2am Knows All Secrets

With a rather unattractive snort, Eijirou abruptly awoke. He cracked his eyelids open, taking in the faint blue glow of very early morning. Peering over a tuff of blond hair, he blinked at a poster –- his poster, on the wall over his bed, 'Certain Victory!'. Eijirou hummed. His motivational posters always gave him a reason to smile.

As his other senses slowly came into focus, he heard a soft snore coming from between his arms. He could feel his chest against Bakugou's back, could feel the way his knees were tucked up into Bakugou's. And wow, this was the first time they had ever spooned, and it was almost too intimate, but it was so early and Bakugou was still asleep. Eijirou figured that he could forgive it just this once.

But his left arm was numb from the dead weight that lay on it, and it was starting to hurt – maybe that had been what woke him up in the first place. He tried wiggling his fingers, willing feeling to return to them. The tingling was uncomfortable at first, but he began to regain some muted sensations when...

Eijirou gasped, and every drop of blood in his veins turned to ice. Bakugou's hand was resting in his own.

No. No, no, no.

Sleeping and cuddling for mutual comfort was one thing. But holding hands in their sleep – oh god, they were holding hands – that was another thing altogether. He couldn't allow himself to do this to his bro, or to himself. He had to stop this.

After tearing his hand away from Bakugou's, Eijirou tried pulling his arm out from beneath the dead weight, in too much of a determined fright to really care if Bakugou's sleep was disturbed. He shuffled away, giving Bakugou as much personal space as possible, scooching as far back as he could, he had to keep his distance—

Thunk.

Eijirou yelped, his quirk activating a second too late as a flash of pain turned his world white. Oh god, oh god he couldn't breathe, why couldn't he breathe? It was like the wind had been knocked out of him or something. He sat up, his chest heaving has he struggled to take in air, rubbing the back of his head, whimpering at the echoing ache in his skull. Disoriented, he looked up from where he was on the floor.

On the floor?

There was a long groan, followed the creaking of weight shifting on the mattress.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

At the voice, Eijirou froze. Slowly, slowly, he brought his head up and peered over the side of the bed. Bakugou was awake, facing him now, eyes tired and annoyed. No, more like amused.

"I, uh," Eijirou gasped, still struggling to regulate his breathing. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to cover his pained wince by glancing unassumingly around the room. "I fell out of bed."

"No shit, I fucking gathered that much." Bakugou glanced out the window, and then with a grunt, brought his hands to cover his face. "The fuck, fuckin' seriously, Kirishima, it's like the ass-crack of dawn, now's not time for you to have some weird freak-out moment," the blond mumbled, probably still half-asleep. He rubbed at his eyes. "Fuck. You tugged all the fucking covers down with you too, asshole."

"Heh, sorry, sorry..."

"Just get the fuck up here and go the fuck to sleep. Fuck."

With the glare that Bakugou was giving him, Eijirou didn't need to be told twice. So he scrambled up as quickly as he could, bundling the blankets in his arms and dropping them haphazardly onto the bed. Then he crawled underneath them, being very mindful of where his and Bakugou's bodies were.

He couldn't put himself in a position where that morning's mistake could happen again, even subconsciously. So he turned his back to Bakugou, curling in on himself, trying to stay on his side of the bed. Which was difficult, considering it was a twin. In previous nights they hadn't even bothered with personal space, so the small mattress had never been a problem, but now... Well. It was different now.