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There is a storm raging inside of Katsuki’s head and it refuses to die down, no matter how hard he slams his knuckles against the punching bag. His hands are sore, his knuckles a bright red from impact after impact. Not just from the punching he’s doing now, but also from the horrific fight he had with a villain earlier in the day.
“Katsuki.”
His knuckles hit the punching bag one more time, and then stay there, resting against the leather.
It’s only now that he’s standing still that Katsuki realises his shoulders are heaving with his rapid breaths. He ducks his chin and picks up the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow. He’s stalling, really. Avoiding eye contact because hiding in his shirt is easier than turning around to see if Shouto is simply resigned or perhaps disappointed.
He isn’t sure what he’d hate more.
Shouto’s footsteps approach him from the side. Socked feet padding across the rubber tiles that cover their training room floor.
“I’m guessing you heard?” Katsuki rasps. It takes him a few tries before he can get the words out, because his voice is still tired from screaming.
“I saw the video,” Shouto responds from an arm’s length away. His voice is carefully neutral. “Heard you got suspended over what happened. The damage to the city.”
Katsuki is usually so impressed with Shouto’s ability to hide his emotions. It seems like a useful skill to have. He, himself, can’t help but show his hand whenever he opens his mouth. Shouto is a closed book. One of those diaries with locks that people give to children. The only way to break in is with a hammer, or with a key.
Katsuki has a key. All he has to do is look up and turn to meet Shouto’s eyes, and he’ll know. But if he’s honest with himself, today, he’d rather have the truth screamed at him.
Hammer it is.
“You agree with their bullshit?” he sneers, glaring forward at the punching bag. “That I can’t be a hero like this?”
Shouto lets out a soft sigh in response almost immediately, which is a bad sign, because it means Katsuki hasn’t even managed to catch him off guard by snapping.
Apparently misbehaviour is now expected, when it comes to him. Fucking fantastic.
“I’m more worried that you do,” Shouto says after a moment, making no sense at all. “Because if you didn’t, you would be out there fighting their decision.”
It seems Shouto has chosen the hammer as well.
“I fucking fought it,” Katsuki snarls, whipping around to glare at Shouto before he can stop and think about whether that is something he wants to do. “I called it ‘bullshit’ and I meant it. You’ve seen my quirk in action, it’s not a goddamn precision tool! If I could have defeated that villain with even the tiniest bit less damage to the city, I fucking would have. But I’m not gonna stop and consider the repair costs when lives are at stake!”
He’s breathing even faster now than before. His chest aches, but he’s pretty sure it’s not his lungs that are hurting. It’s the kind of tightness that only happens when the whole world seems to be against him. When everything turns into hurt, even being around the people he loves.
Shouto is looking at him in silence, taking in his words. His expression is soft. Kind. Understanding. Not at all like his partner just screamed at him.
Katsuki doesn’t deserve him.
“I’m sorry they didn’t listen,” Shouto says, at last. His voice is quiet and still nigh-unreadable, but Katsuki can see his sincerity clear as day in his mismatched eyes.
“I think you’re right,” Shouto continues. “I only saw about thirty seconds of the fight, but based on that, I wouldn’t have held back either. I would have lost if I did.”
It’s a very gentle way to phrase Katsuki’s hypothetical loss.
Katsuki rubs his hands over his face. Spots dance in front of his vision when his tired fingers dig into his eyes.
He’s pretty sure he should be feeling an emotion other than bone-deep exhaustion, if that even counts as one. But hearing Shouto say he believes Katsuki is right, that he should have used all his power to defeat the villain, even if it meant levelling a—thankfully evacuated—apartment building, even if it meant destroying people’s homes… It’s draining, after a day of fighting not only a villain but also his own agency, to be told he’s done something good, at last.
Shouto shifts closer and places a comforting hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki finds himself swaying into the touch before he even realises he’s doing it.
“You really were doubting yourself,” Shouto says, and it’s not exactly a question, but Katsuki nods regardless, his mouth twisting into a grimace at his own inadequacy.
He’s a pro hero. He shouldn’t be second-guessing himself like this after the fact, when nothing can be done. Sure, evaluating his actions is a good thing. That’s how people learn. That’s how Katsuki becomes a better hero, every single day. Except he’s not usually this fucking uncertain about whether or not he did the right thing. He does what he does, and then he lives with it. He deals with the reality that he was wrong, or that he was right. He doesn’t ever— not know.
“They say dozens of families are homeless now, because of me,” Katsuki mutters, and when he finds his eyes drifting away from taking responsibility, he snaps them back to Shouto’s, meeting his partner head-on. “Is that worth it? For one villain?”
“From what I heard, he was threatening to pulverise the entire neighbourhood,” Shouto says reasonably.
And, yeah. Fucking earthquake quirk.
Katsuki was incredibly lucky that the villain’s power took a while to charge up to full capacity. If he wasn’t so fast, so used to rapid-firing his explosions, over and over, even when it hurt…
“I guess it coulda been worse,” he admits. “But the agency sure doesn’t think so.”
“The agency has to answer to the government,” Shouto says, squeezing Katsuki’s shoulder lightly. It’s just on the edge of being painful, since he blew out his shoulders pretty badly over the course of the day (the last hour of pummeling his punching bag only made it worse). He doesn’t flinch away, though. The warmth the gesture fills him with far outweighs any discomfort.
“Even the government should agree that destruction is better than death,” Katsuki says tiredly, taking a small step closer to Shouto so he can rest his forehead against his partner’s collarbone.
“Yeah, they should.”
Shouto’s arms settle comfortably around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. Katsuki lets it happen, allowing himself to relax against Shouto’s unshakable form.
Shouto buries one of his hands in Katsuki’s hair, lightly scratching his scalp. The sensation sends shivers down Katsuki’s spine, and he wraps his arms tightly around Shouto’s waist, pulling him closer until their bodies are pressed together head to toe.
It’s nice, after such a shit day, to be close to someone he trusts.
Katsuki nuzzles the ridge of Shouto’s collarbone through his shirt. It should maybe make him feel silly, especially when Shouto compares him to a cat (which he does frequently, mostly through gifs), but gently rubbing his nose against his partner is one of Katsuki’s favourite forms of intimacy. It’s easier than words. Easier than anything else, really. The most comfortable way he has of showing Shouto that he loves him.
They stand there, together, and with every passing second, Katsuki feels more at home in his own skin. More like he can keep himself together as long as he has to, to get out of this mess.
He doesn’t know how Shouto does it, because he’s not even really doing anything, but his calming presence alone, his warm body pressed against Katsuki’s, is enough to make everything seem a little bit more bearable. Like the world isn’t all against him. And how could it be? Shouto is by his side.
Shouto lifts himself up on his tiptoes and presses a kiss to the top of Katsuki’s head.
“Let’s get you upstairs. We can take a bath.”
Katsuki reluctantly loosens his grip, taking a small step back. “You saying I stink?” he mutters, shooting a glare up at Shouto, though it’s mostly for show.
“You’re quite sweaty,” Shouto says, a twinkle of a smile on his face.
Katsuki huffs. “It’s my job to be sweaty.”
Shouto doesn’t say, “Not while you’re suspended,” and Katsuki loves him. Katsuki loves him so much.
The bath turns into more of a shower at first, because Katsuki refuses to let Shouto marinate in his sweat soup for half an hour. Shouto gets in with him and washes his hair, the calloused pads of his fingers massaging Katsuki’s scalp and turning his limbs to putty. When Katsuki’s hair is sparkling clean, Shouto takes his time scrubbing his back and shoulders too, washing all the grime and sweat from the day away.
Katsuki finds he doesn’t mind letting it happen—letting Shouto take care of him. He didn’t think he could ever have this, have someone in his life who not only accepts all his moods and explosive reactions, but understands them. Shares in some of them, even.
His mother always said that he’d have to change his attitude, or he’d never find a girl to date. When he told her he didn’t want to date a girl, boy, or anyone, she huffed and said, “Everyone needs friends, Katsuki, you won’t have any if you don’t clean up your act.”
It took him a long time to admit it, but she wasn’t entirely wrong. After all, once he pushed Deku away, he had only been left with shitheads around him. It wasn’t until he went to U.A. that he met people that made him want to be a good person—not just a good hero—because he needed to be worthy of their time.
Shouto picks up the shower head and rinses the suds off their skin. Katsuki’s sore muscles tingle under the heat of the spray, and he groans softly when Shouto puts the showerhead back on the wall.
“I might fall asleep in the bath,” Katsuki warns as he turns to face Shouto. “I’m fucking beat.”
“You can sleep, if you want. I won’t let you drown.”
Katsuki chuckles. Maybe he does deserve Shouto. “True love,” he teases drily. “Won’t even let me drown. I’m swooning.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Shouto says curtly, leaning in to shut off the shower.
Katsuki laughs and ducks his head forward to nudge the tip of his nose against Shouto’s when he leans into his space. He presses a firm kiss to Shouto’s mouth. His lips are soft and wet, but Katsuki can still taste him underneath the water.
It’s nice to be able to kiss without further expectation. Katsuki was reluctant to pursue anything, at first, when he developed feelings for Shouto, because while he knew what he wanted, he also knew what he didn’t want. Of course, it turned out Shouto is the perfect match for him, because he doesn’t want any of those things either.
They exchange kisses for a while, until the droplets of water cool on their bodies and Katsuki shivers from the chill of it.
Shouto breaks away from him when he feels it. He looks unfairly put-together, lips a little flushed but otherwise not a hair out of place. It’s rude, really. Katsuki is pretty sure his own cheeks are bright red, despite how cold he is. It’s hard to hide his feelings when they so badly want to leap out of his chest. He doesn’t know how Shouto does it.
“Bathtime,” Shouto announces, ending the fun, and Katsuki reaches over to muss up his hair in retaliation. There. Now he at least looks like they made out.
Katsuki is pretty sure he follows Shouto into the tub, but when he next opens his eyes, he’s laying in bed with Shouto curled up against his chest.
He rubs his nose against Shouto’s hair and presses a sleepy kiss to the back of his head. Shouto hums quietly, shuffling a little closer into Katsuki’s embrace, and Katsuki loves him, loves him so much it hurts. He squeezes Shouto tightly against him and then lets himself drift back to sleep.
Morning arrives in a blur. First, Katsuki is dreaming. It’s something stupid and irrelevant but upsetting nonetheless. Then he’s awake and his body aches, and all at once he remembers the fight he had the day before, and the argument at the agency, and his suspension, his fucking suspension, because the world doesn’t like to see reason when it comes to him.
Shouto isn’t in the bed with him anymore, which isn’t unusual, but still a little disappointing.
Katsuki gets up, gets dressed, and, after a minute of wandering around, finds Shouto in his study.
He’s on the phone, but his door is cracked open, so Katsuki enters the room and leans against the doorpost, eating orange slices from the kitchen out of the palm of his hand as he listens in on the conversation.
“…don’t care how it looks, it’s my professional opinion.”
Shouto, who doesn’t appear to have noticed Katsuki’s presence yet, is using the don’t-fuck-with-me voice he inherited from his father. Witnessing it is a rare treat.
There is some chatter from the other end of the line, but even after sneakily tweaking his hearing aids to just above normal human limits, Katsuki can’t quite make out the words.
“Don’t bother, I already talked to them. We’re not budging, no matter what you threaten us with.”
More chatter. There’s a distinct whiny cadence to it that Katsuki can’t help but associate with middle school Deku. Smirking, he pops another orange slice into his mouth. He wonders what corporate asshat dared piss off his partner this time. It never goes well for them.
“That seems like a matter the agency should take up with the government. Your hero management strategies aren’t my responsibility.”
Katsuki is pretty sure another bout of whining starts at the other end of the line, but Shouto cuts it off with a, “I understand. It’s not my problem. Have a nice day,” and ends the call.
“What’d they do this time?” Katsuki asks through a mouthful of orange.
Shouto startles, actually jumping in his seat, and turns around to look at him. “I didn’t know you were awake,” he says, his voice back to his neutral self, though his slightly widened eyes betray his surprise.
“Door was open,” Katsuki says in lieu of an explanation. He nods to the phone on Shouto’s desk. “Who’d they piss off?”
“Every Top 20 hero in the region,” Shouto says. Katsuki lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “We’re going on strike until they lift your suspension,” Shouto adds, and Katsuki nearly chokes on his orange.
“What?” Katsuki gasps in between hacking coughs. His eyes are watering. Fuck. He slams a fist against his chest to dislodge the fruit from his windpipe. “You fucking what?” he rasps when he can finally breathe again. He stares at Shouto in disbelief, orange slices dropped and forgotten on the floor.
Shouto shrugs, as if it’s nothing. “I told you, I think you did the right thing. I spoke with the other heroes and they agree with me. The strike was Kirishima’s idea, actually. Said they’re trying to punish you for doing your job, so we should punish them for not doing theirs. I think he’s correct, the agencies should have our backs in these situations.”
Katsuki stumbles forward and slumps onto the edge of Shouto’s desk. For once, his partner doesn’t reprimand him for using tables as chairs. Shouto rolls his chair in between Katsuki’s legs and puts a warm hand on Katsuki’s knee. He gives it a light squeeze.
“Shit,” Katsuki says after a moment of silence. He stares down at Shouto, wide-eyed. “I can’t believe you guys did that.” What the fuck. Shouto is insane. Katsuki is in love with an insane person.
“It’s the right thing to do,” Shouto says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “If we let them suspend you over this, it’ll set a horrible precedent. Heroes will be scared to use their full power even when it’s needed. People could die.”
Katsuki shakes his head mutely and leans forward. He cups the back of Shouto’s neck in his hand and presses his forehead against Shouto’s. He doesn’t have the words. Not for this.
Shouto’s thumb rubs soothing circles into the inside of Katsuki’s leg, just above his knee. “What you did was right, yesterday. We’re just following your example,” he says quietly, voice, for once, full of emotion.
They’re wasted words, by Shouto’s standard. A repetition of something he’s already said. It means he’s only saying them again to comfort Katsuki. Because he loves Katsuki.
And Katsuki loves him. Loves him so much that it rages inside his chest like a storm, threatening to consume him whole.
He thinks he will let it.
He nudges the tip of his nose against Shouto’s. Feels Shouto’s slightly cool breath puff against his lips. Presses a kiss to his mouth, warm and gentle.
“Thank you.”