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By the end of the day, Izuku has no chocolates.
Maybe he shouldn't be surprised. He hadn't been very popular before, and ever since he passed his fifth birthday without getting a quirk, he's been even less popular.
It's the first Valentine's Day since they learned he was quirkless, and Izuku has been resolutely ignored the whole day. He tries to look on the brightside—he won't have to worry about White Day. But it still stings to get nothing.
Kacchan's desk is covered with chocolate and candy. This is also not surprising. Kacchan has always been popular, and now that he has such a powerful quirk people want his attention even more. Izuku watches him shove it all in his bag before he storms over to Izuku's desk.
"Let's go, dumb Deku," he says. Their mothers made them walk to and from school together, something that has gotten progressively more and more awkward as the days pass. Izuku always walks two or three steps behind him; Kacchan was nicer when he couldn't see him.
But Izuku was still Izuku, still Kacchan's biggest fan even as the gulf between them grew larger and larger. So as he's trailing behind Kacchan he says, "Kacchan got lots of chocolate today."
Kacchan throws him an annoyed look over his shoulder.
"Whatever," he says grandly. "I don't even really like this stuff."
"Still," Izuku says, watching his feet as he walks. "It must be nice to get something."
Because he's looking down, he doesn't realize that Kacchan has stopped walking until he slams into his back. He stumbles back and prepares for a blast to the face, but it never comes. Instead, when he opens his eyes he sees Kacchan kneeling down and rummaging about in his bag. As he watches, Izuku sees him grab up an armful of the candy and chocolate before he dumps them at Izuku's feet.
"You have them then," Kacchan sneers. "I don't want them. And you can finish walking home, you baby, I'm not waiting around for you to pick that up." His voice and expression are mean, and at odds with the fact that he'd just technically gifted all his Valentine's candy to Izuku.
Izuku smiles as he picks up the items that can be salvaged from the ground, shoving them into his bag. As he stands up and walks the familiar path home, his smile doesn't falter.
His first Valentine's candy. He wonders if Kacchan will explode his face if he gives him something for White Day. Probably, Izuku thinks, already thinking of what he could get Kacchan next month anyway.
It's mid-June of their third year, and there's a heat wave. It's hotter than it has any right to be. It's even hotter because he's in the kitchen right now, the heat from the oven and stove making the sweltering air even worse. The logical thing to do would be to leave the kitchen—but Izuku isn't going to do that.
"Kacchan," he whines, sitting on a barstool with his head in his arms, watching Kacchan putter around the kitchen. Kacchan takes great offence to the term puttering, but Izuku thinks it's the best way to describe Kacchan cooking. "Kacchan, it's hot.”
Kacchan gives him an exasperated look. "I know. You won't stop complaining."
It would be easier to just leave the kitchen, but he loves watching Kacchan cook. This is also a good chance to spend time alone together. Kacchan refused to let anyone else in the kitchen when he was cooking—anyone except Izuku.
"Here," Kacchan says, holding a spoon in front of Izuku's mouth. “Make sure this isn't too spicy." He doesn’t say for you, but Izuku hears it anyway. Kacchan would never tailor his meals to anyone else.
Izuku leans forward and takes the spoon into his mouth. "Mmm!" He says enthusiastically. "That is so good, Kacchan!"
Kacchan gives him a smug grin before turning back to the stove.
The truth is, Izuku is often the exception to Kacchan's rules. He'd be lying if he said he didn't realize there was something happening between them. It was hard to miss the way they've been since the war ended; and while it had taken a while for them to figure out what the new lines and boundaries were in their relationship, now they've reached a tipping point.
The problem is Izuku doesn't know how to move forward from this. Doesn't know how to move past the lingering glances and touches, from cuddling under a blanket during movie nights, from orbiting around each other. It's not that he's afraid of ruining things or anything—he knows there's nothing on earth that could get between them anymore, not after everything. It's just...
The fear of the unknown. Of stepping off the path without knowing what lies ahead. Of jumping off the cliff into open air.
Izuku watches Kacchan cook, the delicious smells wafting over him—as well as not so delicious heat. Izuku whines again.
"Kacchan. Hot."
Kacchan shakes his head. "You're such a baby. Close your eyes."
Izuku gives him a wary glance. "Why?"
"Just do as I fucking say!"
Izuku does. He may not know what Kacchan wants, but he knows he trusts him. He lets his eyes fall shut, and for a few moments, nothing happens.
Izuku gasps when something very cold presses against the back of his neck. His eyes go to open automatically, but he only opens them a fraction when Kacchan says, "Keep your eyes closed."
Another intake of breath—Kacchan is close. Really close. Close enough that Izuku can feel his breath on his face as he drags the ice cube across the nape of Izuku's neck. That's what it is, Izuku figures it out, puts it together as water drips down the back of his shirt. He shivers, as much from Kacchan's proximity as from the ice.
"Is that helping?" Kacchan's voice is low and so, so close. Izuku isn't sure how to tell him that he's overheating more now, actually, so he just nods. Kacchan moves the ice cube around to the front, letting it drip water down the hollow of Izuku's throat. He takes a shaky breath.
"Keep your eyes closed," Kacchan reminds him. The ice cube lifts off his throat, and a moment later it touches down on his lower lip.
Izuku's lips fall open. Is this happening? Is he hallucinating? Does he have heat stroke?
The ice cube is lifted off his lip, and Kacchan replaces it with his thumb , wet from the ice cube. Izuku is going to pass out.
"Izuku," Kacchan says, voice still pitched low and hoarse. He says Izuku's name like a question.
Izuku doesn't know how to form words right now, so the only answer he's able to give is to dart out his tongue and press it to the salty skin of Kacchan's thumb.
Everything moves fast after that—Kacchan liked speed in everything he did. His thumb is ripped away and replaced with Kacchan's lips; the ice cube falls at their feet, to melt and cause trouble later. Izuku cannot for the life of him bring himself to care.
Kacchan kisses him enthusiastically and hungrily, hands coming up to cup Izuku's cheeks as his own scramble at Kacchan's shirt. The dam has broken. He's stepped off the cliff only to find that Kacchan had been there to catch him.
"I didn't know how to do this," Izuku admits when they pull away for breath. Kacchan snorts.
“Dumbass," Kacchan says. "You just do it.”
Izuku smiles as he kisses him again. Kacchan will never stop being Kacchan. Thankfully, since Izuku loves him like this.
"Um," a very tentative voice says. "Can I please grab a glass of water?"
Izuku looks over Kacchan's shoulder to see Kirishima hovering in the entrance way. Kacchan spins around to fire off an explosion at him.
"Get out!"
Izuku giggles as Kirishima turns tail and runs. Kacchan gives a huff—but he calms down when Izuku leans up to press a kiss to the side of his mouth.
Then he very abruptly pulls back, yells, “ Shit!” and turns back around to whatever it is he’s cooking on the stove. Izuku doesn’t bother hiding his smile, resting his chin on his hand as he watches Kacchan cook a dish that’s perfectly spiced according to Izuku’s tolerance.
Katsuki turns the heat on the stove to simmer and checks the clock. Izuku should be finishing up his shift soon.
They don’t usually do much for their anniversaries; usually just a nice dinner and a night in. Izuku had to work today, but that was okay, because he wasn’t much help in the kitchen anyway. This way, Katsuki is able to set the scene and the dinner in the way he likes without Izuku hovering over his shoulder, and when Izuku gets home, tired and worn out from his shift, Katsuki will be able to give him a nice dinner to help him rewind.
Christ, he sounds like a fucking wife. He’s not normally like this, honestly—he just happened to get today off. What else was he supposed to spend the day doing?
He checks his phone; Izuku normally texts him on the way home. Katsuki always rolled his eyes when he got the silly little omw home :) text, but now he’s stressed that it hasn’t come in after almost ten minutes from when he normally gets it.
Feeling a creeping sense of unease, Katsuki turns on the news.
“Coming to you live from central Musutafu, we have footage from the wreck of the shopping centre and can confirm it to be a villain attack, although we do not currently know the nature of the villain’s quirk. Reports say almost everyone has been evacuated, although Pro-Heroes Deku and—”
He doesn’t get to hear who else is with Deku, because at that point there’s a huge explosion, and what’s left of the shopping centre collapses into a giant pile of rubble. Katsuki stops hearing the voices of the people on television. He stops hearing everything that isn’t a loud ringing in his ears.
There’s nothing he can do. There’s nothing he can do except sit there and watch the news desperate for an update, phone clamped tightly in his hand—until it rings, and Katsuki picks it up before it can even finish the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Bakugou-san? This is Musutafu Central Hospital, we’re calling about your husband—”
When Izuku opens his eyes, he’s lying down, and someone is holding his hand.
His entire body hurts. The last thing he remembers was… he’d been in the mall, making sure everyone had been evacuated, and then there had been an explosion, and then…
He groans. Then something had hit him in the head.
At his noise of pain, Kacchan’s head snaps up, and the hand in his tightens.
“Izuku,” he says, relief evident in his voice. Izuku turns to look at him, tears filling his eyes.
“Kacchan,” he says, sniffling. “I’m sorry!”
Kacchan blinks at him. “For what?”
“I ruined our anniversary!”
Kacchan’s eyebrows furrow. Then he stands up and starts looking around the head of Izuku’s hospital bed.
“Kacchan? What are you doing?” He asks nervously.
“That was the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Kacchan says. “So I’m pulling the plug on you.”
Izuku laughs before he’s forced to stop, throat too sore and raw from the smoke. “I think that would just get you in trouble with the nurses.”
Kacchan sits back down and takes Izuku’s hand again. “Don’t ever say something so stupid again,” he says, sounding genuinely upset. “I don’t give a shit about celebrating our anniversary, I care about having more. So be fucking careful.”
Izuku nods. Kacchan’s tone is harsh and mean, but he knows it’s because Izuku scared him. Kacchan hated being scared more than almost anything.
“I promise,” he says solemnly. Kacchan squeezes his hand.
After Kacchan fills him in on what the doctors said and what had happened with the villain attack (villain in custody, no deaths, no major injuries), Izuku coughs a little and says, “Did they bring me any soup?”
They did, and Kacchan grabs the bowl. When he brings it over to Izuku he presents it with a wry smile.
“Happy anniversary,” he says. Izuku giggles.
“Happy anniversary, Kacchan,” he says. “Here’s to many more.”
Kacchan turns an adorable shade of pink. Izuku loves that after eight years he can still make him blush like this.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I’m fucking holding you to that, shitnerd.”
When Kacchan gets home, the fire alarm is going off.
He rushes into the kitchen, where he sees Izuku, who has floated himself up to the ceiling and is frantically trying to wave the smoke away.
“Hi Kacchan!” He says. “Happy anniversary!”
Kacchan tugs him down and reaches up to press the button that shuts off the alarm. “It’s not our anniversary.”
“It is! Happy eight years and one month!”
Kacchan immediately picks up on Izuku’s meaning, because no one knows him better. “For fuck’s sake, Izuku, tell me this isn’t still about you thinking you ruined our anniversary by almost dying.”
“Okay, well, first of all, I didn’t almost die, I had a minor concussion and full-body bruises—”
“I’ll give you a minor concussion—”
“And I’m willing to accept that I didn’t ruin it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still want to do something to celebrate!”
“And you decided burning down the kitchen was the best option?”
Izuku gives him a dry look. “It wasn’t that serious.”
Kacchan smirks and gives Izuku a hello kiss on the forehead before he heads off down the hall to take a shower and get dressed in something soft and comfortable after a long shift. As he’s doing that Izuku finishes up dinner; he isn’t a master in the kitchen, or anything, but he knows how to follow directions. He checks the spicy curry recipe he’d found on the internet to make sure everything is still going the way it’s supposed to.
By the time he’s set the table Kacchan comes out from their bedroom, hair wet, wearing a sweater Izuku thinks might have been Shouto’s once before he left it here and it got absorbed into their laundry cycle. Izuku is standing beside the table, jumping from foot to foot in excitement. Kacchan rolls his eyes fondly when he sees him.
They both sit, but Izuku doesn’t reach for his curry, too caught up in watching Kacchan. Kacchan obligingly takes a bite; Izuku watches the way his eyebrows shoot up, and his heart sinks.
“Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it,” he says morosely.
“Relax, it’s really good,” Kacchan says. “But are you gonna be able to eat it?”
Izuku, confused, takes a spoonful of his dinner. He hadn’t taste tested much, admittedly, but he’d followed the instruction to the letter… the only thing he’d improvised was he added a little bit more chili powder, because he knew Kacchan liked things—
Izuku swallows his curry, tears streaking down his face. Fire. His mouth is on fire. Izuku scrambles out of his chair and to the fridge, hurriedly gulping down mouthfuls of milk as Kacchan laughs at him. As Izuku spills milk down the front of his shirt, Kacchan comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Izuku’s waist and pressing his lips to Izuku’s throat.
“Happy eight years and one month, nerd,” he says. “I’ll make you something you can eat when I’m done with dessert.”
“But Kacchan, I didn’t make dessert—oh.” He cuts off when Kacchan grinds his hips against Izuku’s ass. He giggles and leans back into Kacchan’s arms. “How could I have forgotten about dessert.”