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Katsuki tried to ignore it. He’d been doing just damn fine so far. Not just fine – the best. He was the best at this in the same way he was the best at everything. No questions. Fuck you for asking.
And yeah, maybe he liked a challenge every now and then – reveled in the strain in his arms as he successfully pinned freckled ones down under him, warmed watching calculating green eyes run over escape plans no one else could see, luxuriated in the minute tendon flexes of scarred hands and wrists against his own – but only when he won.
And he always did. But on the nights he didn’t–
Bakugou Katsuki always won. He was a hero, basically a pro already. How many bad guys had he blasted to smithereens by now? How many villains had he pounded into submission? How many times had he smashed these extras in training and tests and cooking and literally anything ever?
It didn’t matter how many times he won if he never lost. It only mattered that he kept winning. And fuck if he wasn’t going to win this stupid goddamn party with its shitty games that would be a cinch to beat any of these fucking losers in the way he always did.
So, with no more than his usual and deserved aplomb, he tossed the ping-pong ball into Ponytail’s last solo cup and won this crap game like he knew he would. Yeah, she may have gotten him to chug five plastic cups of the worst jungle juice Pikachu was able to rub two brain cells together long enough to pour out, but that couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t slow him down. Nothing can when you’re the best.
Still, it itched him.
That urge to challenge that shitty Deku any and all of the time. That voice in his head that shouted push him down and show him who’s better, who’s stronger, who should be the only one in that green-eyed gaze.
Katsuki tried to ignore it, or well, he had been trying to before this round of beer pong. Now he couldn’t remember why. Must have been a stupid reason, that shitty nerd needed to be shown his fucking place and how it was always below Katsuki in fucking everything.
He shouted out something like “OI. DEKU. BEER PONG. NOW.” and it worked like it always had. Green hair and eyes came into view and all that mattered was getting the freckles that came with under him. In scoring. In rank. In something. He gestured to the table with an explosion.
In beer pong, it seemed to be.
It would be enough. This had to be enough. Just one more challenge.
He would beat Deku into submission at beer pong so fucking hard it would finally be enough, it didn’t matter that he’d told himself the same thing a thousand times before. He was a winner and he would win. His “feelings” could go fuck themselves. Fuck themselves right off just like all these other extras and Deku too with his freckles disappearing into the way he would blush and the way his thighs would shake and tremble around him–
“You wanna play beer pong, Kaachan?” The nerd hiccuped . He’d had one drink – of course, he was watching, he was always watching, wondering when Izuku had stopped looking after him , following after him , reaching out for –
“Fuckin’ obviously.”
“Damn Bakubro, you sure? You’ve already had like eigh–” Katsuki didn’t even bother answering whatever shitty extra tried to talk to him. He was fine. He was going to win like he always did. Remember when you lost?
He didn’t. He didn’t because it had never happened.
He must have said something or time passed or whatever because he had a ping pong ball in his hand and Deku had taken some stupid stance down at the other end of the table in preparation and he was finally, finally looking at him. How he was supposed to. Because Katsuki was the best.
“I’m gonna beat you into the damn ground, you shit nerd.” He took aim and threw, aiming right between green eyes.
He won beer pong. Deku was stumbling and laughing and looking at him until he tripped like the idiot he was and then stayed there on the floor until Katsuki hauled him up and dragged him to the next table.
He won Jenga. Deku had his tongue peeking out between his lips as he tried to concentrate on removing blocks. Katsuki didn’t even bother looking at the tower when he pulled a block. He had better things to look at. Freckles. Curls.
He won Twister. Deku had fallen, his shattered and mulched arms not up to the task of keeping his contorted body up over the tarp for long. He’d reached out to Katsuki, instinctively reaching out for help from someone stronger, and pulled him down with him. Deku’d stayed there, limp and docile like he was supposed to be with Katsuki’s hand pushing his face to the floor as he laughed, drunk on win after win after win with Deku always in his place below him. Below him and accepting that was where he was meant to be.
Underneath him. Caged in by Katsuki’s stronger arms. Looking up into Katsuki’s handsomer face with awe like he used to.
He won and Pink Cheeks slapped him upside the head and floated him to the ceiling to get him off. He thrashed and roared and tried to fly with his explosions but furniture and walls and shit kept sneaking up on him and slamming into him like the bitches they were and he would have won too against the staircase if he hadn’t decided to let Shitty Hair carry him off to one of the common room couches with a glass of water and a bag of hot chips and he crunched into them the way he did everything, with the air of a fucking king and this couch with one of Deku’s All Might blankets was his throne because he was a winner and he won everything and since he kept winning he was going to be number one and Deku would say he was his favorite hero because he was number one and he always won.
He gnashed through chip after chip and watched Deku and the shitty extras lose at more games.
The party turned into swaths of color, pink and yellow and red and black swirling annoyingly around him when all he really wanted was green, why wasn’t there more green in his line of sight? There had been an overgrowth of it in his childhood, curling around him like the vines and grass and bushes he used to practice his explosions on. Back before they could hurt. Before he could win. Before he lost blinding smiles and dimples and holding hands everywhere–
It had been him and Deku and Deku’s endless praise and talk of heroes and how they were going to be the best together. It was tromping through the woods, Deku following in his footsteps because he was brave the way snivelly little crybaby Deku had never been. Not when his shitty dad left. Not when his shitty dad came back and left and back and gone again.
The world around Katsuki swam, it was definitely not his own vision. He was fine.
You know leaving wasn’t the worst thing Deku’s dad did. It was in and out of his mind like a flash, like the glances he snuck at Deku changing out of his hero costume in the locker rooms, so fast it was unnoticeable by anyone but him. So fast. Fast as fuck boiiiiiiiii–
Green.
Deku was here.
Kneeling in front of him, Izuku, down on his knees looking up at him, lips parted around a question Katsuki hadn’t heard and didn’t matter anyway. Katsuki blinked and shoved him away by the face, fingers grazing over that soft mouth so quickly, too quickly for anyone to know it was a caress. He was so fast. So fucking fast. Fast as fuck boiiiiiiiiiiiii–
Deku left, turned his back on him, just like he always does now, and it was fine. Katsuki was fine.
He was so fine he kept a watchful eye on the nerd, he was number one after all. What if a villain attacked Deku again for the nth time? He would need Katsuki to save him.
So he watched. He watched as the idiot extras put a bottle in the middle of the circle they had formed and spun it to decide who the first victim of Truth or Dare would be. He guarded, sobering slowly chip by chip, dare by dare, as Mindfuck read out the first chapter of the shitty “Pro Hero Eraserhead Adopts Y/N” AO3 fic he was currently reading, as Ears did a body shot out of Ponytail’s tits or whatever, as Stick Up His Ass took a shot from the middle because he was a little bitch and didn’t want to own up to the last porno he’d watched. It was probably something like “fully clothed woman cleans her glasses” or some shit.
He watched as Pikachu spun the bottle and it landed on Deku.
“Sooooo, Midobro!” Human Tazer leaned forward, drunk as hell and even flirtier than normal. “Truth or dare?”
“Of course, the nerd is gonna choose truth,” Katsuki threw a chip at Deku. Bullseye. He won again. Nerd didn’t even blink.
“Dare.”
Katsuki almost raised an eyebrow. Deku giggled, one gnarled hand, hands that used to be so weak they couldn’t push him away, coming up to intercept Katsuki’s line of sight to those lips.
“I dare you–” Pikachu was looking too smug for his own good, “– to kiss your Kaachan~ ”
Drunken oooh! s and aaah! s turned into surprised laughter as Deku had the audacity to make a face before reaching for a shot .
“What the FUCK, Deku?” Katsuki was up on his feet, all the alcohol remaining in his blood turning into anger while the laugh track continued.
“I am not kissing you Kaachan–” practically in slow motion, he threw the shot back, teeth biting into his lower lip at the sting while his throat struggled. How much had the stupid nerd had to drink by now? He couldn’t remember, but he knew more shots would be too much. He was clearly completely out of it, giving up a chance to kiss the future number-one hero? It was time for Katsuki to step in.
He stumbled his way around classmates trying to mock him for getting turned down– he hadn’t been turned down, not by Deku of all people – and hauled the nerd up and over his shoulder like he hadn’t grown at all since they were last really friends. Cheers rang out from his squad, someone calling out get your man, Bakubro!
Deku struggled, giggling while not trying hard at all to get himself into an upright position. Not that he would be able to get away even if he truly tried, Katsuki was stronger. Always had been, always would be.
He trudged up the stairs, he wasn’t one of those weak ass extras who cheaped out on leg day and took the elevator, to his room. Deku’d be able to sleep it off there better than under the gaze of 38294 All Mights. It had nothing to do with Katsuki avoiding everything to do with the man since he was the reason All Might used up all of his powers. Absolutely nothing.
“Kaachan watch o–” a wall came out of fucking nowhere. Damn those fuckers didn’t know when to quit, after how he had shown them up downstairs they still wanted more? Oh he would give them more, and he was just about to when Deku decided to start squirming for real in his grip, thick as hell thighs wrapping him around the ribs and squeezing while baping at the back of his head like a cat until Katsuki relented in his hold and let the nerd slide down, hands sliding up his sides to guide him carefully down. The nerd was drunk, he needed the helping hand. That was the only reason.
He kept his hands on Deku’s waist. For the same reason. Definitely.
Deku must have stumbled or some shit like the drunk loser he was because suddenly his back hit the wall, stopping him cold before Katsuki’s own forward momentum was able to slow. Their foreheads smashed together, Katsuki taking the chance to lean down to rest his head against strong shoulders until the worst of the sting passed. This was all Deku’s fault, he had to say something.
“Did you mean it?” Fuck. What was that?
“Kaachan?” He felt the confused giggle as it traveled out from Deku’s chest against his.
“Truth or dare, nerd. Don’t tell me your lightweight ass already forgot.” He tightened his grip on the densely muscled waist and one of them drew a shaky breath, they were too close to tell who, but it definitely not Katsuki.
“About…?” He felt Deku tilt his head and could see with his eyes closed and his face tucked down into a freckled neck the adorable way that nose scrunched with confusion. “Kissing you?” His hands came up – to rest against his chest he thought, to lean into the kiss that was obviously going to happen, the kiss that had been building between them all night and all year and all the time they had known each other before then because Katsuki won. He won every fight. He won every competition. He won Izuku’s heart.
Katsuki had been ignoring it, shoving it down inside himself he’d felt hollow all those years since they were four. It was time to stop.
He kissed Izuku. On the lips. Hard.
He kissed him harder than he had been holding back, one hand on his waist crashing them together while his other gripped him by the jaw, fingernails biting in, but hadn’t that how they always had been? Deku made a high pitched squeak, or tried to, Katsuki swallowed it somewhere between moving a hand into dense green curls and shifting away. Katsuki leaned back, barely, his lips could still feel the heat rolling off of Deku’s, just to breathe, not to stop, never to stop, just to catch a glimpse at shocked open eyes over freckles over open plush lips.
“Kaa–” but that was all he managed out before Katsuki had his mouth back over his, back in its rightful spot, biting down not to hurt out of anger this time, all those times, why had he always been so angry when he could have been doing this? This with the indentation of dozens of shifted nail marks on the cheeks under his finger tips, this with a muscled body flush, crushed up against his chest to hips to thighs to moving his leg to grind between thick thighs to the hands bap-baping where they were pinned against him to pawing at him to pushing him, “ Katsuki! ”
Heavy breathing, panting hot air so close it was the same breath, hands pushing him off for a breath and a chance to speak a name. God his name sounded good spoken like this rushed and nervous and shocked and right up against his own mouth he was already leaning forward again to crash them back together like the had always meant to be.
“Katsuki! Stop!”
They had been spinning around each other for so long, twin stars pulled into the other’s orbit and pulling them back in retaliation, Deku’s smile had always been the sun to Katsuki’s black hole, he wanted all of that light aimed at him, wanted to pull that joy and love and everything into him because it would finally be enough to fill his hollow body he knew it, he knew it for real this time, Deku just had to give and keep giving like he always had and had always been so happy for Katsuki to take because he needed this, needed Deku, needed Izu–
First it was the sound, the ringing out of skin connecting with intent. Then there was the sight, Katsuki had been half-liddedly staring into green eyes a moment ago, but now he was facing the empty hallway. Finally, the sting in his cheek.
Deku had slapped him.
His vision went red. Who did that useless freak think he was picking a fight with? Did he seriously think he could win? How was he still looking down on him after every great thing Katsuki had accomplished? It was the only thing to do, the only thing he could do. He may have apologized, they may have started up a tenuous friendship once again, Deku may actually have some skill at fighting back now, but their bodies remembered. The muscle memory of what he’d done every other time he’d had Deku up against a wall at his mercy like this raised his fist for him. His classic right hook.
Deku was down, crumpled to the floor from taking such a blow right to the face, tears welling up, surface tension making his eyes bigger and glossier and shinier than they ever had been before as they looked up at him and only him but it wasn’t enough, he wasn’t full, Deku had slapped him before letting him take enough.
“What the fuck was that, Deku? The hell was that for?”
“ That, ” Deku struggled up to his feet, one scarred arm taking support from Katsuki’s bedroom door where he had just been pinned, “was for forcing a kiss on me. I told you to stop and you just kept going!” His voice was vile, twisted into anger instead of the smile it was supposed to sound like.
“What do you mean? You probably think we’re meant to be or some pansy ass bullshit!” Katsuki got right back up in Deku’s face, kiss swollen lips pulled into a snarl.
“I never want to date someone who would beat me.”
The silence was painful. Katsuki screamed to fill it.
“You think I’m a fucking villain?” Remember when the villains you went to war against saw themselves in you, in your anger, your fists? “I’m not going to abuse my damn boyfriend!”
“No, because I’m not your boyfriend.” Deku dared to try and shove him back again.
“What the fuck, you think I’d beat you if we were in a relationship or something?”
“You already do beat me! You just fucking did!” The curse coming from Deku of all people had him falter for just a moment, but it was enough for weaker arms to actually propel him back.
“That was an accident!” Deku’s stare had him staggering away, poison lightning thrashing beneath the surface, desperate for the dam to break and be let loose in an explosion of green bigger than anything Katsuki would ever manage to make.
Deku took a step forward. Katsuki was wrong, Deku had never been the sun. He was a supernova, brighter by magnitudes to the point it hurt if he chose to point his light at you. He was the inbetween, the achingly beautiful death of an ancient star that was burning burning itself down to outshine everything that had come before it, whether he would come back together, be able to find and secure all of his own fragments back together into a neutron star, or take everything, absolutely everything – especially you – down with him in a black hole nothing would be able to escape.
Deku had never been the sun. He’d been under too much pressure for far too long.
“Had I known back in middle school that dating you was all it took to get you to stop permanently scarring my body with burns, I would have let you bend me over the teacher’s desk in the middle of fucking class. I have your hands permanently branded into my skin. I have old casts and doctors’ bills from when you broke my arms, the multiple times before I ever managed to with this quirk. I have a whole journal from middle school analyizing you, not to be a stalker, mind you, but to hide from you, avoid you and your burning hands and your explosions. Oh? And that last page? I have my first ever suic–”
“YO! Bakubroooo! How’d it gooooo?!” Kirishima stumbled out of the elevator giggling like Katsuki hadn’t just been gutted and left to bleed out on the floor. Their new arrival was too drunk to read the room in time and giggled his way over. “Woah there! What’re ya doin’ on the floor here? You fall all over yourself during your confession? Yo, Midobro– me ‘n the Bakusquad have bets going on how long it would take him to man up and tell you already. It was getting almost painful watching him turn mean like you guys were lil’ kids on the playground and he was pulling your pigtails to get you to look at him. Hey, Midobro, have you ever worn your hair in pigtails? Or well, since it’s so curly, pig– pig-poofs? I think you’d look super cu– super manly bro–”
He kept going, fueled into more and more tangential trains of thought by bottom shelf vodka. Katsuki was going to drown in the whirlpool of Kirishima’s words and Deku’s silence. They just, let him keep going, let the time crawl on until Katsuki thought his heart had pounded all the remaining beats he could before his heart gave out.
Katsuki watched Deku collect himself. Watched his mouth move but make no sound while he counted down and out his breaths. Watched the uneven jerking of his throat at the pulse point. Watched mangled fingers unclentch themselves from lightning-surrounded fists and begin stretching themselves out, the scars from breaking his own bones on his hands and forearms, shiny burn spots Katsuki knew would match the shape of his hands peeking out from the sleeves of his tshirt, and thin white horizontal lines that drew cumbersome ladders up the inside of his wrists twist with the flexing of muscle and tendon.
“ –I’ve been seeing more and more videos of cute, I mean manly, guys dressed up in maid outfits and they really rock it, I’ve been thinking about getting one for mysel–”
“Kirishima,” Deku held up a hand to interject, “ Bakugou here has just had a little too much to drink, think you could take care of him for me? Something just came up.”
“Absolutely dude! This is what bros are for! Bakubro, we should get matching maid outfits, here–” Katsuki shoved the phone out of his face, not even registering what his friend was going on about now, Deku’s words were ringing too loudly.
He watched, not even protesting when Kirishima put an arm around him, as Deku walked back down the hall.
He didn’t look back.