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After he finished tying his shoelaces, Izuku straightened his back and adjusted the straps of his backpack.
“Well, I’m off now. See you later, Kacchan!”
“Sure thing,” came the reply from what Izuku knew to be Kacchan’s kitchen.
Kacchan had the day off today, so he had told Izuku to not worry about the dishes after breakfast.
Izuku reached for the door but hesitated at the last moment.
“Kacchan…can I have a goodbye kiss?”
“Huh?” Kacchan’s voice was heard over the sound of running water. “Hold on.”
During the three seconds it took Kacchan to stop the water and peek his head around the corner, Izuku already had enough time to regret his momentary lapse of judgement. It was a huge relief when the next words he heard were.
“Didn’t hear that, what’d you say?”
He and Kacchan weren’t in the kind of a relationship where you held hands in public or exchanged sweet kisses before leaving home. They were just close friends who met up every now and then to take care of some annoying…urges. Pro Heroes were busy, and it was a lot of work to find trustworthy partners who knew where their boundaries lied and wouldn’t try to push them, or brag about their “conquests” publicly. Partners who knew what a hero’s job entailed and who wouldn’t immediately become a security issue if targeted by villains.
The beginning had admittedly been a bit of an accident, but it hadn’t taken that long for Izuku and Katsuki to settle into their current “arrangement”. It was a nice change of pace from doing everything on their own, and of course there were the added benefits of physical touch like activating the vagus nerve and releasing oxytocin...
Kacchan had once cut off Izuku’s explanation on this by telling him to stop makin’ it weird, and just get to it.
Both of them were resolutely committed to “not making it weird”. And that definitely entailed Izuku not asking for goodbye kisses while Kacchan was wearing an All Might themed apron with some wet splashes from the dishwater. This was the wrong scene for that, and Izuku knew it, so he had to make sure there wouldn’t be more slip-ups.
“Mm, it’s nothing. Was just saying I’m leaving now,” he said quickly, opening the door.
“You already said that,” Kacchan pointed out.
“I guess I did! Anyway, see you- hm?"
Izuku reached down to pick something up from the floor. It was a bundle of glossy paper—the shape strongly suggested it to be a bouquet.
“I…think you have mail.”
Kacchan made a face when he saw what Izuku was holding.
“Figures. Someone probably duped one of the neighbours into lettin’ them in…some weirdos keep sneaking stuff in even though it says fucking clearly on the agency site that all gifts go through them.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “You can throw that in the trash on your way out.”
“Let’s at least take a look at them?”
Izuku looked at the little card attached to the bouquet. It said To Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight—from your devoted fan.
Under the glossy paper were layers of newspaper, and under those a bunch of gorgeous orange osmanthus flowers. Izuku closed his eyes and breathed in their sweet, ticklingly fruit-like scent. The colour suited Kacchan so well, too.
“...I’m glad they were just from a fan.”
As soon as Izuku heard himself say the words, his face grew hot with embarrassment. Kacchan gave him a funny look.
“Who else would they be from?”
Izuku cringed internally. After he had just decided to be more careful about blurting his thoughts aloud!
“Um…no one! Just a random thought.”
A brief inspection proved that the flowers truly were just that—there were no hidden devices, suspicious materials, or anything else that would have seemed the slightest bit nefarious.
“You might as well keep them,” Izuku said. “Feels like a waste to throw them out.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kacchan said as he gathered the bouquet in his hands, “and you’d better run if you’re planning to make it on time. "I’m not taking the fall for you deciding to fixate on some flowers, nerd.”
Izuku did a double take at the clock on the wall, and finally dashed out of the door.
Two days later found Izuku at the agency cafeteria with some of his former classmates, some enjoying breakfast after a night shift or before the later morning group would start their patrol. He noticed a familiar figure approaching the group and waved.
“Morning Kacchan! You’re just starting, right?” he asked after swallowing a mouthful of his egg sandwich.
“Yeah, just got here from my place.”
“We’re talking about the get-together on next week’s Friday, do you think you can still make it?” Ashido piped in from the other side of the table, peering at Kacchan playfully.
“For Shitty-hair’s birthday thing? Sure.”
“Ka-!”
Izuku let his protest wither away—the cat was out of the bag, after all. Ashido’s conspiratorial smile disappeared, and everyone around the table stared at Kacchan with wide eyes before turning to Kirishima, who blinked in confusion—
“But…my birthday isn’t until next month.”
Uraraka sighed as she sank back in her chair.
“True…but you said you’d be away on a mission that week so we thought it would be fun to organise something a bit early." "It was supposed to be a surprise, though,” she added while giving a pointed look at Kacchan, who bristled at the barely veiled accusation.
“Well, not like we can’t still meet up,” he countered, putting on a stubborn face although Izuku could see from his body language that he was actually quite embarrassed by his gaffe.
“That’s not the point-”
“It’s okay, really, I appreciate it anyway,” Kirishima cut Uraraka off to mediate the situation. “I can act surprised!”
The big clock on the wall struck nine, calling the morning shift heroes to get to their routes. The conversation ended without a real resolution as the group began to disperse a bit awkwardly. Izuku sought Kacchan with his eyes, but the moment he had been distracted by the clock was enough for Kacchan to disappear into the crowd.
“Did…did you also hear that just now or am I going crazy?”
“I heard it alright, but still not sure if I can believe it. Like…it’s Dynamight, you know?”
As always, Izuku’s attention was fully attuned to the conversation as soon as Kacchan’s name had popped up. He was on the other side of a row of tall lockers, so the two interns who had entered the room didn’t know they had company.
“Right?!” the first voice spoke again. “You think it could be an impersonator? A villain in disguise? A mind-control Quirk?”
“I don’t know…but if we report anything like that and we’re wrong, we’re literal cannon fodder!”
Well, that didn’t sound exactly reassuring. Izuku zipped his suit up and peeked his head around the lockers.
“What’s up with Ka- Dynamight?”
The two interns jolted like they had been struck by Kaminari’s electricity, turning to look at Izuku with horrified expressions.
“You’re not in trouble,” Izuku clarified, “I just want to know.”
The interns exchanged a glance, then a shrug, apparently deciding that they couldn’t exactly weasel their way out of the conversation now.
“Er…well, it’s just that…”
“While we were out for patrol…”
“I suggested a different route because a road was closed on the one Dynamight had planned for us—and he praised me?!”
Izuku blinked.
“Praised you?”
“He just went ’good catch, I forgot about that. We’re changing to the western side, then’,” the intern said, lowering his voice to mimic Kacchan’s rough tone.
“And that’s not all! Just before we were dismissed, he told me that my control of my Quirk has been improving recently, totally unprompted!” the other intern piped in.
“Until now, the most anyone’s ever got from him was a ‘you might not totally suck’! It was so weird!”
Izuku considered this for a while. It did sound a bit unusual, but hardly something worth starting an investigation over. Giving fair feedback was part of the job, after all, and Kacchan had matured a lot over the years. Besides, there were plenty of times when he had said nice things to Izuku, like…
A whispered good boy slivered into Izuku’s mind uninvited, accompanied by the memory of a teasing smirk filtered through the haze of arousal.
...Not the time nor place!
“W-well…I don’t think it’s something to be too worried about,” Izuku said, internally shooing the titillating thoughts away.
“Kacchan, er, Dynamight definitely can compliment people when he has reason to. It just means you’re that good if you got his attention.”
The interns didn’t look convinced, but didn’t dare to talk back to a pro.
“Definitely don’t report him for being a potential villain, at least,” he continued. “I’ll check up on him, okay?”
Despite his promise to the interns, Izuku couldn’t find a proper chance to get a feel for how Kacchan was doing because their schedules kept clashing something fierce. Kacchan wasn’t particularly good about answering messages that he considered idle chit chat, so their message history was mostly exchange of information or working out a meeting time—sudden inquiries about his general condition probably wouldn’t get them very far.
Maybe I should ask if I could stay over again, Izuku pondered as he fiddled with his phone to open the new shift schedule for the upcoming week.
It’s only been a week since the last time, but it feels so much longer…
Suppressing a pre-morning-coffee yawn, he scrolled to check if his and Kacchan’s shifts would align at some point—but what he noticed instead had him thoroughly awake.
After arriving at the agency, Izuku didn’t go directly to the lockers as usual, but made his way to the office to confirm what he had seen on the shift schedule. It was still early in the morning, so he didn’t expect to be nearly knocked down by one of the newer interns running away from the room when reaching for the doorknob. Seeing tears in her eyes alarmed Izuku, but she didn’t stop when he tried to call her. Instead of pursuing her, he decided to go inside the room to see what had her so upset.
He was shocked to see Kacchan in the otherwise deserted room.
“Kacchan…do you know what happened to Komoriya-san?”
“She freaked out when I told her she’d fail her evaluation tomorrow,” Kacchan said as he continued filling the report on his desk.
Izuku froze.
“You told her what?”
“Well, it’s not like it’s a huge surprise. Her Quirk isn’t that great in the first place, and her technique is half-assed. Right now she’s a liability in any real combat situation.”
“Even so, it’s not your place to tell her that! It’s up to her instructor to-”
“The earlier she figures it out, the better. It’s obvious to any pro looking at her, anyway.”
“But she has worked really hard to improve!”
Kacchan finally raised his eyes from the document and looked Izuku in the eyes.
“Just wanting it really hard doesn’t mean you can be a hero. You of all people should know that.”
They just stared at each other, the moment stretching far longer than either was comfortable with. Then, Kacchan suddenly stood and darted past Izuku towards the door. Izuku was quick to react, hurrying after his friend and grabbing his arm.
“Kacchan, wait! Why did you apply for reduced hours?”
“None of your business!”
“Of course it is! I’m worried about you, just please tell me what’s wrong…”
Kacchan gritted his teeth and refused to look at Izuku.
“I’m fine , just can’t be around you right now,” he huffed before shaking Izuku’s hand off.
The words were flung at Izuku like venom, fulfilling their purpose by stunning him for long enough that Kacchan managed to escape out of the door and into the corridor.
Left alone in the empty office, Izuku went through the conversation over and over again, trying to realise what the heck had actually just happened. Why would Kacchan want to get away from him that badly—over a minor disagreement like that? They had had much more intense fights over much bigger things, and Kacchan had always faced those head on.
There was a kernel of truth in what Kacchan was saying, of course. People were not born equal, and sometimes reality simply stood in the way of someone making their dream come true. Izuku did know that, bitterly and intimately.
But thinking about the intern’s tearful face, the whole thing didn’t sit right with Izuku. Kacchan was harsh and strict and sometimes got a bit carried away, but he wasn’t cruel on purpose. It was one thing to choose not to sugar-coat things, and wholly another to go put an intern down without a reason to do so.
And the way he had rejected Izuku with his whole being…that wasn’t the kind of dismissal Kacchan would use to tell people to get lost out of habit. It was genuine fear, a threatened animal baring its fangs as a final warning to avoid confrontation.
But Izuku couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.
The incident weighed on Izuku's mind all day, so much that he almost forgot he had an interview scheduled in the afternoon. He arrived at the studio in a rush, panting and apologising for almost being late. The staff told him not to worry and gave him a quick makeover to make sure he was presentable.
He was led into a small room with two armchairs that he soon found were impossible to sit in without slouching or holding himself in a weird way. He couldn’t figure out why they insisted on getting those kinds of chairs for interviews that included video material…
Between the chairs, there was a small table with a big flower arrangement as decoration. Among the lovely reds and yellows, a bunch of orange osmanthuses bloomed and reminded Izuku of Kacchan, which usually would have been a great thing, but now it only soured his mood again. To make things worse, the air conditioning in the room was horrid—after just a couple minutes, the air started feeling stuffy and Izuku began sweating under the bright spotlights of the studio. The scent of the flowers was quite intense, too, almost making him feel light-headed. At least he wasn't allergic or anything...
After what felt like a small eternity, the interviewer showed up and the cameras were soon rolling. Izuku tried to focus on listening to the questions and giving sensible answers, but his concentration was hampered by the unpleasant heat and the overly sweet scent of the flowers permeating the whole room.
How many minutes were still left? Izuku didn’t dare to glance at the time for fear of appearing rude.
“Let’s talk about your fellow heroes a little, shall we?” the interviewer said, switching to a new card of questions in her hand. “For example, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight! You two are childhood friends, aren’t you? What is it like to work alongside such a long-time friend?”
Hearing Kacchan’s name was like a secret password that unlocked something in Izuku’s brain. The thoughts he had been trying to shove to the back of his mind came rushing right back to the forefront and proceeded to fall out of his mouth.
“Kacchan’s amazing, I’ve admired him my whole life. To be honest, recently I’m not quite sure where we stand and he’s been acting a bit odd… We just got in a fight this morning.”
“Oh, you did?” the host leaned forward in her chair.
“I’m worried that he might be avoiding me… Our relationship hasn’t always been smooth sailing, but I wish he would confide in me, no matter what is on his mind.”
“It sounds like he’s very important to you,” the host said sagely.
Izuku let out a deep sigh. His head was reeling, but the ache in his heart was stronger.
“He is. I know he thinks we’re just friends who hook up sometimes, but I can’t help but hope I could make him mine someday.”
He chuckled.
“Actually, I saw a ring the other day that I thought would suit him perfectly if I ever got the chance to propose! The material has some really unique properties that-”
Suddenly Izuku heard a snort from somewhere behind the cameras. His eyes fell on an assistant who was trying to cover her mirth behind her hand, but her red face gave away her embarrassment.
Had he said something funny?
He paused and quickly ran through what he had been talking about, and that was when the reality of the situation hit him like a Texas Smash below the belt.
He had just been talking about some really personal things in a live broadcast. Things that didn’t concern only him. Things he had never, ever meant to say out loud, not like this.
A part of him wanted to end his life then and there.
“...Hero Deku? You were saying?”
The host was looking at him with a sweet smile as she motioned for him to continue. Izuku could almost feel the words climbing up his throat, and he clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from saying anything more.
“Deku, are you alright-”
“The interview is over!” Izuku said, words partly muffled by his hand.
“Something urgent came up!”
It was true. It was incredibly important that Izuku was the one who got to Kacchan first.
Not heeding the protests of the host or the bewilderment of the crew, Izuku ran to the door. It was locked from the inside, and under normal circumstances he probably could have figured out how to get it open like a normal person, but now he just activated his Quirk and forced the lock to move. Izuku ran out of the studio and into the street, looking for the nearest bus stop.
He was in epic trouble. Dead, done, go directly to jail and do not collect $200. Not only had he publicly called Kacchan out on his recent behaviour, but he had also ended up revealing their relationship and even stupidly flaunted his ambitions to make it more permanent!
Talk about a real “how to utterly destroy your relationship prospects in under 30 seconds” moment… and Kacchan’s recent unpredictability certainly didn’t make things easier.
Izuku saw an incoming call from the PR agent of his agency, but swiped the notification away mercilessly. He knew he had screwed up on that front, too, but it was hardly what he was the most concerned about.
He began to type a message to Kacchan, imploring him not to read any news or look at his socials before Izuku made it to him—but he stopped himself at the last second.
Telling Kacchan not to do something? Izuku might as well send him the link to the scoop himself.
Izuku shoved the phone in his pocket. Forget the bus, he would be there faster if he just used a little bit of his Quirk.
Kacchan seemed surprised to see Izuku when he opened the door, which was better than anything Izuku could have hoped for. That meant he probably hadn’t seen anything yet.
“Kacchan! I, uh, have something to-“
Izuku cut himself off when his nose twitched with a familiar, sweet scent.
Osmanthus flowers.
Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The oppressively strong scent of the flowers in the studio, Kacchan’s strange behaviour, the way the incriminating words had slipped from Izuku’s mouth with barely any input from him. His panic had kept him from realising that even he wasn’t that loose-lipped under normal circumstances—there was something else going on.
“Sorry, Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed as he pushed his way past Kacchan and into the apartment.
“Izuku, what- hey, shoes off!”
The demand went unheeded, because Izuku had already zeroed in on his target: the bouquet of orange osmanthus on top of the breakfast table, blooming as beautifully as the day they had been delivered to Kacchan’s door.
Izuku grabbed the flowers from the vase and shoved them into a trash can, then hauled the whole thing out to the balcony while shielding his mouth and nose with his sleeve. Next, he opened every possible window he saw, letting fresh air in.
Kacchan watched Izuku with a thoroughly confused expression.
“Izuku, what the hell.”
“We shouldn’t stay here. The scent is still all around,” Izuku said, leading Kacchan towards the genkan.
Once outside, Izuku scanned their surroundings trying to figure out where to go. They needed privacy—outside would be way too exposed, and even in a cafe the neighbouring tables would hear their conversation. Seeing an ad for a karaoke place located only a couple blocks away was the answer to his prayers. Dragging a disgruntled Kacchan inside said establishment, Izuku reserved a booth for thirty minutes, grabbed the complimentary teas, and pushed Kacchan inside the tiny space on the second floor.
They were alone in a windowless room, and the person in the next stall over was doing a very emotional rendition of a decade-old pop ballad that would squash any attempts to listen to what was being said. Perfect.
“You wanna explain what the hell this is about?” Kacchan asked, glaring at Izuku as he slouched on the worn sofa. “I’m gonna punch you if you start to sing.”
“No, I just needed a place where we could talk alone,” Izuku said.
He explained his theory of the effect the flowers seemed to have, how it was most likely a variation of a truth Quirk and how disguising the flowers as a fan gift could work as an innocuous way to sneak them into a Pro Hero’s apartment.
“We really should’ve just thrown them out like you said. I’m sorry.”
He hung his head in shame. And he hadn’t even mentioned the worst part of the whole mess yet.
A look of comprehension dawned on Kacchan’s face.
“Shit. That makes sense. Of course I noticed something was off with my brain to mouth filters, but couldn’t figure out why." "The agency’s always banging on about stress and whatnot, so I declined extra work and applied for the reduced hours to see if it would pass…but all that meant I was at home more.”
Right—at home, where the effect of the flowers would only grow the more he inhaled their scent.
Kacchan raised his head to look Izuku in the eye.
“What made you realise the connection now? Did you also get a bouquet from hell?”
Izuku gulped. This was it, the moment of truth:
“Well…yes and no. I had an interview today, and the room had a bunch of flowers, some of which were the same ones you were sent. The journalist who arranged the interview may be in on it, she seemed really eager to get me to spill some secrets.”
Kacchan sprang to his feet.
“What’d you say? Something classified, or about One for All?”
Izuku could have cried from how earnestly worried Kacchan seemed. If Izuku had talked about those things, it would have been a disaster in a wholly different way—as top-class heroes, both of them had plenty of information that would lead to all kinds of trouble if it got out there. But in his heart of hearts, Izuku genuinely felt like he would have preferred to deal with that mess instead of what he had to tell Kacchan now.
“I love you.”
“...Ha?”
Kacchan looked at him blankly, as if the words had been in a foreign language.
“I…I told them about us. And that I want to date you for real. And I’ve already kind of decided on a ring, even though it’s definitely too early for that, and-”
“Stop stop stop, Deku, Izuku, stop.”
Kacchan’s hand reached to cover Izuku’s mouth, but Izuku was quicker, pressing his own palm on his face as if that could do anything to help the hot waves of embarrassment sweeping through his body.
“Are you being serious right now?” Kacchan asked. Izuku lowered his hand.
“I think we’ve established that we both have been, and probably still are, under the effects of a modified truth Quirk. It’s kind of hard to not be honest right now.”
They stared at each other for a moment, both hesitant to open their mouths in case something unexpected came out.
Kacchan dropped back on his seat and leaned his arms on his knees, air coming out of his lungs in a long-suffering exhale.
“Fuck. Okay. Okay. I love you, too.”
“Are you ser- since when?” Izuku rapidly changed his question when he realised what he had been about to say.
“No clue. At least since UA. By graduation, I understood what it meant.”
“That’s several years ago.”
Izuku struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. For that long, both he and Kacchan had…
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s… I couldn’t…I couldn’t ask that of you.”
Not caring to walk around the table to access the other side of the sofa, Izuku simply knelt on the floor next to Kacchan, searching for his eyes.
“Kacchan…I would give you anything you ever asked for.”
It was so true, he felt naked just saying it out loud.
“That’s exactly why I couldn’t do that to you! Your face when you looked at me sometimes...it was like you were carryin’ the weight of the world.”
The edge of the scar on Kacchan’s face twisted in the shape of his frown.
“I couldn’t risk telling you something that would make you think you owed me some kind of answer,” he said, rubbing his temple with one hand. “But it wasn’t because of that…not just that, anyway." "I just wanted you so goddamn much, all of you, but I wasn’t sure if I should be allowed to have it after…after everything.”
A silence fell upon them as the occupant of the room next door finished a song and then began another.
“You know, the night we hooked up for the first time…that was the first time you kissed me,” Izuku said quietly.
“We were both drunk, you maybe a bit more, and I was helping you get home, but then you kissed me and I stayed over and… In the morning, I felt terrible. I thought I had taken advantage of you or something.”
“Izuku-”
“But then you woke up, and you said…that it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“You were freaking out. I was letting you off the hook, so we could just forget about it if you wanted.”
“I didn’t want to. I thought it was the only way I could keep you close to me, so I wanted to do it again and again…”
“Didn’t hear me complain, did you? After a couple practice rounds, we got good .”
Izuku wanted to laugh along with the joke, the weight of the confession being lifted making his heart feel so much lighter than before, but it came out as a sob. Kacchan’s expression shifted into alarm.
“Izuku? Fuck, I didn’t mean to-”
Izuku shook his head. The Quirk still was affecting him, but he didn’t want to say it, not now that everything was going so much better than he could ever have hoped for. He tried to bite into the back of his hand to suppress the words, but Kacchan pried the hand away.
“Hey, no more secrets.”
“You…you never kissed me again after that first night…not without me asking for it. Never of your own volition, not once. I-”
A warm hand tilted Izuku’s head up and guided it to Kacchan’s waiting lips. The kiss was softer than he expected, not a fervent act requested in the heat of the moment or a prelude to something else. It carried nothing but its own heavy baggage with it, kind and firm and secure.
“Ahh, shit,” Kacchan swore softly when they pulled apart. “I didn’t want to get in the habit without your cue. Had a feeling I’d want to do this all the time if I knew I could.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Izuku muttered and put a hand to the side of Kacchan’s face, stroking the cheek gently as he went for the next kiss—the first he had ever claimed for himself.
They stayed like that for a while; Kacchan sitting on the sofa and Izuku on his knees. Both had one hand tangled in the other’s hair, while their remaining hands were clasped together, resting on Kacchan’s thigh.
The ringing of the in-room telephone made them jump so much that Izuku’s head hit Kacchan’s jaw, forcing his teeth to clack together. Izuku scrambled to pick up the receiver while mouthing apologies to his friend? lover? both? who ran a hand over his lower lip to check for blood.
“H-hello? Yes, thank you for letting us know…um, n-no! That’s okay, we’ll be there! Just a moment!”
Izuku put the receiver down and looked at Kacchan.
“Our time is up. I said we didn’t need an extension, so…” he gestured towards the door. “We probably should go.”
They left the booth and walked into the tiny elevator. Standing side by side in the cramped space, Izuku’s hand twitched towards Kacchan’s, but he resisted the temptation like he always did. Kacchan, however, seemed to have different ideas: he grabbed Izuku’s hand in his, slender and calloused fingers stroking over bumpy, hardened joints.
Out of the elevator, past the reception, and into the streets, their hands stayed together, fingers intertwined. It didn’t matter anymore what anyone thought, Izuku realised. After the clip of the interview would start circulating there was no stopping the maelstrom of media attention they would have, regardless of whether they were seen holding hands somewhere or not. He knew it would be a lot to deal with, emotionally and otherwise, but at this exact moment, he just felt freer than he had in years.
He couldn’t wait for the lingering effects of the osmanthus to wear off so he could hear Kacchan tell him he loved him again—not because of a Quirk making him say it, but because he wanted Izuku to hear it.
The next bouquet of flowers for Kacchan that didn’t come from Izuku or a family member would go straight into an incinerator, though.