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The door to the locker room loomed ever closer. If Izuku didn’t act soon, he’d lose his opportunity and have to wait until their next hero training class. He took a deep breath and braced himself.
“Hmm… Kacchan?”
From where he had been walking two steps ahead, rolling his eyes at something Kirishima was saying, Katsuki stopped. He threw a mulish look over his shoulder.
“The fuck you want, Deku?”
Two weeks ago, the scowl would have been markedly more threatening, but their fight had cleared the air to the point where Katsuki’s blood pressure around Izuku seemed at an all-time low. Despite the three days of suspension it had earned him, Izuku couldn’t bring himself to regret it when it had had such a welcome result; especially since it meant he finally had a chance to ask without getting instantly exploded.
“I was wondering… I mean… I wanted to ask for a favor?”
Half of their classmates froze on the spot to stare at him. Izuku felt himself start to blush. Since they were still in the corridor, even the girls had heard. Katsuki turned, the better to aim his most skeptical look at him.
“The hell?”
“I mean!” Izuku started babbling, hands tracing wild patterns in front of his face as if to deflect attention. “Not for me per se, it’s just, you know how I used to spend a lot of time on the Internet, right, talking to other hero fans, and everyone there watches the U.A. Sports Festival, and you were number one in our year, and plus,” he added to himself, devolving into mumbling, “you made two other appearances on national TV so…”
“Ha?!” Katsuki shouted.
Oops, Izuku thought, cringing. He had been saying that aloud. He knew to avoid mentioning the two times Katsuki had ended up known as the victim of a villain attack, really, he did. Mostly the public was impressed by his resiliency, but of course Katsuki didn’t see it that way.
“So people are really curious about your hero costume!” he rushed out in an attempt at damage control.
It seemed to work, as it brought Katsuki short.
“What, only him?” Kirishima sighed from where he was observing the scene with curiosity. “Unfair.”
Grateful for the interruption, Izuku smiled at him.
“Well, it’s a bit early for kids our age to start catching the general public’s eyes. Todoroki is pretty popular too, but bystanders have managed to get a few pictures of him in costume during our field training.”
Todoroki tilted his head at this, but shrugged it off and made his way into the guys’ locker room. Their other classmates had trickled away by that time, since no explosion appeared imminent. Kirishima followed, yawning. The hero training was their last class of the day and they were all sore and eager to change and get back to the dorms.
Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose.
“So you want pictures for your nerd friends,” he summarized.
“Hmm… yes?”
Izuku tried not to fidget. Katsuki glared down at him.
“Fine,” he spat.
Izuku lit up. He had figured Katsuki would feel proud enough of the attention that he wouldn’t refuse, not now that he wasn’t avoiding him at all cost, but the agreement still delighted him.
“I’ll get my phone!” he squeaked, zipping to his locker before Katsuki could change his mind.
He was back so fast he might have breached Mach 1.
In his enthusiasm, an old habit, so old he thought it buried long ago, had him try to reach for Katsuki’s sleeve hem. But Katsuki’s costume was sleeveless and his gauntlets were much too bulky to serve as substitutes. Of course, Katsuki noticed. His eyes followed the brief flailing that followed, hawklike and giving out nothing. In an act that was half stupidity and half bravery, Izuku ended his own suffering by planting a palm against Katsuki’s shoulder blade and hustling him forward.
“Let’s get some natural light!”
Katsuki’s face was a study in offense.
“You’re really pushing your luck, Deku!” he barked, shrugging off the manhandling with great prejudice.
But instead of segueing into any more threats, he stomped away, growling to himself. Izuku gently curled his hand closed, cheeks warm. He wished he hadn’t been wearing his gloves. He trotted after him before he could get even more annoyed with the delay.
As he was snapping shots at different angles, trying hard to avoid the glare of sunlight on the costume’s metallic parts, Katsuki asked:
“How are you going to explain how you got these, anyway?”
“Oh, people on my favorite forums already know I go to U.A. That’s why they’ve been asking me—”
“The fuck, Deku?” Katsuki burst out, getting right into his face and looking very pissed off. “You can’t just go around telling that kind of stuff to everyone on the Internet and their mother! You want goddamn stalkers that badly?”
“Th-they don’t know I’m in the hero course!” he stuttered in defense. “I’m pretty sure they think I’m in support, since I’m always talking about quirks and costumes and everything.”
Katsuki scoffed, straightening.
“Your nerdiness is actually saving your ass this time. Don’t be so chill about the kind of personal information you give, dumbass.”
Izuku scowled. Considering how isolated he had been growing up, he had always spent a lot of time online, searching for every scrap of information on heroes he could get his hands on and debating with fellow fans. That Katsuki could presume to lecture him on this was vexing.
“I know about stranger danger, Kacchan.”
“Don’t you fucking roll your eyes at me, you schmuck! Heroes have official social network accounts for a reason. You want to become a hero and have assholes rage on you for something stupid you said when you were fucking ten and signing on as AllMightJr everywhere?”
Izuku blushed beet red, because his most frequently used pseudonym was, in fact, AllMightJr. And it would be pretty bad if it became public knowledge once he became a pro hero, since he wanted people to think of the similarities between his quirk and All Might’s as little as possible, a fact which Katsuki was perfectly aware of.
“Alright! I get it already!”
“Good!” Katsuki returned, already storming off. “We’re done!”
Izuku sighed. He would have liked to get a closer look at those grenades strapped to his belt, but that was his “nerd” side talking. In the end he had enough pictures. Plus, for the second time since their fight, Katsuki had given him valuable advice of his own free will. The thought cheered him up immensely.
“Thanks, Kacchan!”
Katsuki answered with a vulgar gesture and disappeared on his way back to the locker room.
A few months later found Izuku nervously clutching a small box on his lap.
Around him, Class 1-A’s Christmas party was in full swing. The dorm’s living room was decked in colorful streamers and a small pine tree. The gifts had already been exchanged. The evening was now an excuse to all hang around together while eating Sato’s snacks and drinking Yaoyorozu’s tea.
And on Izuku’s lap, hidden under the small mound of gifts his friends had offered him, still lay an unopened parcel. While part of his brain was making small talk with Asui and Todoroki, the rest was waiting for his chance.
Finally, it came: Katsuki, always an early bird, disentangled himself from his friends and rose. Predictably, the rest of the class jibed at him for being an old man.
“Let him go, you guys! Can’t you see he needs his beauty sleep?” chirped Ashido, beaming.
It would never cease to amaze Izuku how brave his classmates were, and how much progress Katsuki had made that he only answered with a middle finger and a nearly amicable “fuck you losers”. It made him feel so warm inside that he nearly missed his window of opportunity.
Belatedly, he rose with a lurch. His gifts tried to tumble to the floor and he had to dive after them.
“Gotta… uh… just gonna put all this in my room,” he stammered to his confused friends.
Katsuki had already disappeared around the corner to the elevators. He hurried after him, clutching his haul to his chest. Katsuki was just entering the cabin.
“Kacchan!”
The boy threw a look over his shoulder, scowled, and pressed the button to close the doors. Izuku put on a burst of speed and just managed to catch them before they closed on him.
“Really, Kacchan?” he huffed, tripping his way inside.
“Really, Deku?” he mimicked. “Can’t even walk without dropping shit all over the floor?”
He had dropped stuff. He squatted guiltily to pick up the pair of handmade gloves Uraraka had made for him. Of course, as he moved his arms, the unopened present slipped out of the bottom of the pile. It bounced on the floor and came to a stop near Katsuki’s shoes. Izuku’s cheeks felt as if they burst into flames.
Katsuki scoffed and made to spout a cutting remark, but stopped. He squinted.
“Why is there my name on this thing?”
“Because it’s for you,” Izuku muttered, straightening up and turning towards the doors. “Obviously.”
“You shut up, you nerd! The fuck you think you’re doing, stealing my stuff?” he yelled.
He snatched the gift off the floor, then stopped short again when he recognized the handwriting on it. The elevator stopped on his floor and the doors opened with a cheerful chime.
Katsuki didn’t move. A too long second of silence passed. Izuku knew he was beet red. He was about ready to jump out of his own skin, unable to take the suspense anymore, when the box was shoved under his nose.
“I don’t want it.”
Izuku turned his face away.
“I don’t care. It’s yours anyway.”
“I said I don’t want it!” Katsuki exploded, a demented glint in his eyes.
“At least open it before you decide you don’t like it!” Izuku stubbornly yelled back.
Always one to take on challenges, Katsuki let his own armful of gifts fall to the floor and started tearing the paper away. The doors slid shut again. All the while, he was spewing curses at Izuku.
“… don’t know what you think you’re doing, you fucking asshole, but I don’t need your charity, and I sure as hell don’t want your nerdy little…!”
He opened the box. He froze.
In all honesty, Izuku thought the figurine looked incredible. Its maker had a real eye for detail. The heavy boots, the bracers, the mask, even tiny Katsuki’s murderous expression were perfect. It stood squared on its two feet, hands curled like claws as if cradling explosions in its palms. When he had received it, Izuku had wanted to keep it so very badly. He still kind of did.
“The fuck?” Katsuki said.
Izuku awkwardly cleared his throat.
“Remember back when you let me take pictures of your hero costume for my Internet friends? Yeah, one of them is a figurine maker. She does it all by hand!” he exclaimed, warming up to the topic. “She does incredible stuff, don’t you think? She likes to make some of upcoming heroes, she says one day she’ll get rich for having made the very first figurine of the next All Might! Collector stuff, you know? So she made a few more of you, but she let me have this one. And… and… I don’t know, I thought it really should be yours,” he admitted in an embarrassed mutter.
Katsuki still wasn’t saying anything. He did, however, take the figurine out of its box and start looking it over. This was one of the very rare times where Izuku couldn’t read his expression. He had gone blank and neutral.
“… If you really don’t want it, I’ll take it back,” Izuku dared to say.
Katsuki reacted like a cat sprayed by water, complete with glare and furious hissing. The figurine was clutched to his chest.
“That’s mine, you useless turd! Get your own!”
Taken aback, Izuku backed up with a bemused smile.
“Okay, okay, I will!”
“What? No, don’t, what the fuck! Can you be any more of a weirdo?”
Katsuki swept his other gifts off the floor, stabbed the button to open the doors and stormed out of the elevator. Izuku stuck his head out.
“Glad you liked it!” he called after him.
“Eat shit and die, Deku!”
Izuku let him go, beaming.