Chapter Text
Izuku was really good at people watching.
It was a habit that formed after years of being a social outcast, and he continued to do it at UA. Instead of watching people have a good time with their friends, he watched his classmates train in his free time. No one really minded it, mostly excusing it as ‘Midoriya being a big dork again.’
Today, Katsuki was training. Ever since they’ve been released from their house arrest, Katsuki’s been restless. Izuku was too, of course, he absolutely hated being cooped up for so long but lately, Katsuki would put all of his energy into either studying or training. Normally, Kirishima would try to get him to relax for a while, and eventually, he’d begrudgingly agree. Now he’d either directly refuse, or say that he’d catch up with them later and not show up until the next day. Needless to say, everyone was at least a little concerned.
He had to admit though, watching Katsuki use the punching bag was almost mesmerizing. The rhythmic sound of his fists hitting the leather was oddly peaceful to him and it was very nice to listen to, his punches and jabs had no particular pattern to them but were always filled with unrivaled power and speed that always made Izuku shiver. He put his notebook down and fully admired him, his form, the way sweat dripped down his biceps when-
His face flushed a bright red when he realized that his thoughts were shifting toward the gutter. He’s always admired Katsuki, he could never deny that. But, he wasn’t exactly sure when he’d begun to admire him in a “non-friendly” way, but ever since it’s started, the feelings always lingered, leaving the poor boy in embarrassing situations like this one.
To add to his luck, Katsuki turned around to embarrass him even more. “So are you just gonna sit there and stare like an idiot, or are you gonna take your weird little notes?” He asked, clearly enjoying watching Izuku flounder. To anyone who didn’t know Katsuki, his words would sound mean but his teasing smirk showed that he was just messing with him. Izuku laughed nervously at being caught, but not before noticing the tiredness in the other boy’s eyes.
Katsuki stopped the relentless abuse on the poor punching bag in favor of using the bench press. Izuku sits down close to him, crossing his legs and clutching his notebook against his chest. “H-hey Kacchan, do you want me to spot you or something, since I’m not doing anything, right?” Izuku asks, the slight hint of snark hidden behind a serious question. He sees Katsuki stifle a yawn, picking out a rather heavy looking barbell before laying down and starting to bench.
“Listen up nerd, just ‘cause you think you can kick my ass now doesn’t mean that I can’t do this myself, you hear me?!” Katsuki huffs and rolls his eyes and Izuku stays quiet, instead focusing on the rhythm of Katsuki lifting the weights and not the coiling feeling of dread building in the pit of his stomach.
He watches the barbell bob as Katsuki lifts it. It's like a mantra in his head, going ‘up down, up, down,’ a private symphony only accompanied by the soft grunts the blond makes, the sound of heavy breathing and the sweet smell of nitroglycerin that fills the room.
Katsuki falters.
It seemed to happen in slow motion. Katsuki’s arm gives out and the weight is falling. No matter how strong of a hero he is, 250 pounds falling on your chest would hurt almost anyone (Kirishima being an exception). Izuku almost dives toward the other boy, grabbing the weight that's mere inches from his chest and throwing it to the ground, the resounding thud almost deafening compared to the silence of the room. Katsuki is stunned, he assumes, because he’s completely silent, a rarity. Izuku shakily extends his hand toward the other boy, ready to help him up.
Katsuki doesn’t take it, instead helping himself up, not meeting his eyes. Izuku realizes the coincidence of this situation, the fact that for the fourth time, he’s coming to his aid and he knows how much that hurt Katsuki’s pride every time. He retracts his hand like he touched a hot stove and apologizes quickly, “S-sorry Kacchan, I’m sure you could’ve caught it yourself, it’s just me jumping in like usual, wow I guess that does make me a deku after all, huh? I really hope you don’t-”
“It’s fine, nerd.” Katsuki stretches, his joints popping, seeming quite calm for almost having his handsome chest tragically crushed.
Wait, did he just call his chest, handsome?
His mind wasn’t wrong but normally that shouldn’t be the first thing that pops into someone's head after their friend was almost injured. His internal struggle was interrupted by Katsuki snapping to get his attention.
“Deku? Were you even listening, idiot?” Katsuki’s staring directly at him, his words not having the usual bite to them. “I said you should go back to the common room. Curfew’s in like, 20 minutes and Eraser’s gonna kill your sorry ass if you don’t get back in time.”
“Oh, right, thanks!” Izuku perks up, gathering his things and notices Katsuki picking up another set of weights, instead of packing up. Turning back toward Katsuki, “Aren’t you heading back too, Kacchan?” He only gets a noncommittal grunt in reply, and that doesn’t satisfy his question at all. “Kacchan, let’s head back. They’re having a marathon of old hero movies, and they’re gonna have 4 straight hours of All-Might ones,” he says, grabbing Katsuki’s wrist and in return, getting a deadly glare, one that’d make anyone else shrink back and leave before they’d get brutally murdered.
Izuku wasn’t “anyone else” though. He doesn’t shrink back, and the glare immediately gives out, revealing the exhaustion in his eyes, in his posture, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Katsuki’s voice is almost inaudible, “Okay, fine, you fucking asshole, I’ll head back,” he pauses, his mind processing the situation, “And going back was my plan, got it?! I’m not doing it because you told me to!” Katsuki’s voice picks up again, and Izuku doesn’t even bother to correct the fact that he only made a suggestion, and that if he’d glared at him again like that he’d run back by himself, but this meant he’d probably get some rest and he’d stop looking so fatigued.
Izuku instead beams, taking his hand, and leading him out of the gym, only realizing what he was doing when Katsuki yells, “Let go of me shithead!”
Neither of them made any effort to let go.
Katsuki had just come back from his shower and was sprawled out on the couch, Izuku leaning back and hugging his corner, a bowl of popcorn being the only thing that separated the two of them. The movie that they’d watch together countlessly as kids playing in the background, but Izuku was only halfway paying attention to it. He was watching Katsuki fight to keep his eyes open, sleep threatening to overtake him. His hair was damp, and Izuku struggled to stifle the urge to play with it.
The urge wins, as he hesitantly reached out and touched his hair. It was soft, the slight dampness reminding him of a dandelion covered with morning dew. The TV softly illuminated his face, which was seemingly content, with no trace of his usual anger.
This moment had no right to be this beautiful. Katsuki had no right to be this beautiful.
“What the hell are you doing, Deku?” Katsuki murmured, his eyes finally closed.
“I wanted to see if it was soft.”
Katsuki snorts, “Well, was it?”
“Yeah. Like a dandelion.”
“It better fucking be, that’s what happens when you don’t gel it to hell and back like Shitty Hair does. Too much of that garbage is bad for your hair.”
Izuku holds back a laugh in favor of running his hands through the other boy’s hair, scratching his scalp a little bit, watching him sigh contently before finally falling asleep. And as his eyes trace his jawline, his lips, the tip of his nose, he finally realizes that he might be in deeper than he previously thought.
The moment was quickly ruined with a loud crash, and Izuku jumps up, startled. Kirishima, Kaminari, and Mina are carrying Sero, who’s smiling doesn’t distract Izuku from seeing the big red bump on his head. “Yo, Midoriya! We just fucking YOTE Sero down the stairs to see if he could swing with his tape and he almost died!” Kaminari yells, looking all too proud that he just threw his friend down the stairs.
Kirishima interrupts him, “Have you seen Bakubro? I tried getting him to come with us, but he said he had more important things to do than hang out with ‘us losers’.”
“Oh, Kacchan? He’s sleeping right here,” Izuku points to the spot on the couch that’s currently being taken up by the sleeping lion. Kirishima looks incredulous, Kaminari and Mina look thrilled and Sero still has that dopey, brain-damaged smile on his face.
“Wow, Bakugo’s getting sleep? Didja find him here or did you get him to leave the gym?” Mina says, getting shushed because the volume of her voice was bound to wake Katsuki, a death sentence in itself.
Izuku blushes, not wanting to admit that he was ogling him until Katsuki almost hurt himself, or that he lead him out of the gym holding hands, “I just-uh, convinced him? I mentioned the All Might movies that were showing and he-”
“Oh shit, is it still playing?” Kaminari lets go of Sero, causing everyone else to drop him and runs over to the couch, diving onto it, “Dude this is the original holy shit, c’mon guys!”
And that's how the Bakusquad and Izuku ended up watching a movie that night. Well, in reality, only Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina and Sero were watching it. Izuku was still mesmerized by how beautiful Katsuki could look when he didn't have a vein popping out of his head, or his teeth clenched so tightly he swore they would crack one day.
Izuku was ab-so-lutley doomed.