Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Katsuki fisted his hands in his pockets and ground his teeth together painfully as he trudged down the hall toward All Might’s office. What the fuck did the old man wanna talk about, and why couldn’t he have specified in his goddamn email like a normal fucking person? All Might was always so cryptic, like a shitty wizard from one of those lame-ass role-play games Izuku played with Glasses and Round Face. Dumbfucks and Dragons or whatever the fuck.

Katsuki pounded on All Might’s door hard enough to rattle a screw out of its brass nameplate. 

Look, he’d had a fucking day , alright? It started off well enough. Katsuki’d scored a rare 6/6 on his morning trivia and, on his morning run, landed a snowball square in the face of a little asshole middle schooler. That fucker with a frost quirk had been nailing Katsuki with frost-hardened snowballs for the past week and a half, and Katsuki finally got him back. Stupid fucking kid reminded Katsuki of himself from five years ago, which made it all the more satisfying when the shithead fell backward into a snow-covered bush.

So, yeah, today started off pretty damn good, until morning sparring with Izuku. It had all gone downhill from there.

All Might opened the door right as Katsuki lifted his fist to knock again, and he nearly knocked his mentor’s boney shoulder instead. All Might blinked, a hint of amusement in his eyes, at god knows what.

“Young Bakugou.”

Katsuki huffed and dropped his fist.

“I hope you can forgive me for sending such a vague email. But—“

“Tch. I’m used to it.” 

All Might stepped aside as Katsuki stomped toward his usual side of the couch. He dropped himself onto the overly-squishy seat cushion and looked up at All Might expectantly.

“Last time you called me here it was about One For All, but everybody knows about that now, so what is it?”

Alright, maybe Katsuki was a little… on edge, and not just because of sparring with Izuku. Outspoken as he was, Katsuki avoided getting into actual trouble at school unless it was really important. He was gonna be the number one hero, and number one heroes didn’t get suspended.

All Might took his sweet time adjusting his wrinkly-ass jacket and taking the seat across from Katsuki. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, like he didn’t know how to start the conversation. Was All Might nervous too? What the fuck for? 

“Is this about the punching bag I exploded? I already reimbursed the school for that piece of shit.” Katsuki tapped his foot.

“No, Young Bakugou, you’re not in any trouble. I asked you to meet with me today so we could talk about Young Midoriya and your… future together.”

Relief and annoyance flooded Katsuki’s senses in turns. He leaned back and dragged his hands down his face.

“‘Course you did. It’s always about fucking De—“ Katsuki shook his head. “Izuku.” Agh! Katsuki couldn’t slip back into the habit of calling Izuku that old name. Just because Izuku’d been getting on Katsuki’s nerves lately didn’t mean that Katsuki’d lost the mountain of respect he’d gained for his childhood friend. 

All Might smiled a weird, old man smile, like he thought he knew something Katsuki didn’t. Katsuki wish he’d just get on with it. He’d promised Izuku he’d go to his dentist appointment with him this afternoon, and if he was late, the nerd would probably think Katsuki was still mad from their fight earlier, and he’d spiral like a nervous fucking wreck. Katsuki was still mad from their sparring argument, but not enough to make Izuku face his secret fear alone.

All Might cleared his throat.

“Being a hero, one meets all kinds of people.” He leaned over to pour two cups of what smelled like jasmine tea, and the lamplight caught a rainbow pin on his lapel. Huh. It wasn’t pride month. Was All Might gay? 

“Often, the connections we make with civilians and other heroes are fleeting, but they stay with us years later,” All Might continued, setting the teapot down. “We heroes learn what people truly care about from witnessing, first hand, how they react in emergency situations.” 

Katsuki quirked an eyebrow. He didn’t see what any of this had to do with him.

 “W-what I’m trying to say,” All Might stuttered, “is that I’ve seen many types of love, Young Bakugou.”

“Uuhh…” Was All Might coming out to him? Why him? Did he think Katsuki was homophobic because he called Mineta a ‘disgusting, perverted fruitloop’? 

All Might sighed, seemingly frustrated with himself for failing to get his point across, and took a long, meditative sip of his tea. Katsuki did the same. Jasmine tea had a relaxing effect on him, probably because his dad always served it after Katsuki and his mom reconciled an argument. He decided not to say much until he knew what his mentor was on about.

“Your relationship with Young Midoriya has changed since your first year at UA.”

Katsuki broke eye-contact, guilt twisting his gut at the reminder of how he used to treat his childhood friend. “No shit.”

“I can see how much you care about him.”

“Hm.” Memories of Izuku in a coma, Izuku running off on his own, Izuku recklessly throwing his life on the line over and over flooded Katsuki’s mind, and he blinked hard to clear his head. Yeah, he cared. It hurt when anyone Katsuki cared about was injured or in danger, but it always hurt more when it was Izuku, and Katsuki didn’t know why. He’d figured it might be because Izuku was a constant fixture in his life, and life without him was unimaginable by default, but lately, that explanation was seeming more and more like a cover-up.

“He needs someone like you, Young Bakugou, to care about his well-being when he forgets or deprioritizes himself. You understand that part of him better than anyone else, don’t you?”

Katsuki didn’t say anything, just locked eyes with his mentor, wordlessly conveying that yes, of course Katsuki understood Izuku’s selflessness better than anyone else after everything they’d been through together.

All Might smiled softly and took one of Katsuki’s hands between both of his. Katsuki stiffened at the unexpected, affectionate gesture. Most people avoided his hands because of the whole explosive sweat thing.

“I want you to know,” All Might inhaled loudly, “that you and Young Midoriya have my full support as partners.” He gave Katsuki’s hand a squeeze before releasing it and leaning back in his chair.

Partners? So, that’s what this conversation was about. All Might thought Katsuki and Izuku were planning to be hero partners. Katsuki leaned back, scratching his chin in thought. He and Izuku did regularly talk about working at the same agency and fighting side by side. Hell, as kids, they’d play make-believe games about starting their own agency together all the time. Just last week, Izuku’d shown him new, complimentary costume designs he’d sketched during their study session (while blushing red as a tomato, for some fucking reason). Katsuki guessed he and Izuku’d been planning to be hero partners for a long time now, he’d just never put it into words.

“Thanks . . .”

All Might glowed at Katsuki’s small indication of gratitude. Embarrassing, but Katsuki had to admit it felt good to have All Might’s approval.

“You can talk to me, separately or together, anytime.” All Might straightened up and smoothed the fabric of his pants. “Of course, I’m not an expert on . . . on . . .” Was All Might blushing now? “Ah, well, Present Mic might be better suited if you ever need practical advice from someone who, um . . .” All Might was struggling, and Katsuki was confused again. He checked the wall clock.

Fuck! Katsuki was supposed to meet Izuku in the common room five minutes ago. He threw back the last of his tea, hoisted his backpack over one shoulder, and stood to leave. “That all? I’m late, and Izuku’s probably having a fucking heart attack.”

All Might stood too, nodding, and followed Katsuki to the door. “Of course. That was everything.”

Thank fuck. Getting All Might’s approval as Izuku’s future hero partner was nice and all, but heart-to-hearts weren’t exactly Katsuki’s thing, and he couldn’t wait to get out of there. Not to mention every second that passed was another second of Izuku imagining worse and worse scenarios in his stupid nerd head.

“Young Bakugou?” Katsuki’d made it one step out the door before All Might called him back. “One more thing.”

Katsuki suppressed a groan and turned on his heel to face his mentor, who placed two heavy hands on his shoulders. Why was All Might acting so fatherly all of a sudden?

“Thank you for making Young Midoriya so happy.”

Katsuki’s jaw went slack. Katsuki making Izuku happy? Where’d All Might get that stupid idea from? Sure, their relationship had improved, and they’d started spending more time together apart from studying and sparring, but if anyone made Izuku happy it’d be Round Face or Glasses or, fuck, maybe even Icy Hot.

“After the war, remembering how to enjoy everyday life was difficult for everyone. You were too young to go through something like that.” All Might’s eyes glazed over for a moment before refocusing. “I worried about all of you fledgling heroes, but the darkness affected Young Midoriya most of all. There was a time I feared his light would never return.”

Katsuki swallowed. He’d had the same fear.

“Perhaps you weren’t aware, because you couldn’t observe him without your own presence,” All Might squeezed Katsuki’s shoulders, “but I’m certain you were the one who brought the life back to Young Midoriya’s eyes.”

That couldn’t be true. No way. Katsuki tried to argue, but his throat dried up.

“I’m happy for you.” All Might cradled Katsuki’s cheek in one skeletal hand. There were tears in his eyes. What the fuck? Now Katsuki was sure he was missing something.

All Might pulled Katsuki into a tight hug. Okay, seriously, what the fuck was going on?

“You’re both so grown up.” All Might’s voice broke. He was fucking crying. Katsuki just stood there letting himself be hugged for as long as he could stand it. He endured about sixty seconds of neck strain and listening to his mentor sniffle before blurting,

“I gotta go.”

“Right!” All Might released him. “You have a date.”

Katsuki didn’t have time to unpack that unusual phrasing; Izuku was waiting for him. As he booked it down the hallway, All Might called after him in a booming hero voice,

“Go get your man, Young Bakugou!”

What. The. Fuck.

Chapter Text

20 hours earlier, in the training gym

KA-BOOM!

“Eat my dust, nerd!” 

The ringing in Izuku’s ears fueled his adrenaline. He somersaulted in the air and shot Blackwhip at his target. Kacchan dodged, and Blackwhip grappled a stone pillar instead. Izuku swung around the pillar and hurled himself at his cackling friend.

“Not if you eat mine first!”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Blinding white light of Kacchan’s stun grenade flashed. “You’re tryin’ to catch me, idiot!”

Izuku blinked away the stars in his eyes in more ways than one. Sparring with Kacchan was euphoric. No one else stood a chance against Izuku 1v1, and by all logic, Kacchan shouldn’t stand a chance either, but he did. He really, really did. Even with one (crazy powerful) quirk compared to Izuku’s seven, Kacchan was brilliant enough to predict Izuku’s moves three - sometimes four steps ahead. His natural talent was incredible, but his intellect, his intuition, his dedication, his biceps –

BOOM!

A small explosion, taunting, came from behind and reverberated in Izuku’s skull. He whirled around and launched Blackwhip, but Kacchan was across the room before the tendrils left Izuku’s fingertips.

“Hah! Better get used to watchin’ my ass!”

“Maybe I will!” As soon as the words left Izuku’s mouth, he froze midair. So did Kacchan, which meant he started to fall. Blackwhip moved on its own, binding Kacchan in a cocoon of black and teal light.

“And the win goes to Young Midoriya!” All Might, momentarily in his muscular form, announced from the gym below. “With an overall two to one win for Hero Deku!”

As the pair floated back down to Earth, Kacchan struggled in his cocoon significantly less than usual. Ah, jeez. Why’d Izuku say that thing about . . . about watching Kacchan’s ass? It just came out! He didn’t think it through. And now! Now, Kacchan was probably super angry. Or worse, uncomfortable. Izuku could handle anger, but if Kacchan was awkward around him? Because Izuku made him feel objectified?! He was sick to his stomach just thinking about that. What was Izuku gonna do?

Kacchan shrugged out of the loosened Blackwhip once they landed. Would he yell? Izuku hoped he’d yell. He couldn’t take it when Kacchan gave him the silent treatment.

Kacchan sauntered over. Izuku held his breath. They stared at each other for an eternity of seconds, and then–

“You look like an overgrown chia pet.” Kacchan ruffled Izuku’s explodo-poofed hair. Izuku exhaled. Kacchan didn’t seem angry or awkward. Izuku’d been overthinking. Kacchan probably didn’t even hear what Izuku said. Besides, it’d been a long time since Kacchan’d gotten angry at him for real. They had spats, sure, but they were two-sided, and the heated feelings rarely lasted more than a day. Well, those heated feelings didn’t last. There was another type of heated feeling, at least on Izuku’s side, that never seemed to dissipate. 

“It’s late. I’m hittin’ the showers.” Kacchan swept his water bottle from the floor and took a swig. Izuku eyed the digital wall clock and smirked. Yes, 7:55 PM was late for Kacchan. 

“Good game, Kacchan!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kacchan waved over his shoulder before turning the corner out of sight, toward the showers.

Izuku sighed heavily, staring at nothing in the direction Kacchan left. His forehead tingled where Kacchan’s palm had touched it, and Izuku traced the feeling with his fingertips.

Kacchan’s aerial technique and defensive strategy got better every day. His turns were sharper, the direction of his explosions more precise. It was amazing how much Kacchan could improve between training sessions just by thinking about and analyzing his own moves. Turbo Cluster had definitely gotten faster since the last time they played Catch-A-Kacchan. Izuku would have to update his notebooks when he got back to the dorms.

“You’ve taken Young Sero’s words to heart.”

Izuku startled. He’d forgotten All Might was still there.

“Using Blackwhip as an extension of your own body.” Izuku’s mentor handed him his (All Might themed) water bottle. “When you’re a Pro Hero, Young Midoriya, citizens everywhere will see that teal light as a symbol of hope. Many of them already do.”

Izuku’s heart glowed from the praise. After all this time, praise from his hero still made Izuku feel starstruck. He took a refreshing glug of cool water, then wiped his chin with the back of his hand. When I’m a Pro Hero . . . The reality of that dream coming true grew nearer and nearer as graduation approached. 

All Might stretched his elbow across his chest, reminding Izuku that he should stretch too. Lately, Izuku kept forgetting to stretch, and his muscles ached in the mornings. Having a friend with quirk-heated hands who gave really, really good back, arm, and hand massages helped with sore muscles. Oh, man. Had Izuku been subconsciously avoiding his stretches as an excuse to ask Kacchan for massages?

“I have no doubt Young Bakugou will inspire hope in citizens as well.”

Izuku blushed and looked up from his lunge. No, no, All Might didn’t have a mind-reading quirk. But ah, yeah, there was something Izuku’d been meaning to talk to him about. Now was the perfect time: after training with Kacchan, with All Might all to himself.

“We work well together, Kacchan and I, don’t we?” Izuku stood, then bent to reach his ankle. If he diverted some focus onto stretching, maybe Izuku could negate his anxiety over this conversation.

“Seamlessly.”

Izuku snuck a peak at his mentor. He was leaning against the wall, watching other students train in the distance with pride in his wise, blue eyes.

“When you and Young Bakugou face a villain together, it’s almost as if you share one mind.”

Izuku reached toward his other ankle. His heart hammered in his chest just from thinking about how it felt to fight at Kacchan’s side. Nothing else in this world compared.

“And now that you’ve repaired your friendship,” All Might continued, “you’ve become even more in sync.”

So, other people could sense Izuku and Kacchan’s connection. All Might knew there was something special between them. It was obvious what a perfect team they made. Good. That was good. This meant All Might would likely approve of Izuku’s unconventional idea: that he and Kacchan should be hero partners. 

“I wanted to ask you something . . .” Izuku twisted his spine for a good back stretch. “ . . . about Kacchan.”

“Of course, my boy, what is it?” All Might leaned off the wall, giving his full attention to Izuku.

Okay, this was it. It was a strange thing to ask, and Izuku was hopeful All Might wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of hero partners, but it was kind of a big deal, and not . . . really . . . done? Many heroes had sidekicks , but Izuku could count on one hand the pros who fought with partners , and most of them worked in the States. The little online discourse there was about whether hero partners helped or harmed each other’s success rate tended to favor the latter. Still, Izuku was certain he and Kacchan were better together. He closed his eyes and drew a bolstering breath.

“Kacchan’s always been part of my life. For better or worse, I’ve always admired him, my image of victory. He pushes me, he challenges me like no one else can, and I . . . I’m better with him.” Izuku dared to open his eyes. His mentor’s expression was unreadable, but not negative. Perhaps a little confused? Thoughtful. Izuku continued his (mostly) prepared speech. 

“We make each other better. Where I’m stubborn, he’s rational, and where he’s brash, I’m polite.” An image of Kacchan getting mistaken for a villain one too many times snuck into Izuku’s consciousness, and his hands formed fists. 

“In life or death situations, when strangers–people who don’t know Kacchan like we do–must trust their lives in his hands, Kacchan needs me to soften his sharp edges.”

All Might nodded, a hint of amusement in his eyes. But Izuku hadn’t meant it as a joke! This was serious. If All Might didn’t approve of Izuku and Kacchan as hero partners, Izuku didn’t know what he’d do. 

“And . . . and I need him, ” Izuku went on, emotion catching in his throat, “to snap me out of it when I get so focused on one goal that I can’t see anything else.”

Memories of a dark place prickled Izuku’s skin, and he shivered.

“There’s this thing that happens to me. I become blinded by the need to save, and nothing else matters, especially not my own well-being, and Kacchan . . . He’s the only one who can bring me back from that.”

All Might had to understand. Izuku didn’t want to work alone again. Not after the last time. And he couldn’t leave Kacchan. He couldn’t risk getting sent far away, or being the last to find out if Kacchan got seriously injured. He saw, clearly, the future he wanted; he just had to make sure All Might saw it too.

Izuku made eye contact with his mentor for the first time since this conversation started.

“I know it’s unconventional, and not everyone will agree with it, but I can’t imagine my life without him, and I don’t want to. Win to save, save to win; it’s like we’re made for each other .”

All Might’s eyes widened. Oh, gosh. Izuku hadn’t meant to say that part about being made for each other .

“I-I-I mean!” Izuku stuttered. “What I’m t-t-trying to say is–! W-what I meant to ask–! Th-the thing–! The thing I-I-I meant to ask–”

All Might gently stopped Izuku’s flailing with comforting hands on his upper arms.

“It’s alright, my boy. I think I understand.”

Izuku willed his breathing and heart rate back to normal by focusing on his mentor’s kind eyes. It was okay. All Might probably didn’t even read into that slip-up. Izuku was always overthinking. His ‘hero partners’ pitch was going well so far. All he had left to do was ask. 

“I wanted to ask for All Might’s approval,” Izuku’s breath shuddered and he squinched his eyes shut, “of me and Kacchan as partners.”

All Might wrapped long arms around Izuku and pulled him into a fatherly embrace. Every inch of Izuku longed to melt into the hug, but he couldn’t relax, not until All Might gave his verbal blessing. Izuku vibrated from the anxiety of it all, and his mentor held him closer.

“My boy,” All Might’s hushed voice laced with emotion, “You have my approval. One hundred percent.”

With the relief came tears. Suddenly and all at once. “Thank you, All Might.” Izuku choked on a sob. “I can’t tell you how much your blessing means to me.” All Might patted the back of Izuku’s head and let him soak his jacket with tears.

“It’s you I should thank, Young Midoriya, for trusting me.”

“We won’t let you down, I promise!” Izuku pulled back, wiping his eyes with the heels of his palms. Why had he been so nervous? All Might had been the first to call him and Kacchan ‘The Wonder Duo,’ afterall. 

All Might smiled. Izuku hiccuped and giggled through his tears. He and Kacchan, Deku and Great Explosion Murder God DynaMight, were gonna be hero partners. The pair of them had been talking about it for weeks - which cities they’d like to work in together, where they’d train, how often they’d need to update their combined moves to keep villains on their toes, which magazines they would and wouldn’t wanna do interviews for, and recently, they’d discussed matching hero costumes. It had all seemed like a dream, but All Might’s approval made it real.

“We’re going to need some new equipment,” Izuku announced.

All Might blinked. Izuku barely registered his mentor’s confusion as endorphins launched him into planning mode.

“I’ll need better hip and thigh support, to keep up with Kacchan’s stamina. Kacchan will need stronger, softer gloves to protect me from his quirk when we do more complicated positions. And we’ll definitely need special lubricant for–”

All Might wheezed. “Alright, alright, I, um, ahem.” He doubled over and coughed. All Might wasn’t about to have another fainting spell, was he? Izuku moved to catch him, but he waved him off with an ‘I’m fine’ gesture. “Perhaps I’m not,” All Might cleared his throat and straightened up, “the right person for this part of the conversation.”

Izuku’s eyebrows knit together. Had he said something wrong? Normally, All Might had a lot to say about support gear.

“Present Mic might be better suited.” All Might fidgeted with his wristwatch. “Or maybe Recovery Girl.” Recovery Girl? Since when was Recovery Girl an expert on support gear? Well, it would make sense for her to research how gear prevents or exacerbates potential injuries. She probably prepared for it with her treatment plans. How cool! Support engineers and pros must consult Recovery Girl with possible designs.

After donning his coat, scarf, and gym bag, Izuku and All Might leisurely exited the gym together, Izuku muttering unintelligibly about the health and safety protocols of support gear. When he turned to bid his mentor good night, All Might held him by the shoulders and bent to his eye level.

“I’m happy for you, my boy. I’ve had the pleasure of watching you and Young Bakugou grow up together, and I’m proud of everything you’ve become, both individually and as a pair.”

“Thank you, All Might.” Izuku’s eyes started to sting again. Fluffy snow twinkled in the lamp light around All Might’s head, making him look even more like Izuku’s guardian angel. He was so blessed. All Might squeezed his shoulders.

“Whenever and if ever you plan on coming out to the media, magazines, and news outlets, I want you to know, you and Young Bakugou will have my full, public support. You have my word.”

Media. Magazines. Oh, gosh! Izuku still had the new Heroes Weekly magazine Kacchan lent him. Kacchan said he’d wanted to read it before bed tonight, but it was currently rolled up in Izuku’s gym bag! Maybe it wasn’t too late to slide it under Kacchan’s door.

Izuku checked his phone. “Ah!” 8:20, ten minutes before Kacchan’s weeknight bedtime. “Sorry, All Might, I have to go to Kacchan’s room!”

All Might blushed, for some reason. Probably just the cold. Izuku bowed several times while backing up in the direction of the dorms. “Thank you again for your support.” He turned and took off down the icy sidewalk.

“Be careful, Young Midoriya!” All Might called, clearly talking about the slippery sidewalk, as if Izuku wasn’t used to ice with a best friend like Shoto. Still, he slowed down a little.

“I will!”

All Might called again, his voice fainter in the distance.

“Use protection!”

Wait . . . what?

Chapter Text

Elevator doors dinged open and Katsuki stepped out into a bright hallway he hadn’t set foot in in almost a decade. The same fluorescent lights buzzed incessantly above, but now much closer to Katsuki’s head. Mildewy carpet and citrus soap smell assaulted his senses and sent him reeling back in time. He felt nine years old again.

Katsuki shouldn’t have agreed to this. He hadn’t been thinking. Izuku’d said, “Please, Kacchan?” and done that stupid ass shimmery thing with his ugly bug eyes, and Katsuki’d folded without a fight. What was wrong with him?

“Ahh, I know I have my keys somewhere!” Izuku turned out his pockets, then swung his yellow backpack over his shoulder to search that too.

The same lily-of-the-valley wreath hung on the front door of the Midoriyas’ apartment. It would jiggle before Auntie Inko popped open the door, and fuck, Katsuki was not ready to see her. He’d watched her pick up Izuku from school from afar, but Katsuki hadn’t actually spoken to her since before he fucking ruined everything like the dick-for-brains waste of space he was in middle school. She probably wanted him dead. Hell, she should want him dead.

“I swear I grabbed them before we left! They’re definitely here somewhere,” Izuku lamented.

The wreath jiggled. Every organ in Katsuki’s body tied itself in a knot. Katsuki had one (1) fear, and she was five foot three and cooked rice without a timer.

“Izuku, baby,” the door popped open, “you left your spare keys here last wee—“ Auntie Inko’s giant, green eyes latched onto Katsuki’s and she froze. Katsuki’s throat went dry. This was it. This was how Katsuki was gonna die: killed by a death glare from a woman whose quirk had nothing to do with her eyes.

“Katsuki-kun.” There was no readable emotion in her voice, except maybe surprise. Katsuki was definitely fucking done for.

“Hi, auntie.” His voice cracked, and he cringed at the sound of it.

Katsuki was suddenly scooped into a spine-cracking hug.

“Oh my goodness, it’s been so long!” Auntie Inko rocked their hug from side to side. Katsuki was so tense with shock he must’ve looked like a wooden nutcracker. “It’s so good to see you, sweetheart.”

Auntie let go, and Katsuki almost fell over.

“Come in, come in, make yourself at home. Jackets go in the — oh, well you know!” The first door on the right. He knew.

Katsuki followed Izuku and Auntie Inko into their apartment, took off his shoes, and hung up his coat in a daze. Auntie wasn’t mad at him. Had Izuku not told her about what a shit he’d been in middle school? That must be it, but why? Probably some bullshit about trying to protect Katsuki’s honor. Katsuki bristled with a twinge of his old anger at the boy currently showing off his new All Might hoodie to his cooing mother. His anger dissipated as soon as he looked at Izuku though.

“It’s his young age costume!” The fanboy nerd bounced. “I didn’t think it was possible to get new merch with this era’s design, but Melissa found it at a convention in America.” Melissa? Who the fuck was Melissa?

Izuku rattled on about what each detail of All Might’s young age costume represented, but the words became background noise. How come Izuku had a close friend Katsuki didn’t know about? She sent him gifts all the way from—Wait. A bell rang in Katsuki’s head. Melissa was that nerdy support engineer from I-Island. He remembered, because dunce-face had said, ‘Melissa, more like swell-kissa , am I right, Midoriya?’ Something boiling hot spiked up Katsuki’s sternum.

“—and that’s why Kacchan’s here to help me.” Katsuki’s nickname brought him back from his spiral. Fuck, he’d just been standing there staring for fuck-knows how long.

“That’s so sweet of you, Katsuki-kun!” Auntie took a pink apron from a hook in the kitchen doorway and tied it around her waste. “Izuku told me how you talked things through—that beautiful apology in the rain.” She clutched her heart.

“ Mooom! ” Izuku whined, clearly mortified. So, he had told her. Huh. Fuck. Okay. Katsuki awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“But I didn’t know you’d gotten close again.” Auntie Inko’s eyes shone just like Izuku’s did before he started bawling. She blinked up at the ceiling. “Well, I’m making Izuku’s favorite for dinner tonight, and I’ll make enough for three. Extra spicy, I remember.” She puttered into the kitchen. “It should be ready in about forty-five minutes!”

Katsuki followed Izuku into his childhood bedroom and dropped his backpack on the floor. Izuku shrugged out of his hoodie and draped it lovingly over the back of his desk chair. 

The nerd’s room looked exactly how it did in elementary school, except some of his All Might posters were gone - the ones he'd brought to UA. It smelled like stale pizza. The corner of Katsuki’s mouth pricked upward. Yuck, why’d Izuku’s dirty gremlin tendencies to leave food out overnight make him smile? What the fuck?

“So, I thought Kacchan could punch out all the construction paper hearts, since I remembered how much you liked this tool in elementary school.” Izuku tossed Katsuki a palm-sized, heart-shaped paper-punch, and he caught it. “Of course, I’ll write the valentines notes for our classmates, unless Kacchan wants to write a few? And then I was thinking we could both stick the Hershey’s kisses on with tape.”

“I’m just helpin’ you. These ain’tt from both of us.”

“I know.” Izuku crawled under his bed, searching for something with his ass up in the air. Katsuki tore his eyes away and glared at the largest All Might poster next to Izuku’s bed.

‘Go get your man, Young Bakugou!’

He grit his teeth and suppressed a growl. All Might’s words had been haunting Katsuki for almost a week now. During The Conversation in All Might’s office, Katsuki had no fucking clue what was happening, but it didn’t take long for him to put the pieces together once he’d had time to think: 

All Might, for some godforsaken reason, thought Katsuki and Izuku were fucking dating. And he approved . If someone’d told Katsuki four years ago that fucking All Might himself would one day announce his official blessing for Katsuki’s romantic relationship with Midoriya Izuku, he’d have laughed in their face. Now, Katsuki’s reaction to the realization was more like, ‘life’s been this fucked so far, this might as well be happening.’

The problems started when Katsuki thought about why All Might might’ve come to the conclusion that he and Izuku were a thing.

“Here it is!” A thud. “Ow!” Izuku squiggled out from under his bed, rubbing the back of his fluffy head with one hand and holding a box of multi-colored construction paper with the other. “Ta da!” He looked so fucking proud of himself, just for finding a shitty old shoebox. Izuku’s smile made Katsuki’s hands itch, like he wanted to grab Izuku really tightly, but not hurt him?

“Haven’t you had enough evacuation training to avoid hitting your head in a crawl space?”

“Here you go, Kacchan.” Izuku ignored Katsuki’s question and handed him the shoebox of construction paper. 

The pair got to work, sprawled out on Izuku’s fuzzy blue carpet, listening to “lofi hip hop radio - beats to relax/study to” through the bluetooth speaker. 

Katsuki’d forgotten how much he liked punching out shapes in construction paper. It felt good in his hand muscles, and it was meditative. He couldn’t fully lose himself in the repetitive action though, because of an annoying-ass compulsion to keep sneaking glances at Izuku.

Izuku muttered while he wrote valentines, speaking what he was writing out loud, semi-unintelligibly. When he got stuck, he pulled at his lower lip in thought. 

Izuku’s lips were chapped as fuck. There were subtle teeth imprints in his lower lip. Somehow, they still looked soft though, and really pink compared to the rest of his skin. He had a freckle right in the centre of his cupid’s bow that Katsuki hadn’t noticed before.

“Kacchan?”

“Hah?”

“Is something on my face?” Izuku wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Just that dumb nerd expression!” Katsuki snarled, heat shooting up his neck and face.

“Okay, Kacchan.” Izuku went back to his writing and muttering, and Katsuki exhaled. His heart beat wildly in his chest.

Fuck. He might be gay. Not that Katsuki had any problem with gay people. Most of his friends were LGBTQ . . . WXYZ whatever. Still. Fuck. No, no, Katsuki wasn’t gay, he was just rattled by that cluster-fuck of a conversation with All Might.

This wasn’t the first time Katsuki’d worried he might not be straight. In middle school, when his asshole friends first started talking about girls and their bodies, Katsuki couldn’t care less about any of that shit. Gooey romantic shit was even worse. Once, the extra with extendo-fingers was going on and on about his piano teacher’s “bazongas,” and Katsuki had snapped.

“Cut it out with that disgusting crap already! I’m fucking sick of it.”

Fingers scoffed. “What are you, gay or something?”

Katsuki’d punched him in the shoulder hard enough to leave a nasty bruise. He wasn’t proud of that, but it wasn’t like the guy hadn’t deserved to be punched.

Middle school Katsuki couldn’t help but ask himself that lame extra’s question, though. ‘Am I gay or something?’ But thinking about guys that way didn’t do it for Katsuki either. He just didn’t care. He had more important things to worry about, like becoming the number one hero.

Katsuki didn’t care about bodies in a sexual way. He looked at Izuku in the locker room because he was comparing himself to him. Because they were rivals. He didn’t get “butterflies.” His heart fucking freaked out around Izuku because he’d almost lost him, and he was glad of any reminder that Izuku was still there, still smiling, still breathing. And he definitely did not want to touch Midoriya Izuku because he was fucking attracted to him, he just . . . He just . . . 

Just what?

Katsuki was sweating now. Ah, fuck. Fucking hell. Why? Please, no, anyone but Izuku!

“Has Kacchan ever kissed someone?”

“Hah?!” Katsuki squeaked. Fucking squeaked .

Izuku had finished writing his valentines and started taping Hershey’s chocolate kisses to them. He looked real casual for someone who’d just asked such a personal fucking question out of nowhere.

“I was just thinking about how I’m giving everyone in our class a kiss.” Izuku chuckled. That strange burning feeling licked up Katsuki’s chest again. “And so I was wondering how many of us have given real kisses. Probably most of us, since we’re in our third year.”

Most of their class had kissed someone? That was news to Katsuki.

“More than that, for some,” Izuku half-whispered, pink tinging his cheeks.

What the fuck did that mean? Had Izuku kissed someone? Done more than kissed someone? Who would want to kiss him? Fucking Half n’ Half? The burning feelings took Katsuki by the throat and forced him to speak. 

“Have you?”

“Have I what?”

Gaaaarrgghh FUCK. Katsuki shouldn’t have asked that, but he couldn’t back out now. He had to act casual. This was just another stupid conversation about random shit that didn’t matter.

“Kissed anyone.” He rolled his eyes for good measure.

Izuku made a face like he wasn’t sure if Katsuki was an idiot or joking, and Katsuki wanted to slap his face right off. “You know I dated Ochako at the beginning of second year, right?”

Katsuki unconsciously ripped a paper heart in half. Suddenly, Round Face’s stupid mochi cheeks were looking pretty damn explodable. 

“So, you’ve kissed Round Face.” He’d tried to sound chill, but the words still came through his teeth.

“And Rody Soul,” Izuku said more quietly.

Rody Soul? Who the fuck was—THAT ASSHOLE BIRD GUY FROM OTHEON! The one who was basically a criminal before he “turned a new leaf” all of a sudden? Katsuki knew he hated that extra for a reason. He crumpled the torn paper heart in his fist. It smoked a little.

“Now it’s Kacchan’s turn to answer my question.” Izuku put down his crafting and looked directly into Katsuki’s soul. He did that a lot - looked into Katsuki’s soul. It was fucking annoying as shit. “Have you kissed anyone?”

“Tch.” Katsuki broke eye contact. Breathing was hard. “‘Course not. Kissing’s gross.” He tossed the crumpled heart into Izuku’s overflowing trashcan. 

“It’s not.”

“Is too.”

“How would you know?”

Katsuki huffed. Izuku wasn’t supposed to have more experience than him. Or know more than him. It was fucking embarrassing. He shouldn’t be embarrassed. If he’d wanted to kiss someone, he could have! He’d just never been interested before.

“Let’s make a bet,” Izuku said.

Katsuki side-eyed him suspiciously. He was smirking. Asshole.

“If you think your first kiss is gross, you win, but if you like it, I win.”

Katsuki stared at Izuku. Had he really just said what he thought he said? His brain was short-circuiting, trying to read every micro-expression on Izuku’s face. Right when it looked like Izuku was about to backtrack, Katsuki’s voice spoke without consulting his mind.

“Yeah, okay.”

Izuku beamed triumphantly. “Great, so whenever someone ki—“

“So do it,” Katsuki said.

“What?” Izuku’s shit-eating grin dropped. Katsuki made fists to stop his hands from trembling.

“Fucking kiss me so I can tell you it was gross and win the bet.”

“K-Kacchan, you don’t have t—“

“Fucking do it or you forfeit!” Katsuki barked. His heart beat so violently he thought he might throw it right up. This was a terrible idea. Izuku didn’t want to kiss him. Not after middle school. They’d reconciled, they were friends again, but kissing? No way. No fucking way. Katsuki’d probably think kissing was gross anyway, so—

“Okay, um . . .” Izuku licked his lips. Katsuki was very nearly hyperventilating. “Close your eyes.”

“No.” Katsuki didn’t know why he said no. He was panicking. He didn’t like being told what to do. 

Izuku’s smirk came back. “You can’t leave your eyes open, Kacchan, that’s creepy.”

“Fuck you.” Katsuki closed his eyes. Izuku was gonna kiss him. Midoriya fucking Izuku was gonna put his mouth on his mouth. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Katsuki gripped his own knees so hard it hurt. He could hear Izuku scooch across the carpet toward him.

Warm, rough hands landed gently where Katsuki’s neck met his shoulders. Izuku’s fingertips left tingly trails up Katsuki’s neck to his jaw and tilted his face up. Katsuki felt like he was about to jump off the high dive for the first time. Why couldn’t he calm the fuck down? It was just a stupid kiss!

Izuku’s hot breath ghosted across Katsuki’s lips, and something cracked inside him. All that boiling heat he’d felt when Izuku talked about the other people he’d kissed pooled and burned in his lower abdomen.

“You can still say no, Kaccha—mmmph!“

Katsuki surged forward and pressed his lips to Izuku’s. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but fuck, Katsuki felt like he was gonna burn alive from the inside, except in a good way. A really fucking good way. 

Izuku pulled back with a soft gasp.

“S-so?” He sat back on his heels.

“So what?” Katsuki’s gaze locked onto Izuku’s pink lips. He had to do that again, or he might literally fucking die. 

Izuku twiddled his pointer fingers, one of his nervous habits. “How was your first kiss?”

“Gross,” Katsuki said. 

Izuku paled. “O-oh . . .”

“Do it again.”

“Ah?” Izuku looked up into Katsuki’s eyes. Katsuki didn’t try to hide the fucking pathetic yearning he knew was there. If he didn’t get Izuku’s mouth on his in the next ten seconds, he was gonna explode. No, really, he could feel his quirk simmering under his skin. Actual fucking combustion was a real possibility. 

This kiss was slower. Softer at first, as Izuku seemed to trace Katsuki’s lips with his own. Katsuki’s heart raced, but no longer out of panic, just sheer fucking euphoria from one stupid point of contact. It wasn’t enough. It was so far from enough. 

Katsuki held Izuku’s hips and coaxed him to crawl into his lap. Izuku turned his head to capture Katsuki’s lips at another angle, and Katsuki hummed happily. That little noise must’ve encouraged the nerd, because he tangled his fingers in Katsuki’s hair.

Every touch was fire, but too gentle. Katsuki wanted to fucking devour Izuku. How did people start kissing with tongues? Did one of ‘em just shove it in there?

“Open your mouth,” Katsuki rasped against Izuku’s lips. Izuku’s fingers froze in Katsuki’s hair. Ah, fuck. Had he ruined it? Was that too far?

Izuku chuckled softly. His lips parted and he licked the seam of Katsuki’s. That was all the invitation he needed. With a low growl, Katsuki deepened the kiss, raked his hands up Izuku’s back, and yanked him close.

It was clumsy and messy and frenzied and perfect. Fuck, kissing Izuku was everything . Katsuki’d been starving all his life until now. Izuku kissed back just as hungrily, like he was trying to pin Katsuki’s tongue, and his hands were everywhere: in Katsuki’s hair, across his back, his shoulders, up and down his arms. They never stopped moving, and it felt so fucking good.

“Ka—” No talking. Just kissing. “Kaccha— Mmm . . .” Kissing forever. “K-Kacchan!”

The panicked pitch to Izuku’s voice brought lucidity, and Katsuki pulled back. Izuku blushed redder.

“Your hands.” 

“Hn?” Katsuki blinked. Wait, why’d it smell like . . .“FUCK!” Without realizing it, Katsuki’s palms had burned right through Izuku’s T-shirt. “Shit!” He scrambled backward until his spine hit Izuku’s metal bedframe. “Fuck! I fucking—Fuck! Shit, fuck, goddamn it!”

Izuku clambered back into Katsuki’s lap. “Shhh shh shh.” He pet the sides of Katsuki’s face. “It hadn’t started to hurt yet, really! I just had to warn you. It’s okay, Kacchan.”

Katsuki hadn’t lost control of his quirk like that in years . He wanted to stay furious with himself, but the little circles Izuku’s thumbs were rubbing into his temples melted the self-hatred away. Katsuki released a shuddered sigh.

“That’s it. Deep breaths,” Izuku soothed. HIs voice was low and breathy and it was doing something to Katsuki. A soft cloud muddled his thoughts. Heat bloomed in his chest and radiated outward, but less violent and more relaxing. It settled in Katsuki’s lower abdomen again, and he suppressed a whine. “Good boy.”

Katsuki’s eyes, which he hadn’t realized were closed, snapped open.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Izuuukuu, Katsuki-kun, dinner’s ready!”

Chapter Text

“I have to admit, I’ve been a little worried about Izuku lately.” Inko absent-mindedly tossed a bottle of spicy sesame oil into Mitsuki’s cart as the pair ambled down the condiments aisle of their favorite, local grocery store.

Mitsuki snorted. Her best friend was ‘a little worried about Izuku lately’ every week. Never mind that the boy could kill a man with his pinky finger without breaking a sweat. Mitsuki went back and forth on whether she found Inko’s over-protectiveness adorable or excruciatingly frustrating. Today, it was the former. 

“He lose a bid on rare All Might merch or something?” Mitsuki snickered at her own joke. But really, what else could knock Izuku down at this point? He sure wasn’t a quirkless runt anymore.

“No . . .” Inko coaxed a bag of dried nori to float into her hands. Mitsuki only ever envied Inko’s quirk on their weekly grocery shopping trips. “It’s just . . .” The nori bag crinkled in Inko’s little fists. “It’s been a long time since he came home with bruises.”

Mitsuki’s breath caught on a memory of her twelve-year-old son shoving Midoriya Izuku ass-first onto gritty playground blacktop. She’d dragged the little bastard away by the collar of his shirt and given him an earful about how real heroes didn’t need to prove themselves that way, and if Katsuki kept acting like a delinquent, quirkless Midoriya Izuku would be number one before him. Mitsuki winced at her own words. In hindsight, she’d only made her son worse. Thank goodness he’d grown so much on his own.

Inko must have read something on Mitsuki’s face (she was infuriatingly good at reading Mitsuki’s facial expressions) because she started flailing and attempting to console thoughts Mitsuki hadn’t spoken out loud. “I don’t think he’s being . . . being bullied or anything like that! There’s no one at UA who . . who would . . No, that’s not it! I just worry that he’s pushing himself too hard with his training.”

Mitsuki nodded. Izuku over-exerting himself was a fair thing for Inko to worry about. “Kid hasn’t been great at self-care, has he?”

“He hasn’t,” Inko agreed and steered her cart toward the baking aisle. Mitsuki followed, even though she rarely baked. Maybe Masaru’d make crepes if she brought home the right ingredients. Inko didn’t seem to be looking for anything to buy, though. Her eyes glazed over in thought. She paused in front of the sprinkles display. 

“What really concerns me is that the bruises are in a strange place.”

The wheels of Mitsuki’s cart screeched to a stop as an amusing idea sparked in her brain. “Oh?” She’d had a certain hunch for a long time. So long, in fact, that she’d started calling it “The Hunch” (capital ‘T,’ capital ‘H’) in her own mind for years. She couldn’t let herself get too excited though. Izuku’s bruises could be the result of something serious.

“It might be a new quirk.” Inko pinched her lower lip with her fingers, half-muttering. “Izuku told me he shouldn’t be getting any more quirks, but it wouldn’t be the first time he kept something from me, especially something that could be dangerous.”

Mitsuki took a glug from the water bottle she kept in a pink holster. When Inko started muttering, especially about Izuku’s safety, there was no telling if it’d last sixty seconds or fucking hours .

“Of course, I know some injury comes with being a hero in training, and I’ve come to terms with that. A few bruises and scrapes are bound to happen here and there, and really these aren’t very bad bruises, no, not at all, it’s just that there are so many of them, and all over his neck .”

Mitsuki spit-took her mouthful of water in a spray that would rival the Biwako Flower Fountains in Otsu. Some of it spattered the sleeve of a prissy lady buying ramekins who screeched in indignation. Mitsuki couldn’t care less. She shrieked with laughter, doubling over the handle of her shopping cart.

“I am so, so sorry!” Inko was no doubt puttering over to console the snob in last season’s Armani. “What is wrong with you, Mitsuki?” she hissed. Mitsuki coughed, but it did nothing to quell her laughter.

“They’re NECKING!” She barely managed to force out the words before the guffaws came back with a vengeance. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she pummeled the shopping cart handle with her fists. She’d been right about The Hunch all along! Ha ha, take THAT!

“What are you talking about?!” Inko yanked the shopping cart from Mitsuki’s grasp and she nearly fell on the floor. Fuck, she looked angry. Her piercing stare sent a chill up Mitsuki’s spine. Angry Inko was rare, but she was kinda scary, Mitsuki couldn’t lie. She punched herself in the chest to sober up, straightened her cardigan, and cleared her throat.

“Our sons,” Mitsuki struggled to explain, out of breath. Inko raised an eyebrow. 

Damnit, just because Mitsuki was happy about The Hunch being correct didn’t mean she wanted to describe it in words. Agh, but Inko’d need it spelled out for her. She knew her best friend well enough to know that.

Mitsuki gripped the cart that’d been yanked from her and yanked it back. “Katsuki has the same damn bruises. They’re hooking up.”

Inko blinked. 

Mitsuki sighed exasperatedly. “Fooling around, making out, playing tonsil hockey. It’s not new quirk damage, Inko, they’re hickies .”

Realization finally dawned on Inko’s face. Then a blush. Finally, an ecstatic twinkle blossomed in her eyes and she squealed so loud it made the prissy ramekin lady cover her ears and leave without her cart.

“Are you sure, Mitsy, are you really sure?” She bounced up and down, using the jingling shopping cart for leverage. “My Izuku and your Katsuki, are you really sure?”

Mitsuki and Inko used to joke about their kids getting married one day, back when Katsuki and Izuku were inseparable brats playing heroes on the front lawn. After the boys’ falling out in middle school, though, those old jokes became an unspoken taboo. Mitsuki’s heart panged at the nostalgia of it all, and Inko looked about ready to burst with excitement. She should rein it in. They were getting ahead of themselves.

“I’m not positive.” Mitsuki scanned the shelves in an effort to seem chill. “But I do know some poor bastard’s been sucking on my kid’s neck, and I can’t imagine the brat letting anyone near him unless they had green hair, freckles, and a head full of fanboy.” She plucked rainbow sprinkles off the shelf and smirked to herself. 

Inko yoinked the sprinkles away with her quirk.

“Hey!” Cheeky bitch. This was why they were friends.

“I’m planning the wedding!” Inko asserted. 

“No way!” Mitsuki grabbed for the sprinkles. Inko spun out of reach. “I’m the designer! I know the venues!” Mitsuki made a dive for it, but Inko squeaked and darted away just in time. “This is my gig!” 

“Yes, but I have Izuku’s crayon wedding designs from when he and Katsuki were toddlers.” Inko giggled.

“You have WHAT?”

Inko held the sprinkles above her shortie head. Mitsuki reached. Inko leaned back. Mitsuki swiped for it. Big mistake. They both lost balance and toppled over a display of cardboard cupcake stands.

“Oof!”

The ground hit hard. Thank fuck for Mitsuki’s fantastic ass, or that would’ve hurt a lot more. They’d definitely destroyed several cupcake stands though.

Mitsuki looked at Inko. Inko looked at Mitsuki. Inko was the first to break, and then they were both laughing so hard it wasn’t clear where Inko’s joyful tears ended and Mitsuki’s began. Her abs hurt, her throat hurt, her cheeks hurt, and damn if she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this happy. Most would say it was too soon to call it, but frankly, Mitsuki didn’t give a fuck what most people’d say.

As the tearful laughter chilled into hiccups and sniffs, Mitsuki bumped her best friend’s shoulder with her own.

“I can’t fuckin’ wait for those two goobers to finally make us family.”

Chapter Text

One week prior to the moms’ shopping trip

Izuku, left alone in the dark janitor’s closet, let the back of his head thunk against the door. He gripped the front of his shirt and rubbed the heel of his palm against his rapidly beating heart, struggling to catch his breath. His lips and neck tingled, and his left trapezius muscle ached deliciously where Kacchan had bitten just a little too hard.

Who was Izuku kidding? Kacchan bit hard, but Izuku could’ve taken it harder. He licked his lips and whined. Ah, geez. He had to calm down. Class would be starting soon, and the last thing Izuku needed was attention from showing up late. He had let Kacchan go before him, so they wouldn’t be caught leaving the closet together. And, yeah, so Izuku could have a moment to pull himself together.

Kacchan wouldn’t want people to know they were hooking up. Err, well, kissing. Did just kissing count as hooking up? Ah, maybe a little more than kissing. Izuku flushed at the memory of his own hips rolling against Kacchan’s of their own accord. He’d had about 0.5 seconds to be mortified before Kacchan had growled and yanked him closer. 

Izuku covered his hot face with his hands and slid down the door until his butt hit cold tile. This was a bad idea. Kacchan was only so violently eager because these were his first kisses at eighteen years old. Surely, the fact that he was kissing Izuku specifically was just timing and good luck. Or bad luck, as it may have been, because Izuku was gonna get hurt for sure.

He sighed and combed trembling fingers through his mop of hair. Being hopelessly, all-consumingly in love with Kacchan was always going to hurt.

***

Thank goodness Izuku’d kept a striped All Might scarf crumpled in the bottom of his backpack. It was kind of a warm winter day to be wearing a scarf, especially inside, but it would be better than everyone seeing the hickies he could feel radiating off his neck and collarbones.

Bzzzzt!

The morning bell rang right as Izuku touched the handle of the door to his homeroom class. Shoot. He drew a bolstering breath. If he acted normal, no one would notice anything was off, right? Right.

All eyes fell on him as soon as he entered the room, conversations hushed, and Izuku forgot how to move his legs. Why was everyone staring at him? Was it really that unusual for him to be late? Or to wear a scarf inside? Was his hair messier than usual?

Izuku’s eyes landed on Kacchan, who’d been leaning back in his seat with the first two buttons of his shirt undone. That wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was the pink and blue state of Kacchan’s slender-but-muscular neck on full display.

Seemingly in response to Izuku’s shock, Kacchan lurched upright and hastily buttoned his shirt all the way up. It didn’t do much to hide the bruises under his ear or along his sharp jawline.

“Take a seat, Midoriya,” Mr. Aizawa drawled from where he leaned against the corner of the room, still halfway inside his yellow sleeping bag. “Or leave. I really don’t care today.” He looked like he was regretting his decision to stay with class A for all three years of their time at UA.

Izuku nodded several times, adjusted his scarf where it’d slipped slightly, and scurried to his seat behind Kacchan’s.

On a normal day, Izuku would be ecstatic to learn about the pros, cons, and ethics of animal sidekicks, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t focus on Mr. Aizawa’s lecture for more than a few minutes. All Izuku could think about was the soft curve of Kacchan’s neck and how good he’d tasted there. Just a little bit sweet and smokey, exactly as Izuku’d expected due to the nitroglycerin from Kacchan’s quirk. 

Izuku gulped and shook his head. Focus! He’d almost drooled right on his notebook. Not that it would’ve mattered much, since the only notes he’d taken were the date and title of the lecture. 

The lunch bell couldn’t come fast enough. As soon as it rang, Izuku bolted out of the classroom, but he barely made it five steps down the hallway before Ashido and Kaminari flanked him on either side like magnets. 

“O-oh! Hi, Ashido! Kaminari! W-what’s up?” Izuku stuttered.

“That’s a nice scarf, Midoriya,” Ashido cooed and curled her arms around Izuku’s elbow.

“Yeah, super cool, dude!” Kaminari’s grip locked around Izuku’s other arm. Izuku opened his mouth to thank them both, but neither left room for him to speak.

“It’s kinda warm for it today though, don’t you think?” Ashido smiled dangerously.

“Definitely warm today.”

“Hey, Midoriya, why don’t you let me try it on?”

Izuku didn’t know what was happening, only that he couldn’t let anyone take his scarf off. “Ah, I don’t think—“

“What, don’t think I could pull it off?” Ashido said with a pout.

“N-no! That’s not what I—“

“Maybe he thinks it’d look better on a blond,” Kaminari suggested, and they both burst into a fit of giggles. Oh gosh. Oh geez, they knew . 

What would Izuku do now? What if they started asking him how he felt about Kacchan? He couldn’t lie if he was asked a straightforward question. And then they’d tell Kacchan that Izuku was madly in love with him, and Kacchan’d get freaked out and stop hooking up with him, and maybe he’d stop talking to Izuku altogether, and everything they’d built up over the last three years would come crumbling down, and—

“Leave him alone, ya fucking vultures.” Kacchan yanked Ashido off Izuku’s arm.

“Oooh, since when does Kacchan defend Midoriya from a little ribbing?” Kaminari teased, and Kacchan ripped him off Izuku’s other arm.

“Since now. Scram.” 

Izuku’s heart did a flip.

Ashido walked backward, her mischievous yellow eyes flitting between Izuku and Kacchan. “You know you love us, Blasty.”

“Tch.” Kacchan shoved Kaminari at Ashido, who caught him in her arms like he was a fainting maiden. The pair erupted into another fit of giggles, hanging off each other’s shoulders. 

“I said scram!” Kacchan seethed. Ashido and Kaminari couldn’t have looked less intimidated, but they conceded nonetheless (after a few vulgar gestures that made Izuku’s chest and neck burn with embarrassment). 

Izuku slumped against a row of lockers to avoid crumpling completely. He couldn’t handle this. He had to call off whatever he and Kacchan were doing before anyone else caught on. As amazing as Kacchan’s kisses were, were they really worth the eventual, inevitable shattering of Izuku’s heart?

“Sorry about them.” Kacchan stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked off to the side. He’d gotten better at apologizing, but it was still a little hard for him. Even on behalf of his friends, he struggled to make eye contact. “I’ll, uh, talk to them or whatever. Tell ‘em they got it wrong.”

There it was. Izuku’d been right about Kacchan not wanting anyone to know about them. He’d prepared for it, but it still hurt a whole lot. His heart suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. 

“Okay.” Izuku did his best to fake a smile. “Yeah, thanks, Kacchan!” He had to end things. Now. Before passing a point of no return.

“So, uh . . .” Kacchan rubbed the back of his neck, still avoiding eye contact. “Wednesdays are an extra long lunch, and that classroom’s empty.” He nodded toward a door to Izuku’s right.

Izuku flushed. Kacchan noticed and smirked wickedly, red eyes piercing into Izuku’s, and Izuku’s knees weakened. But . . . but he wasn’t going to give in that easily! He’d just decided to end things! His resolve was strong. It was!

Kacchan ran one finger under the edge of Izuku’s scarf and leaned in close enough that his hot breath tickled beneath Izuku’s ear. “Maybe a little nerd’s got some tension to relieve, hah?”

His resolve was not strong.

In fact, it was Izuku who grabbed Kacchan by the wrist, pulled him into the empty classroom, kicked the door shut behind them, lifted Kacchan bodily, and pressed his back flat onto a folding table.

“Fuck, ‘Zuku.” Kacchan’s pupils were blown wide, changing the whole look of his face into something Izuku’d never seen in him before. So beautiful, like an angel. Kacchan gazed up at him, panting softly, and Izuku’s heart ached. Oh, how he loved him, and oh how he wanted him.

One more time before I call it. Izuku tore off his scarf and chucked it across the room. He planted his foot on a chair for leverage and laced his fingers with Kacchan’s. One more time. I can give myself that much.

Izuku stretched Kacchan’s arms up over his head as he took his mouth. 

“Mmm . . .”

The kiss was deep but slow. Izuku wanted to memorize every inch of Kacchan’s perfect mouth, and Kacchan was letting him. He was so uncharacteristically pliant, it made Izuku’s head swim.

I love you, I love you, I love you. Izuku kissed down one side of Kacchan’s neck and up the other, not leaving marks this time, but savoring the barely-audible noises he made - more vibration than sound.

“So pretty . . .” Izuku nipped an earlobe. Kacchan’s breath hitched, and he strained against the grip Izuku had on his hands. By some instinct, Izuku held firm, pressing Kacchan’s hands harder into the table. He’d have half a mind to apologize, if Kacchan hadn’t whimpered. Oh my god. Had Izuku dreamed that?

“S-stop staring at me, stalker nerd!” Kacchan snapped, his face an adorable bright red.

“Sorry, I—“

“Kiss me, asshole.”

Izuku didn’t have to be asked twice. He freed Kacchan’s hands and they buried themselves in Izuku’s hair, dragging him down for more. 

“Ka . . . Kacchan . . .” Izuku breathed between kisses. “So good.”

“Shut up.” Kacchan hooked his legs around Izuku’s waist and bucked his hips. Both men groaned loudly into each other’s mouths.

Several things happened next.

First, Izuku’s foot slipped. 

Second, the chair he’d slipped on went skidding across the room, and Izuku tipped sideways, which offset the balance of the folding table, and the whole thing fell over with a deafening clang.

Third, Kacchan landed on top of Izuku on the floor (not in a sexy way). 

Fourth, a bright light accosted Izuku’s senses.

And lastly, Mr. Aizawa’s most exasperated voice filled the space. 

“For fuck’s sake, why is it always you two?”

Chapter Text

Katsuki pressed himself against the arm of the couch, sitting as far away from Izuku as possible and trying to act like he wasn’t about to have a fucking heart attack. Aizawa must’ve thought he and Izuku’d been fighting. That’s gotta be why they’d been hauled into the teacher’s lounge, and why Aizawa, All Might, and Present Mic were staring at them like they didn’t know what the fuck to say. 

Katsuki’s nails dug into his knees. He couldn’t let them find out what he and Izuku were really doing. Izuku clearly didn’t want anyone to know about them, judging by that dumbass fanboy scarf and how the color had drained from his shitty nerd face when he saw Katsuki’s exposed neck. Dammit. Katsuki should’ve known better.

The teachers had perched on the sofa across from Katsuki and Izuku, each with a giant metaphorical stick up their ass. Good posture looked unnatural on all three of them. Katsuki purposefully slouched even more.

Present Mic cleared his throat loudly through his dinky-ass microphone. “Weeeell, let’s get this over with, yeeaah?” he said with enthusiasm that didn’t match the words. Katsuki’s hearing aid screeched and he cringed.

Get what over with? Why couldn’t people at this school just fucking say shit instead of skirting around the point like a buncha pussies? This was a hero school. They’d fought in a war , for fuck’s sake.

“Young Bakugou, Young Midoriya,” All Might leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, tenting his boney fingers, “we want you to know, the three of us are in your corner.”

Aizawa opened his mouth like he might protest All Might’s statement, but then he thought better of it. 

“You’re not in trouble,” All Might started. Aizawa glared at him with his good eye, and All Might shrunk in on himself. “You’re a little in trouble,” he conceded, then slapped on a fake-ass smile and a thumbs up, “but nothing the wonder duo can’t handle!”

Katsuki cringed again, but not from feedback. Couldn’t they just give him and Izuku some extra chores for breaking the table and lay off already?

Aizawa yawned. “You know why you’re here, right?”

The three teachers looked between Katsuki and Izuku expectantly, but Katsuki didn’t plan on speaking unless it was absolutely fucking necessary.

“U-um . . .” Izuku adjusted his stupid scarf, face red as his dirty-ass high-tops. “Well, I . . . You see, we were . . . I-I mean, we weren’t . . . It’s just that . . .”

“That’s A-Okay, little Romeos!” Present Mic interrupted, flinging his arms out and nearly knocking a potted orchid off the coffee table. “Spare us the details, yeah?” 

Aizawa caught the teetering plant and rolled his eyes, not without fondness. “What these two idiots are trying to say,” he placed the orchid on a side table out of Present Mic’s reach, “is that we take no issue with the changes in your relationship, but from now on you’ve gotta keep the intimacy to after school hours, got it?” Katsuki’s stomach dropped. “Midoriya? Bakugou? You already caused enough unprecedented damage to school property first year.”

Izuku squinched his eyes shut and nodded so vigorously it was a miracle his neck didn’t fucking snap. “Yes, Sensei. Of course, Sensei. W-we’re sorry.”

Katsuki huffed. ‘We’re sorry’ ? Who the fuck said anything about Katsuki being sorry, hah? Yeah, yeah, they broke a table. What the fuck ever. Katsuki’d pay for it.

“Bakugou?” Aizawa challenged. 

“Tch. Whatever.” Katsuki’s face burned. This was fucking humiliating. Was this the kinda crap all the extras went through on a daily basis since puberty? Suddenly Dunce Face’s insufferable bitching about his emo boyfriend’s distractingly tight pants seemed less idiotic. 

“Ya see? That wasn’t so hard.” Present Mic elbowed All Might, who did look pretty anxious now that Katsuki perceived the concerned shape of his eyebrows and the extra droopy state of his hair. 

“Is there anything else you two would like to talk with us about?” All Might asked.

Izuku peeked at Katsuki out of the corner of his eye, and they both looked away as soon as their eyes met. 

Katsuki’s pathetic heart raced, just like it always did around Izuku. Because he was fucking gay for the dweeb. Deep down, Katsuki’d known that for a while now, but he’d crushed the thought to a pulp any time it’d threatened to materialize. 

Now that the floodgates were opened, Izuku was all Katsuki could fucking think about: his stupid bug eyes that glowed when they trained together, the bird’s nest he called hair that was way softer than it looked, the stubble on his jawline that Katsuki could feel not see, the teasing lilt to Izuku’s voice that equally infuriated Katsuki or fucking turned him on, apparently . . .

Present Mic’s voice cut through Katsuki’s gay-ass thought bubble. “You kids are sitting pretty far apart for a couple of boyfriends, eh? What’s up with that?”

“We’re not boyfriends!” Izuku blurted, panic evident in his high-pitched voice. 

All three teachers flinched back as if personally offended. 

“I-it’s not like that.” Izuku waved his hands in front of his face. “Really!”

Ow. Fuck. Katsuki furrowed his brow and pressed his palm to his chest. He wasn’t surprised, not really, but fuck. The certainty of Izuku’s words literally hurt. Katsuki’d thought people were full of shit when they said rejection felt like a dagger to the heart, but fuck if that wasn’t exactly what it felt like, and Katsuki would know.

“Kacchan, are you okay?”

Katsuki instinctually smacked away the scarred hand that reached for him, and Izuku inhaled sharply. 

Goddammit. Izuku was just trying to comfort him, and Katsuki had fucking hit him like the self-absorbed, emotionally constipated middle school asshole he used to be. He had absolutely no fucking right to be angry with Izuku for not sharing his deeper feelings, or for being ashamed of their relationship. Katsuki should be ashamed he let this happen at all.

“This is pointless!” Katsuki pushed off his knees to stand. The anger he felt toward himself, and his misplaced anger at everyone else in the room, roiled together into one giant fireball ready to detonate.

“Kacchan!“

“Young Bakugou, please—“

“I’m outta here.” Katsuki grabbed his backpack and swung it over his shoulder with enough force that Present Mic had to duck.

“But, Young Bakugou,” All Might stood, “Don’t you think it might help to—“

“To what? Talk? There’s nothing to talk about, ‘cause it won’t happen again.” Katsuki glowered at Izuku, who had tears in his eyes. Because of him. Again. But Katsuki couldn’t stop. He was hurt, and he only knew one response to pain. “We’re not boyfriends, right?”

Izuku gaped like a fish. No, of course he wouldn’t take it back. Why would he?

“Tch.” Katsuki turned on his heel and stormed out of the teacher’s lounge, letting the door slam behind him.

Chapter Text

The door to the teachers’ lounge slammed shut inches from Izuku’s nose. He stood frozen to the spot, vision blurred. The air was thin, the lights too bright, his pulse too loud.

Izuku should follow Kacchan, right? But what would he say? Would he even want Izuku to follow him? If the idea of their teachers thinking they were dating made Kacchan that angry, he probably wouldn’t want Izuku anywhere near him. 

This was it. Izuku was losing him again, maybe for good this time. He should have ended things when he said he was going to. He shouldn’t have let it start in the first place. He’d lost everything, everything just for a few kisses, just to delude himself with a fantasy he knew Kacchan never shared. It’d all been so selfish, stupid, self-sabotaging—

“Breathe.” Mr. Aizawa thumped the heel of his palm between Izuku’s shoulder blades. He gasped down air. The wood grain of the door filtered back into focus as oxygen re-entered his bloodstream.

“You need to sit down.” Mr. Aizawa offered him an arm, but why would Izuku need help walking? He wasn’t injured. He could walk just fi—

Izuku’s knees gave out, and Present Mic caught him under his arms. “Man down!” He lowered him onto a padded folding chair, presumably provided by All Might. Mr. Aizawa handed Izuku a cone-shaped paper cup of cold water, which he drank in three big gulps. Gosh, he was thirsty.

Mr. Aizawa and All Might seemed to communicate wordlessly through a look, and then All Might squatted to Izuku’s eye level.

“We want to help you, Young Midoriya, but I think I’m missing some key information.”

Izuku hiccuped. 

“Due to recent conversations with you and with Young Bakugou,” All Might continued, gingerly taking the empty cup from Izuku’s loose grip, “I was under the impression that the two of you had defined your relationship as a romantic partnership. Did I misunderstand?”

Izuku sucked in his lower lip to stop its quivering. All Might had thought they were dating before the table incident? Why would he think that? Was it something Izuku’d said when . . .

“Oh gosh!” Izuku slapped his hands over his mouth. “You thought! When I—! But I meant!” he blabbered through his fingers.

“Hands off your mouth, Midoriya,” said Mr. Aizawa.

Izuku shook the energy from his wrists and then sat on his hands to quell the urge of covering his mouth and face. “It’s all my fault, All Might, I’m sorry. After training that day, I asked for your approval of me and Kacchan as partners.” All Might nodded. “But I meant hero partners , not romantic partners.”

An oddly crestfallen look overcame All Might’s wise face. “I see. So you don’t wish to be . . .” He searched for the word. “. . . boyfriends with Young Bakugou?”

“That’s not it at all!” Izuku shouted, and his voice cracked. All Might tilted his head in confusion. Present Mic smirked and bumped Mr. Aizawa’s shoulder with his. 

Izuku might as well tell them. What would it matter now? Maybe talking about his feelings would help him let them go. Izuku shut his eyes and twin tears slid down both sides of his face. Even just thinking those words , ‘let them go,’ Izuku knew he was lying to himself. He could never let his feelings for Kacchan go. The sky was blue, birds flew, fish swam, fire burned, and Izuku was in love with Kacchan. 

“I do,” Izuku spoke just above a whisper. “I do wish that, but I know it’s not realistic.” He sniffed.

“Why?” Mr. Aizawa asked with a harsh, almost annoyed twinge that surprised Izuku into opening his eyes. All Might stood, leaving Mr. Aizawa room to stand in his place and look down on Izuku with all the severity of overseeing a final exam. Somehow, Izuku already knew he was gonna fail.

“Why what?” he squeaked.

“Why do you think it would be unrealistic for you and Bakugou to define your relationship as romantic?”

Izuku was taken aback. It was obvious, wasn’t it? That Kacchan didn’t, couldn’t feel that way about Izuku? They were friends now (or, at least, they used to be), but whenever Izuku’s compliments got a little too reverent, Kacchan would turn an angry red and tell Izuku to "shut the fuck up.”

And then there was the way Kacchan had reacted to Ashido and Kaminari putting two and two together about the scarf/hickies situation. Kacchan had said he’d “tell ‘em they got it wrong.” Clearly, Izuku’d been right in thinking Kacchan wouldn’t want anyone to know they were kissing.

And, of course, there was the way Kacchan had blown up mere moments ago. 

“You saw how he reacted just now.” Izuku stared at the door, as if his gaze could bore through and follow the direction of Kacchan’s angry footsteps. “When he realized you all thought we were dating, he got so mad and . . . and ashamed that he stormed off, and now that Kacchan sees how hard it is to hide our physical relationship, and what people will assume, there’s no way he’ll . . . I mean . . . He’ll probably never wanna talk to me again.” Izuku’s throat started to close up. “And I c-can’t . . . I can’t blame him. I’ve been s-s-so selfish.”

“You think he left because he was angry that we thought you were a couple,” Mr. Aizawa stated, not asked. Izuku didn’t know what to say.

“Y-yes?”

“That is not what I saw. Come on, Midoriya, your situational analysis skills are better than this.”

Izuku frowned. Had he misread Kacchan’s reaction?

Mr. Aizawa crossed his arms. “Bakugou may have been embarrassed from the start of our meeting, understandably, but when did he first become angry?”

Izuku replayed the last ten minutes in his mind. He tensed his hand (the pain emotional, not physical) at the memory of Kacchan smacking it away. “It was when I asked him if he was okay.”

Just like at the river.

Mr. Aizawa sighed a long, gravelly sigh. It was the same kind of sigh as when all of class 3A failed to solve a simulated rescue mission puzzle and Mr. Aizawa was forced to demonstrate the solution himself. “No, Midoriya, it was when you said, ‘we’re not boyfriends.’” 

“Huh?” 

“Yeah, kid, you totally broke his heart!” Present Mic chimed in.

Izuku’s brain short-circuited. “B-but . . .” But that was when Kacchan had doubled over. He’d looked like he was experiencing physical pain. Chest pain. It couldn’t be, could it? All this time, Kacchan had wanted to be . . . No, no! Izuku shook his head. This was exactly the wishful thinking that got Izuku hurt!

“Young Midoriya.” All Might pulled over another folding chair to sit directly in front of Izuku. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, with Mr. Aizawa and Present Mic standing close at either side. “I’ve gotta admit, this isn’t the kind of thing I normally find myself dealing with. Generally, I don’t think it’s my place to interfere with my students’ personal lives to this extent.”

Izuku freed his hands from under his thighs in favor of twiddling his index fingers, an anxious stim.

All Might cleared his throat. “But I’ve watched your relationship with Young Bakugou closely over the years. You’ve grown into inspiring young heroes, and I’ve had the pleasure to know you as inspiring young men as well. It’s because of this, you have a right to know . . . Young Midoriya, I firmly believe Young Bakugou shares your romantic feelings.”

“All Might . . . thinks Kacchan loves me?” For just a moment, Izuku allowed the serotonin to wash over him like sunlight. He’d rein his feelings back in, he would, but it felt too good to hope.

All Might nodded sagely. “I do.” 

Izuku gulped and looked to Mr. Aizawa, who slow-blinked his agreement like a cat.

“To be honest, I thought that was common knowledge.” Present Mic reached down to boop Izuku’s nose. “Boom boom boy’s got it baaaaad, man, you can’t miss it! You’ve got nothing to worry about. Trust us.” He threw an arm around a stiff but acquiescent Mr. Aizawa.

If all three teachers — mentors who’d been at Izuku’s and Kacchan’s side for their entire hero school career — were in agreement about the cause of Kacchan’s recent anger, and about Kacchan’s feelings over all, maybe Izuku really had misread the situation. He straightened up.

“S-so you think Kacchan was upset because I said we weren’t boyfriends? Because . . . because Kacchan wants to be boyfriends?”

“Yes.” “Yeeeah you got it!” “Obviously.”

If that were the case, if Kacchan had wanted a real relationship all along . . . Oh gosh. Oh, fuck. Izuku’d messed up. He stood and the chair screeched behind him. 

“Kacchan thinks I don’t wanna be boyfriends!”

Present Mic literally facepalmed. 

“But how could he possibly think that?” Izuku paced. “I’ve chased after him our entire lives! He’s everything, Kacchan’s everything, how could he not know? After all we’ve been through, even the rough times, my feelings have never been casual. That’s crazy, that’s—“

“Young Midoriya.” All Might stood and raised his hand, politely halting an onslaught of muttering. Izuku stopped right before running face-first into his mentor’s palm. “Have you considered those ‘rough times’ might be exactly why Young Bakugou lacks confidence in your feelings for him?”

“But I forgave him.”

All Might looked sad. Like he knew something Izuku didn’t. He let his raised hand fall onto Izuku’s shoulder and gave it one comforting squeeze. “That doesn’t mean he forgave himself.”

Oh.

“Kacchan . . .” Could he really share Izuku’s feelings but be too afraid to tell him because he . . . what? Didn’t think he deserved Izuku’s affection? It was an absurd thought. Terrible and too good to be true. Izuku shook his head again and covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know. I still think you’ve all misunderstood. If Kacchan was ashamed of us kissing, why would he want something as public as dating?”

“I really didn’t wanna have to tell you this,” Mr. Aizawa groaned, rubbing his temples.

“Tell me what?” Izuku peeked through his fingers. It wasn’t often his teacher divulged inside information half-willingly, especially not social information. It had to be important.

“Before you arrived to class this morning, late, Bakugou was . . . showing off.” Mr. Aizawa raised a judgemental eyebrow. “He’d gotten a few comments about his neck, and I believe his exact response was . . .” He quoted Kacchan with no attempt at imitating his voice. “‘Yeah, that’s right, I’m the best kisser at UA, probably the whole world. It’s only fitting that the one person who can give me a run for my money is—‘ and then you walked in.”

Izuku opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Mr. Aizawa dragged tense fingers across his scalp. “Bakugou was going to name you until he saw the scarf you were hiding your own hickies with.”

Izuku’s stomach clenched with embarrassment. “H-how did you know?”

“I am well-versed in scarf utility,” Mr. Aizawa deadpanned. 

“Daaaaaamn, Midoriya, that was you?” Present Mic, who had been laying upside-down over the back of the couch, flipped acrobatically to standing. “I thought boom boom boy’d gotten hit in the neck with a baseball or somethi— Oof!”

Mr. Aizawa elbowed Present Mic in the stomach.

“Do you understand?” he asked Izuku calmly, as if he hadn’t just given his friend an unprecedented Heimlich maneuver. 

Izuku tugged at his lower lip in thought. He didn’t want to look stupid this time. “Kacchan . . . wasn’t hiding his bruises? He wasn’t ashamed that he had them or that . . .” Izuku’s cheeks warmed. “. . . that I caused them?”

“What else?” Mr. Aizawa pressed. 

Izuku tensed his brain like a muscle. He had to look at the situation objectively and allow himself to consider the possibility that Kacchan returned his feelings. “He thought . . . I was hiding my bruises. B-because . . . Well, because I was.”

All three of Izuku’s mentors nodded.

“Before I ask this next question,” Mr. Aizawa sat i n All Might’s empty chair and gestured for Izuku to sit back down as well, “I wanna make it clear that you have every right to keep whatever aspects of your relationship private you see fit. Frankly, the more you keep to yourself, the better.”

Izuku was too confused and overstimulated to nod or sit, but Mr. Aizawa continued unbothered. “That said, Midoriya, how do you think Bakugou felt when he saw you hiding evidence of your physical relationship?”

How did Kacchan feel when . . .

Realization struck Izuku like lightning.

Kacchan thought Izuku was ashamed of him. That he wasn’t aching to scream his undying love from the top of every high-rise in Musutafu. It can’t be true. It must be true. It didn’t make sense. It was the only thing that made sense. Oh, Kacchan, how could you think I would be anything but proud to be yours, and for you to be mine?

An idea flashed into Izuku’s mind as if beamed there by a higher power (or perhaps a vestige?). 

“Present Mic, does your support amplifier work on normal voices?” Izuku asked, energy thrumming through his veins.

Present Mic touched the speaker around his neck. “This clunker? Sure does, but for you it’d be like a normal megaphone. Whatcha scheming, lover boy?” he asked, already unhooking the gear and dropping it into Izuku’s eager hands. It was heavier than Izuku’d thought it would be, with hidden buttons on the inside! But now was not the time to fanboy.

“Something really stupid.” Izuku clicked the speaker around his own neck with trembling fingers. One For All sizzled to life under his skin. He drew a bolstering breath, snatched his backpack off the couch, and let the momentum of his stupidity take him to the door. 

This plan was crazy. It might blow up in his face, literally, but it was the only thing to do. He had to. Kacchan had to know, and he had to know now.

Izuku turned to All Might one final time before he’d venture into one of the scariest missions of his career. If his mentor looked nervous or uncertain, or if he told him to wait, Izuku would stop. All that All Might had to do was hold up a hand, and Izuku would come to his senses, return Present Mic’s support gear, think things through, and do something more rational.

All Might smiled a heroic smile, beaming with the same confidence as when he’d first passed down One For All. 

“Go get your man, Young Midoriya.”

Chapter Text

Stupid fucking nerd can go make out with Icy Hot for all I care.

Katsuki kicked a tin can across tile floor as he stomped down the hallway. The can bounced off a locker and must’ve hit some extra on the rebound.

“Ow! Watch it.”

“You watch it!” Katsuki bellowed without bothering to check who’d spoken. Steam blew from his nostrils. He was acting like middle school Katsuki. Maybe that’s all he’d ever be, just a self-absorbed asshole who smacked people’s hands away and made them cry.

“There you are!” Something caught the tag of Katsuki’s shirt collar and tugged him stumbling backward. He choked and whipped around, palms up and ready to fire at whichever extra dared try something while his back was turned. Today was not the day to mess with him. Not after Izuku fucking Detroit Smashed his heart into pathetic little pieces.

Jirou’s earphone jack snaked back to her unimpressed face. 

“Forgetting something?” She crossed her arms.

Katsuki’s stomach dropped, and so did his defense. It wasn’t like he was scared of her. Katsuki wasn’t scared of anyone (except maybe Auntie Inko), but Jirou was fucking cool, okay? She was probably the only person Katsuki’d unironically use that word for, and so maybe he wanted her to think he was cool too. Whatever. 

“Uuhhh,” he said.

Jirou tapped her own shoulder with a pair of Katsuki’s drumsticks.

“Shit.” Katsuki dragged a hand down his face. He’d forgotten about the damn lunch concert for Shadow Day. Today was the day prospective middle school brats followed year one students around like little stalkers, and Principal Nezu’d asked their band to play. Katsuki was late as hell.

“Yeah. Shit.” Jirou tossed Katsuki the drumsticks, and he caught them one-handed. So much for getting alone time on the roof to cool down. At least he’d get to hit things.

Turns out, Katsuki’d missed most of the concert. Dunce Face had gotten Kirishima to cover percussion since he knew all their songs, and apparently he hadn’t fucked it up too badly. The last set featured heavily on drum solos though, so the band was grateful to have Katsuki back. Too grateful. Not one of them gave him the earful he deserved, and that only made Katsuki hate himself more.

The wailing of Jirou’s electric guitar speared his eardrums and drowned out the pain. Katsuki directed all his anger at his drum set. Every whack of wood against drum skin and metal was a much-deserved punch to his heart.

Just an asshole. That’s it. Fucking. Stupid. Delusional. Dumb fuck. Good for nothing goddamn hothead jackass fucking loser.

The song ended with a final cymbal crash and stunned the Lunch Rush audience into silence. Katsuki’s heavy breathing filled the space. It was the best he’d ever played. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and it came back wet. One of his drumsticks had cracked in half.

Why wasn’t anyone fucking clapping? He sniffed. What the fuck?

Just as tentative audience hands raised to clap, a familiar voice rang out loudly over the crowd.

“KACCHAN!”

Katsuki stiffened. What could Izuku want now? And where the fuck was he? Did he have a megaphone? Katsuki squinted at the sea of students, heart in his throat. Izuku better not try and fucking apologize to Katsuki for . . . for breaking his heart or some shit. He better fucking not.

“Kacchan! Kacchan, I’m sorry!”

Fuck this. Katsuki stood, but Jirou’s icy glare held him in place. They still had one final song to perform. He couldn’t fucking leave, not after almost missing the entire concert. Fuck.

“Please listen to me, Kacchan! Everyone, listen to me!”

With a rusty clank, bright light beamed from the ceiling and spot lit Izuku all the way in the back of the dim cafeteria. And was that . . . ? That was Present Mic’s clunky-ass neck speaker. Had Izuku finally stuffed his brain with enough fanboy nerd facts to go literally batshit insane? In front of everyone?

Katsuki opened his mouth to ask exactly that when white light blinded him.

“What the—? Turn this shit off, Twinkle Toes!” It had to be that teletubbie twink controlling the lights up there. He could picture the little asshole’s self-satisfied smirk.

“S-some of you only know Kacchan as Great Explosion Murder God DynaMight,” Izuku’s amplified voice addressed the stupefied crowd, “a strong hero with a . . . with kind of a foul mouth.”

Static feedback hummed awkwardly as if even the microphone were cringing at whatever the fuck Izuku was doing. There were a few murmurs from the peanut gallery. Katsuki’s insides tightened. He still couldn’t see. What was happening? 

“A-and some of you only know him as that guy from class three A who doesn’t like being told what to do and uh . . . and can’t remember anyone’s name.”

That last comment gained some audience snickers. Katsuki’s cheeks burned and the sweat on his palms startled to sizzle.

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing, nerd, but you better cut this shit out right now,” he spoke through his teeth.

“But he’s so much more than that!” Izuku yelled loud enough to make Katsuki’s hearing aid screech. “Kacchan, you’re so much more than that! Everyone who really knows Kacchan knows what an amazing person he is.”

Katsuki might actually be sick. This was one hell of an “it’s not you, it’s me” speech. And that’s what it had to be, right?

“I’m fucking leaving,” Katsuki grumbled.

Jirou gripped one of his arms, and Dunce Face gripped the other. Yeah, right. As if those runts could hold him.

“Let go a’ me.” Katsuki shook them off easily, but his freedom was short-lived. Shitty Hair held him back with rock hard arms. 

“Come on, man, just listen to Midobro,” Kirishima pleaded. But why? Why should he have to listen to this shit? So Izuku could feel heroic, even when he was breaking Katsuki’s fucking heart? Why couldn’t he just leave it alone?

“Kacchan might not be nice, but he is kind,” Izuku continued to a rapt audience. Katsuki thrashed left, then right, but he knew it was useless. He couldn’t escape Kirishima’s hold unless he were to blast his best friend’s arms clean off. All he could do was glare at Izuku with a face that was anything but kind.

“He’s kind, and he cares about his friends more than anyone I know. He doesn’t really show it with words, but you all see it, right? Kacchan cooks for all of us, and he always makes extra portions for friends who’re going through a hard time.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd. What the fuck did they know? Maybe Katsuki just enjoyed making food and decided not to kill all the extras who wanted to eat it. Ever think of that? Hah? Kind, my ass.

“He checks up on the people he cares about, always making sure we drink enough water and aren’t behind in our training. A-and sure, it sounds like ribbing, but it’s because he cares. Kacchan cares.”

Something traitorously warm bloomed in Katsuki’s chest and the blush in his cheeks flared up again. Alright, so maybe there was some truth to what Izuku was saying. 

Katsuki’s friends’ consistent lack of self-preservation skills was annoying as fuck, but maybe it was annoying because he cared about them. He hadn’t even realized that about himself, so why was it so obvious to the nerd? Katsuki struggled slightly less against Kirishima’s hold.

“Kacchan’s an amazing hero, my image of victory, anyone with eyes can see that, but he’s also an amazing friend.” Friend. Of fucking course. Because this was a fucking break up speech for a relationship that was never a relationship to begin with. 

Katsuki’s eyes already stung from the bright light, but they burned even more, and the room started to blur. He could barely make out Izuku glowing teal and floating over the cafeteria tables.

“He’s the kind of friend who’ll go to the dentist with me when I’m afraid to go alone, and . . . and give me hand massages when my arthritis acts up and I can’t play Mario Kart, and who’ll help me make valentines for the whole class even though Kacchan hates Valentine’s Day.”

“Izuku . . .” Katsuki choked on his words. “Stop.”

Izuku was less than ten feet away from Katsuki now. The spotlight couldn’t reach him, but One For All’s teal embers lit him up all the same. Pink blush painted an otherwise unreadable expression on his stupid freckled face. 

“You’re . . . You’re amazing, and . . .” Izuku squinched his eyes shut like he always did before saying something batshit, and Katsuki held his breath.

Why was he doing this to him? Fucking why? It wasn’t fair. Why did one person have so much power over how Katsuki felt? He always had. It’d always been him, and it’d only ever be him. Fuck. Fucking hell. God fucking damnit! Katsuki was doomed to be hopelessly, pathetically in love with Midoriya Izuku.

“. . . and anyone would be lucky to be Kacchan’s boyfriend!”

“But not you, right?” Katsuki snapped.

“Yes me!” Izuku’s broken voice reverberated off the walls. The already quiet cafeteria went silent. “Yes me.”

Wind knocked out of Katsuki’s lungs. His hearing aid protested the feedback, but he barely noticed. The world was still. His heartbeat was loud. At some point, Kirishima’d let him go, but Katsuki remained frozen to the spot.

“But the hiding and . . .” The cogs in Katsuki’s brain turned slowly. “And you were so quick to say we weren’t . . . That we weren’t . . .”

And that’s when some extra wolf whistled, making Katsuki painfully aware of the swarm of voyeurs watching all of this shit go down. Another one cupped their hands around their mouth to yell, “kiiiiiss.”

“I can’t fucking do this.”

***

Izuku took off after Kacchan’s explosions, out the door and up the side of the building. Winter air whipped his face and bare arms and burned down his throat.

“Kacchan, wait!”

Izuku coughed on a cloud of smoke. 

But Kacchan didn’t say, “don’t follow me!” Every other time Izuku had shouted “Kacchan, wait!,” Kacchan always yelled “don’t follow me.” Even when they were little kids, he never wanted to be followed when he stormed off. So maybe, just maybe, this time he did want to be followed.

Izuku flipped over the edge of the roof and landed in a crouch on icy gravel. Kacchan, several yards away, hunched over with his hands in his pockets, facing the blank wall of the elevator machine room.

“Kacchan . . .” Izuku panted. 

Kacchan groaned. “Are you insane?” he asked the wall.

“Huh?”

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Kacchan turned to face him, his voice tight and unusually fragile. “In front of everyone? With Present Mic’s . . .” He gestured at the support gear around Izuku’s neck. “Why?”

Clouds darkened the afternoon sky, and softly falling snow haloed Kacchan’s face under blue-tinted fluorescent light. His cheeks, nose, and ears were pink like cherries, and the teary shine to his eyes only made him more breathtakingly beautiful.

All Might thinks Kacchan loves me.

“After you left, our teachers talked to me and . . .” Izuku stood on knees made wobbly with emotion. “Well, it took a lot of convincing, but I think I understand.”

“Understand what?”

Izuku made his way across the gravel, and Kacchan didn’t move away. “Why you were angry. It wasn’t because our teachers thought we were dating, was it?”

Kacchan’s adam’s apple bobbed and he shook his head ‘no.’ 

Izuku drew a deep breath. He couldn’t let himself think about what might happen if he was wrong. It was time for a leap of faith.

“Kacchan was angry . . . because I said we weren’t boyfriends. R-right?”

Kacchan clenched his fists and dropped his head, casting his face in shadow, but Izuku knew him. That was a yes. He was sure of it.

The dangerous seed of hope in Izuku’s chest started to swell. And grow. And blossom. It pressed against his ribcage like it needed to escape. All the hope, the yearning, the love; he couldn’t hold it in a second longer.

“But I want to be boyfriends, Kacchan, more than anything! You’re everything to me. No one has ever come close to making me feel the way you do. I wanna hold your hand on the way to school, and I wanna go on dates, and I wanna kiss you at prom, and then Kacchan, I want to be hero partners. I never wanna leave your side, not ever. I can’t imagine a world without you, and I don’t want to, Kacchan, I love you. I love you so much, Kacchan, I—“

Warm palms sandwiched Izuku’s face. “Stop muttering, you damn nerd. I love you too.”

Out of all the kisses Izuku and Kacchan had shared in the last few weeks, this one was the best. This one was all of Izuku’s dreams coming true in a single moment. Kacchan held him like he never wanted to let go, and Izuku hoped he never would.

“I love you . . . I love you . . .” Izuku murmured between kisses. It felt like freedom. It felt like mastering Float for the first time, but a million times better. After a life of so much hiding, finally, Izuku was living. “I love you."

“Shaddup.” Kacchan deepened the kiss and Izuku backed him up against the wall. “Mmm . . .”

It took what was in hindsight an embarrassing amount of time for the dampened cheering sounds to reach Izuku’s consciousness. Kacchan noticed first and pushed him off. He interrupted Izuku’s whine of protest with a hand over his mouth. 

The sweet smell of nitroglycerin made kiss-drunk Izuku even dizzier, and he restrained an urge to lick Kacchan’s palm. 

“What the fuck?” Kacchan hissed.

“Hn?” Awareness leaked back into Izuku’s brain as did the low rumble of applause, laughter, and another one of Monoma’s obnoxious wolf whistles. Oh gosh. Oh no. Oh geez.

“Izuku.” Kacchan’s right eye twitched and he dropped the hand covering Izuku’s mouth. “What am I hearing?”

Izuku gulped. “I might’ve . . . forgotten to turn off Present Mic’s support gear?”

Kacchan remained stone still. Izuku was done for. He squinched his eyes shut, prepared for an explosion, and spoke all in one breath.

“And it’s connected to the bluetooth speakers in the cafeteria which means everyone just heard our conversation and that’s almost certainly why they’re cheering please don’t kill me.”

“IZUKUUUU!!!” 

Crackle Crackle BOOM!

The chase was on from rooftop to rooftop, with lightning, smoke, and laughter filling winter air. In an ever-changing world, some things never change, but Izuku could take on anything with Kacchan at his side. Or hurling explosions at his ass from behind, as the case might be.

Somehow, they made it back to Lunch Rush for the final song. Izuku watched Kacchan play with stars in his eyes and smoke in his hair, heart beating to the rhythm of his drum sticks and—no way—Did Kacchan just wink at him? How was this real life?

Before Izuku could pinch himself, a familiar boney hand landed on his shoulder. The music was too loud to speak over, but he could read the pride in All Might’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Izuku mouthed.

Later, All Might would tell him he didn’t really need his help (or Aizawa Sensei’s or Mic Sensei’s), and that Izuku and Kacchan would’ve eventually come together on their own, but Izuku wasn’t so sure. In this moment, at the Lunch Rush concert, all he saw was the hero who once again made his dreams come true. 

All Might gestured for Izuku to open his palm. Izuku complied without question, and his mentor placed something flat and square in his hand and curled Izuku’s fingers over it. A teabag? No, that wasn’t it. Izuku opened his mouth to ask what All Might had given him, but he turned on his heel and disappeared into the sea of students before Izuku filled his lungs. He was left to inspect the mysterious gift alone in a crowd. 

In yet another unfortunate sequence of events, the final chord of the song echoed in harmony with Izuku’s voice as he, still connected to the speakers, exclaimed with full fanboy enthusiasm:

“Official All Might branded condoms?!”