Chapter Text
Summer went away, still, the yearning stays
I play it cool with the best of them
The war was over. The world was still standing. And Bakugou Katsuki was losing his damn mind.
"I'll beat you to it nerd."
Summer came roaring back in after the war like it had something to prove, loud and bright and crowded with people who were alive and determined to celebrate it, and Class 1-A’s victory party started as something manageable and immediately spiraled into something Katsuki hated, which was a lot of people, too much noise, and one very specific person he needed to talk to who kept slipping out of reach.
Their class had turned the dorms and the whole of training grounds into a full-blown celebration zone. Streamers in red, white, and green hung from every possible surface.
Someone (probably Mina) had raided the school’s AV room for a sound system that could rattle teeth. The kitchen smelled like yakitori, takoyaki, and whatever the hell Sero was trying to deep-fry in the background.
Everyone was there. Everyone was happy. Everyone except Katsuki, who had spent the last three weeks trying—and failing—to get five goddamn minutes alone with Izuku Midoriya.
Izuku was everywhere and nowhere at once, pulled into conversations by friends who hadn’t seen him properly in weeks, stopped by admiring fans who wanted to thank him, hugged, clapped on the back, smiled at until his face must have hurt.
And every time Katsuki finally lined up a path toward him, someone else intercepted it.
The nights at the hospital were filled with tears and giddy relief and shit tons of physical therapy. They never found the time.
“Oi, Deku—” He began.
Gone. Again.
Katsuki clicked his tongue and shoved his hands into his pockets, irritation simmering, because it wasn’t like this was some casual thing he could do later, dammit.
He had a bet to win.
"Sure, Kacchan." Izuku's voice echoed from last summer.
He’d already waited through hospitals and debriefings and paperwork and the slow, grinding realization that they had all survived, and now that they were supposed to be done, now that it was safe, the timing kept slipping through his fingers.
He spotted Izuku near the drinks table and made a beeline for him, heart starting to pound. He was going to do this.
He’d opened his mouth to say—
“OCHACO! YOUR FIGHT WAS RECORDED AFTER ALL!”
The entire room lost its mind. Someone pulled up a fan-uploaded video and the crowd cheered. Izuku was beaming, clapping, pulling Uraraka into a hug. Katsuki’s teeth ground so hard he thought he’d crack a molar.
Not the time, then.
Later.
Later came with Todoroki informing the class that Dabi— Touya hadn't made it after all and it was quiet and heavy and absolutely not something Katsuki could bulldoze past, so he stopped, stood there, listened, watched Izuku’s face soften with sympathy, watched him reach out without hesitation, and cursed himself for even thinking about interrupting that moment.
The party recovered faster than Katsuki expected.
Izuku finally walked over to him, smiling and waving. "Kacchan! Where have you—"
Yes! He was going to win! Katsuki sauntered up to Izuku.
The universe, apparently offended by Katsuki’s confidence, immediately doubled down.
"Izuku," he started, only to be physically intercepted by a group of first-years who recognized him on sight and decided this was the perfect moment to ask for autographs and advice and whether quirk counselling was necessary along with quirk training, and by the time he disentangled himself with a string of sharp refusals and one very effective glare, and 'Yes counselling is necessary.' Izuku was gone again, swallowed by the warm summer dark outside.
Fine. Outside then. Katsuki didn't care where. He would do it in the supply closet if he had to.
Except outside was worse, because the courtyard had turned into its own ecosystem of celebration, fairy lights strung between trees, someone grilling something that was absolutely burning, and half the support course filming everything that Katsuki decided to ignore.
And just as he locked onto Izuku leaning against a railing, Mirio swooped in like a force of nature, clapping Izuku on the back and lifting him off the ground in a hug that lasted far too long.
He gritted his teeth.
When Izuku finally escaped that, Katsuki took two steps toward him and immediately had a drink shoved into his own hand by Sero, who slung an arm around his shoulders and started loudly recounting the story of Katsuki’s best explosion from the war like it was a campfire tale, complete with gestures, drawing a crowd, and Katsuki could feel his chance slipping again, his attention pulled in the opposite direction while Izuku was congratulated somewhere just out of reach.
Then the power went out.
And that was a blessing because, now they were finally, finally together in the stairwell. Emergency lights red and flickering. The building quiet except for distant yelling about the fuse box.
Izuku was leaning against the wall, still catching his breath from laughing at something Kaminari had screamed earlier. His hair was a mess, shirt rumpled, freckles standing out against flushed cheeks.
Katsuki stood in front of him. Hands shoved in his pockets.
Katsuki stepped even closer, heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his teeth. He opened his mouth to finally say it—
The stairwell door flew open.
“Bakubro!” Kirishima’s voice boomed. “Dude, you gotta come quick! Someone bet Sero he could tape himself to the ceiling and now he’s stuck up there like a spider and we need your explosions to—oh. Ohhhhh. You guys are… uh…”
Kirishima froze, eyes wide, realizing he’d just walked into something. He started backing away slowly. “Never mind. I’ll… I’ll get Uraraka or sensei...or something. Carry on.”
The door slammed shut again.
Katsuki’s eye twitched so violently Izuku thought it might pop out.
Deku was biting his lip, trying not to laugh. “Kacchan—”
“Don’t. Say. Anything.”
Katsuki took a deep breath. Tried again. “Deku. Izuku. I’ve been trying to—”
The lights snapped back on.
The entire building lit up like a stadium. Someone downstairs screamed, “WE DID IT! POWER’S BACK!” and the music started blasting again—louder than before.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs above them.
“Midoriya! Blasty!” It was Mina, sounding frantic. “There you guys are! We’re doing a group photo! Everyone’s waiting! Come on!”
Katsuki punched the wall as Izuku was dragged out.
Best Jeanist found him near the edge of the crowd... and when had they all gotten here? Bakugou looked around. This wasn't a class party anymore. This was the damn country celebrating.
"So. What are your plans after this?" Jeanist asked.
"Graduating." Katsuki bit back. Not the time, he thought angrily. He needs to find Izuku. That was his plan. Find Izuku, win the bet, kiss Izuku, hug Izuku, and definitely marry Izuku—
"I meant after that, kid." Jeanist interrupted his thoughts.
Plans. Plans. Hm. What were his plans again?
Oh.
“I’m gonna open my own agency." Katsuki snapped.
Jeanist raised an eyebrow. “That’s the plan, yes." He studied him carefully as Katsuki's eyes kept darting around.
Jeanist hummed. “You seem distracted.”
Katsuki scanned the room again, scowling. “I’m looking for shitty Deku.”
Jeanist smiled like he knew too much. “Give the boy a break. He just won a war. What are you terrorizing him for now?”
Katsuki bristled. “I’m not—”
Jeanist laughed and walked off, and Katsuki ground his teeth.
Before Katsuki could recover, Kirishima appeared, grinning like an idiot. “Dude! Someone said even you couldn’t do the obstacle course blindfolded. They’re betting you’ll chicken out.”
Katsuki’s pride ignited like a match to gasoline. “The hell they did. I’ll do it in my sleep.”
He ended up blindfolded, shirtless, and crawling through a ridiculous obstacle course made of pillows, chairs, and someone’s quirked-up tape.
Ten minutes later Katsuki was more irritated than he’d been all night, because he absolutely could do it and absolutely had, but it did nothing to solve his actual problem, which was that Kaminari and Jirou had taken over the speakers, the music was deafening, people were dancing on tables, and Izuku Midoriya had vanished completely.
Then someone yelled, “KARAOKE TIME!”
The bass hit like a physical attack. People were screaming lyrics into microphones. Sero had seized one like he was on a world tour, belting out—Katsuki squinted—Taylor Swift? Mina was on top of a table, unhinged and incandescent, and it took Katsuki a full second to register that it was a devastatingly sad Taylor Swift song she was twerking to.
He couldn't care less because now, Katsuki couldn’t even find Izuku in the crowd anymore.
He climbed onto a bench just to get a better view, scanning the crowd like a hawk, and finally, finally spotted Izuku near the makeshift stage, laughing, hair damp with sweat, eyes bright, alive in a way that made Katsuki’s chest ache, and he jumped down and pushed forward, heart hammering, words burning in his throat.
A spotlight snapped on. Katsuki had no idea there was someone with a quirk like that.
“Speech!” someone yelled.
Before Katsuki could commit a single act of violence, Izuku was hoisted onto the stage, blinking in surprise as the crowd chanted his name, and Katsuki stood there, surrounded by noise and light and celebration, fists clenched at his sides, realizing with a mix of fury and fondness that the world was still conspiring against him, and that apparently, asking Izuku Midoriya out was going to be the hardest fight of his life.
Izuku cleared his throat and launched into it, spouting what Katsuki immediately categorized as heartfelt bullshit, about how they had survived, how everyone had been strong and brave and had carried each other when it mattered, about teachers and classmates and friends and how none of them had done it alone, and the crowd ate it up, cheering at the right moments, clapping, some people even tearing up, and Katsuki couldn’t deny it was effective, even if it made him grit his teeth.
The dance floor was a mess of bodies and glow sticks when Uraraka and Tsuyu took over. Uraraka was floating people one by one, Tsuyu was ribbit-ing in perfect sync to the beat, and the crowd was losing it. The speakers were blasting so loud Katsuki could feel the bass in his bones.
He’d had enough.
Katsuki stormed across the room, shoving through the crowd like a human bulldozer. He reached the sound system, ripped the main power cable out of the wall with one brutal yank, and the music died mid-beat, speakers popping into shocked silence that rippled outward like a held breath.
Dead silence enveloped the party.
Using that silence and the confusion to his advantage, Katsuki vaulted onto the makeshift stage, grabbed the microphone, and without thinking any further he shouted, voice echoing clear and furious and unmistakable,
“CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE FIND ME MIDORIYA IZUKU AND SEND HIM TO ME. I’M TRYING TO ASK THE SHITTY NERD OUT ON A FUCKIN’ DATE.”
The silence was so complete you could’ve heard a pin drop. Then it shattered.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea.
Everyone around Izuku stared at him automatically, bodies moving out of the way in stunned obedience, green curls suddenly visible, Izuku frozen in place with his mouth open and his face red.
Shoji scooped Izuku up with all six arms like he weighed nothing and lifted him over the crowd. Hands shot up from everywhere—Kirishima, Sero, Mina, even Todoroki—and before Izuku could protest he was lifted overhead and passed forward, crowd-surfed through shocked hands and wild laughter toward the stage while Katsuki was laughing, rather startled himself, half reaching out, half bracing.-surfing.
Izuku yelped in surprise and laughter as he was finally passed hand-over-hand toward the stage.
“What the hell—”
Izuku landed in front of him in a heap of flailing limbs and green hair. Katsuki caught him by the waist before he could fall, steadying him.
Kaminari’s voice cut through, small and disbelieving. “Holy shit… is Bakugou drunk?”
Aizawa, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, actually grinned. “Bakugou hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol, Kaminari.”
All their classmates’ heads turned at the same time toward the stage and he was grinning up at Izuku with something wild and unguarded and incandescent, while Izuku laughed breathlessly, eyes wet and bright, hands cupping Katsuki's face.
“Holy shit,” someone breathed.
“He’s—”
“Bakugou my man!” Kirishima choked, wiping tears from his eyes. “This is so manly!”
Mina started screaming and jumping. Uraraka was crying happy tears as Sero was filming the whole thing. Even Iida was clapping furiously, tears in his eyes.
Katsuki didn’t care.
He looked up at Izuku, still grinning like an idiot, voice rough but clear.
"I won."
“Mmm,” Izuku hummed, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “I get to go on a date with Kacchan, so…” His voice dropped to a teasing whisper. “Who’s the real winner here?”
“Still me,” Katsuki said immediately, and the way he smiled wide, satisfied, stupidly happy made it very clear to everyone watching that he believed that with his whole chest.
Then he stood, hauled Izuku up with him, and lifted their joined hands high over his head and roared. “He said YES!”
The cheers were deafening. Kirishima let out a war cry that could’ve shattered glass and Mina was screaming and jumping so hard she nearly took out Sero. Uraraka floated half the class in excitement. Even Aizawa was clapping.
Someone (probably Kaminari) started chanting “BA-KU-BRO! BA-KU-GOU!” and it spread like wildfire.
Katsuki finally lowered their arms, but he didn’t drop Izuku’s hand. He just pulled him closer, tucking him against his side, and grinned.
Around them, the party surged back to life, music restarting, people dancing again, summer roaring on, but for a moment it didn’t touch them at all, because Katsuki Bakugou had stopped waiting, Izuku Midoriya had said yes, and whatever came next, dates, awkward firsts, loud arguments, and quiet mornings, it would be theirs, together, loud and ordinary and real.
Best jeanist cleared his throat. "Oh I see what his plans are."
The summer had just started.