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Katsuki was past the point of knowing which blood was Deku’s and which belonged to the dozens upon dozens of broken bodies he’d carted from crumbling pavement and busted buildings.
He knew he smelled like ash and death, that his uniform had long been caked in grime, his nails caulked with black, his hair soot-stained, and his boots leaving prints like some monster from under the bed. He knew he hadn’t eaten in over twelve hours, and hadn’t slept in at least double that, for finishing the job Deku had started. He knew that he probably shouldn’t have stomped through the hospital doors like he was going to rob the place rather than march up to the nurse’s station and demand for the room of Midoriya Izuku.
And Katsuki fucking knew he shouldn’t be allowed to say a full name like that when they were barely friends enough to do so.
Muscles tense, shoulders set back and broad, as if waiting for a fight, Katsuki followed the nurse down the hall with head held high. Walking the pale grey gauntlet of a hospital corridor. He’d lost friends in these halls. He knew they could feel like coffins, never ending, closing in on you as you walked toward a room where you’d see your loved one for the last time.
Stay in the job long enough and every hero learned the feeling.
Katsuki nodded to the nurse in thanks when she stood outside the door. Starry-eyed and stuttering a little, she thanked him and skittered away, her presence forgotten before she’d finished speaking. Katsuki’s hand was already on the handle, turning.
Standing in the doorway, Katsuki’s fist trembling on the doorknob from exhaustion and not fear, he looked.
Machines beeped gently, all of them too familiar to Katsuki’s slow survey. The usual IV crept from Deku’s hand, several midnight bruises riding up his arm which Katsuki recognized as spots the needle wouldn’t take because he’d undoubtedly bled out too much, his veins shriveled and hollow. Plastic nasal cannula in Deku’s nostrils, just the usual oxygen pumping through. A clean, stark bandage on his temple.
Deku’s eyelashes casting long shadows across his sallow complexion. His chest moved slow, deep in sleep.
Katsuki breathed for the first time since Deku had called out to him, Zero.
Shutting the door with a quiet click, he approached and dragged up a chair. Sat at the bedside and slumped back with a sigh. The room was so quiet that he realized for the first time that his ears were still ringing from the ambulance sirens, the screams, the distant battle booms.
Raking his grimy hands over his equally filthy face, Katsuki grimaced and peeled off his mask, flicked it in the trash. He studied Deku’s face for a long moment, frowning when he realized those assholes hadn’t even bothered to properly clean the signs of demolition from his face.
Hefting to his feet, Katsuki went to the sink and wet a thick stack of paper towels in warm water. He returned and didn’t sit. Leaned over the bed and, mouth sober in concentration, dabbed at the dirt and grime that clung to Deku’s cheeks, his hairline, crusted in his tear ducts, lining the crease of his jaw and neck. Wiped down his hands.
Cocking his head a little and judging his handiwork, Katsuki shrugged and tossed the paper towels. Settling bedside once more, he scooted the chair up as far as it would go, knees knocking against the plastic and metal undercarriage. Folding his forearms atop the blankets, his skin just brushing Deku’s, he considered the pale, freckled profile and the mauve brush of shadow beneath Deku’s eyes.
He stared at the mouth not quite pink enough to be healthy, and remembered all the vitriol and accusations Deku would spit about lazy heroes, entitled attention seekers who went for the glory and left the victims behind. How Deku was always the one to clean up their mess, like the people didn’t matter as much as the photo op. Time and again, Katsuki had mainly brushed him off, rubbed the wrong way, insulted with the insinuation that he hadn’t done his job to stupid Deku’s expectations. The public loved him just fine. Adored him.
Now he knew. After hours, half a day, of slogging through broken civilians, frightened and hurt. Children needing to be reunited with their parents. People whose apartments had been decimated, but still struggled desperately to climb back in for their pet or their photo albums. Katsuki didn’t know how many cats and dogs he’d pulled from the rubble today. And a guinea pig.
He didn’t know how many people made it, either. Damage control had consisted of sending the most injured off in the ambulances. Helping wrap up those whom he could, and navigating helpers who’d shown up to the scene with their own first aid kits and water bottles.
A community coming together. Katsuki was long gone by the time him or any of his teammates could witness such a gathering. They saw it on the television, patted themselves on the back – because it wasn’t like they hadn’t done their part and taken down The Big Bad. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same, actually starting down at ground zero.
And that – that made Katsuki think.
It made him think that, this entire time, this entire life, he’d had the idea of a hero all wrong. Who was more of a hero – him or Deku?
Katsuki didn’t know when he’d pillowed his head upon his arms and started listening to Deku breathe. He didn’t know when Deku’s scent, his presence, had become to grow so important. He didn’t know why he felt the earth drop when he’d realized Deku was on death’s door. Why, in that moment, Katsuki had realized this man mattered to him more than any person in his world.
The longer Katsuki knew Deku, the more he realized how much he didn’t know.
Sleep claimed him like a tight, unrelenting fist, and Katsuki did not dream.
Warmth through his hair, threading through like gold, like sunlight cast across his crown. Katsuki breathed a sigh through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as he tilted his head against the tender touch, the palm that cradled him.
Shit, that felt good. Shit, he was tired.
“You look like crap,” Deku said, his voice cracked and dry.
“Yeah, well who you think did your fuckin’ work for you the last seven plus hours?” Katsuki said, not daring to pick his head up from the bed, lest Deku’s hand leave its resting spot atop.
Only the chatter of nurses outside and the night sounds of cars honking in the city beyond the window filled the space for a good minute. Katsuki had nearly drifted off once more before Deku’s gravel voice scraped over his skin.
“Wait. You did it? What I do – for them?”
“Because I was really gonna let dozens of people just die around me all because your ass decided to get near killed,” Katsuki said with a snort. He shifted, propped his chin upon his forearms and aimed a bland, unamused stare up at Deku. “Yeah, I stayed. How much more would you have hated me if I hadn’t?”
Deku’s wide eyes locked on Katsuki’s, his expression utterly still, unreadable but for the state of surprise.
“I don’t – Kacchan.”
“Hah?” Katsuki said, eyes narrowing, prepared for a verbal punch.
Deku’s hand fell from Katsuki’s hair to the bed. His gaze was dark, the deep green enhanced by the purple hollows beneath his eyes.
“I could never hate you.”
Katsuki stared, felt his face heat.
“Whatever,” he said, casting his attention down to the IV settled before him. “How’s you’re uh…”
“I wouldn’t know,” Deku said. “I haven’t looked. And I don’t recommend you do either because I’m sure I’m not wearing any underwear right now.”
Katsuki didn’t jump from his spot near Deku’s crotch, but he did sit up and slouch back into the chair, his hands gripping his knees as he considered Deku with a scowl.
“You’re a fuckin’ creep, Deku.”
“Hey,” Deku said, cocking his head a little, his cheeks glowing with some warmth, his lips curved at one corner. “Thank you. For everything. I owe you – a lot.”
“Let’s not do the owing thing,” Katsuki said, waving a hand. “Just don’t be so damn stupid in the future.”
“Now that I can’t promise,” Deku said with a short laugh and an immediate wince as he pressed his hand to his scarred gut.
“Rest,” Katsuki snapped quickly, his nerves on edge once more, his shoulders stiff. “Go back to sleep now.”
“But I’m f-“
“I’ll stay,” Katsuki said, folding his arms and scowling, his chin tucked against his chest as he eyed the room with near suspicion. “Some assholes here are incompetent as hell. Sometimes they forget you’re here and –“
“Okay.”
Katsuki narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
A flash of teeth as Deku smiled. For a moment, he looked younger again.
“Stay with me, then.”
“I –“ Katsuki shifted in his chair, frowning. “Okay then, I will.”
“Okay then.”
“Fine.”
Deku grinned.
“Good.”
The longer Katsuki knew Deku, the more he realized there was one thing he did know. But that was too soon to say out loud.