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The smoke billowed out and away, along with the sugary burnt butter scent of Katsuki’s nitroglycerin-like sweat. He wiped his brow with the back of his forearm and rubbed the excess from his palms into his gloves, ready for the next attack. But his satisfied snarl twisted into one of horror and a screw turned in his gut as he spotted the true consequence of his actions lying on the pavement.
Deku. Bloody. Out cold.
Motherfucker! No, no, no, no, no…that idiot! Whether referring to himself or to his hero partner Katsuki wasn’t sure.
His boots fell heavy on the pavement, as he rushed to Deku’s side, ignoring the howling stitches of pain in his own body. He vaguely registered the sound of his own voice, scratched and raw as he called Deku’s name, urging him to wake up, amid the chatter and sirens and directives of other people who’d arrived on the scene. People who were more in charge than him, which meant he’d have to relinquish control, and he’d be damned if they could pull him away from Deku before he woke up. A top hero and even so, in a crisis, Katsuki still had to take orders from extras.
Katsuki slapped at Deku’s bloodied face, held a finger under his nose to check for breath, and, thank fuck there was still a steady stream of air. He rested an ear to Deku's chest, relishing the thrum of his clear heartbeat. But he also heard the rattling inhale and saw the way his hero costume puckered around his ribcage in a disturbing way.
Still, that didn’t stop him from straddling Deku’s hips and pulling at his throat, desperation clawing his voice and his reason until a weak and weary ‘Kacchan?’ spilled from Deku’s lips and the vast green of his irises peered up at him through long dirt-crusted lashes.
It wasn’t until hearing Deku eke out his name that he realized the others — Glasses, Shitty Hair, Icy Hot — had also been yelling at him, trying to get him to calm down. He removed his hands from Deku’s throat, palms still itching with sweat. Katsuki’s desperation receded, but it was replaced with a deep longing as a flash of something passed between him and Deku. Katsuki was suddenly very aware that he was on top of Deku and shit, he wanted to be on top of Deku, but not like this, dammit.
His face grew hot as he practically jumped off his friend. God forbid Deku should suss out Katsuki’s amorous feelings as he lay on the concrete with his goddamn ribs poking out. Now was literally not the time for a boner; not when there were literally mangled bones to be dealt with.
“Deku,” He grunted, as he stood, unsure of what else to fucking say.
He needed time and space to think or he’d explode, And that’s just what he did as he heard them recount to Deku what had happened. As he looked the love of his damn life in the face and told him he’d very nearly accidentally killed him, the idiot had the nerve to absolve him, just like he did of everything else, every single time.
“Bakugou!” Jirou called, pulling him out of his reverie and he called out with a surprised snort.
“Huh?” Katsuki looked up from his desk to find her hovering, concern etched on her face.
“You spaced out again,” she said, softly.
He didn’t miss her subtly retracting one of her ear jacks; she’d been about to blast him. Yikes! Okay, he must be really out of it. He wiped his hands over his face and returned to his paperwork with a grunt. To be honest, he’d completely forgotten the purpose of the forms he’d been working on.
“You want some coffee, boss?” she asked, with a light hand on his shoulder. He nodded, grateful she didn’t ask him what was up because he wasn’t ready to have that conversation with her or anyone. He didn’t think so, anyway.
No one knew about his feelings for Deku; he barely understood them himself, but lately, they were all he could fucking think about, especially after nearly losing him. He pushed down the hundredth refrain of ‘ it was your fault he got hurt,’ and stood to stretch while he waited for Jirou to return with his coffee.
Like a tic, he reached for his phone and the tendrils of hurt grabbed at him as he re-read his own texts. Leave me alone, Deku, he’d typed, unsure of what exactly he meant by the words when he’d sent them. Leave him alone how ? For how long?
It did nothing to assuage Katsuki’s feelings of guilt that he knew Deku would be hurt by the message. Sometimes Katsuki felt like that was all he was good for with Deku. And he pushed aside the affirming thoughts of, you know that’s not true, just as he had with the blaming ones.
Jirou returned with the coffee and Katsuki nodded his thanks. The bitter taste soothed him, in that it matched his mood, and the caffeine would help mask his utter exhaustion.
The mission was a simple one, tailor-made for his explosive Quirk, but night missions were far from his favorite. Still, he hadn’t been able to sleep or stomach the thought of working with Deku just now, so he’d changed his schedule around and tried not to let guilt grab him over that too.
“I can’t believe you traded an easy day patrol at Mirio’s for an overnight with Fourth Kind. He hasn’t mellowed out much since our U.A. days.”
“So I’ve heard. That shit doesn’t bother me and you know it. Did you forget who you were talking to?”
“You’re right,” Jirou agreed, “this just proves we haven’t hung out enough in a while.”
“Actually, band practice might do me good,” Katsuki said. He could think of no better way to vent his frustrations than with some drumming, aside from beating the shit out of villains, of course. And as far as that was concerned, in his current mental state, he knew he needed to keep himself in check, or he’d be looking at a suspension.
“Kaminari’s leg’s still healing, so he’s got more than enough free time, right now. Yaomomo and Tokoyami will be harder to pin down.”
Katsuki watched Jirou’s face carefully at the mention of Kaminari’s injured leg. A few weeks ago, he’d gotten trapped under some debris on a rescue mission. Uravity had helped get him to safety, but he’d still broken some bones. Katsuki knew Jirou had been worried sick at the time, but now she seemed okay; because he was okay. So why the hell was Katsuki still so distraught over Deku? It’s not like he loved the nerd more than Jirou loved Dunce Face. Those two were practically engaged for god’s sake!
It wasn’t her fucking fault he got hurt, that’s why.
“Doesn’t have to be all of us,” Katsuki replied, “I think I just need to hit something.”
“Understood,” Jirou said. And he knew she did.
****
The villain they were after was a fool, but he wasn’t dangerous. Honestly, the job turned out to be ten times more boring than a patrol shift, and in a way, Katsuki was fucking thankful for that. A few blasts into his hiding place and they’d apprehended him in no time. The bulk of the work had been finding the guy, and that had been all Ears.
“I know better than to pry,” Jirou said, eyeing him across the table at the diner where they ate an early breakfast afterwards, “but you can talk to me if you want. Listening’s kinda my thing. Literally.” She twirled one of her ear jacks around her finger.
“No doubt,” he replied as he doused his eggs in more hot sauce, eyes focused on his plate rather than her. It’s not that he didn’t trust her, he did. But where to begin, really? He hadn’t even discussed Deku with Kirishima. Mostly because he felt sure Kirishima’d have nothing but annoying words of encouragement, urging him to confess or some shit. Kirishima was so relentlessly positive, he wouldn’t understand Katsuki’s reservations, the fragility of what he’d built with Deku over the years, Katsuki’s unwillingness to compromise it.
When he could no longer stare at his food in avoidance, he sighed and looked up. Jirou still waited patiently without any push or pull and he was suddenly very appreciative.
“I almost killed Deku during a villain attack.” The hairs on his arms stood up and his palms itched from saying it out loud. “He doesn’t see it that way, but he’s an idiot and doesn’t know how close it was. And if something had happened to him because of me...I couldn’t live with myself.”
“You care about him.”
“ Obviously. ”
“Is it obvious?” she asked, leaning in with her chin resting on her hands. He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not; her tone was so dry. It really had been too long since they’d hung out.
“ Tch.”
“Bakugou.”
“I think I’m in love with him,” Katsuki said honestly, after a moment.
“And by that you mean, you know you are.” She didn’t sound surprised.
He wiped at his face, wincing at the sweat he left behind there, though he was more than used to it by now; still the sweet smell sometimes made him nauseous when it got up his nose. At least he couldn’t set off explosions that way, or he’d be in deep shit.
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“Does he know?” she asked. Katsuki shook his head, but even so, he wasn’t quite sure he was correct.
“I haven’t told him,” he answered.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I don’t know what he does or doesn’t know. We’re just...lately it’s like...we’re close to something, but we’re just out of step.”
“So, then how do you fix that? What do you want?”
“I want... him , but…”
“But...?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“I can’t. I can’t even look at him right now. It hurts to look at him.”
“Listen, Bakugou, I won’t pretend to know the first thing about you guys or your history, but...I believe in you, both of you. I don’t mean that in like a cheesy, sentimental way, I just...I’ve seen you get through shit before. Together. So I know you can do it, again.”
Katsuki wanted to cry and to hug her and to run out of the restaurant and run to Deku, wherever he was, but instead, he merely nodded and took small bites of food until his tongue felt numb and tingly from the spice.
True to her word, she didn’t pry. She didn’t mention Deku again or the fact that Katsuki had admitted to being in love with him. And he knew she wouldn’t tell Dunce Face either, or Momo. She didn’t thrive on gossip the way Pinky did. Yeah, in that case, it was definitely good that he hadn’t told Kirishima or she’d probably end up confessing to Deku for him.
It had taken a lot out of him to admit it here, to his friend; if he ever had the guts to finally tell Deku how he felt, he needed to do it on his own terms, not anyone else’s. He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about telling someone else about his feelings before telling Deku, but in that moment, he’d needed to say it to someone.
“You off today, then?” Jirou asked, snatching the bill away before Katsuki could offer to pay.
“Nope,” he said, betraying himself with a big yawn.
“Bakugou…”
“What?! M’fine.” He knew it was a lie. He knew she knew it was a lie. But he needed the distraction. If he wasn’t at work, then what? Go home and replay Deku’s injury on a loop in his head.
“At least nap,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. He tossed down some bills for a tip, at least wanting to make some contribution.
They stumbled out into the street, bathed in soft morning light and full of bustling people. A few extras called out their hero names and they waved politely, freezing for a quick photo once or twice, but ultimately brushing off the attention. Jirou waved goodbye at the train station and he could still sense her worry. She was a good friend.
****
Katsuki jumped from agency to agency, avoiding Deku like the plague. Professionally speaking, he knew this wasn’t sustainable. They were ‘The Wonder Duo,’ after all. They were expected to work together for a reason; because their Quirks and fighting styles were a good match-up. But Katsuki didn’t see how he could do it, anymore.
“Hey man, you look beat!” Kirishima exclaimed when he showed up to work at Fat Gum’s a few days later. Kirishima’s upbeat tone was completely disharmonious with his words.
“Thanks a lot,” Katsuki grumbled.
“Hey, I don’t mean it like that! But when was the last time you had a day off?”
“I don’t want any days off.”
“Bro…”
“I’m good, Shitty-Hair. Leave me alone!”
Leave me alone, Deku.
Shit. Or course his mind would go there. He blew past his friend, on his way to the break room to down the biggest mug of coffee but Kirishima followed, like a kicked puppy, worry lines creasing his face.
“If you use your hardening Quirk with that expression too often, you’ll end up looking like an old man,” Katsuki said.
“Hey, I’m just worried about you, alright! Mina is too. She said you were totally off your game on patrol yesterday!”
“She said what?”
“Just that you seemed distracted. Like you were going through the motions. I mean, bro, you’re a great hero, only those of us who know you would notice, but what if you guys had come across something dangerous?”
“We didn’t and we’re fine. I’m fine !”
Katsuki felt pathetic. At every insistence that he was fine, he slipped further away from it being true. He hated that word, anyway. Kirishima wasn’t an idiot. He’d of course see right through him. But then he’d walk the line lest he tempt Katsuki’s wrath and Katsuki would keep him at arm’s length and push him away with pissy retorts just like he used to do with everyone, just like he did with Deku.
He dressed on autopilot, all the while feeling Kirishima’s eyes on him, which he chose to ignore because he thought he was dangerously close to spilling his guts and he didn’t need to unload all his Deku feelings right before a shift again. Telling Jirou had been cathartic, but it had also dug up the memories and he wasn’t stupid. He knew Mina was right; he was just a defensive ass. He’d been working himself to death all week and it was taking a toll on him. Especially because he hadn’t actually taken any time to process the events surrounding Deku’s injury. He didn’t want to. Didn’t know how.
“Dude, are you still upset about Midoriya?”
The innocence in Kirishima’s voice annoyed Katsuki. How could Kirishima possibly know and not know? He froze mid-tightening of his gauntlets and swallowed hard, as he contemplated how best to answer. He despised lying. And Kirishima deserved better. Everyone deserved better than what Katsuki had to offer.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Kirishima added. “But I’m here for you, you know? And I get it. I’d be upset too. But I think you should talk to him—”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Katsuki sighed. With that, he pulled on his gloves and stormed out of the locker room, leaving Kirishima with no choice but to follow him out again. Except he didn’t, not right away. He met Katsuki at the first patrol location looking sunny as ever, clearly pretending like their earlier conversation hadn’t happened. If you could call it a conversation. Katsuki took it as a reset, knowing it was only a matter of time before he brought it up again, but he might as well cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he needed to pretend to not be thinking of Deku.
In truth, though, Katsuki couldn’t stop thinking about him, mostly because he missed him. Deku had been with him for practically his whole life. Only once had they ever been separated for a significant amount of time, during their high-school days, and if Katsuki went down that road with his thinking, he’d certainly blow something up. Because really, Deku had always been this way; a self-sacrificing idiot with little regard for himself or for the people who cared most about him. The people he cared about, well Deku would do anything to jump in and protect them, even if it meant leaving a Deku-shaped hole in their lives. Deku couldn’t be bothered to think about how miserable they would be without him. Selfish, ass.
The patrol was easy. Too easy for Katsuki’s liking. He would have liked some excuse to exert his frustrations. A trip to the gym’ll have to do , he thought. However, as the day wore on he had to admit he was dog-tired, probably too tired to get the benefit of a workout.
It rained at midday and Kirishima suggested they break for lunch, but Katsuki declined. If he slowed down now, he’d collapse and they still had four hours to go.
“I’ll work through lunch. I’m not hungry.”
“ You, Mr. Foodie, aren’t hungry? That’s the second time this week!”
Come to think of it, he’d missed quite a few meals. His American breakfast with Jirou after the night mission had been his last big one. And he actually was hungry.
“You were just hoping I’d share something from my bento, well I didn’t bring one.”
“Aww, well I know Fat has plenty of food on hand, come on! A hero’s gotta eat.”
Katsuki sighed. “I’ll eat after our shift,” he said.
“Hey! Why don’t we eat at that ramen place then, Lucky’s. Since you skipped out last time!”
“I’ll just cook something at home.”
“Bro...come on. We haven’t hung out much lately either, and Mina’s got a dance class tonight. They’ve got a spicy tonkatsu with different Chinese hot peppers. I mean, I haven’t tried it, cuz I’m a wimp, but it looks like—”
“Alright, alright, I’ll go. Quit yammering.”
*****
Lucky’s was a small joint on the corner near Fat Gum’s Agency, but it was fairly quiet when Katsuki and Kirishima arrived for dinner, both freshly showered and dressed in their civvies. The friendly hostess sat them at a booth and Katsuki’s mouth watered as he read through the menu, salivating at the spice options, and when they ordered he made sure to tack on extra noodles.
“So…” Kirishima trailed off, looking nervous as hell for some reason. He kept looking around and rapped his fingers on the tabletop.
“So, what. What’s with you?”
“What’s with me? Nothing. I’m just thinking.”
“Really, that’s a new one,” Katsuki quipped. It wasn’t biting, but devoid of mirth too because it was laced with suspicion.
“Ha! Nah, bro, sorry. Just not sure what to talk about, ya know. Since I know you still don’t wanna talk about Midoriya.”
“I am capable of having other thoughts besides Deku, ya know,” he muttered, maybe a bit too defensively because, at the moment, it was hardly true. He knew that Kirishima knew that, and Kirishima knew he knew that. Fuck. Maybe it was time to come clean.
Luckily, he was saved by ramen. Maybe the name Lucky’s was accurate, then. He changed his tune, however, when he saw a familiar mop of green hair in the doorway and immediately roiled with anger and guilt and frustration and longing. He watched as the hostess pointed Deku to the table and he moved towards them with a sheepish look on his face.
“What are you doing here?” Katsuki barked. One look at Kirishima and he instantly knew this whole thing had been a set-up. He threw down his chopsticks and pushed the bowl away, daring Kirishima to meet his eyes. “You bastard, you told Deku to meet us here.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so betrayed. He stood and pushed his way past Deku, even as the weary ‘Kacchan,’ he uttered, made Katsuki’s heartache.
“I told you to leave me alone, Deku.” He hated how embittered he sounded, but it was necessary to get his point across.
Katsuki was keenly aware that Deku had followed him out of the restaurant, pleading for his attention, but Katsuki was desperate to put some distance between them, all the while wanting nothing more than to turn around, hold him tight, and kiss his stupid freckled face. Katsuki barely registered the mean nonsense that spilled from his lips, his only goal was to get Deku to leave him, but as always that was fruitless. Deku would never just let things be. It pissed him off and it made him grateful as hell.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Kacchan!” Deku yelled, finally seeming to snap, and before Katsuki could respond he felt the pressure of Deku’s air blast hitting his back. It knocked the wind out of him and he fell forward onto the glistening post-rain pavement.
“Son of a…what the hell, Deku! Katsuki screeched as he landed hard on the ground, catching himself, but scraping his hands in the process.
He moved to get up, ready for a fight , but before he could even blink, Deku had his arm pinned behind his back, holding him in place. It was uncomfortable as hell and it made Katsuki weirdly proud. Deku was fucking strong.
“You can stand up and face me, or you can stay right here and start talking,” ordered Deku. His tone did things to Katsuki he didn’t dare contemplate. Or maybe it was about damn time he did, that finally, once and for all, lay it all on the line.
“You can let go Deku. I won’t run.”
And he didn’t.
*****
Katsuki tucked a loose curl behind Deku’s ear, his fingers lingering there and tracing along the soft skin at his jaw. He didn’t miss the gentle smile that piqued on Deku’s lips at the touch, watched his eyelids flutter open, slowly.
“Kacchan…” he murmured, still looking dazed.
“Hey, nerd,” Katsuki whispered. He tugged on Deku’s arm which was draped around him possessively and pressed soft kisses to his palm, right over the lifeline.
“I thought I was dreaming,” Deku said, his voice still airy from sleep. Katsuki shook his head and Deku pulled his hand away from Katsuki to cup his cheek, caressing it lightly with his thumb in a way that made goosebumps prickle all over his skin.
“You’re not. Maybe you were, but this ain’t a dream, Deku.”
This is real , Katsuki thought to himself for the hundredth time, still needing to validate what was true. He’d confessed his feelings. Deku had confessed his. Right there on the street in front of the ramen shop. And they’d kissed, oh, how they’d kissed, every kind of kiss; they’d possibly even invented a new kind, before falling over themselves to get to Katsuki’s apartment and tumbling into bed.
Every pent-up feeling of the past decade, of the past week, had finally come to light and Katsuki felt more at peace than he’d ever felt before. He’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted for so long but was too afraid to ask. It felt so damn euphoric and it also made him feel like such a fool for wasting so much time; to think he could have had this long ago. He always thought of Deku as the sacrificial idiot, but maybe he was one too. He’d sacrificed his own happiness, their happiness, to keep what he’d perceived as fragile from breaking. But in making love to Deku, in being loved by him, Katsuki had gained a new perspective. Whatever was between them wasn’t at all fragile and it never was. What they had was strong. And they were just getting started.