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Izuku admittedly watches with empathy more than embittered rejection as the scene unfolds in front of him.
“I certainly won’t be showing him any more ‘gratitude’ or ‘respect’ than usual,” Shouto huffs. He’s more emotional than usual, but that makes sense. They’re talking about Father’s Day, and Endeavour wasn’t ever a father.
It’s just hard for Izuku to think about when he never really had someone to try to fill the role in the first place.
Momoyao rubs Shouto’s back with a heartfelt, “You don’t have to.”
It’s a western holiday, too, so Izuku shouldn’t be having Big Feelings about it. But he does. And the hero course is granting them the day as a break from training to celebrate time with their families, so most of the things about it that make him have said Feelings are right in front of his face.
The number one thing people do is spend time with their family and show their dad how much he means with their actions, which he clearly can’t do with the absentee Midoriya Hisashi. A bigger sore spot is that more and more people get their fathers gifts (or used to, before everyone fled to shelters and everything fell apart), varying from beer sets to fancy cigarette cases to dried seafood collections and fancy unagi three-course meals. You can only get your hands on proper gifts at UA this year if you catch Momoyao at the right time (read:long enough after training that she isn’t exhausted) to create one, so Izuku feels a little less excluded by not having extra money lying around. But a lot of people are still trying their best to put simple things together to honour the fathers that joined them on campus, while he just…keeps the common room couch company.
“Dude, you can always hang out with one of us!” Eijirou always sounds cheerful during the few moments of downtime they have like this.
Shouto wrinkles his nose. “I’d rathe–”
“Don’t train,” Tenya interrupts. “Days like this should be spent resting, and he didn’t allow you to do just that.”
Don’t get him wrong: Izuku’s grateful that the class has become a sort of family in its own right. Shouto deserves care tonight, tomorrow and forever more. But he feels…lonely. And a little forgotten about.
It startles him when a hand lands on his shoulder from behind the couch. “Oi, Izuku.”
He doesn’t blush because he’s been trying to forget about what’s definitely a fleeting crush on Katsuki. He doesn’t. He has enough crushes. And besides, this is different; it’s just admiration. It’s always just been admiration. Scream-about-it-at-villains-in-the-dark-of-night-in-the-middle-of-a-forest-with-a-broken-body, I’m-always-keeping-my-eyes-on-you, Kacchan-sugoi admiration. It doesn’t matter that Katsuki’s insanely pretty, or that Izuku could literally pick him up by the waist before he has a chance to launch an explosion point-blank at his face and kiss him senseless.
Or…that he’s talented. Right! He’s talented. It’s admiration!
Is he mumbling?! Kami-sama, at least he isn’t thinking about tomorrow anymo–a flick lands right on the back of his head. Izuku rubs underneath his sprawling curls at the site of the offense. “Hey!”
“I’m talking to you, asshole! Turn around!”
He focuses on being miffed instead of…admirous and turns around. “What, Kacchan?!”
Katsuki puts his hands up in mock fear. So rude. “You could hang out with me and my folks tomorrow, if you wanna…” For a second, he thinks he might be hiding his face with his hands, but then, he remembers that this is Katsuki and that’s impossible. “My old man’s gonna be sappy as fuck and crying half the day, so you’d feel like less of a wuss around 'im.”
Izuku scowls. “Kacchan.”
Katsuki drops his hands, eyes oddly trained on the arm rest under one of Izuku’s knees. “Do you have plans with Auntie Inko or not, nerd?”
He’s not going to say that they pretend like this day doesn’t exist. Or that the last time his mom showed him a framed picture of his dad, he got so quiet that she got nervous. That he stopped wanting to hear about when his dad might come back when he was 10 years old, or what he did, or why he was gone. That’d just bring other people down, and Midoriya Izuku, Hero Deku, doesn’t bring people down. “Not really,” he says, chewing his bottom lip.
“Well, uh, meet me after breakfast when you’re done with her and the rest of the nerds. My old hag has some cutesy bullshit planned and I could use the buffer.”
That makes him smile. “Kacchan wants me around?”
“Tch! I don’t…just come to my room before it gets hot as fuck!” He looks flustered when he storms off, the tips of his ears a little pink, but that’s just because Izuku pointed out when he was acting nice. It doesn’t mean anything more than that. (Right? Of course, it doesn't. This is Katsuki.)
He’ll spend some time with Katsuki and his parents and go right back to pretending Father’s Day never existed. He likes Uncle Masaru a lot, anyway. It’ll be a nice day, with his childhood friend(-turned-bully-turned-rival-turned-friend-again), and he won’t think about him too much or smile at him too wide for too long or giggle in that awkwardly loud way he does around Ochako, who’s staring at him and walking over and is he being obvious like even more than he is with her he's going to die–“Deku, are you ok?”
“Yeah!” He says way too high to sound ok. “I’m fine!” He’s fine. So calm, cool, collected and fine.
But tomorrow might be difficult in a different way than he'd originally anticipated.
Katsuki’s not going to panic.
His old hag’s been nagging him every year since they were brats to bring Izuku along for their bullshit on Father’s Day, and he thinks he gets why.
Izuku’s dad was never around, but they never talked about it. He only asked about it once, and all Izuku told him was that his dad was “coming back soon,” but he never did. When he asked his old hag about it, she told him to “stop asking so many questions,” which was her loud way of saying he was prying.
He also knows his old man isn’t like most peoples’ dads. He’s…emotional. Always was up for reading him a bedtime story, especially if he’d just watched something scary and even if it wasn't bedtime. Likes to hug Katsuki when he gets good grades or learns how to do new things with his quirk.
Katsuki doesn’t (usually) say it out loud, but he loves him and his quiet tears over dumb melodramas on TV. Bakugou Masaru holds his family together in his own way. When the hag gets heated, he’s able to see what’s actually going on underneath her sweaty skin and fury. And eventually, she smiles and says some goofy shit before going on about her day instead of murdering Katsuki for egging her on. When Katsuki tries to shut himself off from the rest of the world, he’s able to coax him into his study (or shared shelter space) and hold an easy silence while he designs something stupid and Katsuki reads. And eventually, Katsuki tells him what’s going on and feels a little bit more equipped to deal with it instead of blowing up the better part of Musutafu. So, he might be a little soft next to men like Aizawa-sensei who’d probably beat the shit out of Katsuki if it didn’t break a law or two, but he’s nice to have around.
The point is, Katsuki’s always felt a little bad for Izuku. Auntie Inko was constantly working when they were younger, exhausted when she finally got home and hastily threw together dinner in their small apartment, while Katsuki’s old man found a way to keep that open atmosphere Izuku had at home and brought to every conversation without that struggle. Something seemed unfair about it. Not like he needed a dad, but more like him and Auntie Inko deserved a little more than they got.
But Katsuki also freaked out over Izuku being better than him and beat the crap out of him for years over it. And kind of lied and told his folks the nerd just didn’t want to hang out instead of admitting he was terrorizing him.
He’s feeling a little guilty about all that time spent with his head stuck firmly up his ass. And he’s also potentially feeling a little weird about when he stopped being mad at the nerd over how good he was and just started to…like him.
A little bit. Not, like, an absurd amount. He still thinks everyone around him is kinda dumb, even if Izuku can blow his mind with the occasional comment in class or mumbled revelation by his side.
He’s not soft! His old man is soft! It’s not like he thinks the nerd’s dumb freckles are cute! Or that his stupid mumbling is actually kind of comforting to hear. Or that his eyes are, like, way too big and honest and green and not like anyone else’s. Or that his lips look irresponsibly inviting for how chapped they are, and his legs ar–
“Morning, Kacchan!” He doesn’t jump at the sound of the knock at the door. Izuku’s just strong and making a lot of noise. Stop reading into it.
“One sec,” he tries to bark but fails when his voice cracks. He didn’t spend half an hour that morning picking what he’d wear, and he isn’t checking his hair in the mirror to make sure it looks less like the hag’s.
He stomps away from the mirror and opens the door.
Maybe he basks a little bit in how Izuku looks him over, letting himself fantasize about that look meaning what he wants it to mean. But only before the nerd looks down and anxiously fiddles with the hem of his “formal shirt” t-shirt. He didn’t want to make him feel shy. “Oi, look at me.” Izuku looks up at him and…fine, he’s a fan of his eyes, because he hates when he can hardly look at him now. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. My folks like you more than me.” He’s a little soft today. If he acts like he owns it, maybe he’ll look less stupid. Like he just cares about his family or whatever.
Izuku chews on his lip that has featured in far too many of Katsuki’s thoughts. Ugh. “You sure you want me around? I might just be a downer.”
Katsuki straightens out Izuku’s t-shirt, all bunched up from his worrying. “Told you I wanted you there.” He swats his hands when they come back up, and Izuku smiles, small at first but more and more until it’s bright enough to rival the (late) morning.
“Thanks, Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s fine. He’s fine. He won’t have trouble breathing because of how gorgeous Izuku is, or how cute he is, or how weirdly nice it is to see his awkward-yet-still-somehow-perfect self with his folks. He’ll act like he does around his stupid “squad” and be fine.
Izuku follows him like a velcro dog, and every time he stops walking, he bumps into him and apologizes way too loud in three different ways.
Today’s going to be murder.
Izuku’s morning started out fine enough, going on a run with Iida and Tsu before having breakfast with his mom, ignoring the day’s forced significance like the huge elephant in the room that it is for them and giving himself a pep talk the whole walk back to Katsuki’s room. But now, Izuku can’t stop accidentally touching him. Usually, it’s incredibly easy to keep his distance from this surly, grumpy part of his life, but it’s almost as if telling himself not to think about him too much is drawing him closer and closer until he dies of embarrassment.
Especially when he looks this…admirable. Who told him to look this admirable?!
He full-on runs into him with his entire chest against his back, making him grunt and stumble out the main doors. “Sorry! I’m, I’m really sorry, Kacchan!” His cheeks are as red as Katsuki’s eyes. He can feel it.
And why's he thinking about his eyes?! That's objectively the most romantic part of a person's face!
What’s weirder is that Katsuki isn’t acting as upset as he usually does when Izuku acts like he has two left feet. He’s not saying anything at all, which usually means he’s really upset. So, Izuku’s especially sorry. He needs to fill up the space with something less embarrassing than he is. “Are your, uh, parents gonna meet us here?”
Katsuki looks like he’s taking a deep breath. Izuku’s about to get pulled in for an X Catapult. “Yeah. So, you can calm the fuck down and remember it’s my parents, not a date.”
The words stretch between them. A date?! How did he know that’s what Izuku was thinking and why did he say it and oh he knows he knows and he just wants him to freak out so he can make fun of hi–
“Katsuki!” Auntie Mitsuki walks up hand in hand with Uncle Masaru. They look so sweet that it actually distracts him from the catastrophe he chose to attend. It always makes Izuku feel good to be around the two of them when Auntie Mitsuki isn’t just shouting a–“KATSUKI! Look excited!”
“Who’s saying m’ not excited? ‘Sjust how my face looks, hag!!”
“Then fix it, you little–!” Izuku can feel the moment he’s been perceived. “Izuku?” She brings out this warm and comforting voice for him that he’s always wondered whether Katsuki can make something similar to but vehemently chooses not to. “Oh honey, you came this year!”
“Stupid woman, loves him more than her own son,” Katsuki grumbles, moving aside, and Izuku realizes he’s been awkwardly standing right behind him since he last bumped into him.
Uncle Masaru follows her quickening steps. “Katsuki, this’ll make the day that much more special!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki offers, gesturing at Izuku like he’s an awkward, uncoordinated gift.
Izuku scratches the back of his head. “O-only if it’s ok! Kacchan thought you wouldn’t mind–”
“Mind?! We’d love to have you spend some time with us!” They finally reach the two of them on the steps and she ruffles Katsuki’s hair while he scowls more than Izuku’s seen in a while. “I’m sure ‘Kacchan’ loves having you, too! Don’t you, brat?” Katsuki growls. She squints at him like she’s handling a wild animal she barely trusts and turns back to Izuku. “We were going to go on a walk on the west side of campus, the one with the stone steps by the stream, and then make some kuzumochi.” She smiles at Uncle Masaru, and he smiles twice as big, taking her hand carefully out of Katsuki’s hair. “It’s Masaru’s favourite.”
“Oooh, I love kuzumochi!” Izuku pauses. “But…Kacchan doesn’t like sweet things?”
Auntie Mitsuki rolls her eyes. “This little gremlin loves sweet stuff. Buys his dad vats of it every year and plows through it while they binge watch Legal High for the hundredth time.”
“MOM!”
Uncle Masaru chuckles. “Mitsuki, you’re embarrassing our little guy.” He turns to Katsuki. “And no, you’re not ‘little’ anymore.” He gets a little teary-eyed, and Izuku watches raptly for a peek into their dynamic without the rest of their class around. “But you’ll always be my little guy.”
Katsuki…leans in and wraps an arm around his back. “You’re a sap, y’know that?”
It’s like entering the fourth dimension. Izuku can’t help but get swept up in this alternate universe where Katsuki likes sweet food, watches dramedies and hugs someone willingly.
They start walking toward one of the prettier paths on campus, lined with beds of hanashobu in bloom, brilliant purple irises along a meandering, small stream, and Izuku startles when Katsuki turns around and beckons to him. “Don’t get lost, Izuku.”
He didn’t realize he’d gotten swept up in the idea of what’s to come. It’s the first time since he started thinking about Father’s Day this year that he’s not thinking about the Feelings.
“You sure you don’t mean ‘Izu-chan,’ Katsuki?” Auntie Mitsuki jeers, and Izuku covers his cheeks with his hands. Why does he still call him ‘Kacchan’? He’s such a baby!
“SHUT UP, HAG!”
“Katsuki!” And just like that, Uncle Masaru ends it. Like magic.
“It’s nicer not to pick anything,” Katsuki’s old man sighs contentedly, sitting on the bench next to the hag. They’re being gross, his arm around her shoulder while she leans into his side, and, just like Katsuki expected, he keeps wiping the fog (from his “happy tears” that Katsuki and the hag don’t remotely understand) on his glasses from time to time on his button-up shirt she designed four seasons ago that he never wanted to part with.
But it’d almost be peaceful in spite of that if Izuku wasn’t really close the whole time and sniffling just as much as his old man. And if the hag wouldn’t stop making fun of him for this “crush” she thought he had right after they started attending UA. He’s just lucky the nerd hasn’t seemed to catch on. “Izuku,” he mutters from a spot on the ground by the stream, running a stick through the water as he leans just close enough to smell the nerd’s shampoo without looking painfully obvious (for the record, his shampoo smells way too good–he’d say that no one should look so plain and smell so damn good, but Izuku doesn’t look plain at the fuck all; that was just something he said to sound cool back when he was blinded by rage whenever he looked at him). “He’s not going off to sea. You don’t need to cry every damn time he talks about the flowers.”
Izuku sniffles a little harder and turns away, as if that'll stop him from noticing. “It’s just really sweet!”
“What is?”
He wipes his nose on the arm away from Katsuki, thankfully. “They’re so happy with each other!”
Oh. Is it a family thing? Katsuki’s not…good at this type of stuff. “You, uh, didn’t see them a lot together when we were brats?”
Izuku’s smile is a lot more muted than it usually is. Katsuki’s heart twists. “I wasn’t old enough to see it for what it is, you know?” He finally looks at the creek, and Katsuki appreciates his profile, little bursts of purple behind him as the water trickles past his words. “He loves you both so much. And you’re so…” Izuku taps on his dumb red shoes, knees hunched up between his arms. “You’re relaxed when he’s around. Like, super relaxed.”
“Oi!” Katsuki nudges him in the shoulder and catches him by his stupid shirt sleeve before he can tip over (despite having a million quirks to stop it from happening–how is he so coordinated in the field and ridiculous everywhere else?). “I can be relaxed!”
Izuku giggles. He’s not used to being on the receiving end of that sound, and damnit, does he love it. “You hugged your dad.”
Katsuki wants to scowl, but his face takes the shape of a pout instead. This stupidly pretty nerd makes him pout now. “I slapped ‘im on the back.”
Izuku giggles louder, and he can feel the old hag’s eyes on them. His face is about to betray him again. He’s going to say something, or turn as red as a goddamn tomato, and Izuku’s going to find out and he’ll be screwed. What was he thinking, taking him out on a cheesy walk and baking date? And why did he mention the idea of a date aloud earlier?! “That slap was like, really soft, huh?”
He’s grateful Izuku pulls him out of his thoughts, but he’ll never tell him that. Especially when he’s being a cheeky little shit. “Shut up,” he mutters.
Izuku leans against him. Or Katsuki never…fucking hell, he never let go of his shirt. Maybe he doesn’t mind? “It was a really long slap, too. Almost like you were hugging him.”
“Shut up!” He mumbles. And then, he hears it: the sappiest part of the day. And Izuku’s…on his shoulders. Oh no. He’s super close–literally on top of him without sparring for an excuse – and Katsuki both inexplicably loves it (turns out crushes even make him stupid) and doesn’t know how to act normal anymore. “What’re you doing?” He doesn’t spit at Izuku like his normal self would.
“Trying to get a good view without bothering them!” Izuku whispers.
He’s so cute, it’s unfair.
“Mitsuki, this is beautiful!” His old man says. Good. Now she’ll stop texting him day and night about it.
“What is it?” Izuku whispers, hands uneven on his shoulders, chin on top of his head.
Katsuki covers Izuku’s hands with his. Just so he’s steady! Not because it feels nice to hold them or anything. (And no, he can’t act like he owns being “a little soft.” It goes against everything in his nature.) “A design for a suit for him whenever she can buy the material they used to get again to make it,” he whispers, trying to will his hands not to get all sweaty. Izuku slips one scarily strong hand out from under his to cover his mouth (easily, because Katsuki’s already sweating), but it’s too late: he gasps, pulling the hag’s attention to him yet again, and Izuku’s hunched over him in wonder over what’s happening like it’s Legal High.
OR SOMETHING BADASS. Not Legal High.
“Katsuki, you helped?” His old man sounds way too weepy for this early in the day, and his daily tormentor looks shocked at the display Izuku is making all over him. Ugh.
“Just with the colour scheme. Everything else was her idea,” he tries to grunt.
He takes a breath with a hand to his heart. And while his old man would never publicly humiliate him in front of a crush, the hag is now grinning sadistically at the feast before her that is Katsuki letting someone outside of their family touch him for an extended amount of time. “That was so nice of you!”
“He loved every second of it,” she taunts. She always taunts.
Katsuki wants to whip around and grumble, “Gross,” but he doesn’t want Izuku to move–even though each lingering point of contact between them is almost too much for him to take in at once–so he just nods with a breathy scoff and lets the nerd continue to use his head as a cushion. Which isn’t terrible, but the hag is going to blow up his spot. He can tell. She’s clocking exactly where Izuku’s hand is on his shoulder and his elbow is jabbing into his head, and she knows how uncomfortable he is, clearly bearing it just to be close to him. She’s five seconds away from saying something unforgivable.
He pleads with her with his eyes, a slightly less tense look than usual that he knows she can read. Five.
She grins with renewed vigour. Evil. Four.
He grips at the ground beneath him and burns it, hopefully as menacingly as possible with this adorable asshole on his back. Three.
She starts to give him The Look for “using his quirk at her.” Two.
He takes a breath and prepares for a gay nightmare. One.
“Izuku, honey, do you want to see it?”
He’s stunned. Izuku blurts out “Yes, please!” and pushes off of him like he’s chopped liver, and she rolls her eyes at him in the midst of the commotion.
He owes her. He has a huge crush that makes him stupid and he owes her, now.
“I never thought she’d notice me, but she demanded to see me right after the biggest meeting of our careers to celebrate, and I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.” Uncle Masaru looks at Auntie Mitsuki with this sense of wonder, and Izuku’s heart aches.
Ok, maybe he’s a little too emotional. But they love each other so much and he’s still not tired of saying how they met and Katsuki might be acting nice… let him have this, ok?!
Auntie Mitsuki taps Uncle Masaru’s shoulder. “Let’s go bake before you ugly cry again.”
“Mitsuki!” The playful back-and-forth just makes it better, never too sweet or bitter.
He steps back to give them some privacy again, but he makes brief eye contact with Katsuki when he joins him again on the walk, and his cheeks, nose and ears all look…raw. He couldn’t have been staring at him, right? Izuku couldn’t have embarrassed him enough to make him blush like that, either. That’s a medical issue. “Kacchan, are you sunburnt?!”
Auntie Mitsuki guffaws, and Izuku doesn’t get it.
Katsuki claps a hand over his forehead. “I’m fine, nerd.”
Huh. What if he did intrude on their family business? “Should I…leave?”
Katsuki takes a deep breath. “You’re s’posed ta be here.”
“Uh, I’m not really part of your fam–”
He clears his throat. “No, I mean you were s’posed ta be here every year since we started school.”
Huh? “Then why–” Oh. Because they weren’t friends. “But why–” Because…he doesn’t have a dad? All this time?! That makes him feel… “I don’t…” He starts to bristle. This is the problem: his mom was enough for him. He didn’t need a father–even though it would’ve been nice to have one–and he doesn’t need Uncle Masaru as a stand-in father, either. But they’re doing this for him, right? So he should be happy.
He doesn’t want to be.
“Look, Auntie Inko’s a great fuckin’ mom,” Katsuki says, following his mental math without him having to say actual words. “It’s not about your dad. My folks like havin’ you around and shit like this can be hard sometimes. That’s it.” Huh. That’s…ok. “They always talk, Auntie Inko and the devil herself over here. She tried to give your mom, like, 10 different designs for your costume back when I was busy being a dick to you in middle school, but Auntie Inko learned how to stencil something on her own instead.”
Izuku swallows. He doesn’t want to look like a crybaby again, but his mom never told him how close they stayed after Katsuki and he stopped being friends. “Really?”
“Don’t act like she’s a saint,” he mumbles, not looking Izuku in the eyes.
He’s still acting weird, but again, it seems like he’s actually being nice. And getting to talk this much about anything that happened before UA is a rare opportunity. He takes a moment to steady himself from the emotional whiplash that just rocked his world. “Why’d you bring me along this year?” He doesn’t want the answer to be convenience. That’d be the typical, cagey Katsuki answer, and after everything they’ve been through, he thinks he’s earned a little more than that.
“I’m trying to be better, ok? Apologies don’t mean shit if you don’t follow through.” He says it barely loud enough for Izuku to hear, but the words burn.
“You don’t need to do that anymore.”
“Do what?” He grunts.
“Keep apologizing. I know you mean it.”
Katsuki shrugs. And Izuku might walk a little closer to him. Just as a physical way of showing that he doesn’t need more from him than him.
It’s usually easy for Katsuki to fall into a rhythm in the kitchen with his old man, but Izuku’s an added ingredient that makes everything complicated.
Said-ingredient is watching him intently as he brings the brown sugar and water to a boil, holding a bowl with distracting hands that have definitely gotten way bigger in the past year (why is his quirk making him huge?!). “Are you ready for me, Kacchan?”
Yes. “No! Just–gimme a second.” He sneaks one last peek at the pot before he turns it off. “Now, nerd.”
Why is the way Izuku watches him pour syrup into a bowl with his lip pulled between his teeth a turn on? Why can’t Katsuki get a break?!
Once the pot is out of his hands and back on the stove with the bowl set aside, he thinks about his training schedule and excruciatingly cold showers.
“Already done, huh?” His old man is stirring the kuzumochi mixture in another pot, snapping the heat off and passing it to the hag to pour into a glass pan. The guy claps his hands to let off a small explosion, declaring it done, and Mitsuki and Izuku ooh and aah and applaud like idiots.
It’s a cool trick, but it’s not as cool as his quirk! And he’s not a baby for wanting the nerd to pay attention to his cool quirk! Ugh!
Once the pan is in the fridge, his folks start geeking out over the design from before in the far corner of the kitchen, his old man looking like he can’t decide if he wants to stare at the design on the counter or the hag next to it more while Katsuki tries not to vomit (mainly to appease her after she didn’t throw his ass to the wolves earlier). Izuku comes up to his side and scare– startles the hell out of him.
He can do this. His old man makes him feel calm. He just needs to channel that energy and how Izuku looked at him that morning into acting super smooth. “Whaddya want, Izuku?”
Izuku pouts, and Katsuki is not calm. He wants to pinch his cheeks and pull him closer and this was a terrible idea– “Nothing.”
Why is it so hard to not be a dick when he’s freaking out? He leans back against the wall and tries to think of what someone nicer would say. Any of his band of idiots will do, he decides. “Try again.”
“What?” He pushes out that inviting lip even further and Katsuki’s this close to losing it.
“Just, say what’s on your mind and I won’t be all uptight about it. I promise.” Turns out he didn’t need to act like he owns being a little soft. He’s so soft that his dad looks tough right now, and he’s currently fawning over a sheet of paper in the hands of a tyrant.
Izuku studies him for a while. “It’s gonna be kinda sad? And your parents are happy, especially right no–”
Katsuki grabs his hands as soon as they get tangled up in the hem of his dumb t-shirt again and juts his chin out in his folks’ direction. “Please distract me from how embarrassing they are.”
Izuku smiles for a second and moves a tiny bit closer. “What you said earlier, about how days like this can suck? They can, but, um, this one was ok.” His hands get sweaty again, and suddenly, Katsuki realizes he’s still holding him yet again. He lets go as quickly as possible, but the hag is already giving him another look from across the room. “You’re the only person who ever really knew what it was like for me. No one else ever asked about my dad.”
He shakes his head. He has to focus. These are Big Feelings. “Pink Cheeks has asked for sure.” Good move, Katsuki. Get jealous.
“N-no. Never.” Izuku arches an eyebrow at him.
“Never?!”
“I think people feel…bad about asking.”
Shit. That does suck. “Do you ever talk to ‘im?”
“No.” Izuku settles beside him on the wall and their forearms touch, which Katsuki does everything in his power to ignore. “We haven't heard from him in years.” Izuku pulls up his phone and shows him a corporate photo of some guy with dark green hair and no smile. He looks cold, the opposite of Izuku and Auntie Inko, only making sense out of how unruly Izuku’s hair is, the sharper slope of his nose and his freckles. “I could find his information at the company he worked at a while ago, but that's it. He never helped my mom much or anything.”
Katsuki purses his lips. He should’ve asked about this a long time ago. “M’ sorry I acted like I didn’t give a shit.”
Izuku looks into his eyes, with a mixture of sadness and hope? Whatever it is, Katsuki wants to increase the ratio of smile-to-sadness. “I think you did. Just not in the same way I did.” He chokes on his words. “I mean, in the same way most people do!”
That’s why Katsuki won’t ever have a shot. He was too much of an asshole before to ever recover. He scrambles for something to say that doesn’t make him sound like a loser. “You turned out pretty damn well despite what an asshole he was.”
Izuku snorts. “You sound like my mom if she cursed a lot.”
He scrunches up his nose. “That’s weird.”
**
They talk about their friends and who would win in a sparring match, how Katsuki thinks Auntie Inko could give his old man a run for his money in the kitchen and Izuku thinks Auntie Mitsuki could scare a noumu straight (“But she’s really nice, Kacchan! She can just act…like you sometimes?” to which Katsuki nods but replies, “Rude”), whether dogs or cats are better (“Kacchan, dogs are so much more…you!” “Cats just leave you the hell alone. They get it.” “Get what?”), and every time Izuku giggles, Katsuki has to duck his head a little lower to hide how much he almost twinkles and blushes from hearing the sound. He’s shocked the fire on his cheeks doesn’t set off the smoke detectors.
When his old man takes the kuzumochi out of the fridge, flips it over and cuts it into a bunch of small squares, he can feel Izuku watching him. “What?!”
“You’re watching how he does it! It’s cut–nice!”
Katsuki turns around with an eye twitch. “Don’t. Call. Me. Cute.” Emasculated when he can shoot explosions out of his hands. Never even had a chance.
“I d-didn’t!” Izuku shrinks away from him. “It’s nice! J-just nice!”
His old hag’s voice interrupts his moment of shame and summons him. “Katsuki! Help us with the kinako!”
“M’ Coming!” He mumbles under his breath, kicking off the wall. “Lazy hag.”
“WHAT WAS THAT?!”
“Nothing!”
She sighs. “Izuku, do you want to pour the syrup on top?”
“Of course, Auntie Mitsuki!”
As soon as Katsuki gets over there, it’s all whispers of “You better be grateful, you pint-sized demon!” and “If I’m a demon, you’re the queen of them all!”
“Hey! Both of you!” And his old man wins. Just like that.
It’s a slow process, sprinkling the toasted soybean flour on the little squares. Izuku has a variation of that concentrated look on his face, tongue out to the side while he pours the syrup on top, that Katsuki looks away from. His old man is all smiles and “good job”s before they each take a seat in the dining area with one square of their own, leaving the rest out for whoever wants it. Katsuki ignores all the little sounds Izuku makes while he eats like a gentleman. He thinks he might get out of this with some of his dignity intact when Izuku gets up to go. “Thanks,” Katsuki mutters.
“Aw, Kacchan really did want my company!”
The hag is shrugging at him all low behind the nerd’s back like she’s not being obvious and it’s all he can do to look right at him, which makes him way more nervous. “Liked having you around.”
Izuku actually blushes a little bit, but Katsuki reminds himself he doesn’t have a shot. Pink Cheeks has a body. And is a girl. And Izuku obviously likes girls. Plus, she’s never burnt his prized possessions. He has no dog in this fight. “I liked being here.”
As Katsuki watches him go off picking at his shirt into the metaphorical sunset, the hag’s thwack up the side of his head hardly stings. “What’re you doing?!”
“Leaving him alone.” Katsuki turns back to his old man. “Ok, bore me with some gag-worthy stories about ‘family’ before I go train.”
His dad smiles warmly like he always does, giving him the space he needs to lick his wounds. “Get ready to be bored out of your mind.”
Izuku might be a little bit of a romantic, but not for what his parents could’ve had. That’s why he’s currently watching a slasher film while he makes a thank-you card for Katsuki’s parents.
Well, he might also be channeling some daddy-issue rage through the chainsaw hands of a fake villain and drawing in the hopes that he gets a little more face time with Katsuki. Maybe.
When he’s done, it looks…ok, and the movie’s served its purpose. So he plods up to the fourth floor of the dorms and tells himself to just act normal again before he knocks way too loud on his door.
“SHITTY HAIR, LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!”
“Uh, it’s, it’s Izuku!” The new Deku. He can do this!
A bed creaks and footsteps pound on the floor. The door opens in a flash. “D-Izuku?”
He thrusts the note in front of his chest, eyes squeezed shut, obviously having disturbed the object of his clear-crush-and-not-admiration for the umpteenth time that day. “Thisistothankyourfamily!”
Katsuki blinks, looks down at the card and opens his door wider to take it. He looks for way too long, so Izuku knows it’s stupid. He should just g– “This looks fucking awesome. Didn’t know you could draw like this.”
Oh. “I sketch things out for my hero analyses, b-but it’s just sketching. Nothing fancy.” He just drew his parents outside with Katsuki looking up at his dad. It was a nice moment during the day that he could remember pretty clearly. And he rage-drew it, too, so it was a good creative outlet/gift for his hopeless crush.
“Why don’t you draw in class?”
Izuku smiles a little sheepishly. “You look at my notes?”
Katsuki blushes–clearly, obviously and truly. He thinks back and wonders whether Katsuki was actually acting weird because of how awkward Izuku can be. “It’s hard not to see–whatever! Everyone knows you’re always writing, ok!”
He tries to push it. “Sure, Kacchan.” Katsuki pouts again, and Izuku wants to kiss him so badly. His lips look like the perfect size to fit around his, which is definitely a creepy thought. “Today was better than ok, you know? It was probably the, um, best day I could’ve had.”
That blush creeps further down Katsuki’s neck, and Izuku thinks he might actually…have a shot. “You can always join in again. I meant that shit.”
“What if…what if we hung out again?” He asks, taking a step closer. Not trying to think of everything but him, or hiding his face, or trying not to bump into him or downplay how much he can be, or feeling like he’s not understood. Katsuki wants to understand, in his own way.
Katsuki raises an eyebrow at him before visibly shrinking under his gaze, and Izuku gets a rush of adrenaline from it, like he’s about to fight but so much better. Moments like this, if they go right, are exactly why he’s a romantic: when people just fit together. And maybe they’re the right type of opposites to attract. “Why not?” Katsuki says way too breathily and pitchy to be as noncommittal as the words imply.
Izuku takes another small step closer until their noses almost touch. Katsuki grips the card tighter. Izuku reaches his hand up and brushes his thumb on his shoulder, and he feels Katsuki’s blush deepen and radiate off his face in waves. “Can I have the card back really quick?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki murmurs, his breath warm on his face.
As soon as he passes it back to him, Izuku darts to the side and gives him a peck on the cheek. If this doesn’t work, he’ll swear him to secrecy, because after today, at the very least, it seems like Katsuki cares. Meaning he won’t get bullied again just for having a crush and misreading things.
Smoke wisps around them. That’s why Izuku took the card out of his hands: he might not be great at drawing, but he spent a long time on that thing. He takes that last small step back. “Was that…was that bad?” Izuku asks quietly.
Katsuki’s open mouth moves after what seems like a full minute or more. “Did you learn that from that French asshole?”
Izuku almost snorts. That’d be way funnier if he just hadn’t put everything on the line. “No. I was k-kissing you because I…like you?” Way less confident than what he was going for, but at least he tried.
The silence stretches. Katsuki breaks it with a low “uh, cool.”
He looks at him skeptically. “Cool?”
“Yeah.”
He wasn’t sunburnt earlier. Ochako’s right: Izuku can be really stupid. “Cool-good? Or cool-no-thank-you?”
Katsuki counts down from five, and Izuku realizes he’s trying to rein in his quirk. When the smoke gets stagnant around them, he grunts, “Cool-good.”
Izuku beams with the power of a thousand neon lights that don’t light up Tokyo anymore. “You know, I think we might both get kinda nervous–”
“Do not,” Katsuki grumbles, blush looking dangerously deep at this point.
“And not know what to say–”
“Speak for yourself!”
“And are kinda nerd–”
“M’ NOT A NERD!”
“Really?” He challenges him with a smirk. He’s high on the rush of Katsuki’s (hesitant, but) romantic approval. Despite his terrible fashion sense and messy hair and plain face and mumbling, nervous, nerdy self, Kacchan-sugoi Bakugou Katsuki likes when he kisses him on the cheek.
He receives a tsk in response.
He hands back the card, and Katsuki snatches it. “What I was trying to say is, we’re different in a lotta ways, but I like how we balance each other out. A lot.” Katsuki tosses the card onto his desk before he starts counting down from five again, and Izuku smiles a little brighter. “Text me?”
“Yeah, nerd.”
No one sees the happy dance Katsuki does behind closed doors. Or the group text the hag sends to their family chat he begrudgingly stays in to ask if he wants help picking out an outfit for when he “finally goes out with that adorable kid who’s too nice for him.” Or the text he sends back ignoring her with a screenshot of the card Izuku made (because fuck like he’s not keeping that. You can think he’s sentimental for doing it. Maybe he is. He’s genuinely owning it. Izuku likes him, so who cares). He got through the day, so he thinks he’s earned a little bit of privacy in the shelter/dorm that encroaches on his every waking moment.
The only thing he wants anyone to hear shit about is the other-worldly, semi-post-apocalyptic date he’s about to plan. And how confident it was to send a good night text to get the ball rolling, if he’s feeling brave.