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The longer Izuku was a teacher at U.A., the more he started to wonder how the hell Aizawa was able to do it.
He was currently slumped over his desk in his shitty apartment, rolling a red pen up and down a half-graded essay.
He understood why Aizawa always looked so tired now, dealing with teenagers every day was exhausting.
Izuku’s class wasn’t even that bad! Kota was a little rowdy sometimes, but he quieted down when Izuku gave him a look. Thinking about how he was when he was Kota’s age—he didn’t even want to think about how Katsuki was—had him wincing in sympathy for Aizawa.
He sighed, slumping further onto his desk. It had been far too long since he had seen Katsuki. Sure, he barged into his class occasionally, but seeing him in class while he was in hero mode was different than seeing him outside of it.
Izuku sighed wistfully.
In their third year of high school, they spent nearly every day together until graduation. While Izuku was getting his degree, Katsuki was always at his side. But now that he was steadily climbing in the ranks, it felt like he didn’t have time for Izuku anymore. He still hadn’t gotten used to how distant Katsuki had become, and it always made his heart ache.
Somehow, the distance had made his stupid crush on his childhood friend even worse. It was more controllable while they were close, Izuku basking in the attention Katsuki was willing to grace him with, stealing as much time with him as possible while soaking up everything he could learn about the other man.
Recently, however, he’d learned more about him through the news than he had from Katsuki himself, which left a bitter taste in his mouth. The two of them were just so busy. Izuku was occupied with his lessons and grading papers late into the night while Katsuki was working so many hours that Izuku was sure it was going against some sort of labor law.
It was a bit pathetic, pining after him like he was still in high school while literally teaching high schoolers, but Izuku was always a bit pathetic when it came to Katsuki.
He reached over and grabbed his phone, unlocking it and switching to their text messages. Katsuki was an extremely dry texter, and Izuku felt a little embarrassed at the contrast between his walls of text and Katsuki’s three-word responses.
He opened the text box, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
He checked the time and grimaced at how late it was. Katsuki was probably asleep, right? But it's been so long since they had gone out together and Izuku was getting desperate.
He typed out a message before he could second-guess himself.
> To: Kacchan!
Hi Kacchan! I was wondering if you were free this weekend?
Izuku sent it, then immediately regretted it.
Before he could do anything like beg for forgiveness, his phone started to buzz, and it startled him so much that he nearly fell out of his chair. He fumbled with his phone, looking at the Caller ID to see Katsuki’s contact photo.
It was a candid photo of him on the day of their graduation—it made Izuku’s heart skip a beat every time he saw it—and he quickly answered before it went to voicemail.
“Uh, hello?” he said.
“Why the fuck are you awake?” Katsuki asked. Izuku could hear the wind whistling in the background and the sound of fabric shifting.
“Kacchan,” he said slowly, “Are you on patrol right now?”
There was the unmistakable sound of an explosion before Katsuki replied, “Nope.”
Izuku couldn’t help but laugh, relaxing into his chair. “Of course not, my mistake.”
“Why are you awake, nerd?” Katsuki asked again, the sound of an explosion nearly drowning out his words, “Don’t you have work tomorrow?”
Izuku bit his lip, eyes drifting to the stack of ungraded essays on his desk. “Well, I just finished going through my student’s papers. I was going to sleep soon and—”
“You’re a shit liar,” Katsuki deadpanned, and another explosion. Izuku kicked off his desk to make his chair spin.
“Well, you’re the one who called me,” Izuku said.
“And you’re the one who picked up,” Katsuki replied, and Izuku pouted at the All Might poster on his wall.
There was an explosion and a loud shuffle, and Izuku really hoped Katsuki wasn’t about to engage a villain while on the phone with him.
“So,” Izuku said, deciding to make things quick before Katsuki inevitably got into trouble, “What do you think about hanging out soon?”
Katsuki hummed. “I’m usually busy on weekends.”
Izuku’s heart sank. He knew this would happen.
“Alright!” he forced out, trying not to sound as disappointed as he was, “I guess—“
Katsuki interrupted him. “Didn’t say I wasn’t free. You better not be naked, nerd.”
Katsuki then hung up, leaving Izuku stunned and staring at his phone before quickly looking down at his outfit.
He had his pajamas on, a simple pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. It wasn’t bad, but certainly not his Sunday best.
There was a loud knock, and Izuku’s head whipped over to his half-open door. There was another knock, and Izuku scrambled out of his office and into the living room.
He looked at the door first, then noticed a large shadow blocking out the moonlight that usually filtered in through his windows.
He turned around slowly.
Katsuki was outside his window, a roguish grin on his face.
“Oh,” Izuku managed.
Katsuki was in civilian clothing, wearing a thick coat over a sweater, jeans, and a scarf. He had one gloved hand holding the ridge atop the window while the other was braced against the glass. His shoes were on the windowsill, likely leaving scuff marks that Izuku would have to deal with later.
Katsuki had no right to look that attractive while plastered against Izuku’s window.
He knocked on the glass again. “Let me in, nerd!”
Izuku quickly unlocked the window and slid it open, allowing Katsuki to come in with an insulting amount of grace. Izuku shivered at the sudden cold from outside, quickly shutting the window and turning to look at Katsuki.
Izuku realized this was the first time Katsuki had been in his apartment, and he was suddenly hyper-aware of the mess.
“Get dressed,” Katsuki said, brushing off his jeans like he wasn’t just hanging outside Izuku’s window, “We’re getting dinner.”
Izuku sputtered. “You want to get dinner? Now?”
Katsuki shrugged. “You’re the one who asked if I was free, and it’s not like you’re doing anything.”
Izuku blushed, both because Katsuki was right and because he was about to get dinner with him after weeks of yearning.
“I’ll get my jacket,” he said, and Katsuki smirked.
Izuku rubbed his hands together and breathed into them to try and warm them up.
“I told you that you should’ve brought gloves,” Katsuki said, and Izuku stuck his tongue out.
“They’re all in my closet, and I didn’t feel like looking for them,” he said. Katsuki rolled his eyes.
“This is why you have to keep things organized,” Katsuki said.
The two of them were walking along the street to the closest ramen shop that was still open.
“Yeah, well,” Izuku said, feeling the urge to defend himself, “I know where most of my stuff is. I have a good system going.”
“Yeah, most of it,” Katsuki snarked, and it was Izuku’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Whatever,” he grumbled, and Katsuki barked a laugh.
The street around them was empty, everyone inside and asleep, and safe from the cold with their blankets and heaters.
“It might snow soon,” Katsuki said after a minute or so of comfortable silence.
Izuku hummed, looking up at the cloud-covered sky.
The clouds were thick, but the moon shone through a gap between them. Its soft light washed over them, and Katsuki’s pale skin practically glowed. It took all of Izuku’s self-control to force his eyes away.
He shivered, the cold cutting into his skin. He had worn his thickest jacket, but he had always run cold. His horrible circulation didn’t help. Just as he went to try and blow warmth back into his palms, warm hands wrapped around his freezing fingers.
Izuku nearly tripped, face heating up when Katsuki tugged on his hands to keep him still. They stood in the center of the sidewalk, Katsuki cradling Izuku’s hands so gently he wanted to cry.
Their hands were covered in scars, Katsuki’s always slightly damp while Izuku’s shook with an untreatable tremor he got after the war.
Katsuki’s fingers curled around Izuku’s hands, and Izuku sucked in a breath when Katsuki’s hands started to heat up with the familiar feeling of his quirk. They were too close for Izuku to handle as Katsuki rubbed warmth back into his fingers.
“Told you you should’ve brought gloves,” Katsuki murmured, “Your hands are freezing, you idiot.”
Katsuki rubbed his thumbs on the backs of Izuku’s hands, soothing the tremor of his fingers.
“Thank you,” Izuku said quietly, not wanting to break the small bubble they had found themselves in.
Katsuki squeezed Izuku’s hands, making his heart skip a beat.
He let go, and Izuku nearly whined from the loss, the cold air replacing Katsuki’s warm grasp. Suddenly, Katsuki slapped his gloves into Izuku’s hands. It was so sudden that Izuku nearly dropped them.
“Kacchan, I can’t—” Izuku started.
“Stop being annoying and take them,” Katsuki said, looking away, “Your fidgeting is distracting.”
A warm feeling filled Izuku’s chest. “Thank you, Kacchan.”
“Whatever,” Katsuki muttered, “Now come on, the ramen shop is gonna close.”
The two of them started walking again, their shoulders occasionally brushing. Izuku resisted the overwhelming urge to reach over to grab Katsuki’s hand and intertwine their fingers in the way he’d been aching to do for literal years.
It wasn’t long before they reached the small ramen stall they frequented. Katsuki opened the door for him, and they were blasted with warmth when they went inside. Katsuki practically collapsed into his seat while Izuku sat down considerably less dramatically. They ordered their food, and soon enough, two steaming bowls were put in front of them.
It felt like they were back in high school, sneaking out of U.A. after finals to get food and gossip. They fell into old banter, and just for a moment, Izuku could pretend that nothing had changed, that he still had a quirk, that he was a hero with Katsuki and could save people.
They exchanged stories, Katsuki about his patrols and Izuku about his students. Katsuki was so passionate, waving his hands as he ranted about something Izuku couldn’t focus on because Katsuki looked so pretty.
“Oi,” Katsuki said, snapping Izuku out of his thoughts, “Quit staring, nerd.”
Izuku’s face flushed, and he quickly shoved as much food into his mouth as possible.
“Sorry,” he mumbled into his ramen.
“Always staring like a creep,” Katsuki said, but he didn’t sound mad about it, “Fuckin’ weirdo.”
Izuku hunched lower into his seat, slurping noodles to avoid eye contact.
Katsuki huffed a laugh but started eating his own noodles, and a companionable silence washed over them as they ate.
Despite Izuku’s protests, Katsuki insisted on paying the bill when they finished.
“You’re the one living on a shitty teacher salary,” Katsuki said, holding open the door for Izuku, “Consider it a charity donation.”
“Kacchan, this ‘teacher salary’ can pay for a two-bedroom apartment in Tokyo,” Izuku said, and Katsuki scoffed.
It was still cold outside, the clouds in the sky parting just enough to reveal the moon.
Katsuki wordlessly started walking toward Izuku’s apartment, and Izuku tried not to feel disappointed.
“You don’t have to walk me home,” Izuku said, and Katsuki didn’t look back.
“Who said we’re going to your shitty apartment,” Katsuki said, “Come on, the parks are still open.”
Izuku gaped at Katsuki’s back before scrambling to catch up, trying to hold back a noise of joy.
He’s almost twenty-four years old. He was mature enough not to cheer at the prospect of spending more time with Katsuki.
They walked side by side, and Izuku shoved his gloved hands into his pockets as a cold breeze ruffled his hair. He shivered, hunching his shoulders to keep warmth from leeching out from his collar.
“Cold?” Katsuki asked quietly, and Izuku hummed.
“Kinda,” he said, “Nothing too bad.”
Katsuki sighed and stopped walking. He unwound his scarf from around his neck, offering it to Izuku. Izuku stared at it dumbly, and Katsuki huffed, grabbing Izuku’s arm and yanking him forward.
Izuku squeaked, face heating up so quickly he nearly got lightheaded. Katsuki gently looped the scarf around Izuku’s neck, tucking it into his jacket collar.
It took all of Izuku’s willpower not to smell the scarf.
“Quit shivering,” Katsuki said, “It’s annoying.”
One of Izuku’s gloved hands came up to clutch the scarf, and he tilted his head to hide a stupid, dopey smile behind the fabric. “Thank you, Kacchan.”
Katsuki nodded once and started walking again, and the moment Katsuki’s back was turned, he inhaled deeply. The sweet scent that always seemed to follow Katsuki filled his senses, and he nearly sighed in bliss.
He was warmer now, subtly pressing the scarf against his face and basking in the comfort.
He was so occupied with it that he nearly ran into Katsuki’s back.
“Kacchan?” Izuku asked, taking a few steps to get in front of him, “What’s wrong?”
Katsuki was staring up at the sky and didn’t spare him a glance. “It’s snowing.”
Izuku’s eyes widened as he held out his hand. Specks of white started to cover his glove, melting into nothing as they touched the warm fabric.
“Wow,” he breathed, “It’s…”
His words died in his throat.
Katsuki looked ethereal.
There was snow in his hair, making the blonde strands shimmer. His cheeks were red from the cold, his pale skin practically glowing in the moonlight. His lips were tipped up into a small, secret smile as he looked up at the sky.
Izuku felt so blessed, so thankful that the beautiful man in front of him deemed him worthy, the man with the same spitfire personality from high school, with rough words but soft eyes, so much hidden love that people never saw and Izuku was—
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
“I love you,” he breathed, then slapped his hands over his mouth.
Katsuki’s head whipped over to stare at him with wide eyes.
“Uh,” Izuku said, searching for anything that might explain his sudden declaration of love, “April Fools?”
There was a painful pause.
“It’s December,” Katsuki replied, strained.
They stared at each other, Katsuki’s face slowly twisting into something unreadable as Izuku’s life flashed before his eyes.
Years of friendship, years of repressing his emotions, restraining the urge to reach out, touching what he yearned for, all thrown away with three words said in a selfish slip of infatuation.
Katsuki spoke. “You love me?”
Izuku looked down, staring at the snowflakes forming a thin layer on the sidewalk. He couldn’t deny it. He told his friends he loved them all the time, but it was a different kind of love with Katsuki.
Katsuki was his everything. Katsuki was his sun, his symbol of victory.
Without Katsuki Bakugou, there would be no more Izuku Midoryia.
“Izuku,” Katsuki said, “Look at me.”
Izuku bit his lip. He didn’t want to see the disgust on Katsuki’s face, the incredulous anger before being rejected and thrown to the side.
A pair of combat boots stepped into his vision, and Izuku looked up.
Katsuki was looking at him, and Izuku’s heart skipped a beat.
“You love me,” Katsuki stated, and Izuku just nodded.
Katsuki’s eyes searched Izuku’s face for something Izuku didn’t know.
Izuku forced himself to keep eye contact. “I do.”
Katsuki’s eyes widened, and Izuku took a step back.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku said, “We don’t…I promise it’s not—“
Suddenly, Katsuki grabbed the scarf around Izuku’s neck and yanked him forward. Izuku yelped, stumbling and falling flush against Katsuki’s warm chest. One of Katsuki’s hands moved up and cupped Izuku’s cold cheek.
They looked at each other, faces inches apart.
“Tell me to stop,” Katsuki rasped, and Izuku surged forward before he could stop himself.
Their lips met softly.
Katsuki’s lips were smooth against his chapped ones, plush and warm. They froze for a moment before moving against his own, pressing close. Katsuki’s hand moved to cradle the back of Izuku’s head, and Izuku melted.
They kissed, and nothing else existed outside of their bubble. There was nothing outside of Katsuki’s arm around his waist, and his own arms looped around Katsuki’s neck. It was filled with love, soft love that was reciprocated, and Izuku was so happy he wanted to cry.
Katsuki was the one to break the kiss, and Izuku repressed a whine. Their foreheads pressed together, looking into each other’s eyes.
Katsuki spoke softly. “I love you too.”
Izuku felt tears well in his eyes, and Katsuki smiled, soft and filled with so much love that Izuku kissed him again.
They were covered in snow and Izuku was starting to lose feeling in his toes, but Katsuki was warm and Izuku had never felt more blessed in his life.
“Wanna go back to your apartment?” Katsuki asked, “It’s getting cold.”
Izuku smiled and nuzzled Katsuki’s jaw like he’d wanted to do for years. “Okay, Kacchan.”
They separated briefly before Katsuki tucked him against his side and took his hand.
“Can’t have you freezing on the way there,” Katsuki said, and Izuku kissed his cheek.
“I’ll make you some hot chocolate as a thank you,” he said.
“You and your sweet tooth,” Katsuki grumbled, acting like he wasn’t twice as bad as Izuku was.
Izuku laughed, pressing close and soaking in Katsuki’s warmth.
Katsuki’s profile was soft in the moonlight. Izuku reached up and wiped a snowflake from Katsuki’s cheek. When he looked at him questioningly, Izuku kissed him.
He’s never had strong feelings about snow, associating it with blocked roads and cold weather, but he was always open to change.
“I love snow,” he whispered against Katsuki’s lips.
Izuku Midoryia loved two things: Snow, and Katsuki Bakugou.