Work Text:
Katsuki stood at the station, watching the announcements, looking for one train in particular to roll into the station. His hand trembled in his pocket, clenching and unclenching around a piece of paper, one that had been crumpled and smoothed, tossed and rescued, hated and loved, for many, many years.
He never thought he’d ever do anything with it.
But now, as he watched the signs on the arrivals board change, Katsuki felt the familiar flip of his stomach when he saw the train from Tokyo due to arrive in just a few minutes, and he knew that the time had come.
Because the years without Izuku had been hell.
After the war, after graduation, they’d both had the chance to do whatever they wanted, to work for whomever they wanted. Katsuki had decided to go back to Best Jeanist; the man knew him well, tolerated him enough, and liked him a little. And, he was in need of a sidekick, especially since he and Hawks were going to be joining forces and creating a new agency, with offices in Musutafu and Hokkaido. Tokoyami stayed with Hawks and ran the Hokkaido branch; Katsuki could have gone with him, but his quirk sucked in the cold and he wasn’t quite ready to go far from his parents (never fucking reveal that to anybody!). They’d been through enough, and deserved to at least know their son was nearby and well taken care of.
He’d been hoping Izuku would feel the same, although Katsuki knew that when the letter came from Melissa fucking Shield, he’d be a goner.
California. It was only a few years, but it felt like an eternity.
“I’ll be back,” Izuku had reassured him.
You’ll be different, Katsuki had thought. You won’t be the same. You won’t be…
Mine.
Not anymore.
And that was really the thing, wasn’t it? That Izuku was gonna go off into the unknown, work with Melissa Shield on whatever stupid support shit she could make for him. The protege of All Might with the daughter of David Shield.
It was a match made in heaven.
The tabloids were full of speculation about whether or not their partnership was more than just hero and support.
Katsuki knew better. He knew Izuku really only went because he felt obligated on behalf of the old man. All Might couldn’t go to her, so he sent Izuku in his stead. And if something was going on between them, Katsuki would have known .
Izuku texted and called and video chatted with him way too much for him to suspect anything more than a purely platonic relationship. He was way too interested in Melissa’s assets and not nearly interested enough in her…assets.
Which…good.
But still, Katsuki worried. Izuku was brash on the best of days and downright self-sacrificing and idiotic on the worst. He didn’t have anyone there to keep him in line: not Four Eyes, not Sensei, not the old man, and definitely not Katsuki.
So every time Izuku’s name showed up on Katsuki’s phone, his heart nearly stopped all over again, then he gave a sigh of relief.
Dammit, the nerd really needed to stop freaking him out like this.
It was this thought that had fueled Katsuki’s decision: also brash, more than likely idiotic, but what the fuck, he couldn’t keep it inside any-fucking-more. He’d lived in limbo for too many years, exacerbated by the fact that there was a whole fucking ocean between him and one Midoriy Izuku.
An ocean that was much too big and much too far and made Katsuki’s poor heart ache much too much.
Everything was too much. Izuku’s eyes and the way they sparkled. Izuku’s mouth, and the way it dropped into a perfect little “O” when he was perplexed. Izuku’s hands, strong and damaged and more than a little insane.
Izuku’s voice, and how high-pitched it could still get when he got overly worked up.
All of Izuku, really. He was all too much, and yet, he was never enough.
So that was why Katsuki stood in a train station, watching times and platforms and clutching a yellowed wad of paper currently in his pocket.
One he should have thrown out years ago, but could never quite seem to follow through.
Still, like all those years ago, and every year since, Katsuki wondered if it was enough…
If… he…was enough.
The arrivals board flipped again; Katsuki saw the station platform, and he took off at a run, not caring who he was mowing over in his attempt to be the first one there.
He had to be the first one Izuku saw, the first one Izuku heard, the first one…
For once, Katsuki was not gonna be the one left behind.
He’d gotten used to it, over the years. “Good character development,” old Denim Head would say. “Knocks down your damn ego a few notches,” the old hag would say. Neither of them were wrong; learning to control his anger and his insecurities had made him an infinitely better hero and a slightly better person. But all of it was for naught if Izuku didn’t notice, if Izuku didn’t see…
He’d always seen, until the day he left.
And even when they chatted from thousands of miles away, Izuku still saw…usually.
“Are you getting enough sleep, Kacchan? You’re not giving Best Jeanist too hard of a time, are you? Are you going too hard in your sparring with Kirishima-kun? You know you need to watch your heart rate and you can’t let it get too out of control!”
Fuck. Even his voice in Katsuki’s head was fucking cute.
His hand clutched around the paper more tightly, and his eyes roamed, from one end of the platform to the other.
He didn’t have to do this. Not here, anyway. Not now. He could wait. He could take Izuku home; he could make him a nice, healthy dinner; he could let Izuku get some sleep. The flight from LAX wasn’t exactly short, and surely…
No, Katsuki told himself fiercely. You’re not getting out of this. Not now, now when you came all the way here and you rooted that old thing out of the bottom of your dresser drawer.
You’re here for a reason, Katsuki.
And you’re gonna deliver on that reason.
The sound of a train whistle snapped his gaze to the far end of the platform. Past it, Katsuki could see the train, slowly coming up to the station. His heart began hammering away, despite Izuku’s repeated warnings over the years to take it easy.
Tch. Like Katsuki could ever do that.
Every sound of the horn caused Katsuki’s eyes to widen. Every clack of the wheels on the track matched the frantic beating of his heart.
But every window on the train that rushed by—every one that could have Izuku there, staring out, looking for him—strengthened his resolve.
He could do this. He would do this.
For Katsuki, and for Izuku.
For Kacchan, and for Deku.
Slowly, the train came to a halt, and with it, Katsuki’s breath.
The doors to the train opened and people started pouring out. Katsuki scanned the crowd for wild green curls, but everywhere he looked, there was just a slew of hats and scarves and bags and noise.
Izuku. Izuku. Where was Izuku?
Katsuki felt a rush of panic. Had he gotten the time wrong? He was sure Izuku had said this was the right train, the right time, the right…
“Kacchan!”
And, just like that, Katsuki’s soul slotted back into place.
He was different, somehow: older, his baby face shaped into something hardened and more chiseled, but still with the soft edge that Katsuki would know anywhere. His hair was covered by a navy blue beanie, but his eyes were still the same: sparkling green, like emeralds shining in the sun. He was broader, too: still short, but compact. Katsuki could just imagine the ripples of his muscles underneath the heavy winter coat.
“Kacchan!” Izuku called again. “You came!”
Those words lit something in Katsuki, and he started to move across the platform, cutting through the people, biting back snarl after snarl and the desire to just pick people up and throw them to the side because Izuku was here , he was, and Katsuki had never been so thrilled and so terrified to see another person in his life.
Izuku saw him coming, and his face lit up into a brilliant smile. They rushed towards each other now, the other people nearly forgotten as they both shoved and pushed and made their way through the crowd, both trying to reach the other as quickly as they could.
And, ah, there it was: the magnetic pull, the ache, the yearning: twin cores drawn to each other once again, after so much time apart. The familiar feeling gnawed at Katsuki, deep in his soul: the urge to be near him, to touch, to feel, to surround himself in all that was Midoriya Izuku.
They met amid a crowd, but to them, now, face-to-face, they were the only ones who existed.
“Hi,” Izuku said, his cheeks pink with cold. Katsuki noticed that Izuku’s freckles were even more prominent, that he had a smattering now across his nose, that his skin was a healthy bronze—Los Angeles was warm, Katsuki remembered, even in December, and a rush of jealousy swept through his body that Melissa Shield had gotten this version of Izuku—this handsome, strong, tanned version of Izuku—for even one iota of time.
“H—hi,” Katsuki said back, schooling his face into its usual sneer.
“You came,” Izuku said next, that blinding smile creeping across his lips.
“Of course I fucking came,” Katsuki shot back, running a hand through his hair. “Where else would I be?”
Izuku’s smile got wider. “Of course,” he answered softly. His eyes searched Katsuki’s, green meeting red, and Katsuki blushed and looked away.
His hand found his pocket again, and brushed against the edge of the paper: the thing that had brought him here, that compelled him to be the first to see Izuku, that…
“Here,” Katsuki said, yanking the paper out of his pocket and shoving it at Izuku. “This is…for you.”
“For me?” Izuku shifted his duffel onto his back and took the paper from Katsuki. Around them, the crowd thinned; the train had pulled away, but neither Izuku nor Katsuki had any intention of going anywhere just yet.
“Yeah.” Katsuki toed the ground. “It’s—I’ve had it a long time.”
Izuku turned the paper over in his hands. He made a soft, surprised sound in his throat. “You—you have?” he said—a question, but also, not really, because they both knew the answer.
“Yeah.” Katsuki now refused to look at Izuku. “Almost fifteen years. I made it when we were kids.”
“You—you made this?” Katsuki dared to look up. Izuku wasn’t looking at him; he was staring at the paper, running a fingerless gloved finger over the crude heart and snowflake on the front.
“Yeah.” Katsuki shrugged. “Remember when we had to make cards in school that year?”
“I do.” Izuku’s eyes caught Katsuki’s; they were shining. “I made one for All Might, and the teacher told me I had to make a card for someone I actually knew.” He laughed quietly. “Shows what she knew.”
“Yeah.” Katsuki huffed out a laugh. “Sure as fuck does.”
“Can I read it?” Izuku asked suddenly, his eyes back to the card again, his finger still idly tracing the drawing.
Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat, but he shoved that feeling—that hesitation—deep down inside his gut. “Yeah,” he said, as deadpan as he could muster. “‘S’why I gave it to you, ain’t it?”
Izuku giggled. “I guess it is,” he said, and held the card up a little bit higher so he could read it.
It was crumpled, yellowed with age, but Katsuki knew every detail of that fucking card: he’d read it so many times over the years, debated giving it to Izuku so many times, debated throwing it out so many times, too. He watched as Izuku’s mouth moved over the words on the front — Merry Christmas, Deku! — it read in 6-year old Katsuki’s sprawling handwriting. It still made him grimace at the memory of how carefully—so fucking carefully, too carefully—he’d written out Izuku’s name.
And then, the inside…
Katsuki watched Izuku’s eyes go wide. He closed the card, then opened it, read it again, closed it, opened it, read it again, this time, his mouth moving slowly over the words. Katsuki held his breath.
Would Izuku get it? Would he understand, even all these years later?
Would he smile? Would he laugh? Would he throw the card back in Katsuki’s face?
It had been a few years since they’d seen each other, after all. And maybe Katsuki was silly to think that…
“Dear Deku.” Izuku read aloud now, his voice quiet and shaking. Katsuki focused in on all that was Izuku in that moment: his serious, furrowed brow. His eyes traveling over the page. His fingers, trembling as he held the card.
And, his throat, where his Adam’s apple bobbed with every swallow.
But then Izuku opened his mouth to read the rest, and Katsuki’s attention turned right back to that plush, perfect little mouth.
“D—dear Deku,” Izuku read again, then gave a tiny giggle. “It’s been a long time since you called me that.”
“Tch,” Katsuki scoffed, but he was sure that he was blushing.
“The—the only—” Izuku paused, brought the paper in closer to his face, then moved it away. Not wearing his glasses like he’s supposed to, Katsuki thought, but Izuku pulled the paper back towards him, and then he started to read:
“All I want for Christmas…” Izuku read, his voice now clearly shaking, “is to marry you. Marry…” Izuku looked up at him, but Katsuki was stoic on the outside, even though on the inside, his heart was hammering away in his chest.
He could not, would not, allow his own heart, his own hesitation, to get in the way of this. Not now. Not when he was so close, and Izuku was…
“Kacchan,” Izuku said, and Katsuki realized he was trembling from head to toe, “is this for real?”
Katsuki blinked. What? What was Izuku implying? How…
“What?” he retorted. “You think I made this up?”
Izuku’s answering smile was fond, so fond, it made Katsuki weak. “No,” he said, softly, after a moment. “I don’t think you could make up something like this, even if you tried.” He looked down at the card again. “You really wanted to marry me when you were seven?” he asked next, and this time, his voice was tingling with amusement.
“So what if I did?” Katsuki shot back proudly, even though his heart was still pounding. “I always want the best, don’t I? And marrying you…” He huffed, the gravity of the words hitting him now. Fuck.
“Marrying you…loving you…” Katsuki’s voice wobbled, just the tiniest bit.
“It’s a little early for marriage, Kacchan,” Izuku answered, his voice just as quiet, “don’t you think?”
“I think that…” Katsuki began, but then he realized what Izuku was saying. “Wait,” he added, “do you mean…”
Izuku hiccuped, and Katsuki watched as big, fat tears poured down Izuku’s face. He stood there for a moment, sobbing and wiping at his eyes and getting his sleeves and his gloves all slimy and wet. Izuku’s face was red and his eyes swollen and his cheeks shiny and he was blubbering and gross.
Katsuki thought that he’d never looked more beautiful.
Beautiful Artwork by kalcia
“I—I mean,” Izuku said—wept, really, because of all the fucking tears, “I mean that… yes, Kacchan, yes I’ll marry you and yes of course I love you too and yes I cut short my stay in the States because I couldn’t bear to be away from you for another moment, even though I had endorsements and Melissa was working on some new support items for me and All Might really wanted me to stay and maybe apply for an extended work visa and—”
“Izuku,” Katsuki interrupted sharply, because he’d heard what he’d heard and he didn't want to give Izuku the chance to forget it in his rambling, “did you just say that you fucking…”
“Love you?” Izuku finished Katsuki’s sentence, smiling through the tears. “Did I just say I fucking love you?”
“That’s my line,” Katsuki grumbled.
“Well, now it’s my line, too,” Izuku said, grinning through the tears. “Although I don’t think our parents will like us getting married so soon after I’ve come back from the States.”
“The old hag would be overjoyed,” Katsuki snarked. “Finally, someone to tame her loudmouthed idiot son.”
“I’ve kept you waiting so long,” Izuku murmured, looking back down at the card, the joy draining from his face.
“Nah,” Katsuki groused, toeing at the cement platform again. “You kept me waiting just right.”
Strong hands gripped his arms, and Katsuki felt himself being tugged forward. Izuku’s mouth crashed into his, so hard and fast their teeth clanged, but Katsuki was too busy reeling from the thought of Izuku kissing him to really care.
Their lips moved, feverishly, full of the last months and years apart, of all the years they’d been together, of all the years Katsuki had loved Izuku, and Izuku had loved Katsuki. It had taken years for Katsuki to be able to see that what he felt for Izuku wasn’t hate, but jealousy, all to mask his own fears and insecurities. And as he got older, that jealousy morphed into a rivalry, one that felt edged in hatred, but was actually edged in love. Because the closer Katsuki got to Izuku, the closer he got to himself, and he realized, more and more, that they were the same in so many ways. Both obsessive, both task-focused, both yearning to be the best. When Izuku zoomed past Katsuki, when Katsuki caught up to him, when they both lived and died and clung to each other in the heat of battle and in the dead of night…
Somewhere among all those moments, Katsuki had realized that the feelings he’d had for Izuku as a kid?
They hadn’t gone away. Not really.
They’d morphed and grown and evolved into something so deep and complex that Katsuki couldn’t tell what they were until Izuku was gone, and he was alone. It was like his heart had been obliterated all over again, only this time, the only hero would could fix it was thousands of miles away, in the sun and the surf and the sand.
But now, Izuku was here, and Izuku was kissing him and holding him and gods, fuck, this had been the moment Katsuki had been waiting for…most of his life, if he was being honest. His own hands slid down Izuku’s back, unable to stop themselves from grabbing two fistfuls of that pert little ass, and Izuku giggled, then jumped up into Katsuki’s arms, and yes fuck yes this was were the damn nerd belonged.
Izuku opened up beautifully for Katsuki, his mouth warm and inviting and exactly the place Katsuki wanted to be. He wanted to dive into that heat and lap at it, rejoice in it, devour it, make it his and no one else’s. Izuku’s hands—the card still clutched in his right one—clasped Katsuki’s cheeks; his hips ground into Katsuki’s midsection; his chest pressed up tight against Katsuki’s pecs.
They’d been apart for so long, that now, to be together here, like this?
It was all it could be, and yet it would never be quite enough.
Because fifteen years was a long time, and Katsuki and Izuku had a lot to make up for.
Izuku broke the kiss first, gasping for air as he leaned his forehead against Katsuki’s. “I still can’t believe you wrote me a love confession when we were seven,” he breathed. His eyes danced, brilliant green in the fluorescent lights of the platform.
“Like I said,” Katsuki rasped, his voice hoarse with emotion, “I wanted the best, and you were…you are…”
Izuku kissed him again. “Merry Christmas, Kacchan,” he whispered.
“Merry Christmas, Nerd,” Katsuki whispered back. “You ready to go home?”
“Y—yeah—” Izuku started, but his eyes flew open and he jumped out of Katsuki’s arms. “Home!” he exclaimed. “Home! I don’t have an apartment! I just have my mom’s? And I guess I could go there, but I’m like a grownup and that would be weird, right? Maybe I could call Iida-kun and see if he can…”
“You little idiot,” Katsuki chuckled, amused at Izuku’s rambling. “Didn’t you think about where you were gonna stay?”
Izuku huffed. “I was too busy thinking about a certain Number Six hero to be concerned with little things like where I was gonna live!” he shot back.
“Good,” Katsuki retorted. “Then you can come home with me.”
“I—I can?” Izuku fluttered his eyelashes in surprise, and fuck, that made Katsuki want to kiss him all over again.
So, he did.
“You think I’m gonna let you go to your mother’s or to Four Eyes?” he murmured against Izuku’s lips. “When I could have you at home all to myself?”
Izuku melted under his touch. “Kacchan,” he whispered, but Katsuki kissed him again.
“None of that now,” he told Izuku, his voice husky and warm. “First, a hot bath. Then, a hot and healthy dinner…none of that crap you like to eat.”
“I like Wendy’s!” Izuku protested.
“And I like your cholesterol at a regular level!” Katsuki retorted. “So I’ll cook for ya tonight.”
“And then what?” Izuku asked, his eyes daring and hopeful as they locked on Katsuki’s.
Katsuki could feel the blush coming up over his cheeks, but he fought it off and tried to keep his sneer intact. “Oh, you know,” he said, shrugging as he took Izuku’s bag from him and slung it over his own arm. “Fifteen years of loving someone.”
“It’s a long time,” Izuku commented carefully, his eyes still focused on Katsuki.
“It is,” Katsuki said. “And I got a lot of catchin’ up to do.”
“Like—like what?” Izuku asked, his voice breathy and high.
Katsuki laughed loudly. “Wouldn’t you like to know, you little shit,” he said. He reached for Izuku’s hand; it curled around Katsuki’s like it was always meant to be there. “Come on,” he added. “Home, bath, food.”
“And then?” Izuku asked, tugging on Katsuki’s hand to draw him close.
“And then…” Katsuki sealed his mouth over Izuku’s one more time. The kiss was hot, fierce, demanding; Katsuki wanted to make sure he left nothing to the imagination in terms of expectations for that night.
Sure enough, when he pulled away, Izuku was flushed, breathing heavily, lips swollen and bitten red. A single line of saliva dribbled from his mouth, and Katsuki leaned forward and licked that up, too, Izuku’s breath hitching at the act.
“And then,” Katsuki breathed, his lips still centimeters from Izuku’s, “we pick up where we left off… right here.”
Izuku’s blush was immediate and full: just what Katsuki had intended.
As they headed home together, under the street lights of the city, Katsuki couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom in his chest. Fifteen years was a long time to keep a secret, to bury one’s love. It had caused him inexplicable pain—both him and Izuku, if he was being honest.
But now, he’d finally had the guts to bare his soul; he’d finally shared the card, shared his feelings, that he’d kept inside for much, much too long.
Letting go—sharing his love for Izuku, with Izuku, and knowing that Izuku felt the same love in return? And knowing that they were heading home , together, ready to love and to build a life, together?
It made every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day…
Of every month, of every year…
It made it all worth the wait.