Work Text:
Just as Katsuki graduates from UA, he panics. Not outwardly, no, but inside he’s a mess of fear and anxiety and inadequacy that’s combining into something dangerous. How is he supposed to get to the top ten in the hero charts, let alone number one, with so many fucking extras in his life?
Shitty Hair and his constant forcing Katsuki to socialise, Racoon Eyes with her insistence on gossiping, Dunce Face whining for attention and teasing him, Soy Sauce joking around like a moron all the time — not to mention the rest of their shitty class, not to mention fucking Deku.
In an instant, Katsuki sees his dreams being ripped away from him by exactly nineteen pairs of hands.
He sees himself trying to find an apartment so he doesn’t have to live with his old hag but being forced to look in places he doesn’t want to just so he’s closer to his ‘squad’.
He sees himself not able to pull extra shifts or overtime to buy necessities and pay rent because class A are codependent motherfuckers and they’ll drag him kicking and screaming to bars and coffee outings.
He sees himself desperately trying to find time to train as well as work, because he can always do better, except he’s been training mostly with Deku for the last year and the nerd probably wants that to continue — Katsuki can’t get distracted by his mumbling and analysing now, not when he has to work harder than he ever has in his life, and if he’s being bugged to train with Deku, he won’t be training himself.
God, he can even see himself getting distracted out on patrol by Deku’s pretty eyes, or the fit of his new — and much better but much tighter — hero costume, his hair, his fucking freckles, and he’ll be so distracted he misses a villain and someone will die and not only will that person have died, but the media will have caught it and Katsuki’s rank on the charts will drop down and down and down and—
They’ve got to go. All those fucking extras have got to go. Katsuki tried to start his journey alone, back at the start of his first year, and somehow he’s allowed himself to fall into the illusion that he can be the best even with nineteen dumbfucks dragging him backwards, away from his goal, away from that number one spot. He has to fix it now before he starts his first day at the Endeavour Agency.
He might appreciate his stupid-ass ‘squad’ for their support and praise and maybe for the social shit once in a blue moon, but he can get by without them. Doesn’t really need ‘em, not like he needs to work and train and eat fucking right so his body is fuelled correctly, so that’s those idiots cut the fuck off.
He’ll keep their numbers in his phone, but their calls are being put on automatic forwarding to voicemail. If there’s an emergency, they can text him, and if they need backup in a fight, he’ll either get called through his comms or his agency will phone him. It works out just fine, so that’s those four hands pried the hell off him.
Feels lighter already, he thinks.
The rest of the class isn’t as much of an issue — sure he’s a little nicer to them these days, and he can admit they’re not all fucking incompetent, but he doesn’t care about them. Doesn’t even need to set up the same forwarding to voicemail thing on their phone numbers since they’ll probably never call him, and that’s another fourteen sets of hands gone.
The final hand is arguably the hardest to remove. It’s been there since the first day of his life, and he’s never been able to shake it no matter what he did — take a swan dive off the roof — but Deku’s going to be busy with his own shit, his own career and goals and all that crap, so theoretically, it should be doable now.
They’ll be working at the same agency, yes, but Endeavour made it clear he wanted Icyhot and Deku partnered up for patrols — one long-range fighter and the other a close combat specialist, a perfect combination he said, and it burned Katsuki at the time, thinking about his Deku spending so much time with that bastard, but it’s helpful now so he’ll let the old man off — so they won’t be pushed together every damn day.
Drifting apart over time, that’s a thing people in their twenties say happens to them and their high school buddies all the damn time, so without him and Deku being forced together by living situation or career circumstances, it’ll be so much easier for Katsuki to shake him. Just ignore his calls and texts completely unless it’s work-related, trust Deku’s shitty self-esteem — that Katsuki wishes were higher because it deserves to be higher, but it’s serving him well now, so maybe fate is on his side — to force the nerd not to hound him for replies, and hope he gets the message after a month or so of the silent treatment.
It’s not going to be easy on Katsuki, he gets that. Fuck, he’s in love with Deku, but Deku has always waited for Katsuki. He’s never given up on him, no matter what — pray for a quirk in the next life — so logically, once Katsuki is settled, on his way to his dream, he can just call Deku and explain it, and Deku will get it because he’s always understood Katsuki better than anyone else, and they can be an us again.
Deku and fucking Kacchan, a nickname that he outwardly hates but inwardly adores and hoards and despises hearing in any voice other than Deku’s. They’re Deku and Kacchan, so they’ll be fine.
Deku will be there once Katsuki is ready for them again, and they’ll be better than ever; Katsuki at number one, Deku at number two, the power couple of the heroics world.
Yeah, he thinks to himself. Everything’s gonna work out perfectly now that he’s figured this adult work-life balance shit out.
Izuku’s heart hurts when, a month into Pro Hero life, he realises Kacchan isn’t just busy or overwhelmed, he’s pushing him away. His excuses for his lack of contact have become deliberately flimsy like he’s trying to send Izuku a message, and he gets it.
You don’t tell someone that you have no time to text because you need to wash your hair, or because you have a sore foot, or because you ran out of orange juice if you’re trying to hide your lack of interest in them. It’s a passive-aggressive rejection, and it hurts to be on the receiving end of. He really thought he and Kacchan were past their issues, but with the way things are going, Izuku is left to draw the conclusion that Kacchan was simply using him for company or training or something and has no further use for him now that they’ve graduated.
It does sound like something Kacchan would do, he has to admit. Utilise the people around him until he thinks he doesn’t need them anymore. It just — it makes Izuku think of middle school Kacchan, not the Kacchan of years two and three at UA.
Ultimately, though, he doesn’t think it matters why Kacchan has done what he’s done. He’s trying to tell Izuku to fuck off and leave him alone, and Izuku is inclined to. Kacchan is important enough to Izuku that he would make time for him in his busy schedule if he was wanted, but he’s not, is he? Kacchan doesn’t want him as a friend, or even a semi-friendly training partner; the only thing he wants Izuku is gone.
It’s a game too far, a ploy too many, a cruelty too cutting for Izuku to rally and remind himself of their history, the effort they’ve put into their relationship and their dreams, any of it. Suddenly, he can’t remember why he wants someone around who so clearly doesn’t want him around. He has plenty of friends he considers dear, who most definitely do carve out time in their schedules to see or talk to him, and… They’ve never made it a secret that they think Kacchan is still not a real friend to Izuku, even as they supported their supposedly blossoming friendship through their later UA time.
Ochako who is working hard over at Ryukyu’s agency but still finds time to call or text Izuku for an hour once a week to catch up on the progress in one another’s lives. Ochako who sends him the occasional selfie of herself, or of cute dogs she sees just because, or quick texts to tell him she’s spotted newly released hero merch while she’s on patrol.
Tenya, who’s running the whole damn Iida agency but finds time to send reminder texts to their whole group demanding regular water consumption, good bedtimes, and balanced diets. Who shares quick-and-easy-but-healthy recipes he finds once he’s tested them out himself, and once a week, sends an apology for his lack of social contact with a stiff but sincere line about missing them all dearly and looking forward to his work calming down so he can talk to them more.
Tsu, who regularly sends a message to the group chat to ask how everyone’s work is going and shares good leg muscle workout routines with Izuku and Tenya when she finds them and sends her own version of care and affection in the form of blunt advice regarding their jobs and how they present themselves to the world as fledgling heroes, wanting the best for all of them.
And finally, Shouto, who Izuku sees virtually every day since they patrol together, who performs a ‘mandatory injury check’ on Izuku after every single altercation with villains or criminals no matter how big or small, and hugs him hello every morning like it’s been years since they last saw each other. Shouto who, despite seeing Izuku for roughly fifty-six hours a week on average — more if they get into an incident that drags out — still texts him good morning and goodnight, and wants to know how Izuku is as a person, not as a hero.
When Izuku has people like that in his life, why would he keep trying to force a friendship with someone who doesn’t want one with him, who most likely never has and never will? It’s painful for him, and probably painful for Kacchan’s real friends to watch, too — to say nothing of how much Shouto, especially, does not like the way Izuku gets treated by him.
Maybe, Izuku thinks, it’s time to stop chasing someone who doesn’t want to be caught, and focus on the people who never ran from him in the first place.
Shouto has always known that Bakugou occupied a special place in Izuku’s heart, because it would be harder not to see that after spending three years seeing them both virtually every day, but he also knows that Izuku deserves better than that.
Izuku is everything Shouto always wanted to be as a hero, and from the moment Izuku screamed at him across an arena and Shouto’s fire virtually lit itself, Izuku himself is everything Shouto has ever wanted in a person, but he never thought he would be able to compete with Bakugou.
How could he? How could anyone compare to Bakugou in Izuku’s eyes? Shouto has watched as time and time again, brave but foolhardy UA students have approached Izuku to confess their feelings only to be rejected in an achingly kind manner, ever since the first day of their second year. No one had a chance, and to Shouto, it was better to love his best friend in silence than to lose his best friend because he spoke up.
Two months after starting their work as partners at his father’s agency, Shouto discovers that may not be the case any longer.
“So, how’s Bakugou doing with whoever my old man assigned as his partner?” Shouto asks conversationally. They’re on their break and eating on a rooftop because their faces are well known and they both prefer to actually rest on a break instead of taking photographs with fans. It became a habit after they spent every single break of their first week being interrupted by anxious fans with their phone cameras open and ready to go, and Shouto can’t complain since it means he gets undisturbed Izuku time.
Izuku shrugs. “You’d have to ask him. Haven’t spoken to him since we graduated.”
With a slow blink, Shouto turns to the man he’s loved for two and a half years in complete bewilderment and thanks his lucky stars that Izuku isn’t looking at him, because most might consider him expressionless, but Izuku has an uncanny ability to be able to know exactly how he feels simply by glancing at his face. “What do you mean? Why?”
Humming, Izuku shrugs again. He’s sitting on the edge of the roof, swinging his legs in a leisurely way that tells Shouto he isn’t feeling too perturbed by the two-month silence. “He stopped wanting to talk, and I stopped wanting to bother with him.” He turns toward Shouto, and Shouto snaps his eyes back to the horizon. “He was important to me at one point, but honestly Sho, I just don’t want to deal with him and his temperamentalness anymore. I thought I’d be sadder, to be honest.”
“And you’re… Not sad?” Shouto asks carefully. Izuku shakes his head, curls moving with him and falling into his eyes, and Shouto’s fingers itch to reach out and brush them to the side. His hand stays where it is, in his own lap.
“Oh, I was sad at first, yeah. I think it was more mourning the loss of a constant than the person himself, now that I look back. A part of me wishes things could have been different, but I don’t feel the need to try and force things. I’d rather just focus on work, you, Tenya, Tsu, and Chako, honestly.”
Shouto makes a noncommittal noise under his breath, too busy thinking to formulate a reply. Just because Bakugou isn’t currently in Izuku’s life doesn’t mean he won’t come storming back in, and it doesn’t mean Izuku won’t change his mind and try to pull Bakugou back to him, but… Perhaps his daydreams of a future where he has that special place in Izuku’s heart aren’t so ridiculous, after all.
It’s the Hero Billboard Awards, two years post-graduation, and Katsuki knows exactly where he’s ranked. Part of it is, admittedly, due to the notoriety he and his former classmates gained as the ‘infamous’ Class 1A, but most of it is due to him working hard and gritting his teeth when he wants to punch a journalist so that he doesn’t get bad press.
Katsuki is ranked seventh. It’s not number one, but it’s so close, and a lot can change in a year. Maybe next year, he’ll be notified he’s getting the number one spot and he can ask Deku to come as his date.
He’s seen the nerd, of course, he has, but he’s avoided any and all personal conversations, and Deku is too good of a hero to try and start a discussion about their lives in the middle of a villain fight or civilian rescue, so while he’s seen him, he still misses him. He misses the mumbling, he misses being called Kacchan since Deku will only call him Dynamight on the job, and he misses Deku in general.
Honestly, he misses all of his group of idiots and Deku — the rest of the class to a lesser degree — and he can’t wait for the day he has what he’s reaching for so that he can gather them all together and announce his return to their social circles.
There’s a class A group chat which he checks occasionally, even though it makes his self-imposed isolation a little harder to deal with. Seeing that Racoon Eyes and Shitty Hair are dating, or looking at the group photographs shared of outings, and the inside jokes he doesn’t understand, makes Katsuki feel more lonely than ever, but he simply forces himself to remember that becoming number one has been his dream a lot longer than his desire to have — ugh — friends, and he manages not to contribute to the conversation.
Sometimes Icyhot sends selfies of him and Deku, and they’re always too close together, and Katsuki hates it, but those two were always close, right from the first-year sports festival. Icyhot followed Deku around like a lost puppy, and Deku was always too much of a sap to stop himself from adopting strays. A part of him aches at missing out on so much of Deku’s life — like when the hell did he get an undercut, and why, and does he like it or is he growing it out — but again, he remembers that the sooner he gets to number one, the sooner he can finally tell Deku that he loves him.
As his name is called and the crowd roars with applause and cheers, Katsuki wonders who made number one this year, but ultimately, it doesn’t matter — they’re just an obstacle in the end. Someone he needs to crush and beat so he can take his rightful place in twelve months' time.
Izuku smiles as Bakugou — he hasn’t been Kacchan for a while now, even in Izuku’s heart — takes his place on stage as the number seven hero for the year. He hopes Bakugou doesn’t throw an embarrassing fit when Izuku is announced as the number two hero, but he knows it might happen.
Despite Bakugou making an obvious effort not to murder various members of the press once he’s finished at a fight or rescue scene and they descend to ask questions, there are far too many videos online of him raging at civilians and sidekicks over minor, barely-there offences.
Enough to tell Izuku that Bakugou really has reverted to his old ways and Izuku was right to not force a personal connection to remain between them. He would have liked for Bakugou to be his friend, and once upon a time he might have even naively hoped for more, but finding out that he even dropped Kirishima and the rest of his real friends from UA shocked Izuku into realising Bakugou was always going to care about work more than people.
Regardless, Izuku doesn’t want him to cause a scene, because not only is it a big night for Izuku, it’s a much bigger night for Shouto. He’s ranked number one, and Izuku couldn’t be prouder of him. Naturally, Izuku will be competing for the spot next year, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t bursting with joy on behalf of his boyfriend.
That’s a secret, though, so he’s bursting with joy quietly and in private. Shouto is an excellent communicator since he is blunt and has also come a long way in his understanding of emotions since the first year UA days, which means he and Shouto have had a lot of conversations about what they want out of their relationship, ever since they started dating about six months after graduation.
Initially, they kept what was between them quiet to avoid people speculating and interfering since it was a new thing and they were still figuring it out, and once they reached the conclusion that they were serious, they informed their immediate friend group with the mutual understanding that once they were engaged, they would tell the public.
Surprisingly, despite being the one to bring the future engagement up — and talk about it as a certainty — Shouto was the one who was blushing and anxious about it, not Izuku. The funny thing was, that with Shouto, Izuku felt very little need to be terrified of his feelings, or how he was perceived by the other man. It was clear as day that Shouto adored him, and Izuku honestly thinks Shouto is the kindest, strongest, sweetest man he’s ever met.
He’s confident in their relationship and their happiness, and he knows that despite the adorable blushing during the initial conversation, Shouto is too. He knows this because Shouto likes to call him his ‘pre-fiance’ when they’re alone, with a silly little grin that makes Izuku kiss him stupid.
Endeavour — or as Izuku has been instructed to call him in private, Enji — is very supportive of their relationship. If it wasn’t for Izuku pushing Shouto into recognising that his flames were his own, the two of them never would have reconnected, and according to Enji, that makes Izuku the only person on the planet worthy of dating Shouto. Not because he used his flames, but because he helped Shouto and, indirectly, Enji.
Enji has turned into a sap, in private, in his older age, it seems. Neither Shouto nor Izuku are complaining. He’s in the audience tonight, no longer a field-active pro hero but more of a consultant and advisor, and very comfortable in his mid-teens ranking, according to the man himself. Izuku can’t wait to see his face when his son is named number one, since Enji doesn’t know about that little fact yet, but more than anything?
Izuku can’t wait to see Shouto step onto the stage, understanding that he earned his spot with his power.
Shouto is anxious. Not because of the rank he’s stepping into for the rest of the year, because he’s known for a while now that his fire is his, and he’s earned this ranking with his own hard work, power, and dedication, but because he’s going to have to talk. Say the most important words he’s ever even thought of saying in his life so far.
He has so very much to say, and so very little of it has anything to do with himself. It’s all to do with Izuku, the man he has loved with all his heart for so long that it’s become a natural, assimilated part of his being, the man who is responsible for Shouto coming to terms with who he is, the man who Shouto needs more than air.
So many things to say, and only his old man and Ochako know what’s going to be said.
Katsuki forces himself to keep a neutral expression as Deku is announced as the number two hero for the year. It’s not that he doesn’t think Deku deserves it — it’s that he simply hadn’t seen it coming. Deku works alongside Icyhot, and even if they aren’t an official team or partnership, almost all of their take-downs and rescues are done as a pair, so he thought it would take the nerd longer to rise through the ranks because he wasn’t tackling his shit alone like Katsuki does.
Plus, that means that Icyhot hasn’t placed in the top ten, but somehow Deku has, which makes very little sense. Surely, even though Half-n-Half isn’t the most likeable or personable, he should have placed in the top ten if his unofficial partner has?
He listens as Deku gives a short, stutter-free speech about being honoured to share the stage with so many hard-working heroes and how pleased he is to have done a good enough job to be where he is only two years into his career, and Katsuki preens knowing Deku is likely referring to him, most of all, when he talks about the calibre of heroes on stage with him.
“And now,” the announcer says, drawing the suspension out annoyingly, “for the number one pro hero of the year, please welcome…”
Gods, Katsuki wishes she’d just get the fuck on with—
“Pro Hero: Shouto, everybody!”
Fucking what.
Katsuki is livid, seething, because how did that fucker manage to get the top spot? How did he get number one when Katsuki is number seven? It makes no fucking sense, but there he is in his dull-as-fucking-dishwater costume, walking up the steps with no fucking expression on his face. Katsuki’s veins burn with fury but he holds it together, because the country is watching, and throwing a tantrum won’t help him replace the bastard next go around.
Icyhot takes his spot under the spotlight, and the microphone is handed to him after the hostess requests a speech. He takes a deep breath and his hands tremble as he grips the mic, leaving Katsuki smirking. He can’t handle the position he’s been given, and the public will see it for themselves when he fucks his speech up by sounding like a damn robot.
“There’s really only one person that I want to thank while I’m up here, and that’s my boyfriend,” he says. Katsuki gawks and Deku has wide eyes; did Deku not even know he was dating someone?
“He’s the reason I’m as good as I am, and he means everything to me,” Icyhot continues. Katsuki resigns himself to listening to whatever mess is currently spilling out of the fuckers mouth and wishes his gauntlets were off so he could stuff his hands in his pockets easier. “I’ve loved him for a long time, and I’m honoured that he loves me, too.”
Katsuki arches an eyebrow, wondering if it’s someone from their class based on Icyhot’s rambling. Pink Cheeks, maybe? The audience seems to be eating it up, cooing and awwing, and Katsuki wants him to just get the fuck on with it. It’s a hero ranking ceremony, not a talk show.
“I don’t want to drag this out, because it’s simple really.”
Thank fuck for that, Katsuki thinks to himself.
“I want to spend the rest of my life loving him, so…”
There are shocked gasps, and Katsuki finally stops staring out into the sea of extras wishing they were in his place to look down the line to Icyhot, choking on his tongue when he finds him kneeling in front of Deku on one knee, open ring box in hand. He’s paralysed, frozen, because Icyhot said boyfriend, as in this isn’t some psychotic spur-of-the-moment thing, or a surprise or anything else that might mean Deku hasn’t been with Icyhot for God knows how long.
“Midoriya Izuku, will you marry me?”
Say no, say no, say FUCKING no.
“Yes! Oh my God, yes, Sho!”
Katsuki, in front of the nation, faints where he stands.
When he wakes up, he’s alone in some backstage infirmary, wondering where his friends are, wondering why he’s on his own, but then — wasn’t that what he wanted, in the first place?
There are no hands whatsoever holding him back, but there also isn’t a single one there to hold when he thinks, all of a sudden, that he most definitely would like to.