Work Text:
Izuku should know to slow down the moment his lips begin to tingle with numbness. However, not one to back down from a challenge, the green-haired boy continues sipping on the sticky punch while Uraraka swallows a tablespoon of hot sauce, eyes squeezed shut in displeasure.
The common room remains lively, despite the risk of Aizawa or another teacher waltzing in to catch the class of 3-A consuming alcohol underage. Izuku wonders when he grew so relaxed about blatantly breaking the rules, remembering how he resolutely opposed Kacchan that time the blonde invited him out for a sparring match in the dead of night.
Kacchan…
Izuku visibly shivers. His childhood friend, former bully, current rival, and...Izuku does not know what to call their relationship at this point. How does one describe the interactions between two people who understand each other the most, yet somehow glaringly misjudge one another. Even Izuku will admit he does not fully understand Kacchan, but no one else could ever receive Kacchan’s feelings either.
Izuku must appear lost in thought because Todoroki’s hand flashes over his face.
“Midoriya?”
“Hmm?”
“It’s your turn.”
Izuku blinks, several pairs of eyes finding his own with a curious glint.
“You good, man?” Kirishima asks amicably.
Izuku nods.
“This is because YOU-” Ida points at Kaminari, whose hand lingers dangerously close to Jiro’s on the couch cushion. “Made him drink a shot.”
Kaminari’s face stretches into a grin.
“I don’t make the rules. It was just a game- speaking of game, it’s your turn, Midoriya.”
Izuku frowns. Last time he offered to do a dare, it resulted in him taking a shot, per Ida’s accusation, which he thinks will end poorly if it happens one more time.
“Truth,” he says, thinking better safe than sorry.
Booo everyone chants as Izuku rubs the back of his neck, eyes flitting around the room at his classmates, who all brim with alcohol-induced happiness, which honestly is a safety risk given their knack for danger and overpowered quirks. Despite this, Izuku knows they deserve time to unwind after all their trauma. Even Ida allows the rule-breaking (despite complaining about it every two minutes.
Only one person is missing from the fun.
“Stop your whining!” Ashido demands, standing from the couch and quelling all the resounding groans over Izuku’s boring choice. “Truths can be equally embarrassing.”
Izuku’s heart beats like a rabbit’s as his features pale. He had allowed himself to indulge too much, and now he’s at risk of spilling secrets. Unfortunately, there are several things he is at risk of revealing if he’s not careful.
“Well?” He finally asks, leaning against the opposite couch on the floor, sipping his drink in an effort to hide his growing anxiety.
Ashido rubs her chin thoughtfully before beaming.
“I’ve got it! Now you need to answer with your gut reaction, okay? Got it? Okay...who do you think is the prettiest person in 3-A?”
Izuku doesn’t even think. His brain freezes, and with trembling hands, he opens his mouth and says the one thing he never meant to say aloud -- something he barely even recognized as a thought that would ever cross his mind.
“Kacchan.”
The silence is so loud, Izuku’s ears ring. Or perhaps that’s the embarrassment clawing out of his heart and beating his ears like a drum until he can feel nothing but its thundering. One, two, th--
“WHAT? NO WAY!”
“That’s so manly of you to admit!”
“You...wha-- Bakugo ?”
Izuku’s chest hollows. He can’t pinpoint where that answer emerged from, but the more he thinks about it, the more he understands it. Kacchan has always been unreasonably beautiful, at least in the few seconds of calm demeanor Izuku has witnessed. Kacchan does seem to make an effort to screw his face into something ugly in order to ward off others.
When Izuku’s eyes dart around the room, laughter dying down, he finds Uraraka staring blankly back at him and bites his lip. He hopes he didn’t hurt her, but in all honesty, it was completely unintentional.
“What are we supposed to even say to that?” Ashido guffaws, slapping her knee. “Bakugo always has a resting bitch face. I have never seen his expression represent anything other than a scowl.”
That’s not true, Izuku thinks, not when he’s--
“God, I am so disappointed he ain’t here,” Kaminari says regretfully. “That would be such a scene.”
I’d rather have him vaporize me on the spot than have him hear me say that.
Thankfully, the game continues on as the alcohol flows, distracting the teenagers from Izuku’s embarrassing admission.
The boy finds himself lost in his thoughts again, struck by the answer he blurted out earlier. Had he ever intentionally recognized that Kacchan was pretty before? That childhood crush buried itself long ago. Now they were just rivals...rivals who occasionally sparred and inspired each other...who would give up their only lives to save each other…
“Midoriya?”
“I think he’s still in shock after that last round.”
“It’s my turn again ?” He exclaims.
Now that Izuku pays attention, everyone looks far too devious. He knows they’re all ravenous for the details behind his accidental confession. Even he can’t explain it if he wanted to. His safest choice has to be--
“Dare.”
It appears to be the wrong choice, because the wicked smiles grow wider. Had they all secretly conspired against him while his loud mind held his attention hostage?
“I dare you to tell Kacchan that he’s pretty.”
Izuku’s face floods with impending embarrassment as Kaminari’s smug expression grows feral. He tries to cool his cheeks with the backs of his hands, averting his gaze from the stares of his classmates, who all relish in his discomfort.
“I can’t do that.”
“Well, you know the chicken for a dare is another shot.”
Izuku glimpses at the foregin bottle of vodka resting on the coffee table (really, they should be caught by the teachers at this point). He can’t trust himself with more alcohol, not after the previous fiasco. But if he doesn’t take the shot…
“Kacchan’s probably asleep at this point. I can’t just go wake him up.”
“Text him,” Ashido suggests gleefully.
Izuku almost scoffs at that, trying to remember the last time Kacchan replied to one of his texts (had he??), but he supposes there’s always the chance that Kacchan never even opens it. It certainly proves better than facing the explosive blonde in person, but those words echoing in the back of his mind bring heat to cheeks again.
“You don’t have to do this,” Todoroki says cooly.
The rest of the class boos back, and Izuku’s competitive nature builds. He can’t just give in, not with everyone expecting him to chicken out.
“It’s fine,” Izuku mutters, but really it’s just the liquid courage egging him on. “He probably won’t even read it anyway.”
“YAS!” Class 3-A erupts in excitement.
“I need proof,” Kaminari reminds him.
Izuku shrugs, scarred hands wobbling as he slips his phone out of his sweatpants. He unlocks the screen and scrolls through his contacts until he finds Kacchan’s.
Izuku hadn’t received a response from his childhood friend on his birthday months ago, though he did not expect to in the first place. Still, they had not been able to see each other that day, and Izuku had itched to text him.
“God, I hope he’s not asleep. I really wanna see this reaction.”
Izuku groans.
“You guys are too much…”
“You have to let us have a bit of fun,” Ashido chides. “Besides, you were the one who let us in on this piece of knowledge. We’re only acting upon information you willingly provided.”
She has a point.
Izuku inhales before taking a long swig of his drink, earning a few hoots from his friends. So much for refusing to take the shot in order to avoid drinking more alcohol. He’ll need a lot to forget this ever happened.
He slides his phone in front of Kaminari on the coffee table to let him view the evidence himself. The electric blonde whistles.
“Now, I don’t want to say you’re dead meat, but I think you might be dead meat.”
Izuku frowns.
“If I die, I am dragging you all down with me. You’re all extras in his mind anyway.”
“Midoriya!” Kaminari and Kirishima simultaneously gasp, while a few others snicker in response.
Izuku smiles to himself before sipping from his drink. Despite the situation, he finds himself unwinding. So what if he texted this to Kacchan? The overpowered and emotionally constipated teen will no doubt interpret it as Izuku trying to insult him in some way.
Besides, Kacchan has never responded to one of his texts before, so why would he--
Thankfully, no one hears Izuku’s phone buzz in his hands with Jiro’s playlist blasting on a nearby speaker, and as his eyes flash downwards, he reads Kacchan’s response previewed on the screen. Unbelievable. After all these years, Kacchan chooses this text to respond to. A surge of annoyance builds within the green-haired teen, who takes a long sip of his drink, before unlocking his phone screen.
Izuku watches Kacchan’s typing bubble appear and disappear several times over the course of a minute. Another sip of alcohol later, he types back first.
Izuku frowns again. He finishes his drink and then pockets his phone. The odd thoughts shuffling around in his brain like playing cards confuse him. He doesn’t trust himself to reply any longer. His best bet will be to pretend this never happened and hope Kacchan does the same.
The game continues until it suddenly doesn’t, with Izuku and his classmates distracted by the drama now swirling around Ashido and Kirishima, who kissed in the last round of truth and dare.
“Are you alright?” Todoroki asks beside Izuku. “Has Bakugo threatened you with bodily harm?”
Truthfully, Izuku had fallen into alcohol-induced silence, a little too dazed to realize Todoroki was talking to him until seconds later. To Izuku’s surprise though, Kacchan hadn’t threatened him with bodily harm.
“Oh? No, uh, it’s fine--”
“Bakubro!”
The color drains from Izuku’s face faster than he senses Kacchan’s impending presence looming near the kitchen, angled toward his classmates who are huddled in the common room around a near-empty bottle of vodka.
Kirishima has leapt up from the couch, no doubt an effort to escape the teasing about him and Ashido. The redhead clings to Kacchan’s arm, tugging the angry boy toward the nearest arm chair. Surprisingly, Kacchan allows himself to be led into the common room, scowling in disdain of course.
Izuku nearly gasps. Red and green eyes meet across the room, and the weight of what Izuku has done barrels into him like a tidal wave. In the moment of shock, he unconsciously activates One For All, green electricity flickering over his limbs. Burying the fight or flight instinct, Izuku swallows and allows his gaze to travel toward the remnants of his drink. He finishes it.
When he looks back up, those crimson eyes have not left his frame, raking over him critically. The calculative expression on Kacchan’s face is not unfamiliar to Izuku, who has witnessed it several times in the heat of battle.
It’s tense.
If it weren’t for the alcohol, Izuku would have fared far worse. Everyone else seems too drunk to remember or care about Izuku’s predicament. Except for maybe Uraraka, whose delicate eyes watch Izuku with a sudden curiosity. She’s perceptive, and Izuku realizes they are definitely going to chat about this later.
And then there’s Kacchan, of course, who is sober and well-aware of Izuku’s predicament, their predicament. And it seems like the blonde arrived only to torture him, donned in black sweats and a formfitting tank top. His face remains broken into a deep grimace, though, directed at Izuku.
“What did you extras do to him?”
All eyes shift toward Kacchan, whose thumb points straight to Izuku, and the green-haired teen’s eyes blow comically wide.
“Nothing we haven’t done to ourselves,” Sero chuckles.
Kacchan’s eyes narrow. He looks like he wants to make another comment but seems to hold it back.
About a half hour passes as everyone casually chats except for Izuku, who remains stunned into silence with Kacchan’s foreboding aura in the distant armchair. His phone weighs heavily in his pocket, reminding him of how he pried open a can of worms bound to haunt his dreams for the next few months.
Because, for better or worse, Izuku does believe it’s true. Kacchan is pretty.
Bzzz…
Izuku nabs his phone, grimaces upon finding Kacchan calling him stupid, and because Izuku has a death wish…
Izuku raises his brows and fixates on Kacchan as the blonde’s eyes gloss over his phone screen. With a furrowed expression, Kacchan glances up to deliver Izuku an icy glare. Izuku tilts his head back in curiosity. Surely, he has no sense of self-preservation or he wouldn’t challenge Kacchan like this.
With a dramatic flair, Kacchan rolls his eyes, almost playfully, and something twists in Izuku’s chest. Oh no.
Kacchan refuses the beer that Kirishima offers, and it soon becomes apparent that Izuku’s rival is only interested in torturing him. The protege of All Might feels lucky no one else has noticed Kacchan’s unrelenting stare, except for maybe Todoroki, who at least pretends not to notice.
The night devolves slowly as the bottle of vodka empties. Izuku bets that it would be a sight for a sober Kacchan to witness, if he were looking at anyone else but Izuku.
Izuku’s head whips toward the arm chair, but Kacchan has already stood up. No one comments on it, but Izuku stalls for several seconds, wondering if he can sneak away too. Given his lack of coordination, he doubts he can slither away stealthily.
“Have to go to the bathroom,” he announces quietly.
Izuku’s muscles tremble as his legs carry him to Kacchan’s room. He knows if push comes to shove, he can handle Kacchan even in his tipsy state. Not that Kacchan would ever lay a hand on Izuku to hurt him, as the teen has not done so outside of their usual sparring in years.
No, he worries about which icy words Kacchan will choose to slice through Izuku’s soft interior, because for all of Izuku’s physical prowess, he lacks emotional fortitude.
He knocks on his childhood friend’s door, steeling his expression and stance so he appears far less drunk than he feels.
The door opens to reveal a grimacing Kacchan (no surprise there); however, Izuku yelps when Kacchan’s hand fists the front of his shirt before yanking him inside and slamming the door. The room is dark, save for the dim lamp on Kacchan’s nightstand.
“Oi,” Kacchan grunts, releasing his grip on Izuku’s shirt. “What kind of crack do they have you smoking out there?”
Izuku freezes, caught between the truth that his drunk brain wants to spill and the fear of Kacchan hearing it from his very mouth. The teen stammers incoherently, rubbing his neck and averting his eyes.
“Eh?? I can’t hear you, Deku.”
“I-It was a dare,” Izuku admits.
He sees a flicker of confusion and -- is that disappointment -- cross his rival’s face before it hardens once again.
“So you just do whatever the fuck people tell you now?” Kacchan bites back.
Izuku cocks his head, the gears starting to slowly click into place. Kacchan does seem disappointed and now wants to shield that feeling with anger.
“I said it because it’s true,” Izuku insists suddenlyy. “They dared me to text it to you because I accidentally said it out loud earlier. You are pretty.”
Kacchan’s cheeks flood with color and he pivots to face his bed, fists balled at his sides. Izuku remains stiff near the door, watching Kacchan huff and pace in supposed irritation.
“That’s a stupid thing to say,” he mutters eventually.
The fact that Kacchan has not blasted Izuku through the window yet gives the shorter teen a vote of confidence, and he steps closer, watching Kacchan bristle.
“It’s really not a--”
Izuku feels his foot twist on its own (an effect of his inebriated state), and crashes toward the floor. Kacchan’s fast reflexes save his knees from banging on the floorboards. With one arm snaked around Izuku’s waist, he hauls the smaller boy up and plops him onto the bed.
“For fuck’s sake, Deku, just sit there.”
Sitting on Kacchan’s bed (for the first time, actually), Izuku peeks up through his lashes and finds something unfamiliar in Kacchan’s eyes. A mixture of uncertainty and something else...it’s intangible.
“K-Kacchan…” Izuku murmurs, finding himself lost in his rival’s conflicted gaze.
“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?”
It’s only when Kacchan mentions this that Izuku realizes how plastered he actually is. Not once has he ever casually sat on Kacchan’s bed, or followed him into his room for that matter. Never has he called him pretty either. Shit. What did he get himself into?
“Yeah,” Izuku breathes. “I am.”
Kacchan snorts, and then sits down on the bed a few feet away from Izuku. Several awkward seconds pass. This is new territory for them. Of course, they have had several sparring matches that allow for conversations. However, they have not snuck into each other’s rooms close to midnight to sit side by side on the bed.
“Are you shocked?” Izuku eventually asks to cut the silence.
“About what? The fact you, as usual, did not take your personal safety into account and thereby drank more than your bodyweight could handle? Obviously not.”
“My bodyweight-- Kacchan, I am not small-- ”
Kacchan barks out in laughter.
“Not small? You’re fucking tiny. I mean, lean muscle or whatever, you’re still a tiny, shitty nerd.”
Izuku frowns, a thousands insults teasing the tip of his tongue, one of them itching to recount how Izuku’s kick nearly catapulted Kacchan into an alternate universe during their most recent sparring match.
“Actually, I meant to ask if you were shocked by being called pretty.”
Kacchan stiffens, and Izuku smirks.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Tch. Whatever. It was a stupid thing to say.”
“Why?” Izuku interrogates, almost too serious.
Kacchan fidgets, angled away from Izuku, staring at the floorboards.
“It doesn’t describe someone like me. So it’s stupid.”
“Someone like you? You mean it’s not fitting to call ‘Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight’ pretty?”
Izuku giggles as Kacchan snaps his head to glare at him. A lightness fills Izuku’s chest, especially when he reads the uncertainty littered all over Kacchan’s features. Something brave within Izuku swells as he crosses his legs on the bed and faces the broody blonde.
“I can show you how someone like you can be pretty.”
At this proposal, Kacchan’s red eyes flit over Izuku’s face, appraising the other teen’s intentions. Izuku smiles back at him warmly.
“Come here.”
“What’re you gonna do, you freak?”
“Just come here. You’re not scared are you?”
“Tch. Don’t say stupid shit, nerd.”
So Kacchan twists around to face Izuku as well, crossing his legs. The moonlight streaks across his sulky expression, which slowly melts now challenged with Izuku’s bright countenance. That uncertainty still sits behind crimson eyes, watching Izuku carefully.
Izuku raises his arms and Kacchan instinctively wraps his fingers around Izuku’s wrist.
“Ka- calm down. I’m not doing anything threatening.”
Hesitantly, Kacchan releases his grip on Izuku’s wrist. With a light brush of his thumb, Izuku then traces the lines of Kacchan’s cheeks.
“You have lovely cheekbones,” Izuku praises. “I have always been a little insecure about my chubby cheeks, but yours are so nice and defined.”
Something akin to fear washes over Kacchan’s face. Or perhaps that’s a deep blush.
“Your jawline as well,” he mumbles, continuing to stroke Kacchan’s jaw. “And then of course your sharp nose, and these constantly furrowed eyebrows.”
Hardly aware of the game he’s playing, Izuku finishes mapping out Kacchan’s face while the blonde remains stiff and wide-eyed before him. As Izuku rests his knuckles absent-mindedly on Kacchan’s soft cheeks, his wrist gets snagged again.
“Deku...be careful.”
Izuku watches Kacchan’s chest heave and realizes the inconsistency of his own breathing. Something between them is unfurling, seemingly out of their control.
“Why?” Izuku whispers back.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
Both of them flushed and flustered, Izuku finds himself leaning toward Kacchan almost subconsciously. As if the spell were broken. Kacchan flinches away, releasing his grip on Izuku’s wrist. Unsure of what just transpired, Izuku finds disappointment wind through his gut, and it must flash across his face.
“I should go,” the teen suddenly announces in fear, turning to almost fall off the bed.
He’s saved by Kacchan once again snagging his shirt and pulling him back to the safety of the sheets.
“S-Sorry, I’ll just--”
“Wait.”
Kacchan’s command halts Izuku, who has one knee placed on the bed, ready to split before he hears anything that will shatter his dumb heart. Who was he kidding? What was he trying to do here with Kacchan?
“Did you want to...did you want to watch some compilations of All Might’s top fights that I saved on Youtube?”
It’s such an oddly specific request, as if Kacchan had been waiting to ask Izuku this for a long time. Who else would be willing to watch such a compilation?
“I--”
“It’s the least your ass could do after fucking with my sleep schedule,” Kacchan adds, arms crossed.
Izuku stares at him for a few seconds before flashing a smile in return.
“It can’t be better than the compilation I made, but I guess we’ll see.”
Kacchan rolls his eyes but moves to lean against the wall, an unspoken invitation for Izuku to join him. They sit there while Kacchan queues up the videos, and Izuku rides a rollercoaster of emotions -- relief, comfort, and something brimming with want. Kacchan’s body, which runs hot as a furnace, is a heavy and comforting weight beside him, lulling the boy into a sleepy state, no doubt aided by the alcohol still flowing through him.
Too enamored by the rare moment, Izuku refuses to give up and go to bed. He can’t miss this for....
He falls asleep.
The sticky heat rouses Izuku. His brain quickly recalls the events prior to falling asleep, and suddenly the warmth enveloping him shoots a flutter of butterflies through his stomach. He’s not in his own bed. He’s in Kacchan’s bed, in Kacchan’s arms , which wind around his shoulders. Blinking, Izuku realizes his face is buried in Kacchan’s collarbone, and his stomach flips again.
His stirring slowly wakes his rival, who groans.
“Kacchan?” Izuku mumbles against the blonde’s neck.
He feels Kacchan tighten his hold momentarily, nudging his nose through Izuku’s hair.
“Deku,” he finally sighs.
“Mmm?”
“You’re fucking ridiculous.”
“H-huh? Ka-”
Something brushes over his temple, soft and assuring, and then presses firmly. Izuku’s eyes fill with moisture as Kacchan shifts his lips from Izuku’s temple to his forehead, before returning to nestle back into Izuku’s green curls. Touch-starved hardly describes Izuku’s reaction.
“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Kacchan repeats, voice gruff with sleep. Izuku wonders if the blonde is even awake. “Calling me pretty, when someone like you exists.”
“M-me?”
“Yes, you. Dummy.”
“I don’t--”
“You know exactly what I’m tryna say, nerd. Now go back to sleep.”
The welling tears in Izuku’s eyes do not fall, though he feels as if a dam inside of him breaks. However, as he tucks himself further under the other teen’s chin, a warm and gentle feeling spreads from his chest all the way to his toes.
Kacchan thinks I’m pretty, too.