He hated talking.

"People die. Just fucking deal with it and move on."

You didn't even turn around. Stood there like a damn statue. Tch... great.

Talking really wasn't his thing. Katsuki shoved a hand into his pocket, fished out his motorcycle keys. Maybe a ride would do more than words... He wound up and chucked them right at your back.

"HEY! Pick 'em up and let's go. I'm not asking twice."