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Izuku, to put it simply, was not having a good day.
He couldn’t even justify it, not really. Everything had just gone wrong from the get-go; he had a horrible night’s sleep after late-night training yesterday, twisting and turning in his bed to no avail—not to mention the excruciatingly slow morning and the averagely loud nature of the UA dorms. Seriously, how do some of his classmates get up as early as five? He himself got up early most days, but five?
But the torment didn’t end there. The day’s classes had dragged on for what seemed like years, and he’d struggled to keep his eyes open through every one of them. Even note-taking had felt like a chore; he had simply stared at the empty pages of his notebook, with no energy to even pick up his pen.
After classes ended, Izuku decided to skip evening training. He was sure All Might would understand that he was tired, and he’d just work harder to make up for it tomorrow. It would be fine.
So yeah, Izuku was not having a great day.
Only on the way back to his dorm had he realised how rude he must’ve come off as today—he avoided talking to his friends like he usually would. He felt a sense of guilt wash over him and swirl in his gut. He had probably made his friends concerned—he’d have to apologise to them tomorrow, too.
Although, thinking about it, none of them had talked to him the past day either, had they? Did they not notice something was off? Did they just think he needed alone time? His mind continued whirling with explanations to his friends' behaviour, spanning to even the worst of the worst. Izuku shook his head free of the thoughts before they could spiral too far as he turned the last corner towards his dorm. His shoulders sagged as he twisted the doorknob, opened the door and—wait, what?
Why was the door unlocked? He was sure he'd locked it before he left earlier, it was practically instinct. The only people with a key to his dorm are the teachers and Kacchan, but—Izuku froze for a moment, body tensing as he prepared for something he didn’t want to do right now. He liked talking with Kacchan, he did, but he couldn't muster up the energy to deal with the blonde's attitude right now, no matter how light-hearted it could be these days.
“Finally, you took ages you bitch!”
Izuku’s head immediately snapped up at the familiar, loud voice—and sure enough, there was Katsuki Bakugou, sitting on his bed, in his dorm, glaring daggers at him like his presence on the bed was his fault.
He could do nothing but gape as those red eyes continued to be fixed on his own, not wavering for a moment. After a brief pause, his body relaxed, and he huffed, knowing exactly what this was about. Because, of course, if anyone was going to notice that he’d been acting off and have the gall to just fix it himself by camping out in his room it’d be Katsuki.
But did he really have the energy to talk about his problems right now?
Slowly closing the door behind him, he didn’t drop his gaze from his partner for even a moment, and the latter hadn’t moved an inch either. After a solid thirty seconds of straight silence, he hung his head.
Well then, here goes nothing.
“Kacchan…” Izuku started eventually, searching for something, anything to say, but one look up at the blonde sitting cross-legged on his bed told him that there was absolutely no room for argument. All words suddenly lost on his tongue, he sighed in defeat, taking a few steps further into the dorm.
“That’s what I thought, fucker,” Katsuki said, patting the empty space on the bed in front of him. “Now sit, we’re going to fix that complexion of yours whether you like it or not.”
Sitting down on the soft bed, resigned to his fate of overbearingly caring Kacchan treatment, Izuku frowned in confusion. Complexion?
But all it took was one glance down and—right there, to his surprise, Katsuki was already pulling out bottle after tube after box of skincare products. Izuku resisted the urge to laugh, albeit not very well, since some amused huffs and snickers slipped past his lips.
“You’re joking.”
Katsuki, to his credit, didn’t falter for even a moment at the amused interruption. “No,” was all he said, continuing to pull products out of a small, see-through bag. Izuku squinted at it, examining some of the contents—were those pink headbands—?
“Where did you even get all of this?” Izuku asked instead of voicing that thought, now staring at all the products laid down in front of him, as neatly as ever.
Katsuki glared at him briefly before sorting the products in an order Izuku definitely did not understand. “They’re mine, moron,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
The corner of Izuku’s lip quirked up. “You do skincare?” He asked, tilting his head. Thinking about it now, of course Kacchan did skincare. Izuku had never seen him do it, but there were signs.
Katsuki ignored his comment, though, only pulling the Izuku towards him and wrapping one of the pink headbands around his neck, before pushing it up over his face; effectively catching all of Izuku’s green locks and holding them in place snugly at the top of his head.
Izuku didn’t protest as the blonde did so, his smile only growing. Katsuki moved back, staring at Izuku’s now fully exposed face with an expression that the younger boy could only describe as thoughtful.
“Obviously,” Katsuki answered eventually, scoffing. “What, did you think this perfect skin was from fuckin’ nothing?”
Izuku actually barked out a laugh at that. Katsuki only raised an eyebrow at him.
“Right, right. Sorry for assuming that you were just naturally that perfect, then,” Izuku placated, sounding a bit bashful even if his grin was totally betraying him. He watched in amusement as Katsuki’s expression flickered to something akin to embarrassment before it was gone again, buried under the neutral expression that was Kacchan's default—when he wasn't angry, anyway. Katsuki once again opted to ignore Izuku, pushing his own headband onto his head instead, blonde hair falling back and settling perfectly.
Izuku had to admit, he was lucky to witness this. There weren’t many people who could witness Katsuki when he was this calm—this vulnerable, this comfortable.
This was a side to his partner that he’d longed to see for years. He was convinced his middle school self would combust at the mere thought of being this comfortable around Katsuki, let alone be in his presence for this long at a time without doubting his worth even once.
But he’d seen the changes in the other boy first-hand. Their relationship improved in such a short span of time thanks to copious amounts of effort from both of them, even if they had a rocky start. Honestly, Izuku was both proud and honoured to know that Katsuki was comfortable enough to drop his pride and allow Izuku to see him in this state, for however short periods of time it happened for.
Even so, this much vulnerability all of a sudden was still quite rare, and usually reserved for when one of them was feeling particularly bad. Well, today was a good example, he supposed.
He was brought out of his thoughts by something cold on his face, and flinched slightly out of surprise.
“Relax, it’s just cleanser. Gotta get rid of all that grime somehow, you slimy fuck,” Katsuki grumbled, softly running a cotton pad around Izuku’s face as he did so.
Izuku hummed, letting the blonde go about his work before a thought came to his head, a thought that would explain so much about all of his interactions (or lack thereof) in the past day.
“Hey, Kacchan, are you the reason no one talked to me today?”
Katsuki’s hand faltered for a split second before continuing its movements like nothing happened.
“Yeah, I guess,” he answered, rolling his eyes a little. “I told the extras to fuck off, since you were obviously not up for talking to anyone. You oughta work on being more subtle about it."
Izuku found himself smiling a bit sheepishly as Katsuki pulled the cotton pad away, throwing it out before getting a fresh one and repeating the previous procedure on his own face.
“You’re so cheesy, Kacchan. You didn’t have to do that,” Izuku teased, but he really, truly appreciated the gesture. Kacchan would never say it, but his affection is very action-based.
“I think you would’ve actually yelled at someone if they tried to talk to you today, nerd,” Katsuki replied absent-mindedly, before the first half of the sentence sunk in. “And who the fuck are you calling cheesy?!”
Izuku chuckled. “No one, no one,” he defended, putting his hands up in surrender. Katsuki made a noise of frustration somewhere between a sigh and a grunt but didn’t comment further.
Eyes scanning the products on the bed, two light green packets caught Izuku's eye. Squinting, he read the packaging that told him that they contained avocado face masks. Glancing back at Katsuki, who was still smearing his face with cleanser, he reached towards the face masks.
The movement caught Katsuki’s attention, though, and he pulled out his hand, lightly slapping Izuku’s own hand away.
“Be patient, you bitch. We’ll do those next.”
Izuku feigned an offended look but kept his mouth shut as he watched Katsuki slowly throw his third cotton pad in the nearby bin and put the cleanser back in his… makeup bag? Was it a makeup bag? Izuku had no idea.
Turning, Katsuki picked up the face mask packets, ripping one open in one fell swoop. He reached inside and pulled out the pastel-green sheet, unfolding it to reveal a face-like shape. He held it out, right in front of Izuku’s own face, twisting and turning it until he seemed satisfied.
“Alright, c’mere, nerd,” he said, beckoning Izuku forward with a tilt of his head. Izuku easily complied, leaning forward to let Katsuki place the sheet on his face.
Katsuki let go of the mask with one hand, carefully pushing a stray green curl behind Izuku’s ear before placing the mask down. He ran his hand smoothly all around the wet sheet, flattening any air bubbles and wrinkles. The mask was cold to the touch, but there was certainly a feeling of freshness to it. He could see why Kacchan liked these things so much. Plus, the casual touch from the older boy wasn't exactly a bad thing, either.
Izuku’s cheeks lifted as his smile grew at the small, casually initiated contact, but quickly dropped on command as Katsuki barked out: “Don’t smile that wide, idiot, it’ll crumple the face mask!”
Izuku resisted the urge to laugh and settled a subtle, but just as meaningful, smile instead. Katsuki only rolled his eyes before ripping open the second face mask packet and repeating the same thing for his own face, smoothening out every uneven surface that he felt.
“How long do these stay on?” Izuku asked, careful not to move his mouth too much as he formed the words. Katsuki glared but didn’t comment on it.
“Fifteen minutes,” he answered, throwing the empty packets in the bin with one swift movement.
Fifteen minutes? That seemed like forever just for some soft skin. Izuku would deny that he pouted, but he didn’t really have the energy to. He pouted.
Katsuki narrowed his eyes, meeting Izuku’s pleading gaze. From an outsider’s perspective, it would’ve looked like one intense staring competition.
Eventually, Katsuki sighed, pushing the products from in between the two boys to the side, and opening his arms ever-so-slightly. It was a small gesture, but it was there, and Izuku certainly saw it.
“Well? We don’t have all day,” Katsuki complained half-heartedly, the words holding no real heat.
Izuku’s eyes lit up as he turned around and laid back, his head pressed against his partner’s lap, his face happily under Katsuki’s chin. It wasn’t long before Katsuki’s hand found itself at Izuku’s head, weaving through the green locks behind the headband and gently playing with the curls.
Content, Izuku closed his eyes, letting Katsuki run his fingers over his scalp in soothing circles as he felt all the tension from the day leak from his shoulders. Truly, how was this the same day as a few hours before?
Izuku thought about how Katsuki had figured out on his own that something was up with him—likely from the first second that he’d seen him this morning. How despite claiming not to care, and claiming that he’d never be so weak as to be seen losing, he’d come to Izuku’s dorm of his own accord and planned a way for Izuku to relax. How, despite their slowly healing relationship, he’d gone the extra mile and told their classmates to leave Izuku alone for the day, and hadn’t exploded or yelled a single time during the day, either.
Small, subtle things like this were just one of the many qualities that he loved about Katsuki Bakugou.
He must’ve zoned out more than he thought, because soon enough, the mask was being lifted from his face, and he opened his eyes to an also mask-less Katsuki staring down at him.
Katsuki hummed. “Thought you’d fallen asleep,” he muttered, and Izuku noticed that his hand had not left Izuku’s hair.
Izuku blinked. “Kacchan,” he started, and at Katsuki’s responsive hum, continued, “why did you do all of this? You could’ve just hugged me and called it a day.”
Katsuki’s hand in his hair stopped moving, and red eyes firmly met green as he looked down at Izuku’s face.
“You clearly needed it,” he stated, like there was no other answer, “don’t be a fuckin’ idiot. This was literally the least I could do.”
A beat.
“Plus,” he added, “you would’ve done the same, if not more, if our roles were reversed, nerd. We both know that. So don't go all self-loathing on me now.”
Izuku only stared, unable to create a response to that. Because really, Katsuki was right. If Katsuki’s day had gone badly, he’d make sure he was as comfortable as possible for the entire day, even if it was out of his own control to change any outcomes.
He hadn’t thought about how Katsuki would likely do the exact same. But it was rather obvious, wasn’t it?
“Kacchan’s so cute,” he whispered, flashing a grin.
Katsuki didn’t react to the comment, only leaning down and softly placing a kiss on Izuku’s nose. It was a fleeting moment, something so rare and precious that it had Izuku's face immediately turning slightly rosy—and it was not because of the skin care.
“It’s okay to take a break sometimes, y’know,” Katsuki said, barely above a whisper, “even you deserve one.”
Izuku could feel his face continue to turn red rapidly, but didn’t break eye contact as Katsuki pulled away, reaching for a bottle to his left.
“Now get up, it’s time for moisturizer. It doesn’t matter how cute you are, you’re putting it on.”
When Izuku didn’t make a move to get up or respond, Katsuki spoke again.
“Get up before I fuckin’ shove you off,” he grumbled, and Izuku couldn’t stop himself from beaming.
Ah, there it was. This was his Kacchan.