Maintenance was extremely apologetic the next day and got straight to work fixing the heat, and all of the residents of the dorm — new and old — breathed a collective sigh of relief. Everyone had come down in the morning bundled up enough that they could hardly be seen past hats and scarves.

Their relief didn't last for long, though, because as the evening went on, it started to get hot. Too hot.

"Crap, this so isn't fair!" Ashido said, looking at the storm outside. The wind was whipping rain against the windows heavily, gusting first one direction, and then quickly from another. "I'll take the freezing again over this!"

Yaoyorozu gave her a sympathetic look, working on producing yet another ice pack from her body. "It would be helpful if we could open a window. I texted Aizawa-sensei, but he said nothing can be done until tomorrow when maintenance comes back."

"I sure hope they don't screw up again," Shinsō groaned, slumped on the floor with one of Yaoyorozu's ice packs on his face.

"If they do, I'm officially asking to be moved to the K dorm," another student from general ed said. "They've only got three classes in there."

✷✷✷

By the time everyone disappeared upstairs for bed, the heat had only become more stifling, and Izuku swore it was worse up in Bakugō's room on the fourth floor. Heat rises or something, right?

He was only wearing a t-shirt and loose cotton pajama pants, but still, the room was unbearably sweltering.

By eleven o'clock, Izuku hadn't gotten a wink of sleep and was sprawled out flat on the floor, All Might blanket to the side and his pajama pants pushed up over his knees, trying to keep his skin from touching itself anywhere, and to expose himself to as much air as possible in hopes of helping any heat escape his body.

Even the wood floor under him was warm now though, and his skin stuck to it with sweat. His efforts felt futile — he was just going to cook from the inside out. He couldn't imagine how Bakugō must be faring up there on the bed, with his body naturally running hotter and with all that warm bedding under him. At least the floor had been cool once upon a time.

Apparently the answer was that Bakugō wasn't faring well at all, because he abruptly pushed up from the bed and stalked over to look out the clear balcony doors — the curtains long having been pushed wide from previous angry glares out at the weather. Izuku could still hear the wind howling outside, and he sincerely doubted that the conditions had changed. "God fucking dammit, why can't it stop fucking raining for once; we're gonna fucking roast alive in here. I swear to god I have enough sweat right now to blow up the whole goddamn building!"

That really just might be true if Bakugō had been wearing his equipment. Izuku had noticed him compulsively wiping his hands on the sheets, and honestly it had to be uncomfortable. Also that sheet was probably now the biggest fire risk in the entire dorm besides Bakugō himself, and unfortunately Izuku knew that uncomfortable situations out of his control pissed Bakugō off. A lot. And that his way of letting off steam was using his quirk (and Izuku had also noticed he was a lot quicker to light off explosions at random in the summer, so he suspected it was also his way of getting rid of the discomfort of so much sweat). And most of all, he knew Bakugō was way too smart to use his quirk with extremely flammable material around, and he knew that just pissed Bakugō off more.

"Just lay back down, Kacchan, try not to move. Maybe in another hour—"

Bakugō whirled on him, pointing an accusing finger. "You shut the fuck up if you don't have anything actually useful to say." 

Bakugō stalked back toward his bed, pulling off his shirt and throwing it on the floor as he went, then he shoved his pajama pants down and Izuku made an odd sort of squeak and quickly averted his eyes, trying not to blush.

All the boys shared changing rooms and the communal baths, but this felt different. There it felt like...well, what you were supposed to be doing, and everybody was well prepared to not be looking. Here, suddenly it felt so much more...intimate. It was just the two of them, it wasn't the whole class with everybody doing it, and only Bakugō being here made it harder to try not to pay attention.

Bakugō was...attractive, okay? He was just objectively attractive, and that wasn't Izuku's fault, but it wouldn't be right to stare at him.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Bakugō snapped, flopping down spread eagled on his bed — apparently taking the cue from Izuku — now in just his boxers. But even those harsh words lacked the usual bite, as if the extreme heat had wilted everything, even Bakugō's anger. "I'm not roasting just because you're a fucking prude."

"No, it— I'm fine," Izuku stuttered.

Bakugō let out an annoyed huff, but otherwise left it at that.

After a few minutes of nothing happening except Izuku slowly collecting more sweat, he decided that...maybe Bakugō had the right idea after all. He peeled his sticky limbs from the floor and started to squirm out of his stifling pajamas, tossing his shirt onto the long-forsaken pile of his blanket.

"Just try not to move," Bakugō mocked. "What the hell are you doing down there?" 

He raised up on one arm to look over the side of the bed at Izuku, who froze, with one leg out of his pajamas and one still in.

"Oh, I, um, it just seemed like you had the right idea after all!" he said hastily. "It's too hot to stay bundled up."

"Tch." Bakugō dropped back to the bed, but Izuku swore he had seen his eyes flick over his body before he let himself drop again. Probably looking for something to make fun of Izuku for, if he had to guess. That seemed like the rational explanation anyway.

Izuku got his pants the rest of the way off and flung them over with his shirt, before sprawling out again, the room falling to silence but for the ever-present wind howling outside.

He was pretty sure neither of them managed to get a wink of sleep for the next hour or so, despite the quiet and the late hour. It was just too impossibly, oppressively hot.

Then the small reading light on Bakugō's desk went out. 

"Did the power just go out?" Izuku asked.

"Sure fuckin' looks like it, genius," Bakugō snarked back. And then, more muttered to himself, "Maybe that's a good thing this time, and it'll cool the fuck off."

Of course, just as he said that, the light flickered back on, and Bakugō's bedside clock blinked on again, red numbers flashing midnight over and over, waiting to be reset.

Bakugō looked at the clock, and let out an impatient huff. "Of course not." He got up again, going to the balcony doors, where the frigid rain was still pouring, still thundering against the doors while the wind showed absolutely no sign of stopping its endless shrieking.

"Power's probably just gonna fucking blink again, this shit's not stopping. Fucking fuck," he swore under his breath, and then stalked to the dresser, yanking a drawer open and pulling out...a washcloth? He slammed the drawer closed and disappeared into his bathroom. Izuku heard the water turn on for a moment, and then Bakugō came back out, stopping to snatch his water bottle from the fridge (and completely unnecessarily slam that shut as well) on his way back to the bed. (Or who knew, maybe the violence was necessary if Bakugō didn't want to send them all up in flames).

Bakugō sat down on the edge of his bed, and Izuku sat up to watch him, leaning back on his hands and trying his hardest to only look at Bakugō's face, and just watch his movements out of his peripheral vision. God, he really shouldn't let himself look at Kacchan's body, he really shouldn't be looking at all, and he was probably terrible for wanting to so badly, but he just wanted to sit and stare at Bakugō's body for a few minutes. Or hours. Oh god, he was probably worse than Mineta. 

Bakugō set the water bottle on his bedside table, and wiped the damp washcloth over his face, before tilting his head back toward the ceiling for a few moments. "Yeah, that helps," he muttered, and then set about running the washcloth over the rest of himself (which was really a practice in control for Izuku, forcing himself not to follow that with his eyes), before draping the washcloth over his headboard, presumably to use again for the same purpose when the water evaporated.

Bakugō reached for the water bottle again and took a few, slow sips.

"Could— Um. Would you...be willing to...share?" Izuku asked hesitantly. 

Bakugō gave him an annoyed look, and vaguely sloshed the water bottle in his direction, splashing water over his chest, and making Izuku's muscles automatically clench and his eyes close for a moment.

"Okay," he squeaked. "That works."

It did, really — it wasn't the nicest way to do it, but the cold water felt good running down his front and cooling his skin further as the air hit it. 

He opened his eyes to see Bakugō staring at him. Or rather, at his chest.

"Yeah," Bakugō agreed absently, quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself, his eyes slowly panning down, seemingly tracking a drop of water as it made its way down Izuku's front.

Izuku suddenly got the feeling that Bakugō was not, in fact, thinking about making fun of him at the moment. He wasn't sure what was happening, actually. If he didn't know better, he would almost say Bakugō seemed...interested. Maybe Izuku was getting heat stroke. That seemed like the much more plausible answer.

Bakugō abruptly turned away and screwed the cap back on the water bottle, sprawling back out on his bed, and pressing the cold water bottle to his face.

Izuku laid back down as well, despite knowing that even with the water helping — just a tiny bit — there was no way he'd be getting back to sleep, and silence reigned for probably nigh an hour. 

Until Izuku realized it was too silent.

He sat back up. "Has the wind stopped?"

"What?" Bakugō listened for a moment, and then got up to look out over the balcony. "Oh fuck yes, it's not raining anymore either." He opened the doors and stepped out, barefoot and heedless of the water on the ground, and leaned over the railing, leaning his upper body as far out into the cold night air as it could go with a relieved sigh.

Izuku didn't want to piss Bakugō off, but he couldn't resist the draw of the cold air, and edged closer. Just that taste of cold air on his skin, even if he couldn't go completely out in it yet, felt so relievingly sweet.

After several long minutes, Bakugō turned to come back inside, with a small, sighed, "Holy shit." He paused at the doorway though, just before stepping in. "Ugh. Get me a towel or something."

"Oh, uh, where…?"

Bakugō pointed at the dresser. "Top drawer on the left."

Izuku got him a towel, half nervous Bakugō might yell at him for going into his stuff even though he'd asked him. 

He didn't though, he just took it with a noncommittal grunt that Izuku was going to assume was as close as he was physically capable of getting to a 'thank you', and used it to wipe his feet as he stepped back inside.

As soon as he went back to the bed and sprawled out again, Izuku crawled over toward the balcony, and just sat in the doorway for a couple minutes, his legs folded under him.

Quickly, that wasn't enough, though, and he understood Bakugō's impatience to want to get as far out in the night air as possible — Izuku wanted to be refrigerated right now. The very surface of his skin had cooled at least, but he still felt way too hot inside.

He got to his feet and picked up Bakugō's discarded towel, taking it with him out onto the balcony and carefully folding it to sit on in the corner by the outer wall. Izuku plopped down, leaning back against the wall and resting his face against the cold, damp concrete, his whole left side and back pressed as fully as possible against the rough wall to let it finally leach the unbearable heat out of him. He let out a soft, contented sigh, closing his eyes and letting his exhausted mind finally drift a bit as he felt his feverish face begin to cool at long last.

He woke from his doze some time later, when he realized that his toes were starting to go numb and that he was trembling slightly, and he finally pulled back and crawled back inside. Bakugō must have turned off the light at some point while he was outside, because it was dark now, but Izuku managed to find his blanket and dry himself off with it as well as possible, before bundling himself up and quickly dropping off back to sleep.

The next time Izuku awoke, his whole body was shaking violently. Crap, maybe leaving the doors completely open hadn't been the best idea. The glowing numbers on the clock on Bakugō's bedside table were still blinking, so it probably wasn't actually almost four, but squinting in the dark, he couldn't find where he'd left his phone to check the time. How long had they just left the doors open like that? Ugh, it probably didn't matter, as long as he got them closed most of the way and warmed up again sometime before morning. 

Did he even have time to get warmed up and get back to sleep for any reasonable time before school started? Well, it probably couldn't hurt to try anyway — he was exhausted, and honestly maybe even just an extra fifteen minutes would help.

He got to his feet, blanket still clutched tightly around himself, and went over to the balcony, pulling one of the doors shut.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bakugō demanded, causing Izuku to start slightly.

"Oh, um, it's getting really cold in here, I was just shutting the doors a little more."

"No. I'm not being cooked again."

"Kacchan, it's freezing on the floor," Izuku pleaded. "Heat rises and you have blankets and things; I'm not going to shut them all the way, just some."

"Oh for fuck's— fine." Bakugō huffily held up the edge of the covers. "Just leave the fucking doors alone."

Izuku looked at the covers being held up uncertainly, and Bakugō let out a very pissy sigh.

"Are you gonna fucking get in, or are you just gonna keep standing there like a fucking idiot?" he snapped.

"No, I'm— Okay." Izuku dropped his dirty and still damp blanket to the floor and cautiously got into bed. 

Just like last time, Bakugō rolled away from him and settled back in to sleep, and Izuku let out a slow breath. This would be fine. It was fine last time, right?

✷✷✷

Izuku awoke to someone enthusiastically knocking on the door, and immediately realized that he had, once again, somehow ended up cuddled up on Bakugō — his face pillowed on one side of his chest, one arm flung over the other side of his chest, his hand curled loosely above his shoulder, and a leg flung over one of Bakugō's, resting between them, while Bakugō's arm was curled securely around his waist. The amount of bare skin-to-skin contact was downright dizzying, and Izuku hastily tried not to think about it to avoid a mortifying blush he would be hard pressed to explain.

He started to pull away, but Bakugō was already letting go and pushing him off with an annoyed sound, and getting up to get the door. The strange thing was though — or rather the two strange things were — that Bakugō hadn't pushed him off harshly or angrily at all, he'd just...removed him. And Izuku also...wasn't sure the annoyance was for him? It seemed like it might just be directed at the incessant knocking.

Bakugō ripped the door open with his ever-present aggressiveness, but he only let it open a little, blocking the view into his room with his body. "What the hell do you want, Shitty Hair?"

"Normally I would've already seen you by now," came Kirishima's voice from the hallway. "I was wondering if you were running late or forgot to set your alarm or something; looks like you did."

Izuku looked over at the clock. It was still blinking. Crap! Bakugō had never reset it after the power outage. Oh, crap, Izuku had even noticed that last night, he just hadn't been thinking, oh no this was probably his fault.

"Fuck. Whatever — I'll still be in class on time."

"No need to thank me, dude. But, uh. Why aren't you wearing any clothes?"

"What, you thought I was just gonna broil alive the way they had the heating turned up to fucking nuclear last night?!" Bakugō demanded aggressively, just short of a full out yell. 

"Sorry dude, I kinda thought you'd be immune to the heat with your whole fiery explosion thing."

"My quirk is my sweat, you fucking moron. How would I sweat if I didn't get overheated? My bed is probably a goddamn fire hazard at this point! I don't know what would happen if somebody dropped a lit match in my room right now, but it wouldn't be fucking pretty!"

Kirishima laughed. "Fair enough. I just, you know, thought you might have a bit of modesty. I wouldn't exactly want to sit around in my underwear in front of Īda — actually, he'd probably report me to Aizawa-sensei for indecent behavior or something."

See! Izuku wasn't the only one! The baths and the changing rooms felt different.

"DO I LOOK LIKE I HAVE ANYTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF, SHITTY HAIR?!" This time Bakugō really did sound like he was going to bite Kirishima's head off.

"I...feel like no matter what answer I give, you're gonna hit me with an explosion, so I'm just gonna...not answer that. But I meant like, I thought you specifically wouldn't want to in front of Midoriya."

"Who gives a fuck about Deku?! He saw me when we were still in diapers!"

Even if it wasn't the nicest way, it still...felt good to have Kacchan acknowledge the way they grew up together, Izuku thought, the way they used to be friends. It was rare, but Izuku liked it when it happened.

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that."

"Tch. Whatever, I'm late." Bakugō stepped back and slammed the door in Kirishima's face.

"No need to thank me!" Kirishima repeated, calling through the door.

"Piss off!" Bakugō yelled back.

He turned back to the bed. "Why are you still fucking laying there? We're gonna be late, idiot, get the hell up!"