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It was their first day back at school after a refreshing break, and Izuku could once again feel the excitement of another semester of learning to be a hero, this time hopefully without villainous interruptions.
A couple of his classmates were comparing their heights, a few having grown over the holidays or discussing any new moves they’d come up with. His fingers itched for a pen and his Hero Analysis notebook. Most of the class had opted to go home during break, and Izuku himself had spent a week with his mother before things between them got too awkward and he returned early. Unsurprisingly Katsuki had refused to go home, resulting in a row with his mother over the phone that had the entire class running for cover.
The dorms were quiet with just the two of them rattling around, occasionally interrupted by Kirishima or Uraraka and Iida when they swung by to hang out. And it had been… more or less civil. Kacchan had actually sort of… mellowed out? He was still pissed all the time, but he was less prone to exploding. It was more than Izuku could have hoped for, given some er… recent developments.
“Ah, Deku! I’m going to the convenience store later; do you want me to get you a melon bun?” Uraraka smiled at him, and Izuku smiled back. Well, he preferred hot dog buns, but…
“Yeah of course!” he said, and stumbled forward into a desk when Katsuki barrelled his shoulder into him on his way to his seat.
“Hey don’t be a jerk, Bakugou!” Uraraka yelled hotly, completely unfazed by the deadly glare he sent her way.
“Then don’t be such a fucking wishy-washy deku!” Katsuki yelled back. Before Uraraka could launch herself at him, hissing like a hellcat, their teacher walked in and everyone scrambled to their seats, chorusing a good morning.
“Yes yes, good morning, welcome back etc. We have a new all-semester long project for you guys this time.” Aizawa looked bored, barely glancing at the curriculum before he started to zip up his sleeping bag. “There’s been a huge focus on hero teams lately, and the teachers all agree you need more involved partnerships than just pairing for a class or two.”
The class erupted.
“What the fuck, I’m not pairing with some shitty extra!”
“Sensei, I want to pair with a girl! A girl with big hoo- urk!”
“Who the hell’s gonna pair with Bakugou haha!”
“TIME FOR TEAM RAINY DAY TO SHINE!”
“Can we choose our own partners, ribbit?”
“Settle down, class! SETTLE DOWN. LET THE TEACHER SPEAK!”
“…Thank you, Iida. No, you cannot choose your own partners, it will be a completely random lottery. You need to be prepared that you won’t always meet a hero that complements your style while out in the field, or even that you will get along. You will need to be creative with your Quirks, and communicate with each other.
“One partnership will last three weeks – we are serious about you challenging yourselves. You will do everything class related together, and you will get extra credit if you complete extra-curricular activities as well. There will be surveys done at the end of each partnership, and your classmates will get to rank on how cooperative you were as well, so don’t get lazy in the after-hours.
“These partnerships and their points – here is the list of what gets awarded – will go towards your final grade and will be looked upon extremely favourably by pro-hero agencies. Iida, you do the honours.” Aizawa finished tightening the sleeping bag around his face, curled onto his side and went to sleep.
Iida marched to the front of the class, where two boxes with their names lay. The class collectively gulped.
Izuku stared at the back of Katsuki’s head and wrung his hands together. Ever since their fight at Ground Beta, Izuku had come to a rather horrible realisation over the intervening months. He had a… thing, for Kacchan. At least, he was self-aware enough to know that something in his heart had always yearned desperately to reach him, like wanting his acknowledgement and to be considered, if not equal, then at least worthy enough to stand by his side and reach for number one together. But now it had mutated into something much more nebulous that injected butterflies into his stomach whenever he looked at him.
And maybe those feelings had been slowly changing for a while and he just never noticed, but that night when Katsuki finally revealed his true feelings, something about the intimacy of that fight and how it ended had flipped some weird switch in Izuku and now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
When did it stop being enough to just be able to watch Katsuki grow and get stronger, like he wanted more than just to be inspired by him? He was so independent, had always stood on that podium alone and fiercely unperturbed about it, and Izuku couldn’t imagine him being willing to open up to anyone. Obviously he was dazzling and flawless and incredibly, annoyingly good at everything he did, but he was also mean, and unreasonable, and sometimes, breathtakingly cruel.
Izuku had spent many late nights questioning his life choices and wondering if maybe a lifetime spent under Katsuki’s thumb had turned him into a masochist. He shuddered to think about what Katsuki would do to him if he ever found out.
But he couldn’t help wearing his heart on his sleeve, especially when they were alone together, so he’d been avoiding Katsuki as much as he could the last two weeks. At the same time, if he was honest about it, he’d been doing a piss-poor job of hiding the fact that he was hiding something from him, and he could tell he was on thin ice as it was - Katsuki was starting to notice and getting pissed about it. He really, really hoped they wouldn’t get paired together on this project.
“Tsuyu and Kaminari!” (“Please don’t electrocute me, ribbit”)
“Aoyama and Mineta!” (“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” “Ah, mon dieu!”)
“Uraraka and Myself!” (“Let’s kick some butt!”)
“… Er, ahem. Bakugou and Midoriya!” (“MOTHERFU-”) “Language, Bakugou!”
Izuku face planted into his desk.
=
Izuku peeped out from behind the wall into the dorm living room. Most of the class were gathered in front of the TV, chatting animatedly about their recent partner-ups and what they might do for their extracurriculars. Katsuki was nowhere in sight, as usual. Izuku breathed a sigh of relief and joined his friends.
“Ah! Midoriya!” Iida waved him down. “Have you read through the assignment properly by now?”
“Yeah, it’s actually kind of interesting. Similar to the Sports Festival, but we’ll be only with one other person and it’s for a much longer time too. We’re all friends, but it might be difficult with wildly different Quirks.”
Uraraka nodded. “With all these teenage hormones I can see how that might cause some friction already,” she laughed, and poked Izuku. “Especially you! Oh my god, have you even talked to Bakugou yet?”
Izuku groaned and let his head fall back on the couch. “Nooooo. I don’t even know what to say to him.”
“Didn’t you guys get better after your fight?”
“Bakugou has seemed a little less abrasive lately,” Iida nodded along.
Izuku stared unseeing at the ceiling. That was true. Katsuki still hissed and spat like an angry cat, but so much more of it was just bluster now, like their fight had also awakened something in him, opened his eyes to something he refused to see before. It was sort of mesmerising to see Katsuki mature in real-time, and the way the rest of the class were beginning to believe in him.
It also helped that the class got better at taking Katsuki at his word. If he yelled about being left alone, they actually did, and in return sometimes he would deign to come down and join in on their movie nights and board games or even one miraculous morning, he cooked breakfast for them. Katsuki would always be bad-tempered and rude, but there was something steadfast about his assholery.
Izuku sighed. Just then, the front door slammed open and Katsuki stomped into the room, carrying a bag of convenience store snacks. Without looking at any of them, he flung himself onto the couch beside Izuku and tore open his packet of extra spicy chips.
“Ah, Bakubro! Me and the squad are gonna go bowling this weekend, you should join us!” Kirishima grinned, unconcerned by Katsuki’s glower. “They’re gonna bring their project partners too, we’re ticking off some of the extracurricular stuff. Midoriya, come with!”
“Ah. I… uh.” Izuku slid his gaze over to Katsuki, who stared right back and crunched through his chip as if imagining Izuku’s spine instead. He shuddered, and cleared his throat.
Before he could make an excuse not to go, Katsuki flicked a glance to Kirishima and said gruffly, “We’ll go. And kick all your fucking asses to the curb.”
“Kacchan!” Izuku cried, annoyed at Katsuki’s presumptuous hogging of his time. Also? Terrified. He knew with absolute certainty that if had to watch him play a flawless game of bowling with complete nonchalance while flexing his beautiful form he was going to combust. It was bad enough watching him fight in class with his stupid broad shoulders in that stupidly tight tank top.
“Shut up nerd, you got something better to do?”
“No, but-”
“You’re fucking going, I don’t have the patience for your bullshit right now,” Katsuki snarled, and it was just so typical of Kacchan that Izuku could feel his own temper rising. “We’re getting the stupid extracurricular out of the way!”
“Yes, I mean, I agree it’d be good to get it done now, but-”
“Then what’s your damn problem?”
“It’s not polite to make decisions for me!”
Katsuki stared at him like he’d grown two heads. “Are you fucking kidding me? Why should I be polite about you?”
“Well I don’t fucking like it!” Izuku yelled back, and the whole class gasped. He glared at Katsuki and honestly, he didn’t even know what he was saying anymore, he just wanted to pick a fight. He didn't actually care about Katsuki being polite to him, their relationship was beyond such trivial things. He was just so frustrated about his frustration and so mad at Katsuki’s stupid arrogance and disregard for his feelings.
“Haaaaah?” Katsuki half-screamed, while everyone inched away. Iida gave a tiny, half-attempted cough before Uraraka slapped her hand over his mouth. Izuku fidgeted and avoided his outraged stare. Katsuki cursed under his breath and grabbed him by the wrist to jerk him up and drag him off, ignoring his loud protests.
The class watched them go.
“I put my money on Midoriya,” Todoroki said staunchly. Asui placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You’re a good friend, Todoroki.”
=
“You’ve got some fucking balls, Deku.” Katsuki slammed him into the wall of Izuku’s bedroom. “Just because you got One for All you’re gonna start mouthing off huh? Getting uppity for such a fucking deku aren’t you?” Katsuki loomed above him, red eyes glaring daggers.
Izuku could feel some of his earlier bravado shrink, but he wasn’t going down damnit. “I’m not getting uppity, and complaining about me mouthing off is really rich coming from you, you – stupid Kacchan!”
He tried shoving Katsuki away, but the other boy was much faster – he grabbed both wrists, crossed them and pinned them into his chest with one hand. Izuku tried to open his mouth to yell, but Katsuki brought one hand up to his face, and a single, tiny spark popped off and grazed his cheek like the faint zing of a sparkler. He stilled.
Katsuki had a godly, insanely exquisite control over his Quirk – it was what made him so incredibly dangerous, so likely for villains and others to underestimate him. They saw his firepower, his hair-trigger temper and uncontrolled rage and they write him off as a hot-head with more brawn than brains, as if they could use his overconfidence against him.
As much as it annoyed Izuku to no end, it was also part of what justified his admiration of Katsuki. Because it wasn’t overconfidence. Izuku had watched him all their lives, he knew the brutal amount of pressure and training Katsuki put himself through to make sure he never lost control of his Quirk. He liked to be flashy with it, for emphasis, for intimidation, but it had been a long, long time since there were any singes on his clothes. And Izuku would take this secret with him to the grave, but Katsuki’s skill with his Quirk really turned him on.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Katsuki said, too calmly, and Izuku’s eyes widened.
“I haven’t -”
Katsuki slotted his hand over Izuku’s mouth with his palm right against his lips, the fingers curling over his cheek. “What are you hiding from me now, Deku?” he hissed, low and guttural. His other hand was still pinning Izuku’s wrists together, the grip tight and almost painful over his heaving chest.
Izuku was dizzy. The acrid-sweet smell of nitroglycerin was overwhelming like this, and he knew that if he opened his mouth just slightly, if he touched the tip of his tongue to that hot palm, it would taste like burnt toffee too.
“Think very hard on what you say next,” Katsuki continued and squeezed his cheeks, just shy of a threat. He lifted his hand, only to slam it into the wall by Izuku's head. Izuku flinched and breathed in and out too quickly; the room felt claustrophobic, narrowing down to just this bubble of him and Kacchan. Oh god All Might-y, he really was going to say it, he couldn't hide this from Kacchan any longer.
"I... I like you," Izuku stuttered, and felt his face burst into flames. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the explosion, the punch, the screaming. But there was only silence, and then a harsh snort of disbelief. He opened his eyes to see Katsuki had pulled back, eyes narrowed like he thought Izuku was going to yell 'psych!'
"That's it?" Katsuki demanded.
"W-what do you mean that's it?!" Izuku spluttered, somehow feeling relieved and offended at the same time. "I mean I like-like you! As in, you know!" He couldn't bring himself to say the L-word, even when that ship had sailed long ago.
Katsuki squinted at him. "First of all, like-like? What are you, seven? Second, you really thought I didn't know." At Izuku's continued indignant stare, Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose. "Deku. You have compiled ten notebooks on me. You know my medical history better than my mother. And I have it on good authority that when you saw me in that stupid bee suit your face was so disturbingly perverted Mineta cried."
"I, that is, I mean..." Izuku wanted to combust. In fact, imminent immolation was beginning to sound more and more appealing by the second.
"You told me I was closer to you than All Might. You couldn't have spelled it out any clearer." Katsuki squinted at him again. "Seriously? I still have no fucking idea what goes on in your head sometimes."
"But you never acknowledged it! I thought you'd be... Like pissed off, or disgusted, or - or something!"
"Hah? I'm always pissed at you, and it's not like acknowledging it was going to stop me from punching your face in. Never stopped you either, come to think of it." Katsuki actually sounded pleased about that.
"So you're... Okay with it?" His voice sounded small, but Izuku couldn't bring himself to ask for more. Katsuki cocked an eyebrow at him. "But how does Kacchan feel about me?" he asked in a rush, and okay, yeah, cool cool cool cool cool cool it turned out he could bring himself to ask after all.
"That's none of your fucking business!"
“Ka-cchan!”
“I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal about this bullshit. This doesn’t change anything about our goal to be number one.” Katsuki frowned at him, genuinely confused and irritated about it.
“I know it doesn’t, but I’m always so confused about Kacchan, you blow hot and cold and it’s like super distracting! You mean so much to me, as a childhood friend and as my symbol of victory…”
“You know, for a shitty nerd, you sure do put a lot of fucking expectations on me,” Katsuki said, and Izuku stiffened. “You realise you also project like a fuck-ton of emotions on me, right?”
“I’m… I know, I’m sorry.” Izuku looked down at his hands twisting nervously between them. “I just… we’ve known each other so long, I guess I’m being selfish because I want to know what I mean to Kacchan now.”
“I don’t care if you’re being selfish. I want you to be fucking honest.”
Izuku took a deep breath. “It’s no longer enough to just be rivals. For me, anyway. I know I’m being greedy,” Izuku added hastily, and fell silent at the look on Katsuki’s face.
“This… is actually really important to you.” Katsuki released his wrists and took a step back, as if to contemplate him anew in light of recent information. Izuku nodded shakily.
“Why?” He looked suspicious.
“I…” Izuku stopped himself. He could feel his face burning from mortification. “I want to be… close to Kacchan?”
“How close?” Katsuki demanded, and Izuku couldn’t stand it anymore, he buried his face in his hands and wailed instead of answering such an embarrassing question.
“Fucking hell, Deku.”
“I knoooow I’m sorryyyy,” Izuku moaned between his hands.
“Tch. Off all the idiotic -” Katsuki seemed to visibly rein himself in, and then breathed out heavily through his nose. "Okay, clearly we have some unresolved issues that bear resolving because clearly you're going to be a fucking weirdo about it until we do. Deku, arms.” Izuku obediently lifted his arms up. “C’mere.” Katsuki held his arms out, expectant with a pissed off expression on his face.
Izuku stared, trembling from head to foot. Katsuki made an impatient, tsk noise and gestured again.
“Come on shitty nerd, I don’t have all fucking day.”
Slowly, as if unfurling from a tight bud, Izuku unlocked each limb one by one and took small, shaky steps toward his Kacchan until Katsuki wrapped his arms around him, firmly and with a great deal of grumbling. Izuku clung to him, still trembling. Kacchan smelled a little bittersweet, a little bit like the laundry detergent he preferred, and some indefinable aspect Izuku had no words for, just utter adoration.
He knew he could never ever say this to Kacchan, because god knew the catastrophic levels of destruction that would ensue, but… sometimes when he got close enough to smell him, he wanted to bite him. His gums would itch, his jaw would ache and he'd have to forcibly swallow the saliva that pooled in his mouth from one whiff of him. He buried his face further into Kacchan’s chest and tried to be subtle about the sniffing.
“…I’m going to ignore that creepy-as huffing,” Katsuki said with a saint’s patience, his voice just this side of forced modulation, “and tell you to remember this. Yes, I care about you that way. As in, y’know.” Katsuki couldn't help but sneer at him, on brand even for a confession.
Izuku was shaking now, a full-body jerking and spasming while his mind whirled and whirled like an out-of-control Ferris wheel full of corpses hurtling into space. He shook so hard he kind of felt like he was disassociating. Could this really be happening? Was he under some sort of Quirk-induced hallucination? Some really good drugs? Genjutsu?
“Y-You do? Really? Me?” Izuku stammered, and Katsuki squeezed him warningly.
“Shut the fuck up. Would I do this shit for anyone else? You’ve become at least halfway decent as a hero, and if goddamn All Might himself recognises something in you then I can respect that.”
“Kacchan has grown so much…”
“Fuck off, I’ve always been self-aware. I just needed to work on some shit.”
“I’m really, really glad.” Izuku smiled.
Katsuki kept silent, and just continued to hold Izuku through his episode, like he knew this was what he needed, this constant reassurance that this was really happening. He felt enveloped and safe, sheltered from everything in the cocoon of Kacchan’s arms. He clutched at the front of Katsuki's shirt, sniffling.
“You better not get my shirt wet,” Katsuki rumbled above him, and Izuku laughed wetly, shaking his head.
“Too late,” he sing-songed, feeling drunk and euphoric, and Katsuki swore at him.
“Why do I bother, fucking hell,” Katsuki groaned, and released him. “I am under no delusion that this cured your fucking weirdness. If you start freaking the fuck out because you’re you, tell me and we’ll fucking hug it out or whatever. Whatever!” Katsuki added again for emphasis, as if just in case Izuku started accusing him of being a sap.
Izuku rubbed at his wet face, and smiled tremulously. “You… you mean it?” he said, and Katsuki tipped his head back and groaned so loudly Izuku almost worried their classmates would hear.
“Have I ever, in my goddamn life, ever said anything I didn’t mean?” Katsuki demanded with his eyes blazing. Izuku shook his head furiously and Katsuki eyeballed him a second longer, as if expecting him to argue. Izuku sniffled some more, eyes downcast. Yes, even when Kacchan was being cruel, he always did mean what he said; he lived too wholly confident in himself to regret much.
Katsuki growled a little under his breath. It was kind of sexy. “Ugh, fucking hell,” he grunted, and threw a dirty look Izuku's way. “I promised myself I would do this properly first, figures you'd fuck up my plans.” He turned to Izuku, his face screwed up with concentration and a fierce scowl drawing his brows down. His fists were clenched at his sides. “I treated you like shit before. You didn’t deserve it. I was wrong. I’m sorry.” He looked vaguely nauseated, but determined nonetheless.
“No worries,” Izuku blurted more out of reflex than anything else, slightly awestruck. Kacchan apologised. What! Then he caught himself. “Oh, I mean, thank you for your apology, I accept!”
Katsuki flicked his forehead with his index finger, hard. “Don’t fucking overthink it, nerd.”
=
And… and it really was that easy, apparently. After that, when they returned to their classmates and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief at the lack of missing limbs, Katsuki stuck a little closer to Izuku’s side and it didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. A little weird, but it was a weird Izuku could definitely get used to.
It wasn’t like they were officially dating or anything, since Izuku found himself unwilling to tell their classmates, a little irrationally afraid that if their relationship went public it would disappear like a dream. He just wanted Kacchan to himself for a little longer. Surprisingly, Katsuki “didn’t give a fuck” about going public or not, since he didn’t care about any of their opinions and he’d murder anyone who shit-talked them anyway.
They did end up going bowling with the group, and Izuku felt peevishly vindicated about how sexy Katsuki was bowling strike after strike in his stupid skimpy tank top, even when it devolved into a snipe fest between the two of them about the proper way to hold a bowling ball (“You’ve had ten gutterballs Deku, you’re in no position to argue”).
Katsuki hated going out for the sake of going out, but if there was a hero expo going on, or either one of them needed new clothes, or more snacks, then Izuku would often get acquiescence from him to go together. Rarely, Katsuki would drag Izuku out himself, and they were actually really, stupidly nice outings? Trust Kacchan to be perfect even at being a boyfriend.
And Katsuki kept to his promise too. When Izuku couldn’t sleep, plagued by self-doubt about their relationship, about his worthiness of One for All, about his failures or the impossible dream of living up to All Might, he would go to Katsuki’s room and fidget outside until Katsuki would fling the door open, yell about hearing his muttering through the door and heave him bodily into bed, crawling after him with threats of dismemberment should Izuku snore.
It was… nice, beyond anything Izuku could have ever asked for or ever thought he deserved or could get from Kacchan, even just the chance to snuggle into his bed, which was a whole other level of scent bombardment that took him the better part of two nights to get over. He’d once spent ten minutes trying to decide if Katsuki would miss a shirt or two if he filched them until Katsuki groaned and shoved them into his hands.
“Fucking creeper,” he muttered, red to the tips of his ears.
=
Except it wasn’t always smooth sailing.
They progressed through their hero partnership project with more or less blazing colours. On the battlefield they were unstoppable, and with Izuku’s peerless Quirk analysis and Katsuki’s sheer combat brilliance it meant they usually fought the teachers, or in one memorable exercise, the entire class. That had ended with everyone gaining a newfound respect for each other’s abilities, and even Katsuki had enjoyed himself with the immense challenge, scowl notwithstanding.
Out of class, it was surprising how little had really changed, and Izuku didn’t know how he felt about it. Katsuki would yell, Izuku would apologise, Katsuki would yell some more until Izuku snapped back, except Katsuki would still allow him into his room to study together and it was still confusing.
One day, after arguing about who was going to cook the curry that night, Katsuki had blown up at him again and stormed off. Izuku watched him leave with frustrated tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He just wanted to do something nice for him for once. He stared at the mangled carrots on the chopping board, the pot still bubbling with water. Why did it always end this way? It was like they took two steps forward and one step back, and he was forever having to worry about what Katsuki thought about him, about them.
Yaoyorozu poked her head out from behind the wall. She’d been sitting on the living room couch and trying not to draw attention to herself while the yelling match had been happening. She came over and gently took the knife from Izuku’s shaking grip before turning off the stove.
“You know, when I first started living with everyone in the dorms, I couldn’t even fry an egg. I could boil water, but that was just for my teas. Not much of a saving grace,” she laughed a little in embarrassment. “But I wanted to learn, so badly. The first time I tried to help Jirou and Ojiro, they were pleased. But I was very, very bad at it, and the more I realised it the harder I tried, and the worse it got. I made an incredible mess of the meal. It was very awkward for them to tell me to stop.”
Izuku stared up at her, comprehension slowly dawning. Yaoyorozu tucked her hair behind her ear, ducking her head modestly.
“So eventually I asked them to teach me, and now I can at least make a simple pilaf, or a gratin.” She looked at him, smiling faintly. “All I needed to do was be upfront about my desires. I feel… I feel Bakugou is a straightforward person, and he prefers the same from others.” She patted his hand and left the kitchen.
The epiphany felt like his entire worldview shifting. How often had Uraraka and Iida, even Asui commented on his natural deference, or in Katsuki’s words, “fucking wishy-washy pussyfooting bullshit”? The way he deferred to their decisions, or allowed certain assumptions because he had no particular opinion. Or… no, he just believed his opinions didn’t matter, that he had to put others first. Even in his hero work, he disregarded his own safety for the sake of others.
“I don’t care if you’re selfish. I want you to be honest.”
Hadn’t Katsuki said that to him? And didn’t he always mean what he said? Izuku had insisted on cutting the vegetables despite the fact he’d never done it before, despite Katsuki being a much better cook. Izuku had wanted to do something nice for him without considering how he would be inconvenienced by it. And looking back on their new relationship, Katsuki had made many more sacrifices than he had; letting him into his personal space, allowing him to drag him out, spending his precious personal time with him. What had Izuku done, except to feel put-upon by Katsuki’s bad moods?
Izuku was so used to being nice to other people, to being considered nice by everyone else that he’d forgotten Katsuki operated on a different level completely. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and made his way up to Kacchan’s room. He knocked.
“WHAT.”
Izuku flinched, and almost squeaked out an apology before he stopped himself. And then stopped himself again when he was about to ask if he could talk to him. Be selfish, be honest.
“Kacchan, I want to talk to you.” A beat of silence, then Katsuki ripped open his door to glare down at him.
“What the fuck do you want.”
“I want you to teach me how to cook curry. Or I can go to cooking classes, but I want Kacchan to teach me,” Izuku said in a rush, and had to fight the knee-jerk reaction of feeling like an imposition. He had to remind himself that all he had to do was state his desires, and it was up to Kacchan how he wanted to react. It was not up to Izuku to prevaricate for a response he wanted or hoped for from him.
For a shitty nerd, you sure do put a lot of fucking expectations on me.
Izuku wanted to groan. God he’d been so stupidly blind to this.
Katsuki narrowed his eyes at him. The silence dragged on a little longer, but Izuku forced himself to keep his gaze level. Katsuki tch’d under his breath and pushed past him into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Come on then, shitty nerd.”
After that, Izuku focused his efforts on self-awareness, and letting Katsuki have his space. He made sure to speak more clearly about what he wanted, even just on class discussions about what chores he preferred, what he wanted for their next shared lunch, what their class pet should be if they were ever allowed one (an emphatic NO from Aizawa on that one).
“You know, I feel like I know you better lately,” Uraraka commented to Izuku, nibbling at her melon bun during lunch. Her eyes were inquisitive, meaning well.
“Oh! Uh, what do you mean?”
“It’s hard to describe. Like you’re really opening up. Not that you were closed off before or anything!” She waved her hands, quick to correct herself. “But just, if someone were to ask me what you’re like, I feel like I can be more confident in my answers beyond just hero stuff, you know? Or is that weird?”
Izuku smiled, shaking his head. “Not weird at all.”
Katsuki seemed to have noticed, too. Izuku caught him staring at him a couple of times over the next few days, a narrow-eyed, thoughtful look on his face. Even when Izuku would sometimes slip back into bad habits, Katsuki yelled at him a little less.
One evening Izuku asked to study with Katsuki, and he had declined since he wanted to go to the gym instead. Izuku found that it was… easy, for some reason, to take that rejection because he wasn’t expecting anything from him except his time, stopped thinking that even one refusal meant Katsuki was done with their relationship.
Later, while Izuku studied in his room and tried to decide whether his dreams of being the number one hero was worth the agony of calculus, there was a knock at the door and Kacchan’s voice.
“Oi, shitty nerd.”
“Ah, come in Kacchan!”
Katsuki sauntered his way in and shoved Izuku, chair and all, to the other side of the desk. He slammed his own textbooks down, and pulled up the spare chair. He still smelled freshly washed, his hair lightly damp and curling ever so slightly at the tips. He was adorable, and Izuku stared at him while smiling from ear to ear. Katsuki glared at him.
“Stop that creepy expression on your face. Wait, what the fuck is this. Are you too stupid to even understand integral calculus, what are you even a shitty nerd for, for the love of – Give it here!”
Izuku let his notebook get snatched out of his hand, feeling like he was floating on cloud nine.
=
Izuku blinked up at the white ceiling of the school hospital. It was kind of depressing how familiar it was by now. He turned his head slightly, and found Kacchan in the seat next to him, wearing his normal clothes and reading a book with a frown on his face.
“K-Kacchan?” he croaked, and his head pulsed slowly with pain and dizziness. Katsuki snapped the book shut, staring at him with those red eyes.
“You wanna sit up?”
“Yeah,” he coughed, and Katsuki lifted him by the armpits into a sitting position. It was nice how gentle he was, even if the action was no-nonsense. Izuku gratefully accepted the glass of water Katsuki poured for him.
“What happened?”
“You need more situational awareness, is what. Round-face was fighting Birdbrain, he punched the rock she was lifting straight into you.” Last time he remembered seeing Uraraka, she’d been surrounded by boulders the size of cars.
“Oh. Yikes.”
Katsuki lifted a rustling bag from beside his feet. “You missed lunch, I got you a hot dog bun.” His voice dared Izuku to say anything. Despite bursting with the effort, he simply nodded furiously.
“That little gnome said you’ll be fine with some rest; I just gotta keep you awake.”
“Don’t call Recovery Girl that!”
“Tch.”
“I need to lie down…” Izuku groaned, as the room began to swim in front of him. With an exaggerated scoff, Katsuki manoeuvred him back. Izuku probably looked as green as his hair. He tried to lie very still and think about stationary surfaces. Kacchan grumbled off to the side.
“Deku, hand.” Izuku offered it immediately, without thinking about it. Katsuki gripped his hand and the touch was firm and unyielding, as reliable as Katsuki himself. It anchored Izuku, a focus that made the nausea subside.
“Thanks, Kacchan.”
“What the fuck ever you weakling. Got fucking One for All and you get whacked by a pebble. Next time I’ll leave you to bleed out.”
“Noooo don’t Kacchan.”
“Shut up.”
There was a comfortable silence, and Katsuki picked up his book again to resume reading one handed (so cool, Kacchan). Izuku stared at his handsome profile, drinking in the moment, wanting it to last forever. Katsuki must know he was staring, but apparently decided to take the high road for once and ignored him.
“Hey, shitty nerd.”
Izuku jolted awake. Oh, he must have fallen asleep. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, and looked up at Katsuki. They were still holding hands.
“It’s your birthday soon,” Katsuki stated, and it sounded a little like it was through gritted teeth. “Do you want something.”
“Oh! Uh…” Izuku screwed his face up, trying to think of something that wasn’t embarrassing and Katsuki might actually not hate to give him. He could feel butterflies in his stomach. It had been years since Katsuki had given him anything, let alone a birthday gift, and he wracked his brain – Kacchan was definitely going to reject anything All Might related. Maybe a new pair of shoes…? That might be too expensive.
“Um…”
Kacchan’s hand really was quite warm, and nice, and distracting. He could feel the faint calluses on his palm. Katsuki’s blasting Quirk obviously toughened his hands, but the side effect of the chemical also continuously moisturised his skin. Izuku knew for a fact that the girls in class often talked enviously about his beautiful skin. He wondered if Kacchan would ever let him…
“You motherfucker. You’re thinking about something perverted aren’t you.”
Izuku yelped as Katsuki squeezed his hand so hard his knuckles creaked. “No! No I’m not Kacchan! Ow ow ow okay I kind of am but I promise I’m too embarrassed to say anything!” Izuku babbled, as Katsuki glowered at him. “I’ll be happy with whatever you give me. Because Kacchan’s amazing and you’ll give a good gift.”
“Damn fucking right I will,” Katsuki snapped, and huffily opened his book again.
“Does… Does Kacchan want anything?” Izuku blurted, and then blushed to the roots of his hair. Katsuki slid his gaze from his book to pin Izuku in place.
“I mean, we didn’t do anything for your birthday this year and yes you threatened to behead us if we did but um… Just, is there anything I can do for you?” He stared at the scratchy blanket, miserably embarrassed.
The hand holding his twitched, an ever so slight jerk of his finger. Izuku snapped his head up and Katsuki was still staring at him, with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Look after yourself.” Then pointedly turned to his book, refusing to elaborate. Izuku squeezed Kacchan’s hand, feeling tears prickle slightly at his eyes.
“Okay,” he whispered.
=
One morning in their last week of partnership, Izuku found himself blinking awake to the sight of Katsuki’s sleeping face, a shaft of anaemic early-morning sunlight striking his blond hair like a halo. His face was angelic in repose, with his long eyelashes barely dusting his cheeks, the high arch of his brows and the soft bow of his lips, the gentle slope of his thin-bladed nose. Perfectly symmetrical, perfectly proportioned. Izuku felt himself tear up.
At the first sniffle, Katsuki’s eyes snapped open. Ugh, his eyes were so beautiful, the different shades of red like the facets of a jewel. Izuku screwed his face up, sniffling harder.
“What the fuck Deku. Are you hurt? What the hell is wrong?” Katsuki demanded, and started to run his hands over him, as if checking for injuries.
“I… I just… I like Kacchan so much!” Izuku wailed, and Katsuki stared for all of five seconds before he slapped a hand to his own face.
“I am going to murder you,” Katsuki said very sincerely and with a sense of great purpose, while Izuku continued to weep noisily. “Shut the hell up!”
“Nooo!” Izuku yowled, and grabbed for him. The other boy batted his hands away, scowling.
“Oh my fucking god,” Katsuki growled, and caught Izuku’s face in one hand, squishing his cheeks together. “Deku, mouth.”
“Mrr?” was all Deku could manage before Katsuki pressed a firm kiss to his lips and Izuku transcended into a heretofore unknown galaxy of euphoria. By the time he made it back to his mortal body, Katsuki was up and getting dressed, pulling on his school blazer like nothing had happened. Izuku sat up, still reeling and trying to process what had happened. Katsuki smacked the back of his head.
“Get up, shitty nerd. Go back to your room and get ready.”
And suddenly everything became crystal clear.
“Kacchan, I love you,” Izuku said, and he meant it with every cell in his body, for once unembarrassed and it felt like the first time he jumped so high it was like flying, the way the city streets grew small and there was nothing, absolutely nothing holding him back and everything he’d ever wanted in that wide blue sky was within reach. He looked at Katsuki with blazing, clear eyes, his smile so wide it hurt, his heart so full it felt like bursting.
“I also… ugh.” Katsuki looked sulky. “I don’t know how to say it without it feeling like defeat.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “But I’m working on it. So shut your stupid face and get ready, or we’re going to be late.”
Izuku grinned. “I’ll do my best!”
Despite their rush, they ended up late to class after all and Aizawa heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Problem child, why are you late?”
“Uh, sorry sensei, I um… left my… erm, shoes behind…?” Even Izuku sounded unconvinced of his lie, being utterly unable to lie to authority figures.
“Problem child #2?”
“Why the fuck am I number two to Deku!” (“Language, Bakugou!” Iida shouted.)
“Midoriya is the undisputed forever and ever champion of that title. You will never have the incredibly dubious honour of it,” Aizawa stated flatly, and Katsuki tch’d under his breath.
“I kissed him and he went to the fifth dimension or some shit. He took forever to get ready.”
The class erupted.
Aizawa groaned long and loud, the sound of a deep yearning for the grave. This was not what he meant by hero partnerships.
= Many Years Later =
“Deku, left hand.”