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Izuku wakes abruptly to the smell of burning fabric. For a moment he’s dazed, disoriented. His eyes blearily focus on the clock on the nightstand. 3:27 AM. Something is… wrong. What is it?
He hears something behind him. A whimper.
Suddenly he’s wide awake, cold fear rushing down his spine. He turns quickly, the covers catching around his waist, to find Katsuki writhing in the bed next to him, eyes screwed shut, explosive hands fisted in the sheets. Izuku’s stomach feels like lead in his gut. Another nightmare. It’s been a while since he’s had one this bad.
But at least he’s here, he’s safe. Some of Izuku’s knee-jerk panic recedes.
“Kacchan,” Izuku calls gently, running a soothing hand along Katsuki’s arm. Katsuki shudders violently, but doesn’t wake. “Kacchan, you’re okay, come back to me.” The smell is getting worse, smoke rising from Katsuki’s clenched fists. “It’s only a nightmare, you can wake up, Kacchan.”
Katsuki thrashes up, one arm blindly reaching out in front of him as he startles himself awake. His eyes are wild, frantic in the near darkness. “DON’T COME, DEKU—” he shouts, tears beading at the corners of his eyes. His chest is heaving, his breath quick and labored.
Izuku holds his hands up, hovering them just beside Katsuki. Ah, it’s that nightmare again. “You’re safe, Kacchan,” he says softly. “It was just a dream, I’m here.”
Katsuki doesn’t seem to hear him, his eyes unseeing, breath coming faster and faster. His legs have become tangled in the sheets sometime during the night and he starts tearing at them, trying to get free.
“Let me go—LET ME GO—” he yells, borderline hysterical. A series of pops go off and then the sheets are shredded, holes singed into his pajama pants. He starts clawing at his chest, his throat. “Can’t—breathe—” He chokes out, tears rolling freely down his face.
Izuku slowly moves into Katsuki’s field of vision, kneeling next to him. “Kacchan,” he calls, “Kacchan, you’re okay.” Katsuki’s eyes finally lock on him, wide and glassy, but he’s still hyperventilating, lost in a haze of panic.
“D-Deku?” Katsuki asks, his voice so small and fragile that it breaks Izuku’s heart into a thousand pieces.
“I’m here, Kacchan.” Izuku reaches out for his still sparking hands and pulls them toward himself.
Katsuki weakly resists, still gasping for breath, “No no no no—I’m dangerous—I’ll hurt you—”
Izuku shushes him, placing Katsuki’s hands on his bare chest. They’ve been through this before, and the tiny explosions barely sting. “You’re not hurting me. We’re going to breathe together, and everything is going to be okay. Can you feel me breathing, Kacchan? I need you to concentrate.” Katsuki nods, a jerky little thing, his hands shaking. “You’re doing so well, Kacchan. Try to breathe with me.” Izuku takes in a breath slowly, then lets it out again.
Over and over, he breathes, silently letting Katsuki match the rise and fall of his chest. It’s slow going. Sometimes Katsuki backpedals into fear, his breath speeding back up, sobs wracking his frame, but eventually he begins to calm. His hands stop shaking so much where they rest against Izuku’s chest, his eyes seem a little less clouded, more present.
“Are you back with me?” Izuku asks softly.
“Deku,” Katsuki whispers like it’s the only word he knows, voice wrecked.
Izuku carefully pulls Katsuki toward him, wrapping him in his arms. “I’m right here, you’re okay,” he says, pulling Katsuki impossibly closer. Izuku can feel him trembling. It takes a moment for Izuku’s words to sink in, but once they do, Katsuki breaks. He clings onto Izuku, his chest heaving with barely repressed sobs. Izuku feels tears prick at his own eyes; he hates seeing Katsuki in pain like this.
“I—I thought I was—” Katsuki breaks off. Izuku strokes through his hair soothingly, smoothing it off of his sweaty forehead. “I thought I was b-back there—you were going to get h-hurt because of me—so I had to—I had to—”
Izuku gently shushes him. “I’m all right, Kacchan, no one is going to hurt me,” he whispers. “It was just a nightmare, I promise. I love you so much.” Katsuki only cries harder, burying his face into Izuku’s neck, overwhelmed. Izuku holds him until his tears start to slow, rubbing warm circles on his back, humming softly under his breath, whispering reassurances.
Katsuki lets himself be comforted, which shows more than anything how far they’ve come. He slowly quiets in Izuku’s arms, soothed by Izuku’s sweet voice and warm embrace. After a while, he pulls back, reaching up to rub at his eyes, sniffling a little. He looks to the side, refusing to meet Izuku’s gaze. He looks exhausted and more than a little embarrassed.
“I’m—” he starts roughly, but Izuku cuts him off.
“Don’t apologize, Kacchan.” Katsuki levels a half-hearted glare at him, not appreciating the interruption. Izuku reaches up to gently cup his face, wiping away a tear with his gnarled thumb. “I’m serious, Kacchan. You haven’t done anything to apologize for.”
“Yeah, well, I’m fine now,” Katsuki says lowly, turning his face away from Izuku’s hand. Izuku can see him starting to close off. “You can go back to sleep.” Izuku looks at the disaster zone that is their bed. That’s clearly not what's going to happen now, but Izuku knows that Katsuki’s pride is what it is.
“Hey,” Izuku whispers. “Stay with me,” he pleads, moving his hand to Katsuki’s chin and turning him to face Izuku again. “Let me take care of you?”
Katsuki scoffs lightly, still dodging his gaze, but doesn’t protest. Maybe he’s simply too tired, or maybe he realizes this is something Izuku needs just as much as he does. Izuku leans forward to kiss him softly. “Thank you,” Izuku says against his lips, “I’ll be right back.”
It’s the middle of the night and they have work in the morning, but Izuku gets up and runs a bath anyway. Once the tub is filling, he goes back into the bedroom and helps Katsuki undress, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing away his ruined pajama bottoms. Izuku’s chest aches seeing the self-inflicted burns on Katsuki’s thighs. He’ll have to remember to put some aloe on them later.
He leads Katsuki into the bathroom and helps him into the bath. Katsuki rolls his eyes at him, but he lets him do it. Once Katsuki is sinking into the warm water, already visibly starting to relax, Izuku ducks back into the bedroom to strip off the ruined sheets and remake the bed. He shucks his own boxers and throws them in the laundry as well.
He comes back into the bathroom to find Katsuki leaning back against the tub with his head hanging heavy over the edge, eyes closed. Izuku can’t help himself—he leans down and drops a kiss on Katsuki’s forehead. Red eyes flutter open to stare up at him, but Katsuki stays silent.
Izuku pulls over the stool and sits behind Katsuki, who regards him upside down. “You look real dumb from this angle, Deku,” he croaks with a pale imitation of his usual smirk.
“Very nice, Kacchan.” Izuku huffs out a laugh under his breath. “Can I wash your hair?” He asks, knowing Katsuki will say yes. Katsuki would never admit it, but Izuku knows he loves it when Izuku washes his hair for him. Sure enough, Katsuki’s eyes slide shut again and he grunts his assent.
Izuku grabs the handheld shower head from the wall and tests the water on his arm, making sure it’s warm enough. He carefully wets Katsuki’s hair, brushing it back from his forehead with gentle fingers. Izuku’s heart is in his throat; Katsuki is painfully handsome like this. Trusting, and so vulnerable. That Katsuki will let him do this for him at all means the whole world to Izuku.
He turns off the water and reaches over for the bottle of shampoo. He pours some into his hand and starts working it into Katsuki’s hair. His scarred hands are gentle and thorough, massaging the suds through Katsuki’s cornsilk hair. Katsuki hums with pleasure when Izuku scrapes his nails against his scalp. He takes the shower head and rinses out the shampoo, watching the bubbles swirl down the drain on the floor.
He repeats the process with conditioner, using the fancy brand Katsuki insists on. It smells like cinnamon and something earthy, like cedar maybe, and it always makes Izuku think of him when he catches a whiff of it on his own hair. It slides easily through the strands of Katsuki’s hair, so Izuku indulges himself, watches the fine lines of Katsuki’s face as he works the conditioner in for a little longer than necessary. His breathing is slow and even again, to Izuku’s great relief.
Katsuki cracks one eye open to peer up at him. Izuku smiles down at him and leans in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. Katsuki wrinkles it cutely. “Get on with it, Deku, it’s the middle of the night,” he grumbles, voice still hoarse.
“Yes, Kacchan,” he replies, stifling a yawn into his shoulder. He washes out the conditioner and sets the shower head back on its perch. He grabs a fluffy towel and waits for Katsuki to pull himself, loose limbed, from the tub. Izuku wraps him in the towel; Katsuki complains, but allows himself to be gently toweled off by loving hands.
Once they’re dry, Izuku pulls him by the hand back into the dark bedroom, coaxes him into the freshly-made bed. He pulls Katsuki close, cradling his head against his chest, and twines their legs together.
“Feeling better, Kacchan?” Izuku asks softly, already starting to drift off. Katsuki doesn’t say anything, but Izuku can feel the answer in his boneless lassitude, his quiet breath against Izuku’s neck. “Sleep well, I love you,” he whispers against Katsuki's temple.
Just before he falls asleep, he thinks he hears Katsuki respond. His voice is soft and low, and painfully earnest. “Love you too, 'Zuku.”