Bakugo woke up to the sound of shifting blankets beside him. His boyfriend—his idiot, perfect boyfriend—was curled up under the covers, face buried in his pillow, body tense. Bakugo immediately knew something was off.

And then it clicked.

Bakugo sighed, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on one elbow. “You okay?” he asked, voice rough from sleep.

A low groan answered him. “Mm. ‘S fine.”

Liar.

Bakugo scowled but didn’t push. Instead, he reached out, resting a warm hand on his boyfriend’s back, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. He could feel the slight tension in his muscles, the way his body was curled in on itself.

“Cramps bad?”

Another muffled groan.

That was answer enough.

“Tch.” Bakugo pushed himself up, stretching before slipping out of bed. His boyfriend peeked out from under the blankets, just enough to watch him. “Stay put,” Bakugo muttered.

He shuffled out of the dorm room, heading straight for the common room’s kitchen. The dorms were quiet this early—just the way he liked it. He grabbed a heat pack from the cabinet (because of course he kept one for emergencies), popped it in the microwave, and leaned against the counter while it warmed up.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew this shit sucked for his boyfriend. Even if he didn’t complain about it much, Bakugo noticed everything—the way he got quieter, the way his body tensed, the way he sometimes hesitated before asking for anything. It pissed him off, not because of him, but because Bakugo hated that he felt like he had to deal with it alone.

When the microwave beeped, he grabbed the heat pack, along with a glass of water, and headed back to their room. His boyfriend was exactly where he left him, half-buried in blankets, watching him with tired eyes.

Bakugo sat on the edge of the bed, pressing the heat pack against his stomach without a word. His boyfriend let out a relieved sigh, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth seeped in.