Work Text:
“How stupid did you think I was, Izuku Midoriya? ” The click of the lock from the front door, behind him, was an ominous sound, but it was quickly outweighed by the also-familiar click of safeties coming off of guns. “Did you really believe you could do this alone?”
“I didn’t think you were stupid,” Izuku said, honestly. “I’m very good at my job.” He had won the fight in the lower corridor and only taken a bruised face and ribs as a souvenir, but he hadn’t been quite quick enough to make it out through the door.
“And yet here we are,” said Chisaki. He looked utterly at-ease, which was understandable. There were twelve men in the room—Chisaki, Izuku, and ten of Chisaki’s men. “Drop the gun, Midoriya.”
Izuku let it fall to the tiled floor. He wasn’t going to win a shootout, there was no way. One of the men picked it up, leaving Izuku at once both surrounded and weaponless.
“You’re a fool,” said Chisaki.
“A fool who won,” Izuku retorted brazenly.
“You think this is winning?” Chisaki laughed at him.
“Yes,” Izuku answered. “Do you know where Eri is?”
Chisaki stopped laughing. He turned to a guard. “Check on her,” he ordered. “Now.”
Two of the guards left. “Did you think I would send them all off?” he asked, but he wasn’t smiling anymore.
“No,” Izuku said. “But you only need one to see her bed is empty. She’s long gone.”
“Liar,” said Chisaki. “You’re very good at that.”
“I’m not lying,” Izuku said.
One of the other guards was speaking into his earpiece. “Well?” Chisaki demanded.
He swallowed; Izuku watched his Adam’s apple bob. “Eri is gone, sir,” he said. “So is the nurse.”
“The—” he spun around to look at Izuku. “You didn’t come alone.”
“No,” Izuku agreed. “But you spotted me, so you didn’t even think to check her.”
“You—“ Chisaki’s face warped into a mask of anger. He calmed quickly, but now that Izuku had seen his expression twisted in rage he couldn’t unsee it. The fury was obviously bubbling beneath the surface of his feigned calm. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Izuku replied, raising his chin up. “Eri’s safe. You’ll never get her back.”
“That’s cute,” Chisaki said. “The brave ones are always fun. But your organization has made a mistake. You see, they told you where Eri was going, didn’t they?”
“No,” Izuku said, immediately.
“I thought a government agent would be a better liar,” Chisaki said coldly. “Either way, I expect you’ll stop repeating that soon. Bring him to the back room,” he ordered.
Izuku knew better than to fight the guards. There were too many guns in the room, all trained on him, and he was weaponless. But Uraraka and Eri were long gone. He could surely hold out long enough for them to get clear.
If things had gone according to plan they’d already have rendezvoused. Uraraka would know he wasn’t coming when he didn’t turn up to the boat, and she had a responsibility to Eri first and foremost—both because she was a child and because she was the best witness they had against Chisaki.
The guards dragged him into another room and tied him to a chair in the center of it. To the left of the chair was a small table set with implements that Izuku couldn’t get a good look at, but none of his guesses were comforting. There were no cameras. The floor was concrete and there was a drain in the corner, which instantly set him on edge.
The chair was set with the back to the only door, and after they’d tied him down he heard them leave through the door again. The room had an industrial light on the ceiling, but it wasn’t on. For now, the only light came through the open door, casting a filmy rectangle that silhouetted Izuku’s bound figure against the floor.
Chisaki walked around to face him, blocking out the image. “Have you ever been tortured before?” he asked. “My man is an expert. An army interrogator who got bought out by the Yakuza. I bet he’ll only need half an hour with you.”
Izuku tested the ropes at his wrists, but there was no give. The same with his ankles.
“Your hands are pretty scarred,” he noted. “So I’m sure you won’t mind when he breaks every one of your fingers. Your arms will be next. If you’re dumb enough to still keep your mouth shut he’ll rip out your teeth one by one. And by then you won’t need your eyes anymore. Sound like fun?”
Izuku breathed in, slowly, exhaled even slower, and tried not to imagine anything that Chisaki was saying.
“You have nothing to say?” he asked.
Izuku didn’t reply. He didn’t want to rile Chisaki up, and he was thinking desperately through his options, which made it dangerous to do anything but clench his jaw shut. Mumbling your ideas aloud was a bad trait in a secret agent but Izuku had never fully broken it.
“You will,” Chisaki said, and strode out. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Izuku alone in the darkness.
It was like being left to wait for death, if death was very intent on making you suffer and betray everything you worked for on the way there.
He tested the ropes again, more urgently than he had with Chisaki in the room. They were tied perfectly. Even if he dislocated his thumb, he didn’t think he could get a hand free. The chair was heavy, too; throwing his entire weight forward couldn’t tip it.
His best shot was to get free before anyone showed up. He could maybe take an ex-army guy in a fight, especially with the element of surprise, but that required getting out first—
His hopes were dashed when he heard the tumblers in the lock turn and the door opened again. Footsteps stopped in the doorway, and Izuku could feel the man’s eyes on the back of his head. Then more footsteps and the door slammed shut, the sliver of light vanishing into darkness.
The man kept moving. In the echo of the concrete room, Izuku couldn’t really tell where they were coming from. He heard the clinking of metal and the snick of a blade being unsheathed. Then a click of a light switch. It took a moment for the industrial light to come to life, and when they did the man’s hands were already at his wrists.
He felt the barest touch of cold metal against his wrist as the ropes were swiftly severed. “You’re a fucking idiot,” Bakugou Katsuki snarled at him, dropping the first rope in a pile on the ground. “Hold still.”
“Kacchan!” Izuku gasped. The flood of pure relief after the adrenaline and fear felt like a punch to the gut; he started to cry.
“God, you’re such a baby,” Kacchan said. “I guess the crying’s good, it’ll make it look like I beat the shit out of you.”
“I missed you,” Izuku said. He wiped haphazardly at his face with his free hand while Kacchan swiftly drew the knife through the other set of ropes. “Have you been here this whole time? I thought you were working on the cartel in Fukuoka.”
“A couple months,” said Katsuki. He knelt down to examine the ropes around Izuku’s ankles. “They did a deal with Overhaul and he asked to hire me. Aizawa figured it was an opportunity. Where’s Eri?”
“Gone,” Izuku said. “For real. Uraraka has her.”
“Round Face better not fuck up,” Kacchan said, but Izuku knew he didn’t mean it. Kacchan thought Uraraka was a good operative—he just wouldn’t admit it. “I’m just gonna re-tie your wrists later but I’m only going to loosen the ones on your ankles.”
“You’re not getting me out?” Izuku inquired.
“Chisaki’s going to be back in like twenty-five minutes,” Kacchan said. “This place is packed with his people. The only way I’m getting you out of here is in a body bag.”
“Kacchan…” Izuku faltered.
He wasn’t listening. “Here, we’ve got to make it look like I kicked you around. You’ve already got that bruise on your face, that’s good. Thank god you’re wearing black, if we dump water on you it’ll just look like blood. Here.” Izuku sat still as Katsuki cut through the sleeves of the black button-down and then carefully splattered enough water to soak through the fabric without spilling onto the floor. “I have some fake blood but not enough to fucking drench you in it.”
Izuku watched him remove the blood packs in amazement. “Did you plan for this?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki said. “Knew they’d send an agent eventually, wanted to be prepared. Didn’t know it’d be your dumb ass but you know, it figures.”
Kacchan broke the first packet and dipped the knife, one blade of the scissors, and a scalpel into it. He dropped them roughly back onto the tray, splattering it with red. He left the packet on the tray and broke open another one, diluted slowly with water and then tipping it towards the floor, letting it splatter beneath the chair.
Izuku watched him work in silence. “No cameras in here, right?”
“Nah. Soundproof, too. Obviously they know Chisaki’s not a legitimate businessman but he pretends so he can’t film this shit.”
“What are you going to do about my face?”
“Not punch you in it,” said Kacchan, like he was reading Izuku’s mind. “We’ll get some blood under your nose and you can spit some for good measure. You already look like you’ve been crying and Chisaki doesn’t know you’re just a huge baby so that’s fine.”
“How much time do we have?”
“Not enough. Shittiest boss ever, fucking breathing down my neck,”Kacchan growled. “He’ll be back soon. Plus he’s pissed.”
“Are you…what is he going to do?”
“Ask you where Eri is. Once he knows you get to die. Just fucking lie about Eri.”
“Okay,” Izuku started. “Kacchan—”
“What?” He picked up the open blood pack back off the tray and dipped two fingers in it. “Look at me,” he commanded, and Izuku sat still as Kacchan took his face in his hand and wiped it under his nose and into the corners of his mouth. The callouses of his palms were utterly familiar, and against all odds he relaxed beneath Kacchan’s touch.
When he let go and went back to the table, Izuku took a deep breath. “You’re not going to let him kill me, right?”
“Are you fucking—” Kacchan turned around and then saw how wide Izuku’s eyes were. He must have looked pathetic, he thought, still half-tied-up, the bruise from the fight earlier on his cheek, his eyes red-rimmed and face puffy from his brief burst of tears. He could practically see Kacchan run back through their conversation in his head. “Fuck, Izuku, no.”
“Okay,” Izuku said, and the tears flooded back. “I mean, if that’s the only way to preserve your cover, we still need evidence to take down the whole cartel, I know, and I know I fucked up, and—“
Kacchan left everything on the table and came back over, catching Izuku’s face in his hands again. “Shut the fuck up,” he said. “Obviously getting caught by Chisaki was a dumbass move but you got Eri out which I couldn’t , okay? And since you got Eri out we have a fucking witness. We’re both getting out of here even if I have to put a bullet in his head to do it.”
“Okay,” Izuku sniffled. Kacchan caught him briefly in a hug, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head. Izuku flung his arms around his middle, practically hauling him into his lap, grateful that the chair was too heavy to tip even with the awkward dispersal of weight. “Missed you.”
“Yeah,” Kacchan said, voice oddly strangled. “You too.”
Kacchan let go, so Izuku did too, reluctantly. Kacchan pulled back and collected the empty blood packets, bagging them and hiding them in his coat pocket again. Then he picked up the severed rope and retied it, although the new bindings wouldn’t hold up against any attempt at wriggling out of them. Izuku tested the rope at his ankles, too and found it was the same.
“Here,” Kacchan said. He held out a very small blood packet. “Bite it open in your mouth, give me the plastic. Don’t swallow it.”
Izuku let Kacchan put it in his mouth. He bit through it; the fake blood tasted like dish soap. He made a face and nudged the plastic wrapper forward with his tongue so Kacchan could take it from him.
Kacchan pocketed it. As he surveyed the room again, Izuku heard the click of the lock again. Kacchan immediately turned and punched the wall—Izuku dribbled some fake blood down his face when he opened his mouth to protest and had to quickly shut it again.
The door swung open. Kacchan punched Izuku in the stomach. It was barely a punch, Izuku thought, didn’t even knock the wind out of him, but it did prompt him to spit out the blood. Some dropped onto him, some onto Kacchan, the rest on the floor at Chisaki’s feet.
Chisaki let the door swing shut. “Do you have anything to say for yourself now, little bird?”
Katsuki laughed, sharp and mean. He drew back and shook out his hand; the knuckles were bloodied. Under the industrial light, the fake blood now on his face and the real blood on his hand made his eyes look redder. “Tell him what you told me and maybe he won’t let me hit you again.”
Izuku coughed the last of the fake blood. “To Okinawa.”
“Where in Okinawa?” Kacchan loomed above him, making a grab for the scalpel.
“Let him talk.” Now that Izuku was so clearly at his mercy, Chisaki was acting calmer again, better at hiding his rage. “Where in Okinawa?”
“A safehouse in Chatan,” Izuku said. “I don’t know anything else…”
“You sure?” Katsuki asked, hefting the scalpel.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Chisaki. “I have men there. And no more use for this one.” He pulled a gun from his holster, Izuku’s own, and leveled it at him. “This is what happens to people who take my things, Midoriya.”
A gunshot. Izuku’s eyes screwed shut instinctively, but he snapped them open to see Chisaki hit the floor. The far wall was splattered with gore and Izuku looked away quickly.
Katsuki holstered his own gun again, grimacing. “I was hoping he’d leave me to do it, fuck,” Kacchan said. “It’s fine. I’ll be right back. Get out of that.”
Izuku freed his hands first and then wriggled his ankles free. His gun had fallen from Chisaki’s hand when he collapsed, and he collected it. It wasn’t the first dead body he’d seen—not even the tenth—but the hole where Kacchan’s bullet had gone through his head was ugly and Izuku skirted the corpse carefully.
The door opened again and Katsuki slipped in quickly. He was carrying a large black duffle bag over his shoulder. “You ought to fit,” he said. “I told them I’d given Chisaki some privacy to finish you off, but we’re gonna have to get out fast before someone starts to wonder about it.”
“Was this the plan?” Izuku asked.
“Dragging you out like a corpse, yes,” Kacchan said. “Shooting Overhaul, fuck no. I was hoping he’d fuck off and let me do the dirty work.”
“That was risky,” Izuku said. “If anyone goes looking for him, or finds this…”
“I told you I’d get you out,” Kacchan said.
“If you had to put a bullet in his head to do it,” Izuku echoed. “I remember.” He flung himself at Kacchan again and hugged him. “Missed you.”
“Yeah, you said,” Kacchan grumbled, but he did briefly hug back. “Now get in the fucking body bag.”
---
He let Izuku out again in an alleyway free of cameras. It had turned evening by then, the sky darkening and the streetlights going on around them. “You look like shit. Did you have a backup rendezvous?”
“Togata should be at the train station,” Izuku told him.
They walked there. Izuku was on edge the whole time and he could tell Kacchan was too, but after a few blocks they were essentially on a main thoroughfare. Izuku slipped his hand into Katsuki’s. “It’ll help us blend in,” he reasoned, at Kacchan’s look.
“You look like you fell through a garbage disposal, nothing will help us blend in,” Kacchan complained, but he didn’t take his hand away until they reached the station.
“Midoriya!” Togata looked relieved to see them. “And Bakugou!” He laughed. “Aizawa said he thought you’d be alright when Uraraka said you hadn’t made it to meet her, but I didn’t realize this was why!”
They both ended up in the backseat, because Katsuki got in the back and Izuku followed him. Mirio just laughed at them. Finally sitting down, as the lights of the city blurred past around them, Izuku was hit by a wave of exhaustion and he leaned against Kacchan’s shoulder and closed his eyes.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Whatever,” Kacchan grumbled back. Izuku guessed he wanted to shrug, but he didn’t, in apparent deference to his role as Izuku’s pillow. Izuku was filled with another surge of affection.
He kept his voice down, too, as he called to let Izuku’s handler know they’d gotten out. “Hey, Aizawa. Yes. No. Chisaki’s dead…” A pause, “No. I shot him. No.” There was a long moment of quiet. “It was a good call. I wouldn’t have gotten her out on my own. Yeah.”
Izuku reached over and found Katsuki’s hand and interlaced their fingers again.
“Okay. Sure. Bye.” He hung up and sighed, tipping his head back.
“We’re a good team,” Izuku said.
“Yeah,” Kacchan agreed. “We are.”
“I’m glad we’re done,” Izuku said. “I want my ring back.”
“I told you they were fucking impractical in our line of work,” Kacchan complained. “...me too.”
Izuku relaxed entirely against him. “Wake me up when we’re home.”
“I’m not carrying you over the fucking threshold,” Kacchan agreed, except that whatever he did, Izuku didn’t remember it when he woke up in their bed the next morning.