Chapter Text
The chairs in the meeting rooms at Katsuki’s agency are always uncomfortable; stiff backs, non-adjustable heights, either too high or too low for the tables; Katsuki can never comfortably kick his feet up without putting strain on his neck. But he feels none of the familiar discomfort now, only glares down at his hands, too overwhelmed by his present situation to care about how the spine of the chair digs into his back.
Sitting directly across from him and beaming brighter than the overhead lights is the new PR intern they’ve hired and apparently deemed qualified enough to handle the shit that Katsuki’s currently in. His actual PR manager, Haruka, sits adjacent to her, all stoic and professional in her freshly-pressed suit, but Katsuki can see the underlying amusement in her features that he’s annoyingly become used to.
“Dynamight-san, sir,” the intern, Hime, says in that chirpy voice of hers. Katsuki scowls at her. “If you’re ready, then I believe we can proceed with the meeting.”
Katsuki wants to say many things; wants her to stop calling him Dynamight-san, wants her to stop calling him sir, wants her to shove that perpetual smile she’s got on her face up her ass, wants to tell her to go fuck herself. The list goes on for a long while, but these people are technically working for his sake, so he takes all of the things he wants to say and channels them into the short grunt he gives as a reply instead.
The grunt doesn’t deliver shit, only causes Hime to beam even brighter, if that’s possible, as she opens the A4 plastic folder in front of her on the table. In it contains the bane of his morning, a blurry picture taken probably two years ago by some amateur journalist trying to make a name for himself. And make a name he did, because the article that photograph is featured in currently has over a million clicks.
He doesn’t even want to look at it. But for the sake of this entire meeting, he has to, watching Hime slide the stupid thing over the smooth surface of the table until it’s directly in his line of sight. He barely gives it a glance, because he’s seen the thing an infuriating amount of times already; in his messages, on social media, on his goddamn TV. It’s like everyone else in Japan has nothing better to do than speculate on his love life. Don’t get Katsuki wrong, he likes that he’s being talked about, but there are a multitude of other things about him that are worth gossiping over; him and Shouto making out in an alleyway is most definitely not one of them.
“That was two years ago,” Katsuki says, pointedly not looking back down at the picture.
Hime doesn’t get deterred by his rotten mood, only smiles in the face of danger personified and continues on. “Are you saying that you and Shouto-san have been in a relationship for the past two years?” She asks the question innocuously. Doesn’t even try for subtlety.
There’s no point in hiding anything from his PR. They’re here to fix shit, and Katsuki knows well enough that only giving them half-truths won’t do him any good.
“No,” is all he gives them, and he watches gradually as they begin to piece together what little Katsuki has given them.
Not bothering to hide the shock on her face, mouth forming a quick ‘o’ before recovering to its perky smile, Hime clasps her hands together decisively. “Then I see no reason why our plan won’t work smoothly.”
Katsuki raises a hesitant brow. He hasn’t even been briefed of the plan, yet he already feels a cold shiver down his spine at the way Haruka accidentally lets slip the beginnings of a mischievous smile. “Plan?”
“Exactly!” Hime cheers, all bold-faced optimism. She kinda reminds Katsuki of Izuku from high school, except she lacks the nervous reluctance that he used to carry. And Katsuki would rather die than admit he ever thought of it, but now faced with what that optimism looks like paired with confidence, he very much misses the annoying jitteriness of past Izuku. “It’s simple. You’re going to be dating Shouto-san. Well, strictly professionally, of course. And since you already have prior experience in that regard, I’m sure it’ll be a walk in the park for the both of you.”
“Hold the fuck up,” Katsuki interrupts. “There’s no way you don’t—You trying to get on my nerves or something?”
Hime turns to Haruka, who has to bite down on her lower lip to keep from full-on grinning, then turns back to Katsuki. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
Seething, Katsuki takes a deep breath, which does absolutely fuck all to calm himself down, before answering. “I just told you we dated. Past tense. You can’t seriously expect me to fake date him as a PR stunt. Why the fuck do I have to anyway? Won’t that be like throwing fuel into the fire? Aren’t we supposed to make people think we aren’t a thing?”
Hime outright laughs in his face, and Katsuki’s beginning to see why Haruka likes her enough to give her the reins to this project. She’s basically Haruka, except she doesn’t bother with concealing her feelings on any matter. She’s already substantially worse and more annoying than Haruka herself and Katsuki has known her for ten minutes at most.
“Sir, with all due respect, having the public think that you two are a ‘thing’ is possibly the best that could come out of this.” Katsuki opens his mouth to interject, but Hime doesn’t let up. “Sure, we can just keep quiet and let it die down in a week or two. But why not seize this opportunity? This could be good for you. You’re always so…,” she gestures in his general direction, “... you. While it makes you stand out from the rest, it’s also kind of intimidating. You need relatability; something that shows that while you may be the great hero Dynamight, you’re also just some dude.”
Katsuki sneers. “Why the hell would I want that? And, just a passing thought here, you tell ‘em that the picture is old and that we broke up? Fuck ton of people go through that, right? How’s that for appearing relatable?”
Hime looks at him with a placating look, like she’s about to explain a complex concept to a child and she has to dumb down her words to make sure he understands. Katsuki has to tighten his fists to make sure he doesn’t end up setting the table on fire. “If we do that, who do you think will get the short end of the stick? Your image is already - well, to put it nicely, tarnished. If we announce that you were together and have broken up, then the public will go scouring for every little piece of evidence to show that you were somehow the big bad evil that broke poor little innocent hero Shouto’s heart.”
Katsuki wants to rebuke, but finds that he can come up with nothing. That sounds on par with most of the rumours he’s got going around about him. Turns out his brash, to-the-point personality doesn’t exactly make for a nice guy image, not that he was ever going for it. Now of all times though, he wishes he was perceived better by the people he’s working his ass off protecting.
Hime puts the smile back on her face, now significantly less bright than before as she tries for an understanding look. “This PR relationship will do you more good than harm. A few negatives sure, possibly a death threat or ten from Shouto-san’s diehard fan club, but nothing you can’t handle, sir. Think of it as damage control, like that one time you crashed through a kindergarten and had to play host to a bake sale to raise funds for all the damage you caused. That earned you a few brownie points, didn’t it? Appease the public and it’ll eventually pay off. You’re in the top ten already, surely you don’t want to lose it all because of one little picture?”
Katsuki peers down at the picture, vaguely remembering what had happened that day. They had just gotten together, spent a whole night partying with the rest of their friends and having to skirt around each other. It had been before everyone had found out about them. That duck-out into the alley had been something instinctual, results of hours spent downing one drink after the other. He still recalls how Shouto had knocked their teeth against each other in his hastiness, Katsuki having to bite back his yelp to avoid drawing attention to them. He hadn’t even felt anyone looking at them back then. Shocking, considering his pension for feeling every single eye on him at all times, but he supposes sucking face with someone like Shouto had to be distracting enough to take his mind off scoping the premises.
“He won’t agree,” says Katsuki. He’s correct, he knows, but somehow that doesn’t make him feel good at all.
Hime doesn’t give him pity, and for that she’s bumped up a few spots higher in the list of people Katsuki tolerates. Instead she only nods, expression unfaltering. “That’s for us to handle. Shouto-san also has more to gain from this than you would think. So what do you say, sir?”
Katsuki agrees to the stupid plan, only because he’s at least 90% certain they wouldn’t have let him leave the meeting otherwise. Also because he has his reputation to save; he doesn’t go looking up the latest searches relating to Dynamight, but he already has an idea based on what’s in his social media messages and mentions.
And partly—a very small, insignificant part, he assures himself—because he wants to know what Shouto will do.
There’s no fathomable scenario in his mind where Shouto would willingly say okay to this. They hate each other, even if sometimes it feels so tragically one-sided with the way it always ends with Katsuki glaring and smoking by the palms and Shouto with that annoyingly neutral expression on his face.
But surprisingly, Shouto agrees to it too. There’s no text from him personally saying so, because Katsuki has him blocked in every way possible, but there’s an email from Haruka detailing a meeting days later with Shouto and his own PR team which basically confirms the shit for him.
The day comes and the drive over to Shouto’s agency is filled with Hime chattering into Katsuki’s ear about what little of the specifics they have already come up with. It’ll last for a year at most, once Katsuki is hopefully rid of his asshole image, then there’ll be some sort of mutual breakup that they’ll say is due to their busy schedules. There will be public appearances, on talk shows and variety shows, the specifics of exactly how many are still in the talks. Katsuki hopes they narrow it down to a simple zero, because if there’s anything he hates more than villains, it’s nosy talk show hosts. They’ll also attend social events with one another as their plus-one’s, meaning if Shouto has to go to some annual hero event type crap, then Katsuki will have to be there accompanying him. It’s everything Katsuki hates baked into one shitty cupcake, Shouto being the proverbial cherry on top to the entire thing.
When they finally get to Shouto’s agency and are put into one of the meeting rooms that eerily resemble his own agency’s, Shouto’s team is already there, matching Hime’s beaming energy from the get-go, much to Katsuki’s dismay. Both teams begin engaging with one another as soon as they’re settled in, leaving Katsuki by the sidelines to offer absolutely nothing of substance.
Shouto is fashionably late, which Katsuki gets pissed off at because he should be the one looking like he doesn’t care enough to show up on time. He has to force himself not to watch the door and to instead try to pay attention to the discussion going on about him and his fake relationship with someone that isn’t even in the fucking room. It’s all so messed up, and if Katsuki could rely solely on his technical skills as a hero to get to number one, the world would be a much better place.
They’re in the middle of discussing exactly how friendly the two of them should act in public when the door opens to an out-of-breath Shouto. Everyone in the room pauses to offer him greetings but quickly moves on to continue with the discussion. It’s only Katsuki who keeps his attention entirely on Shouto as he sits down directly across from him, trying to even out his breathing. There’s no acknowledgement between them, Shouto hadn’t even been looking in his direction when he entered so Katsuki had offered him no greeting in return, but the stare remains.
It’s been a while since Katsuki has seen him up close like this, and it’s a lot more to take in than he had thought. No one’s actively trying to keep them apart right now and he feels the urge to strike up some sort of taunt at the fact that Shouto’s still not looking him in the eye.
“You think I’m Medusa or something?” There’s no heat behind that question, but he can feel it start to build up when Shouto finally looks at him properly, that same gazeless look in his own eyes, as if Katsuki isn’t even worth looking at. But fuck it, at least he’s looking now.
The chatter beside them slowly comes to a stop at that. The silence that comes after doesn’t help with the tension that’s rising in the air as the cogs turn in Shouto’s mind, deciding if he should humour the taunt or if he should simply ignore it. There’s no right answer to that, because either way, Katsuki is going to get more agitated.
“No. I don’t think so,” he finally settles with. “For one, I’d much rather look at Medusa than you.”
Katsuki rises to his feet abruptly, metal legs of his chair screeching loudly on the tiled floor as his palms come into contact with the surface of the table. Someone’s coffee spills over at the resulting rattling, but no one cares enough when Katsuki’s ready to beat the shit out of a fellow colleague right in front of them. “You piece of shit,” he spits out scaldingly, already regretting the thought of even thinking that this could have somehow worked out. “As if your two-toned shitface self is better to look at.”
Shouto remains seated, ever the calm one between them. “I’m sure if we took a vote now, I’d win the majority.”
Before Katsuki can go on with more detailed insults and threats, Hime clears her throat loudly, clapping her hands together and putting a decisive end to whatever the fuck he and Shouto were about to get into. “Well, I am certainly relieved that the two of you are already well-acquainted.” That statement earns her a few doubtful looks from Shouto’s team, but Haruka nods like she agrees, stupidly. “For the most part, both our teams have smoothed out the nitty-gritty of the fine-print. It’s just - there’s still a tiny bit more we have to discuss before we write them up and present them to you, and your lighthearted banter is serving to be more distracting than expected.” She stands, tall and sure, as if everything she’s just said about the two of them aren’t simply boldfaced lies. “I suggest that we—” she gestures to Haruka and the rest, “go to another room to sort out the rest of the details, while our stars over here,” and she shoots Katsuki a warning look, “settle their differences in a much more civil manner.”
Katsuki finds pleasure in finally cracking Hime’s squeaky-clean, brighter-than-the-sun exterior, but it doesn’t last long as both teams nod in agreement and begin to gather their things to head to another room. He glances at Shouto while the rest are filing out of the room one by one, and only finds that Shouto’s beginning to realise the same thing as he is.
They might actually kill each other before this whole PR thing even begins.
When the door clicks shut after the last person leaves the room, Shouto lets out a long, drawn-out sigh that Katsuki is sure he only does just to piss Katsuki off further.
Katsuki’s back in his seat now. He kicks his feet up to lay atop the table, one ankle crossing over the other, leaning back in his chair. Some last-ditch effort at nonchalance. “What the fuck is up with you?”
Shouto closes his eyes briefly, takes in a very deep breath, and turns to Katsuki. “What’s up with me? You’re the one instigating fights first thing in the morning. Surely the fault lies with you.”
“If you’d just look at me, I wouldn’t be instigating shit!”
The look Shouto gives him in return is something dangerous, not in the sense that he’s going to ice Katsuki from head to toe and leave him to freeze in the room alone. It’s a more poignant look, fleeting like he hadn’t meant to let it slip. But Katsuki catches it before the quick change back to neutrality.
It’s now of all times that he wishes he weren’t so observant when it came to Shouto.
“So now you want me to pay attention to you? I recall you telling me I was suffocatingly clingy before.”
It’s said with too little conviction, perhaps something Shouto decides to throw out as deflection for whatever look Katsuki had caught earlier, an obvious bait that Katsuki latches onto because all rational thought goes out the window when Todoroki Shouto is of concern.
Katsuki grits his teeth, legs coming down from their perch on the table as he pushes himself off his chair. This time his chair doesn’t screech loudly against the floor. His walk out the room is too quiet and if the doors weren’t made of tempered glass he would have slammed them shut to make a point. “You’re a real asshole sometimes,” he says as way of bidding goodbye, not bothering to look back to see if that statement has any effect on Shouto at all.
Katsuki can admittedly be more of an asshole, knowing very well how simply leaving will make Shouto feel, but Shouto kinda deserves it so he doesn’t care. There’s a brief moment where Katsuki has to argue with himself about how leaving isn’t a cowardly move on his part, only courteous because god knows if the room will still be intact if they continued to have their “lighthearted banter” in it. The earful he’d get from his agency would be a pain to get through.
So leaving is the right choice, and he stands by that, even if later that evening he receives a call from Hime about how he lacks professionalism and has disgraced their agency by leaving an important meeting like that. She shoves that all aside after a minute or two though and dutifully informs him that the contract they had drafted up will be placed on his desk by tomorrow morning and that he must—absolutely must, because the plan will still be following through despite the clearly shaky start today—sign it with no objections. Katsuki still objects a whole bunch the next morning however, leading to a very lengthy meeting which is a waste of everyone’s time in the end. Hime has known him for all of two days and already knows how to make him submit, all by countering any of his arguments with a smile and outlasting his stubbornness. Definitely worse than younger Izuku.
This PR relationship shit is a surprisingly quick thing to set up. Once he has the contract signed and handed in, both their agencies don’t spare a second longer and immediately announces that yes, pro hero Dynamight and Shouto are, in fact, dating. The resulting chaos that ensues only further proves his point that this whole thing is a trainwreck waiting to happen, and he hasn’t even had to do anything with Shouto yet.
The media and busybody civilians eat it all up obviously, posting and reposting that same blurry picture over and over again because that’s quite literally the only piece of public evidence anyone has that the relationship existed in the first place. Katsuki thinks back to that night every time he’s forced to see the goddamn picture. He only feels anger each time, but there’s a faint sombre aftertaste to it that he refuses to address. He hopes Shouto has to see it as much as him and he hopes he feels the same kind of agitation he does.
Katsuki gets a few calls and messages on his personal phone from his friends and family, a bunch more from Eijirou, and a fuckload from Izuku. He very decisively ignores all of them in favour of living in ignorance from the whole situation. They don’t technically have to do anything together yet. They’re letting the news settle, Hime says, there’s no need to chase the hype, they only need to leave the public wanting more just long enough before they throw something back at them at the right time.
The right time doesn’t come for a long while, but the public continues to harp in on them every chance they get. Katsuki doesn’t even see the two-toned fuck at all, but he has people - journalists, reporters, some teenager who happened to stumble upon his latest arrest, everyone and their fucking mothers—asking left and right about Shouto like Katsuki’s somehow become his spokesperson now that they’re dating. It’s the one thing he and Shouto had wanted to avoid by keeping their relationship a private thing. Having to deal with it, very unwillingly, pisses him off more than it would have years ago, considering the relationship isn’t even real now.
The hero Shouto diehard fan club even makes their appearance in the form of a blood-soaked package sent to Katsuki’s agency. He appreciates the sentiment really, a little too edgy in his opinion, but he respects the courage it took them, knowing damn well he’ll hunt them down for sport if he ever identifies any of them, teenage girl or not.
They meet at last, Shouto and him, during one of his villain fights.
“Hero Shouto reporting,” Shouto’s deadpan voice comes through Katsuki’s earpiece, nearly startling him enough to almost get hit by the car thrown at him.
It isn’t as if they don’t team up often during the bigger fights and missions, but he expected to see Shouto next at one of their PR-arranged events, not out in the field when Katsuki’s wholly unprepared to face him after his now-embarrassing walk-out a few weeks before. He steadies himself quick enough to send a few fast but accurate shots at the villain, which causes them to screech painfully loud.
Katsuki winces, ears slightly tingling. He lands on the balls of his feet a safe distance away as the villain continues to frantically throw every piece of object they can get their hands on in his direction. He dodges most of them skilfully, and blasts the ones he can’t dodge into bits and pieces before ducking away behind a large truck.
“They’ve got some hardening type quirk, kinda like Red Riot—”
“I’ve been briefed on the way over,” cuts in Shouto’s annoyingly passive voice. “Why don’t you focus on the fight at hand?”
Katsuki isn’t too sure if Shouto’s saying it like a straight jab to Katsuki’s gut or if he’s simply saying it like he always does. Either way it irritates Katsuki enough that the subsequent blow to the villain’s face is entirely powered by the fact he’s pretending the blast is to Shouto’s face instead.
It stuns the villain long enough for Shouto to make his grand entrance, right hand to the asphalt, sending an immediate ice trail towards the villain and encasing them in a block of ice from the shoulder down. Shouto sends a look Katsuki’s way, and Katsuki has to begrudgingly blast himself up in the air to land a pivotal explosion right down the middle of the villain’s head. Their hardened outer shell slowly cracks open after that, screeching long withstanding during the process, to reveal a child no older than twelve. Not a villain, just some overstimulated, panicked child on a rampage.
The mother comes onto the scene soon enough, which is saying something about how lenient the police are. She gives the child a soothing hug, causing them to burst into tears and melt in her arms, and suddenly Katsuki isn’t all that concerned for the breach in safety. If anyone says he’s going soft, he’ll deny it ‘til his deathbed, even if he’s certain that he is going soft.
Shouto is by their side looking wistful as fuck, left hand held up to melt the surrounding ice around the child as he eyes them with what appears like envy and fond mixed together.
“Stop looking at them like some creep,” hisses Katsuki, when the mother-child pair follow a medic towards a waiting ambulance further down the street after offering their gratitude to the both of them.
Blinking rapidly, Shouto startles back into reality at the comment. “I just think it’s nice. To have someone come to you so lovingly even after you’ve destroyed half a block.”
Shouto says it a bit too intimately for Katsuki to make fun of him so he doesn’t say anything back at all, leaving his thoughts to hang between them awkwardly as they wait for the rest of the authorities to arrive on the scene.
The awkwardness is intensified by the fact that they’re standing beside an alleyway, looking much too similar to the one in the infamous photograph of them. Katsuki doesn’t even so much as let his eyes linger too long in its direction but Shouto seems as if he lacks the same train of thought, nodding his head over to it nonchalantly.
“Looks familiar.”
It’s with frighteningly overwhelming restraint that Katsuki does not blow Shouto’s face up. He runs through a myriad of Katsuki-approved responses through his mind but they all seem to end with him punching Shouto across his pretty face, so again he ends up saying nothing at all. Shouto has to be doing this on purpose.
Their one-sided conversation is cut short when a reporter manages to slip past the yellow police tape and make his way over to the both of them. Katsuki pulls a snarl on at the sight of him, more of a gut reaction to reporters in general more than anything. Shouto moves a step closer towards Katsuki, seemingly on purpose, and he’s suddenly reminded of the unfortunate predicament they’ve both managed to put themselves in.
“Wonderful work out there!” The reporter commends, placing his tape recorder into his breast pocket. “It’s your first team-up after the big reveal. How does that make you feel?”
It’s a stupid question to ask, especially when there’s a more interesting story to report on. Like how it took two pro heroes to successfully apprehend a small child with a berserk-type quirk. But it’s nothing surprising, considering gossip stories do tend to gain more traction than anything.
“Nothing new,” says Katsuki at the same time as Shouto says, “Exhilarating,” and Shouto’s hand grazes against Katsuki’s gloved one in a purposefully obvious way. The reporter catches the small action like the observant motherfucker he is and breaks out into a smile.
Katsuki can’t believe Shouto is pandering.
“Well, that fight certainly will be more entertaining for viewers to watch. Do you think your impeccable teamwork stems from the fact that you two are personally involved with one another? As far as I know, this relationship of yours only began recently, but over the past years, the both of you have always yielded near-perfect results when working with one another. Does that have anything to do with any previous lingering attachments between you two?”
“What’re you tryna say, huh?” Katsuki baulks, not afraid to step right into the reporter’s personal space to jab an accusing finger right into his chest, ignoring Shouto’s hushed whispers of stop it. “That we’re only doing our job perfectly ‘cos we fuck?”
Katsuki feels the temperature in the air drop a few degrees lower in warning. However, he’s more focussed on the slowly spreading panicked expression on the reporter’s face. The reporter stutters out a series of uh’s and um’s and no’s, previous good mood foiled in the presence of one beyond irritated Katsuki.
Pulling the tape recorder out from the reporter’s pocket, Katsuki shoves it close to his own face, making a point to glare at him. “Listen loud and clear, you stupid fucking—
“—extras, I don’t need to fuck someone in order to make good work with them. I could work with an untrained civilian and still pummel a villain into the ground without breaking a sweat. You got that? ” Hime repeats, voice low and gruff trying to imitate Katsuki’s, eyebrows raised pointedly as she reads off her phone the article featuring the incident earlier in the day.
Shouto sits beside him, arms crossed and face slightly irked. Katsuki only shrugs because he still stands by the shit he said.
Hime hums. “I don’t think I’m getting paid enough for this,” she mutters before putting her phone back down onto the table. “At least follow Shouto-san’s lead, sir. What good would this PR relationship do if you stir up more trouble along the way?”
“He was spouting shit at me. Was I supposed to sit back and take it like candy cane over here?”
“Yes,” Shouto replies in Hime’s stead. “You’ve been a public figure for years now, and yet you’re still acting like an amateur. There are high school interns who are more media-trained than you are.” That last bit earns a startled chuckle from Hime. Sighing, Shouto pushes on. “Considering I’m now tied to every little scandal you’re causing, I’d like it if you could restrain yourself in the future, for my sake.”
Katsuki scoffs, entirely affronted. “Not my fault you’re tied to me now. You’re the idiot who dragged me out of that bar two years ago because you couldn’t wait a few more hours. Why the hell do I have to hold back for your sake?”
For once, Shouto’s eyes appear slightly melancholic. It stuns Katsuki out of his tangent, hands going that familiar stillness they usually do when he’s faced with an emotion that’s far too real for him to handle.
“Three years now,” goes Shouto, looking right at Katsuki through his peripheral. When Katsuki doesn’t deign a response, he goes on. “It was three years ago.”
It’s like confirmation, really, that Shouto probably does feel the same way Katsuki does whenever he sees that picture. Except it isn’t the immense agitation that they share, it’s the underlying sombreness that Katsuki’s been trying to ignore since the start of all this.
There’s no right way out of this, so Katsuki flexes both his hands in an attempt to rid himself of the numb feeling in them. “Whatever,” he dismisses easily, his emotional first line of defence kicking in, like the thought of Shouto remembering that doesn’t make his heart clench in unbelievable ways. “Point is, I wasn’t gonna stand back and let him claim all this shit, all right?”
“Who says I was?”
Katsuki throws his hands up in the air, exasperatedly. “So you agree with me. Meeting fucking adjourned.”
“I would have done it differently.”
“Yeah? You always got a better way of handling things?”
Shouto nods, all too unperturbed by Katsuki. “I would have said ‘no’.”
There’s a long pause after that, where Katsuki has to make sure he hasn’t just passed out mid-conversation and missed the rest of what Shouto had said. He looks to Hime, who appears equally as confused by the lack of elaboration.
“‘No’ what?” She dares to ask, Katsuki already leaning back in his seat trying to hide the smile that’s threatening to break out. When Shouto tilts his head at her question, clearly confused as to what she isn’t comprehending, she drops her head down into her hands dramatically. “Oh, we’re so dead.”
Turns out the power of appearing on tape with your equally as popular significant other, fake or not, is pretty amazing. Katsuki’s little tangent, courtesy of the invasive reporter, had gone entirely unnoticed, buried by the mirage of new clips and pictures of Katsuki and Shouto during the fight itself. Gone are the days of posting and reposting that same blurry alleyway picture.
Funnily enough, their team-up—which mind you, isn’t anything new—is headline-worthy according to almost every media outlet there is. Some kinda power couple narrative where they have each other’s backs and can communicate with a single look. Both of those things are true, but Katsuki can probably also do that with Denki, it’s not saying much at all. The fact that they are now one of the few publicly official hero couples suddenly makes every mundane thing they do with each other cute or swoon-worthy, even if they do said things with about ten other people in their lives. He swears he could nod at Shouto’s general direction and someone would write a ten-page essay on why that’s significant to the world right now.
Katsuki starts to accept the whole thing a little better, because most of the things his agency reprimands him for end up not mattering much if he comments a fire emoji under one of Shouto’s Instagram posts. It’s like most is forgiven for him as long as he’s dating Shouto. The best part of it all is that he hasn’t actually had to do anything PR relationship-related at all. The last time they had met was that fight weeks ago, and even that alone is enough to keep him in the majority’s good books for a decent amount of time.
He doesn’t get to bask in the glory of that for long however. Shouto’s invited to some charity event and allowed a plus one à la Katsuki. He supposes it’s about time he pulls his own weight.
It’s incredibly formal, because the host is some rich douchebag trying to earn some social clout with the general public, and in doing so now regular people like Katsuki have to show up in fancywear that they can’t really afford. The good bit is that the charity’s for a good cause, funding research into volatile quirks during adolescence and how to best support kids who have them, which Katsuki’s never heard of but he’s sure as hell following now. His own agency has put in their share of generous donations and he’s certain so has Shouto’s.
They’re meant to arrive to the thing together, and they do, superficially speaking. Really though, Katsuki had been dropped off a block away at some coffeehouse and Shouto had picked him up from there. When they arrive, Shouto instructs him to wait inside the car before getting out and pulling the door open for him. Katsuki seethes at the gesture for all but one second before spotting the few cameras pointed at them from the entrance of the venue. Cameras at a fancy event like this mean pictures so clear that the almost-snarl on Katsuki’s face will be plastered all over social media by tomorrow morning. Shouto had definitely done that on purpose, knowing with certainty that he can’t refuse when there’s all those eyes on him.
Everyone in the gala is someone known, though not simply known like Katsuki is. Known meaning people of Shouto’s, or really, his father’s calibre. Politicians, wealthy active and retired pro heroes, big-name celebrities and athletes. Consider the research sufficiently funded. Katsuki now understands why Hime had insisted he wear the fancy suit his agency had specifically ordered from one of those high-end designers. The two suits he owns from the old tailor in his neighbourhood would have stood in stark contrast to whatever million-dollar fabrics the rest of the attendees have got on.
Shouto’s networking right now, or at least that’s what Katsuki thinks he’s doing, if standing in the midst of people having discussions and spacing out like some dumbass is how he does it. The suit Shouto has on is expensive, Katsuki knows that for sure, because the back of his hand had brushed against Shouto’s suit jacket as they were walking in together earlier and it had felt like it was made of feathers plucked straight from an angel’s wings. He thinks it’s stupid to spend so much money for one-use clothing but he can appreciate the fine detailing that goes into making them.
What he can also appreciate is how Shouto looks in it. It’s a given that he looks good. That, along with the way his hair is gelled back and the fact that he’s surrounded by people who have to look stunning by default yet he still somehow manages to be the best looking one in the room; Katsuki can’t help the way he feels about it. He was attracted to him before, and he sure as hell still is.
Though just because he understands it doesn’t mean he’s willing to accept it in any capacity. He makes sure not to stare at Shouto for too long, looks anywhere but at him the whole time they have to be together, and when they part to have conversations with different people, Katsuki tries to ignore the gutting feeling in him when he catches anyone very clearly eyeing Shouto in a specific way.
The mostly negative feelings he has had for Shouto post-breakup were strong enough to erase all and any sort of possessive hold he had for him during their relationship. Annoyingly enough, now it’s back, and Katsuki can only attribute it to the maybe-truce they’ve established the past weeks. Don’t get him wrong, he still hates Shouto’s guts and at any given chance he still gets some urge to throttle him, but in some sick, twisted way, the small peace they’ve been having has opened a path for his past lingering tendencies to make their way out.
It’s stupid, because feelings like this used to build up a lot when they were together in the past. It hadn’t helped that they weren’t openly together, so most of the time he had to sit back and watch as some asshole hit on his boyfriend. Sometimes he’d get tired of it and interrupt, but most of the time he stewed in his own brand of jealousy, hands itching to do something. And Shouto used to give him this look, the one where his eyes shifted to Katsuki for just a second before shifting back to whoever he was talking to, silent and pleading: Please get me out of this.
Katsuki’s fingers curl onto the stem of his champagne flute, eyes zeroing in on Shouto from across the hall as some supermodel beside Katsuki flaunts her engagement ring to him and a few others in their surrounding. He’s clearly not her target audience but she thrusts her hand into his vision anyway, making him shift his gaze for a moment. He mutters some form of praise, or something as close to praise as he can manage, before he returns his attention back to Shouto.
Someone, who he vaguely recognises as a national swimmer or at least someone involved in some other sport with water, is leaning in close to Shouto to tell him something. Shouto doesn’t seem all too interested in it, but he nods politely to what the dude’s saying because that’s just default-Shouto in any sort of social interaction. Watersport dude makes no move to step back, and Shouto, the oblivious bastard, pays no mind to it.
Frustratingly, Katsuki does.
He knows, logically, that different people have their own sense of personal space. People like Eijirou and Denki have absolutely zero sense of it as far as he’s concerned, and he’s met a multitude of different people that don’t know what it means to keep to themselves. The guy could just be one of those people, overly friendly and personal and definitely not trying to hit on his fake boyfriend.
The thing is, Katsuki’s technically allowed to march up there and give the dude a piece of his mind. This shit’s fake to them, but to everyone else, they’re the power couple that their PR teams have carefully curated them to be. He’s always been confrontational too, and with the added bonus that he’s being confrontational because of Shouto, people would probably empathise with him rather than criticise his lack of self-control.
Except, there’s no actual valid reason to warrant his jealousy now. They’re not actually together but—
Shouto gives him that look—the please get me out of this one. So quick Katsuki almost misses it. Eyes flitting to him before snapping back to focus on whoever in the group was currently talking.
Katsuki moves before he even finishes the thought, the supermodel left hanging mid engagement story as he walks towards where Shouto is. There’s a brief moment of shock written all over Shouto’s face once he sees Katsuki coming over, but it’s gone as quick as it came. Swimmer dude finally steps back away from Shouto and Katsuki’s sure it’s because he’s got some mean look on his face.
The conversation amongst the group doesn’t stop, but it starts feeling more like background noise as everyone begins paying more attention to Katsuki’s presence than whatever they were talking about before. Katsuki slips between Shouto and swimmer dude easily, arm stretched out to sling across Shouto’s shoulders.
Shouto stiffens ever so slightly at the contact, but soon he relaxes a little as he realises that they’re both out in public and have a goddamn act to put on. He leans into the touch in what Katsuki knows he’s hoping is in a casual way. To anyone else looking at them now, it probably is, but to Katsuki he looks about as comfortable as a man locked in a lion’s den. Dramatic bastard.
Ignoring how awkward Shouto looks in his half-embrace, Katsuki says to Shouto before turning to eye swimmer dude, “You having any fun here?”
Shouto doesn’t even get the chance to answer. Swimmer dude’s hands are placed defensively in front of him as a noticeable amount of people start giving him scandalous looks. “Whoa, listen man, it wasn’t like that—”
“Wasn’t like what? I didn’t even say shit—”
Katsuki loosens his hold on Shouto, trying his hardest to hold back a flinch when he feels the spread of cold suddenly make its way up the side of his torso. His threat dies in his throat in favour of shooting Shouto an offended sneer. Maybe instead of threatening this extra he should be choking Shouto off while he has his guard down.
Shrugging off Katsuki’s arm, Shouto smoothens the front of his suit and turns to address swimmer dude. “What he means,” he says and goes to hold onto Katsuki’s hand, fingers intertwining, “is that he’s done for the evening and he wants me to drop him off. Hope the rest of your evening goes well.” He then nods courteously in the direction of the other people in their vicinity before dragging Katsuki along towards the exit.
It’s not a long walk but Katsuki has to at least try to keep his cool and not blow up at Shouto in front of the attendees for his PR team’s sake. Or more because he doesn’t want another lecture from someone a few years younger than him about not being so impulsive. He can already hear Hime berating him condescendingly and it’s that thought alone that gives him the strength to reel his anger in.
The front of the building is thankfully void of the reporters from before, but Katsuki waits a little more and only starts talking once they’re both in the safety of Shouto’s car.
“What the hell was that for?” Katsuki mouths off as soon as he closes his side of the door.
Shouto lets Katsuki continue on with his cursing as he turns the engine on, switching on the radio but dialling the volume to the lowest, right above muting it completely. It’s a habit from way back when he got his first car; mentioned something about the radio being perfect as background noise but only at a certain volume. Watching him do the same old car routine as before causes Katsuki to shut up immediately.
Instead of driving out of the lot and sending Katsuki home like he said he would earlier, Shouto leans back snugly into his seat and allows the radio to fill in the silence. He looks as if he’s contemplating something serious, arms folded and wrinkle between his brows. However, even if he’s content with sitting in the car like that, Katsuki sure as hell isn’t.
“All right, what gives? We gonna move or what?”
That finally gets Shouto to look right at Katsuki. Katsuki gets the feeling that he’s somehow made a mistake by going up to him earlier. He should have just let things be, should have just taken that weird, unwarranted jealousy he had felt and shoved it deep into the back of his mind like he always has. Things between them have been going semi all right lately. There hasn’t been a single fight on sight in a while and that’s a miracle on its own. Now he’s got Shouto looking like he’s about to bring up shit from the past.
Something in him sort of rejoices at that, because for once, he isn’t the only one caught stuck right in the middle between wanting them to get back together and wishing that they never got together in the first place.
“Why did you do that earlier?”
Shouto’s staring so intently at Katsuki that it makes him want to break eye-contact. But if he did, then he’d be some kinda hypocrite, always getting pissed off at the lack of acknowledgement but then getting uncomfortable when he does get it.
There are many things Katsuki would like to say in response to that. Maybe bring up that look that Shouto swears he doesn’t give Katsuki. Maybe tell Shouto he’s reading too much into actions that don’t have a meaning at all. Instead, he calms himself down.
“‘S good PR, ain’t it?” He forces out, reigning in his impulses for now. He would rather die than admit that he was jealous of some rando, especially not since Shouto probably thinks jealousy somehow equates to some sort of confirmation of feelings that definitely aren’t there.
Shouto’s eyes fall, to his hands, then to his lap, then out the windscreen at the rest of the cars in the parking lot. It isn’t disappointment, Katsuki tells himself, Shouto wouldn’t be disappointed by that. Why would he?
“PR… right.”
And he had left it at that.
The car ride home is done in stifling quietness, even by both of their standards. It’s so suffocatingly awkward that Katsuki considers asking Shouto to stop at a random street so that he can walk the rest of the way home instead. But the idea of being the first to speak up after whatever the fuck that was before is even worse. So he lets Shouto drive him all the way to his apartment, only mumbling a terse, “Night,” before getting out of his car once they’ve arrived.
“That stunt you pulled last night? Definitely one of your better ideas, sir,” Hime exclaims, clutching onto Katsuki’s hands as soon as he enters their office the next morning. “Pulling out the jealous boyfriend card was the right move! Twitter is just eating this right up.” She lets go of his hands to shove her phone right into his face, screen displaying the trending hashtags on Twitter for the day, his and Shouto’s names sitting comfortably in the top five. Fuckin’ rich bastards are gossips, who knew. She brings her phone back to peer down at it, grinning. “Although people seem to still be debating which amalgamation of your names to use when referring to the two of you together. ‘Shoutomight’ sounds nice, but also very reminiscent of All Might, so definitely not the best idea. Oh! ‘Dynashou’! Sounds a little like ‘dinosaur’ in English. That sounds cute! And also…”
Katsuki tunes her out midway, stepping into the elevator with her in tow. He doesn’t bother with trying to shut her up, knowing that she would probably persist anyway, and he simply doesn’t have the fucking energy to keep up with whatever tangent she’s going on about.
The elevator dings at his floor, and he goes to step out and away from Hime’s incessant droning, only to be pulled back into the elevator by a tug on the back of his shirt. He stumbles into her and the elevator doors close back shut, continuing on its journey up towards where the PR department is located.
He whips around, now fully charged up to give her a mouthful, but she shuts him up with a raised finger. “You didn’t think I was simply here to commend you for yesterday, did you?”
His anger subsides, though his glare persists, even if it does nothing to wipe the cheery look off Hime’s face. “Was betting on it.”
“You have a photoshoot scheduled for Friday two weeks from now. With Shouto-san, of course.”
Katsuki heaves out a sigh, making his disdain known for having to put up with this PR shit time and time again. Shit was breezy before when he barely had to do anything, but now he had to actually do things with Shouto to continue the facade. And after the shitshow that was last night, he’s beginning to regret the whole thing once more.
The elevator dings yet again, signalling their arrival to the PR department floor and they both step out. Katsuki knows it’s useless to argue so he doesn’t. Instead he jams the ‘down’ button on the wall with an unnecessary amount of force and says to Hime, “They better be paying me good for that.”
They are paying him good for it. The magazine wants them front and centre on the cover and they’re willing to shuck out every dime and penny just to book the two of them for it. Most of the money is going to his agency first, but even the cut-off is worth forgetting the awkwardness between him and Shouto for.
Shouto doesn’t need or want the money, but he’s here anyway, stuck sitting in the flimsy makeup chair while several people prod and pull at his hair and face. This is arguably the worst part of any photoshoot for Katsuki, and he’s certain that Shouto would agree. Katsuki’s hair is mostly untouched—“untameable”, one of the hair stylists had muttered, amazed, after having tried to force a section of it in place for thirty minutes straight. His face hadn’t needed much working on either, and he has his hag of a mother to thank for that. They do lather on concealer and contour onto some parts, fix his brows even when he had insisted that the messy look of them was kind of his thing, and the most drastic of it all, lined his eyes. The last part, he sort of gets the appeal of.
Shouto seems to have gotten all the attention of the makeup artists and hair stylists, and Katsuki’s beyond relieved, happy to let pretty boy over there take the brunt of their enthusiasm. He gets pulled aside to wardrobe first, and Katsuki had been lying before, wardrobe had to be the worst part of this, with the way they tug and pull at his limbs and try to fit him into the pants even though he’s pretty sure they’re a size too small. He figured that this whole thing couldn’t get any worse beyond having to do it with Shouto but he stands corrected. Photoshoots are always a mistake, no matter how much they’re paying.
He walks out onto set, steps small so as to not accidentally rip his pants by the seams. The clothes are tight but after having caught sight of himself in one of the dressing room mirrors, Katsuki has got to hand it to the team, they definitely know what they’re doing.
Everything already looks set up; camera situated before a white backdrop, blinding lights placed all over to ensure not a spot is left dimmed. There’s people almost everywhere, fixing shit and discussing shit, Katsuki almost feels out of place being the only one not actually doing anything besides waiting. He crosses his arms against his chest, only to be immediately chastised by one of the wardrobe people, talking about wrinkles and the placement of his necklaces, and he takes the fucking hint, not so much as moving a muscle as he wills Shouto to come out of the fucking dressing room already.
Though when he actually does come out, Katsuki wishes he’d go right back in.
It’s like Shouto in that suit from the charity gala, except now carefully crafted to look like the best he’s ever been. All that prodding from earlier has certainly produced results, and Katsuki has to force himself to look away when it’s clear he’s been looking for far too long.
No looking, no lingering, and no goddamn touching.
The cameraman tells people to go to their places once he sees Shouto ready. Everyone quietens down as Shouto and Katsuki position themselves in front of the camera. For once, Katsuki feels lost in a photoshoot. He’s been doing this shit since he started getting brand deals. Most of them are shot solo, but even the ones with other people were like a walk in the park. Get on set, look and act like himself, and let the cameraman sing him praises for putting in no effort at all.
There’s nothing easy about this one. Every pose they’re instructed to do feels so overwhelmingly robotic, limbs awkward and expressions stale. Katsuki can see the slight disappointment in not only the cameraman’s face, but everyone else’s too. The thought of the night at the charity gala on his mind does nothing to help with the situation, only making him want to put six feet between him and Shouto and he fears that feeling is showing bare-naked on his face for everyone to see.
Katsuki doesn’t know if Shouto feels the same. He hasn’t properly looked at the idiot’s face. There’s that knowing feeling nagging at him, so sure that the awkwardness will only grow if he sees Shouto acting the same as him. And if Shouto appears the opposite, nonchalant and dismissive, then Katsuki’s certain he’d be angry instead. It’s for everyone else’s sake, he tells himself, not because he’s afraid to look or anything.
Halfway through the shoot, the cameraman calls for a break and most of the crew nearby scatter throughout the area, hushed whispers and pointed looks telling Katsuki all he needs to know about their thoughts on the shoot.
Katsuki sighs, frustrated, wanting to rub his hands all over his face but not being able to because of the makeup. The last thing he wants is for the makeup crew to shoot daggers at him when he’s already feeling shit as is.
“Katsuki.”
When Katsuki looks up at Shouto, he finds that he doesn’t have the energy for any of his usual anti-Shouto reflexes, so all he says is, “What?”
Shouto gives the crew around them a quick glance-over before stepping closer to Katsuki. Katsuki knows it’s so the others won’t pick up on whatever Shouto wants to tell him but he still clenches his hands at the proximity, nails digging into the meat of his palms just painful enough to ground him. “Just do it like how we used to,” whispers Shouto, breath ghosting next to Katsuki’s ear.
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
But before Katsuki can say anything in response, Shouto pulls back, heading over to the refreshments. Half an hour later though, Katsuki gets to know exactly what Shouto had meant by that.
This time around, Shouto doesn’t wait to be instructed on how to pose. He gets right to business once the cameraman announces that they’re starting. There’s no hesitance in his actions, catching Katsuki by surprise with how little distance he’s left between the two of them. Katsuki begins to snap out of his awkwardness when Shouto decides to reach over and let his hand cup the side of Katsuki’s face.
Staring right down into Katsuki’s eyes, Shouto urges quietly, “Come on,” then his eyes snap over to where the camera is before snapping back to Katsuki. There’s no protest from the cameraman, Katsuki suddenly realises, so whatever direction Shouto has decided this photoshoot should go in is better than whatever the hell they were doing earlier. “Like you said, it’s just good PR. Right?”
Fuck, Katsuki thinks defeatedly. It is good PR, it is, but—
But he can feel Shouto’s breath against him, the heat of his palm against his cheek a feeling he’s never been able to forget, and this closeness they share right now in front of an entire crew of people is what they used to have in moments so intimate it makes his palms sweat just at the thought. It’s too much, that’s the only way Katsuki can describe this feeling that’s overwhelming him at the moment.
He takes a deep breath. It’s not real, he reminds himself, and focuses on Shouto in front of him. The last thing he needs are rumours that their relationship is going awry, so whatever the hell Shouto wants to pull right now to save their asses, Katsuki will follow suit.
Katsuki finally leans into Shouto’s touch, instead of awkwardly standing stock-still beside him. Finally gets to feel Shouto’s fingers twitch against his cheek in slight surprise like they always do when Katsuki reciprocates his affections.
The whole room is so silent that Katsuki forgets for a second that they’re not alone until he hears the camera shutter going off. He tenses immediately, eyes flicking to the side and head turning to gauge the rest of the crew’s reactions, but Shouto’s hand keeps his head in place.
Shouto is all Katsuki can see when he whispers, just quiet enough that only Katsuki can hear, “Keep going.”
The resulting pictures are good PR, Katsuki can tell by the satisfied mood the crew is in once they’re done. But when the cameraman pulls up the unedited digitals for them to sneak a peek at, Katsuki can’t bring himself to look. They had been way too close, way too touchy, way too reminiscent of how they once were; he doesn’t wanna see how he had looked at Shouto, or how Shouto had looked at him.
Shouto, however, does take a quick peek at them, and all he says to Katsuki after that is, “Good job.”
Good job. Because that’s all there is between them anymore; two people doing their jobs.
When they get the green light to start leaving for the day, Katsuki stalks out of the studio without another word, declining the offers from the stylists to help him out of his too-tight clothing. His clothes had felt restricting before, but now they feel suffocating.
It’s the same feeling from before—the too much one; too much shit on his face, too many clothes on, too damn much of Shouto for the past few months. He’d been so caught up with convincing himself that they’d ruin this whole PR shit by not getting along that he’d forgotten how much he’d liked Shouto before their breakup. He’d been worrying about the wrong thing, and now he has to come up with a backup plan to make sure shit doesn’t hit the fan.
The pants are the hardest to get out of, Katsuki has to hold back from ripping them right off. The relief he expects in his own clothes doesn’t come, only intensifying the more he thinks about how Shouto is in the next room over, going about his day unaffected unlike how Katsuki is.
There’s a small part of Katsuki that knows that can’t be true. That remembers their breakup like it had happened yesterday. And remembers the details of Shouto’s face, how it had contorted when he was trying to take in whatever Katsuki was saying; the pinched skin between his brows, the slight downturn the corners of his mouth had been in. Remembers the smell of the disinfectant in the air, the steady sound of the heart monitor beeping, the stiff back of the chair Katsuki had been sitting in.
Shouto isn’t unaffected, Katsuki would just like to believe he is, just to save them both the emotional reprieve that comes with thinking they should be with one another again.
Katsuki closes the door to his dressing room with a sense of finality. Every suffocating feeling he had felt during the hours he had spent here in this studio left behind in that room.
The walk down the hallway towards the discreet exit at the back of the building is annoyingly long. Katsuki has to convince himself that turning around and asking Shouto to give him a ride back to his agency is a bad idea. Pros: he doesn’t have to take forty-five minutes to get back to his agency. Cons: accidentally recreating the happenings of the shoot in the privacy of Shouto’s car.
Yeah, he’ll take the forty-five minute walk.
He’s about to round the corner to where the back entrance is when he hears the door open and slam shut, voices echoing down the halls.
“You think there’s some sorta cheating going on or something?” The first voice says.
“For sure,” the second agrees. “Did you see how Dynamight reacted when he saw Shouto? He totally looked like he was gonna start blastin’ his face off!”
The first gasps. “Those rumours going around are true then! Acting all… airheaded when he’s a total player.”
“You’ve seen those pics of him leaving a hotel with that model, right? The one that cameoed in that movie—you haven’t? God, I’ll show you once we’re done here.”
Katsuki stops right before turning the corner, their voices going back and forth in the background as he thinks, shit. He hadn’t exactly followed up with Hime on the reasons why Shouto would even need this fake relationship shit in the first place. But that was it? His good-boy image that makes all women above forty want to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair is in jeopardy because of a few paparazzi pics?
Katsuki had seen the pictures himself; the baseball cap pulled low on Shouto’s face, the model with her hoodie up, both dressed understatedly but still very clearly each other. His only thought upon seeing the pictures had been good for him.
The voices start getting closer. Katsuki debates booking it down the hall and back into his dressing room or walking straight on into them and acting offended that they’d even consider the possibility that he’d get cheated on by that idiot.
“What are you doing?”
Shouto is beside him, eyeing Katsuki in his suspicious eavesdropping position with his back against the wall. But before Katsuki can fill him in, he hears footsteps loud and clear, and acts on impulse. He pulls Shouto closer towards him, tension be damned, and grabs the fucker’s face, bringing it up against his own and closes the distance between them.
There’s only three things clear to Katsuki during this sequence of events; Shouto’s eyes widening in surprise for the first time in fucking forever, the voices sounding like they’re now directly beside him, and the fact that once Katsuki’s lips touch Shouto’s, they both don’t hesitate for more than a second before falling back into old habits.
Shouto kisses Katsuki back without protest, as if their breakup was a thing that had never happened. As if they’ve both been using the guise of work to pretend that this relationship hadn’t turned more real in the past months.
Then comes the exclamations of shock, and just like that Shouto begins pulling away. There’s the bashful apologies that come after from the very two people that had been shit-talking them just moments ago, even if the bashfulness should come from Katsuki and Shouto instead. They scurry down the hall, slapping each other’s shoulders in a fit of giddiness at having caught two well-known pro heroes sucking face.
Guess that’s all Katsuki and Shouto will be known for for a while. ‘Least now there aren’t any pictures to go around.
Katsuki watches the two until their figures disappear into the studio, doors banging loudly before the quietness settles back in.
His hands are still on Shouto’s face, and Shouto doesn’t make any moves to pull away. They stare at each other in silence for a bit, both assessing the situation like they’re in a stalemate with some villain and are trying to figure out their next moves.
Katsuki lets his hands fall first. Shouto steps back in turn.
“So kissing is okay now?” Shouto asks, deadpan, just as Katsuki’s wiping the palms of his hands over the fabric of his hoodie.
Katsuki stills, because even if they’re both pretending to be unaffected by all this, Shouto is doing it a little too well.
“How can you…,” starts Katsuki, unsure if he really wants to know the answer. He digs his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie, fists clenched, falling back into anger because it’s the only safe emotion he can feel with Shouto. “How can you act like that? Like you don’t fucking care that I just kissed you. Or that you had your hands all over me an hour ago.”
Shouto looks at him. Just looks. Not the encouraging one he had given Katsuki during the shoot. Not the astonished one he had given Katsuki right before their kiss. Looks at Katsuki like he had when they were first years, back when he could care less about Katsuki’s existence, when Katsuki hadn’t even existed in his world.
“How about you?” Shouto’s voice is steady, calm even, but it’s a little too steady and a little too calm, just barely crossing the line to the same anger that Katsuki’s currently feeling. “You’re the one who acts out of line then tells me it’s just good PR. How can you get jealous? How can you just kiss me? You have no right to act hurt. Not when you’re the one who did this to us. Katsuki,” Shouto says his name like a curse, “You’re the one who said we weren’t good for each other. I’m acting like this because you want me to.”
Katsuki’s anger tapers, simmers down to a nothingness that feels so foreign.
“We’re going to make this work. We’ll make the most out of this. And after a year, we’ll have nothing to do with one another.” Shouto explains robotically. “I’ll act accordingly, so please do your part. I know you can do it.”
“...All right,” is all Katsuki can think to say.
“Good,” Shouto says. He breathes in deep, as if it’s taking everything in him to say what he needs to say next, “Now,”—another breath—“I’m going to ask you where you’re heading. You’re going to tell me you're headed to your agency. I’ll offer to drop you off. And you’ll say okay.”
Katsuki doesn’t say anything.
After a while, Shouto asks anyways, “Where are you off to now?”
A beat passes between them. Katsuki debates just telling Shouto to fuck off, but then he sees the twitch in Shouto’s brow and everything seems clearer. This feels like Shouto’s own way of keeping his feelings safe.
Katsuki can’t breathe.
“...My agency. Got some shit to do.”
“Paperwork?”
“Fuckload of ‘em.”
“I can give you a ride. If you want.”
Katsuki lets out a breath, pushing himself off the wall at last.
“Sure.”