Archive of Our Own

A hum in the air, movement in the room that makes him an observer. The energy moves through him and he just lets it.

Yeah. Katsuki is buzzed. 

It’s been a few hours since the night has really gotten started, but he hasn’t drunk much–early shift tomorrow, and a coffee won’t be enough to keep him on his toes with a hangover. While he could say that he has no idea why he even came to hang at a bar with these fools on a random Thursday night in the first place, there’s no use in fighting the nature of the buzz. Alcohol makes everything simple, and truth is the simplest thing of them all.

It’s nice, Katsuki has to admit himself, seeing everyone enjoy themselves. Nice to leave their responsibilities at the door and lose themselves in the drinks and the communal mics. He and his former classmates have always felt so old for their ages, but it’s nights like these when they can finally claim some semblance of youth. Looking around, it’s clear to Katsuki that they really are just a bunch of 22 year old idiots getting drunk on a work night.

They all met up at a karaoke bar–Jirou’s idea–so tonight has been full of drunk people singing and not much else. The place itself is pretty small–mahogony wood everywhere, walls and tables glowing in magentas and blues and more from the light fixtures all around the ceiling, Christmas lights still up above the bar for some reason, posters and framed pictures stuck on the walls–but it’s the people that make it lively. 

At first he had watched from up front, with the heavy arm of Eijirou around his damn neck jostling him excitedly around from the left and Kaminari’s shrieking voice shouting lyrics in his ear from the right. But later on, after those two had gotten drunk enough to attempt to force Katsuki to go up and sing with them, he had managed to sneak off and take a seat in a booth in the back to just observe the night and all the people blissfully inhabiting it. 

In his own peaceful little bubble he’s been watching the performances from afar. To start from the very beginning, though, the former class-1A’s karaoke night has gone like this:

Ashido, who had called dibs for first before anyone even got a drop of alcohol in their system, was the one to break the ice in their group. She got up there and sang an 80s song no one knew the name of, but her enthusiasm in trying to dance and sing simultaneously (which got her a bit out of breath) was enough to ramp up the hype for the night.

Surprisingly–so entirely shocking–former class rep Iida Tenya went next. And the kicker was: he wasn’t half bad. He got up there looking like he was about to lecture everyone on their wrong doings and misconduct, but his voice wasn’t terrible to listen to.

Shoto, Uraraka, and Asui tried their hands at an upbeat sounding song after that. Shoto was, quite frankly, cold as ice up there, looking nervous as hell and hardly singing loud enough to hear. Uraraka and Asui were more into it, pointing at the audience of drunkards as they all cheered them on. Eventually Shoto got over it and matched their energy. It was a bit hilarious in that ridiculous sort of way.

It was best when Ears went up, though, because unlike most people in this bar, she could actually sing. Felt like a real concert when she was on mic. And eventually, after enough drinks, she even forced Yaoyorouzu to come on stage with her. Jirou had belted everyone's ears off that time, and for most of the performance she kept shooting cheesy little smiles at her partner. Yaoyoruzu looked like she simultaneously regretted her choice to ever come to this karaoke bar in the first place and like she decided that this was hands down the best moment of her entire life. Katsuki just wondered when they were going to get over themselves and finally admit to everyone that they’re together.

Dunce Face went up many, many times, saying how he had to “give the people the show they asked for.” And yeah, he wasn’t half bad, but he got a temporary time out anyways. Other than that, most people went at least once, in duets or solos or overcrowded groups for such a small stage. But surprisingly, out of everyone, the one who seemed most into all of this shit, who had belted everyone’s damn ears off from on and off stage, who had taken shot after shot after shot, was–

“Kacchan!”

Never invoke the name of the devil, for here he shall arrive. At the sound of his voice, Katsuki’s gaze shifts from the stage to the approaching Izuku, who is now prancing over to Katsuki’s lone booth and leaving a trail of disgruntled looks as he somehow manages to bump heavily into every other chair he passes. 

Izuku’s curling hair looks damp from sweat, there’s a flush on his face that doesn’t look like it’ll go away, his shirt is unbuttoned one more button than usual, and there’s only one thought that Katsuki chooses to think about that:

So much for peace and quiet. 

If there’s more, he won’t acknowledge it, because this is the true test of the night. While he can say that he has grown as a person, he cannot say that it's enough to give him patience to deal with drunk people, who talk too loudly and who reek of alcohol and who seem to forget the concept of personal space. 

Though, maybe if it’s Izuku, it won’t be too bad.

When he arrives at the booth, however, the odds Katsuki was hoping for are rendered hopeless, as gravity decides that now is the best time to hit Izuku like an incoming bus, causing him to stumble forward over his dumb, drunk feet.

“Oi, watch it,” Katsuki hisses, holding one hand on Izuku’s upper arm and the other on his shoulder to prevent him from tumbling over onto him. Izuku barely manages to catch himself, bracing one hand beside Katsuki’s leg and–

Fuck this shit. He’s not buzzed enough for… this.

“Sorry, Kacchan, sorry,” Izuku chuckles, his voice ragged and wrecked to all hell. “Here, move–move over so I can sit down, okay? They told me I have to take a break from karaoke or they’re going to send me back to my apartment.”

“So what–they send you over to me so I can babysit?” Katsuki mutters, albeit as he moves over to his right without resistance. Sue him.

Izuku takes this as an invitation to haphazardly slide into the booth, and even though Katsuki moved himself practically to the wall, Izuku seems to decide that it’s reasonable to plop down right next to him, close enough to where he is brushing against Katsuki’s shoulder as he sways left and right.

“Hey, K…Kacchan,” he huffs out humorously once he’s all settled down, rubbing a heavy hand up the side of his face and through his curling hair.  “D’you have a drink? They kind of took mine.” 

Katsuki’s gaze flits down to the hand that is cupping his hardly touched drink; Izuku’s gaze follows immediately, and when he looks up his eyes are wide and promising. “Can I–”

“Nope,” Katsuki says resolutely, pulling the glass closer to himself. “No way. They took yours away for a reason, you’ve had enough for the night.”

Izuku’s face falls– tragically. “But Kacchan, I’m…” he stumbles over his words, looking left and right. “I’m thirsty.”

“Don’t care. Go get yourself a water if you really need it.”

“I can’t,” Izuku stresses, as though this is the single most important matter of the night. “I just got here. Just…give me some of yours, please. We can split it. Or–or if you don’t want that much I can finish it for you, it’s okay.”

“No,” Katsuki repeats firmly, and after a second of contemplation, he takes a large swig. Better to try and finish it quickly, he supposes.

He places it back down onto the table with a clink and refuses to look over at Izuku, because he already knows what he’ll see.

The wall to his right has an old, time-worn poster of some guy with a guitar. There are strobe lights painting the tables in ever changing colors, with a blue light shining over their table in a semi-fleeting flash. This place is loud in every way.

And then it comes: a sigh from his left. 

Katsuki doesn’t look. Straight ahead, Jirou has made her way back on stage. Good for her.

Another heavy, dejected sigh.

She’s saying something to the small crowd. A red light flashes over their table this time, and the music begins.

Anothe–

“Fuck, fine!” Katsuki exclaims, pushing his drink into Izuku’s hands. “Whatever, get liver cancer for all I care, just take it.”

“Really?” Izuku gasps, cupping the drink in two hands like it’s made of…well…glass.

“Yeah,” Katsuki says begrudgingly. “But if you take more than a sip then you’re buying me a new one. And don’t get any of your germs on my side–I don’t know where you’ve been.”

Izuku makes a cheerful, victorious noise as he spins the cup once in his hands. “Got it,” he says firmly with a pleased smile. “Thanks, Kacchan. This is the–the best thing that’s happened to me all night.” Katsuki just rolls his eyes. 

“Cheers,” Izuku says happily, raising the drink up before bringing it to his lips for a sip.

It only takes half of one sip for him to make a face, though. After that, he places the glass back down slowly onto the table with barely a clink.

“Kacchan, this is…,” he looks down into the cup with a frown, blinking slowly and confusedly. When he brings it up closer to smell it, he makes another face. “What’s in this?”

A victorious smile creeps up Katsuki’s lips. “Shochu.”

Izuku turns sharply—not that sharp honestly in the state that he’s in—to Katsuki, face a picture of raw and utter betrayal. “Shochu?” he echoes in disbelief. “But…I hate shochu. Y-You even got the one that smells weird! Why would you let me take a sip?”

“You said you were thirsty,” Katsuki says with a shrug, reaching back for his drink. “So you get what you get.”

Izuku opens and closes his mouth a few times, eyes wide and baffled, before he relents. He sighs something full of self-pity and dejection, and turns back to gaze longingly at the stage. “I hate shochu,” he mutters sadly. 

“Yeah well, beggars can’t be choosers, nerd,” Katsuki mutters back, before taking a sip and turning to the stage as well.

Jirou’s song is at the chorus and ramping up exponentially. It feels like one of the loudest songs of the night, with the music moving like vibrations through Katsuki’s bones. It’s a long one too, Katsuki realizes, as he and Izuku spend a few contented minutes just watching from their booth in the back.

But of course, the peace was never going to last.

“Kacchan,” Izuku says abruptly and hoarsely, a little too loudly in his ear over the music.

Izuku is so close that Katsuki can practically feel those words against his skin. And with it, he feels a shiver and burning; it feels like being set on fire, and he’s not drunk enough to blame it on the alcohol. 

There’s only one thing to do about that.

“No,” Katsuki grumbles petulantly, crossing his arms and turning a little to the right.

A few seconds.

“Kacchan,” Izuku repeats loudly, leaning towards him again.

This time Katsuki doesn’t answer. From the corner of his eye, he can see Izuku staring at him expectantly.

“Kacchan.”

Silence. Or more accurately: anything but. Loud enough to pretend not to hear a voice from the left. 

A few more seconds. 

“Ka–”

“God damn it–what?” Katsuki asks irritatedly, snapping his gaze to his right. 

A light from above them washes Izuku’s dumb, contented face in purple. His eyes are hazy and cloudy–and utterly fucking wasted. He stares at Katsuki just to stare, all stupid and probably forgetting that he had something to say just seconds ago.

The truth is that despite knowing each other for who knows how many years, Katsuki has never encountered this drunk of an Izuku. An entirely inebriated Izuku. A plastered Izuku. An Izuku who is shitfaced. And it’s a little weird to know someone since they were five and see them act like this much of a fool almost two decades later. 

First time for everything, he supposes.

Katsuki sighs. “What, Izuku?” he repeats, with a little less bite this time.

Izuku blinks slowly. “Oh yeah. I just…” He huffs out a stupid little laugh to himself, tilting his head to the side like it’s taking too much effort to hold up. “I was just thinking how…even though you tricked me into drinking your shochu, I’m…really glad we’re friends now.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes–apparently there does exist a certain threshold of alcohol where Izuku becomes unabashedly sentimental. But he mutters back, “M’glad we’re friends now too, nerd.”

Then after a second he says, “You’re still an annoying ass lightweight, though. You need to learn how to handle your alcohol better.”

They both know that he isn’t that much of a lightweight, though. And for some reason Izuku barks out a laugh at this, bending over and clutching his stomach like Katsuki just told the most hilarious joke in the world. Katsuki fights that certain tug at the side of his lips as he rolls his eyes–it wasn’t even meant to be funny. But Izuku doesn’t stop, and suddenly he’s leaning into Katsuki's space like he can’t hold himself up, shoulders shaking and head bumping against Katsuki’s shoulder once.

“Kacchan,” Izuku breathes out through his laughter. “Kacchan, I need to–I need to tell you a secret, okay? Y-You can’t tell anyone.”

Katsuki scrunches his brows. “What is it?”

Izuku sits up, still huffing out quick and breathless laughs, and looks around–most people are preoccupied with Sero, who’s now on stage singing some rock song in English. Then he drapes an arm around Katuski’s shoulders and brings his mouth close up to his ear.

It’s an understatement to say that sparks shoot down Katsuki’s spine.

“Okay,” Izuku whispers, voice still full of giggles. “Okay, so here’s…h-here’s-”

But he can’t get much out through all of his laughter. And…damn it, it tickles, so instinctually Katsuki squirms away, hiding the sensitive part of his ear in the shrug of his shoulder. But he can’t help but feel a smile of his own tug at his lips and a little bubbling in his chest.

It’s not his fault. Izuku’s laughter is a virus; it’s strong and infectious and addicting. You could hear it once and never get tired of it.

Katsuki knocks his head into Izuku’s. “Oi, why the fuck are you laughing, huh? What’s so funny?”

“Why,” Izuku hiccups, arm still weighing heavily around Katsuki’s shoulders, “why’re you laughing, Kacchan?”

God, he feels so stupid right now. Maybe he’s drunker than he thought. “I’m laughing–I’m laughing cause you’re dumb as hell, now tell me your secret.”

Izuku his free hand over his chuckling face, trying to collect himself. “Okay,” he breathes out, still struggling for air. “Okay I’ll tell you. B-But come closer,” he gestures sluggishly, head bent forwards like he’s getting ready for a team huddle.

Katsuki huffs exasperatedly as he moves closer, leaning his head down close enough to hear Izuku. They probably look dumb as hell, but what can he say–his interest is piqued.

And finally Izuku says in a hushed tone, with a smile in his voice, “Okay. So…my secret is that…it’s that I’m really glad we’re friends now.”

Held in a huddle, staring down into his own jeans, Katsuki’s expression falls dead. Deader than dead. “You already told me that.”

“Yeah, but–but I’m really glad.”

“I know that. You’ve said it like–a thousand times already.”

“Oh,” Izuku says, pulling back slightly with a sway to look at Katsuki. “Well, I just wanted to let you know. Because…b-because–”

This fucking idiot. 

“Why the hell does alcohol make everything so fucking funny to you?” Katsuki asks exasperatedly, fully pushing Izuku away by the forehead as he goes through yet another laugh attack. 

“It’s just,” Izuku wheezes out. “Y-You’re face–” he covers his own face with both hands, shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Muffled and on the verge of absolute hysteria he says, “Dang it, Kacchan d-don’t look at me like th-that.”

Katsuki frowns confusedly. “Like what?”

Izuku’s mistake is that despite covering his face, he can’t help but look past his curtain of fingers—and it takes just one look at Katsuki before he falls apart again. His eyes get wide and desperate, and his hand slams hard onto the table as he lets out a squawk of laughter so loud and frantic that some people turn back towards them. He sounds like he’s dying for fuck’s sake.

It was funny the first time, but now Katsuki just feels entirely over it again. “What?” he demands. “You think I’m–funny looking or some shit? Is that what this is about, asshole?”

There are practically tears coming out of Izuku’s eyes, and he’s smiling so hard it looks painful. But through that, he gives a shake of his head. “N-No,” he manages, practically hyperventilating at this point, “no, you’re not…well…well y-you…you kind of–”

“Fuck you,” Katsuki spits out over Izuku’s wheezing and gasps for air. “If you don’t stop then I’m…I’m leaving your ass here. All alone. Without a drink. Laughing alone to yourself like some– weirdo.”

“No, don’t,” Izuku breathes out, eyes squeezed joyfully shut. His hands reach out blindly, but he grabs nothing but air and almost falls over. “Don’t go, Kacchan, I didn’t mean it like that. I just realized that you just look so bothered all the time, that’s all. Y-you’re…you’re a…you’ve got a resting grump face.”

Katsuki furrows his brows, catches himself doing it, and decides that he doesn’t give a fuck. “Well maybe I’m just—grumpy around you’re annoying ass. You ever thought of that? Huh?”

“No.” Izuku huffs out another tired laugh, his chuckles finally dying out. “But…maybe it’s true.”

He exhales, long and satisfied and smiling. A few moments later, though, Izuku is swinging his lazy head back towards Katsuki. “Can I have another sip of your drink?”

“I thought you didn’t like the taste.”

“I’m thirsty again. I can handle it.”

Silence.

“So…yes?”

“No.”

A beat.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Okay.” 

Half-dejectedly, Izuku turns and sits back to watch the rest of Sero’s performance. In Katsuki’s opinion, he sort of sucks ass, but Izuku seems to be mildly entertained. 

“I really am glad, though, you know,” Izuku says after a while once the next stranger goes up, voice a little more mellow than before. “That after all these years you finally…came around.”

“Yes,” Katsuki says tiredly, wiping a hand down the side of his face. “I know that already, so you can stop sayin’ it.” 

“It’s just…it’s all I ever wanted,” Izuku continues, intonation the definition of intoxicated, eyes rounded and earnest and staring intently at Katsuki’s profile. “When we were younger. You think you know everything because…because you were always assuming things about what I thought. But…you didn’t know that part.” 

Katsuki huffs. “What, that you wanted to be friends again?” he says dryly. “I knew that. Hell, everyone probably could’ve guessed that. It’s not like you were subtle about it, Izuku.” 

Katsuki spares a glance at Izuku, whose pensive and slightly frowning face is painted in a fleeting flash of soft yellow.

Katsuki glances down before bringing his glass to his lips. “Just never got why you kept trying to fix things between us, is all,” he mutters before taking a sip.

Izuku contemplates this for a second, blinking slowly at the table. Then he raises a hand to bend his lip between two fingers as he ponders upon this question. He always does that when he thinks–like he’s trying to hold down a thought, and like he believes it will somehow actually manage to work.

“Well,” he finally says, voice dragging and head turning a bit languidly towards Katsuki, “you’re just…really amazing, I think. Like, when I was little, to me you were the coolest person I’d ever met! You’re sort of…impressive like that, you know? So it made me want to be your friend. But it also made me want to get good enough to keep up with you, too. Maybe even beat you one day. Yeah. And…and you’re also pretty funny. And you’re really nice when you want to be. And, I mean your eyes are—they’re really red, Kacchan. Like really red. And you’re blond.”

Izuku’s face is warm and oblivious and drowsy. Katsuki’s face probably just looks fucking stupid right now.

“What?” he asks, tone bewildered.

“Yeah,” Izuku answers, nodding earnestly. “Red’s my favorite color. That’s why I used to wear those shoes all the time. Before I got my job. A-And you know who else is blond? All Might, Kacchan. All Might. You’ve got,” a hiccup, “all my favorite things.”

Katsuki blinks. Then he blinks again. And then one more time for good measure.

“Okay,” he rasps out, feeling like someone is holding an open flame up to his ears. To his whole damn head at this point.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Izuku says abruptly, grabbing Katsuki by the arm like he’s about to leave. “Don't close your eyes yet, I need to—I need to tell you something else.”

He feels on the verge of absolute, all encompassing combustion. “Huh?” Katsuki gets out with a scrunched face, so entirely lost and bordering on getting pissed off about it–it’s not called being flustered. “What the hell are you talking about–y-you’re the one who—who was about to–”

God damn it. His heart rate is getting way too high. 

He shuts his jaw with a clack. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and forces it to work. He opens his eyes a new man. “But…but what? What else could you possibly have to tell me, you…shitty, alcoholic nerd?”

The next time Izuku blinks, his eyes don’t open back up. His head slowly sinks down towards his chest, and for a baffled moment Katsuki thinks that he actually managed to pass out mid-conversation. But then he twitches, and sits up straight again. “I…Kacchan, guess what?” Izuku says, barely managing to pry his eyes open–one at a time, Froppy style. 

Katsuki takes three seconds before sighing out an exasperated, “What?”

“I’m,” Izuku says, words melting together at the ends, “did y’know that…that I’m a teacher now?”

“Yes, I know that you’re a teacher now.”

“And–and I love it. I love it a lot.”

Katsuki pauses at this, going still and quiet. His expression starts to melt into something he’s not quite sure he knows how to describe. Bittersweet maybe. A little astonished in a weird sort of way. For a few seconds he just stares at Izuku, trying to pick apart the feeling.

“Yeah?” Katsuki asks him quietly.

“Yeah,” Izuku exhales simply, before leaning back to look up at the busily decorated ceiling. His expression is a picture of serenity, with his teeth peeking out from behind his lopsided smile, eyes untroubled and sure. For some reason, Katsuki finds himself with the slightest urge to capture a photo of this moment in time as proof that it happened. As proof that Izuku can look so content.

And the urge to know, to understand pokes and prods at Katsuki’s hazy brain until he can take no more. He decides to ask, “Why do you love it?”

And Izuku smiles softly. He tries to sit up to turn back to Katsuki, but he ends up flopping backwards heavily, so in the end he settles for twisting until it’s just the side of his face and shoulder leaning against the leather cushion. The whole time, though, he looks entirely pleased. Pleased to be here, pleased to be able to say what he loves, pleased to say why.

He looks so content that it convinces Katsuki to follow in pursuit, and before he knows it he finds himself resting his head against the seat just like Izuku. For a second they just stare at each other, both tilted and untroubled and at least a little intoxicated–and it feels so… stupid. So stupidly sweet. Time takes the long way around to get you back to where you’re meant to be, and it’s strange to Katsuki to realize how they probably could have had this their whole lives. It feels like they’re fifteen years younger and laying down at a sleep over–surrounded in a sea of sound, with their faces painted in ever changing colors albeit, but still trapped in their own little bubble nonetheless.

“I love it because…” Izuku says, blinking heavily into his sluggish little smile, “because when I was in school…back when I was younger…it was really… bad.” Katsuki frowns at this, but for some reason Izuku’s expression does not falter. “And most of my teachers never really cared about me. Maybe because I was quirkless, and…I dunno. They probably didn’t think I had as promising a future as everyone else, so no one ever told me…‘you can do it!’ You know? But…now I get to–to be that. For my students. I get to help them in so many ways. In all the ways, Kacchan. In all the ways I wanted way back when. And…that makes me really happy.”

At the end of it, he’s almost nodding slightly to himself, like everything he said is so fittingly right. Katsuki just stares at him for a second longer, not sure exactly how he feels, not sure how to say what he wants to say. How to get the words out into the right sounding shape.

“I’m…glad,” Katsuki finally gets out quietly. “That you like it. What you’re doing now. You…you deserve that, Izuku.” 

And he means it. Katsuki really, really means it. Izuku even hums happily at this.

But the words are still missing a corner or two. Something a little sharp, something a little selfish. This next part, when thinking on it later, Katsuki will probably blame on the alcohol.

“You don’t miss it though?” 

Izuku blinks slowly at this. “M…miss what?” he asks confusedly, with a little squint of his eye.

Katsuki purses his lips. Usually a leap of faith feels like a plunge, but right now it feels like being quietly submerged without really knowing, until you realize you’re deep enough to feel the pressure in your ears. 

Too late to back out now, though.

Katsuki says carefully, “Being out on the field. Being a pro. Missions and patrolling and…all of…that stuff.”

For an everlong moment, Izuku’s expression melts into something so utterly familiar. He furrows his brows, lip puckered a little pensively, eyes a little conflicted. He stays quiet in his contemplation, and for a second it feels like he’ll stay silent forever. But there’s a unique thing about tonight, something called liquid courage, that makes all the difference. 

“Can I tell you another secret?” he asks seriously, eyes hazy yet decided.

Katsuki’s face scrunches in suspicion, before ultimately melting into something he’s not going to call fond exasperation. “What’s with you and you’re damn secrets tonight, huh?”

Izuku’s mouth flattens in deadset determination. “Okay, I'm going to tell you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Okay. I’m going to say it now.”

“I said go ahead.”

“Okay,” Izuku nods firmly, and then–quicker than Katsuki thought possible from him currently–he makes a successful grab for the drink, downing it in one go.

“Hey–”

“My,” Izuku hiccups, placing the glass down with a clink. “My secret is that…I think I miss you.”

Silence.

It takes a few seconds for Katsuki to realize that he had frozen. It takes a few seconds for him to remember that he had planned to smack Izuku upside the head for taking his drink and to say…something else, because that all got wiped away. His mind had gone blank.

Then he blinks rapidly. His senses come rushing back, and he doesn’t even want to know the face he’s making about it. “Huh?” 

“I think I miss you,” Izuku repeats, letting his head bob forward heavily to enunciate.

The second time doesn’t make things better. In the seconds before knowing, Katsuki wasn’t expecting this to be the secret. In all honesty, he really thought Izuku was about to say that he’s glad again. 

So Katsuki just frowns at this, opening and closing his mouth a few times, utterly lost. “But…” he tries, “but I’m right here.” 

Izuku sighs heavily. “Yeah but…you’re so busy, Kacchan,” he says sadly, voice ragged and a bit tearful. He sags down to the table, resting his cheek on his crossed forearm. “Last time I saw you was for your birthday in April, and now it’s…June. And—think about it: I used to see you probably…everyday of my whole entire life. So—so who could even…blame me for feeling like that?” 

Izuku’s unfocused, conflicted gaze focuses back up to Katsuki, suddenly studying him with questioning, unsure eyes. “Right?”

Katsuki just blinks at him. It feels so weird to hear Izuku say all of this right out. It almost feels wrong, like there should be a layer over these words that dilutes the concentration of honesty coming from them. But Katsuki’s not strong enough to deny that he doesn’t want to take the chance to finally hear this shit, so after a second of thought, he nods slowly.

Izuku nods his frowning head, too, and says firmly, “Right. It makes sense. I don’t see you anymore, because you’re so busy now, and it’s…weird.” The frown doesn’t seem to go away, however, so Izuku sighs, rubbing a hand over his heavy eyes. “But…you have a lot of things going for you now, which is good. In a way I’m also…happy that you’re so busy. Like…I’ve never told you this but I’m so proud of you, you know? Because…because you’ve always worked so hard. And it’s like…that’s my childhood friend right there. It makes me proud, because I knew you before anyone else, Kacchan. It’s like…hey…back off, I was—I was here first.”

Something flutters and ignites and panics in Katsuki’s chest–on the left, where his heart should be. Izuku just seems to get overtaken by his drunk melancholy. “But that doesn’t even…matter,” he says raggedly, “because you’re really busy with your new agency now and–and I miss you because–I’m not busy with patrolling or saving people. I said that I love my job, and it’s true. It’s really true, but I also–”

A sigh. A really heavy one. Averted eyes, furrowed brows–all of it. “I think I’m selfish, Kacchan,” Izuku gets out quietly, barely audible over the music. Katsuki has to lean in closer just to hear it. “Deep down sometimes I think I might be the most selfish guy in the world because…even though I’m happy, I still want more. I do miss all of that. I do. I miss you. And…all of that.”

In his silence, Izuku is left a somber pile of folded limbs and frowns: his scarred cheek resting on his arm, his eyes clouded and simmering. Katsuki just stares down at him, feeling so entirely confused yet so enlightened, all at the same time. He doesn’t even need to take time to think of what to say, it’s simply right there.

Katsuki says, “I don’t think you’re selfish, Izuku. Not at all.” 

Izuku lifts his head slightly from where it was resting, eyes getting all round and wobbly. “Really?” he asks tightly.

“Really,” Katsuki says firmly. “There’s no rule that says you can’t do both teaching and hero work. I mean, look at all our teachers. They were doing all of that. Might be tough, but if you really want it, then the only thing standing in your way is you. ‘Cause after all the shit you’ve done for everyone…for–for the whole damn country? After all that you should be asking for more.”

Oddly, Izuku doesn’t say anything to this. He just stares at Katsuki like he’s lost…or maybe…like he’ll pass out any second. It’s kind of hard to tell.

“And anyways,” Katsuki continues, gaze slightly averted. He reaches for the empty cup, twirling it around in his hands. “About the other stuff you said. You don’t…gotta miss me. We can still hang out. No one said we couldn’t.”

Izuku tilts his heavy head left and right at this, contemplating. “Yeah,” he says carefully, “but…you’re busy. You’re a Pro Hero. With a whole agency now.”

“You’re busy too, you know,” Katsuki argues, jabbing Izuku’s forehead with his pointer finger. “It’s not just me. But…who even cares if I’m busy–I’ll make time. I’ll drop in at UA during your lunch breaks, or…come in as a guest lecturer or…some stupid shit like that.”

Izuku’s eyes get wide, and he sits up straight, only swaying slightly. “You’d do that?” he asks, voice caught.

“Y…yeah. Probably.”

“R-really?” Izuku blubbers, face scrunched in an emotional grimace.

“Yes,” Katsuki exasperates. And then: “Don’t cry about it, though.”

Izuku’s hand is already inconspicuously wiping at his eyes. “O-Okay,” he says thickly. “I won’t. But…Kacchan, move–move closer.”

Katsuki furrows his brows in suspicion, and he leans back ever so slightly. “Why?”

A pause. 

“So I can hug you.”

Another pause.

“Hell no.” And he looks away.

But after another second of what he is positive is inebriated contemplation, Katsuki mutters, “You move closer…you...drunk idiot.“

What the drunk idiot in question does is flop an arm in the air. When all that happens is that it lands back on the seat with a smack, he says pitifully, “I can't. I think I’m stuck in my seat.”

“You’re not,” Katsuki deadpans.

“I am,” Izuku argues, eyes visibly fighting to stay open. “Gravity’s…too strong for me to move right now. You have to do it.”

“I fucking hate you–fine.”

Katsuki begrudgingly moves closer to Izuku. But that’s all the work he’s willing to do. 

Izuku just stares at him with a small, crooked, pleased smile, swaying slightly and not doing anything. Then abruptly he keels over and bangs his forehead a bit painfully into the bone of Katsuki’s left shoulder, resting there like dead weight.

“Okay… ow,” Katsuki says with a disgruntled expression. “What the hell are you doing?”

“M’hugging you,” Izuku murmurs into Katsuki’s skin and bone. “Feels nice. We don’t hug a lot, we should do it m’re often.”

“Y-You’re not eve–you know what I don’t give a shit anymore. I don’t even think I have it in me to. But just know that if you ever get this drunk around me again I’m slapping the shit out of you every time you say or do something stupid.”

“M…‘kay,” Izuku mutters sluggishly. And after that it’s like he’s dead to the world.

Katsuki sighs, staring at Izuku with nothing less and nothing more than pure exasperation. He’s not even leaning on Katsuki in a comfortable way–he’s holding himself up like a dying plant or…a green candy cane. He’ll get a crick in his neck for sure, but that’s the consequences of alcohol for you. He’ll have to learn his lesson.

Katsuki shifts a bit, trying to make himself more comfortable, before turning back to the stage. Surprisingly, Shoto is back up there, all by himself and singing what sounds like a deeply emotional song. He’s really putting his all into it, but his naturally monotone vibe puts up a damn fight against that.

It takes all of Katsuki’s strength not to burst out in hysterical laughter every thirty seconds throughout this four minute performance, but he manages. He wants to keep his quiet bubble, and doesn’t want to look like a drunk idiot laughing to himself.

Plus, it would jostle Izuku around too much.

After that, someone not in their group goes up to sing a nice, quiet song. The smooth kind, the persuasive kind. Katsuki just sits and listens and, unfortunately, lets himself think.

If he’s being honest, he thinks about this certain thing a lot. Probably more than he should, but he can’t help it, especially in moments like these. Because it’s exactly moments like these when the impulsion sneaks up on him: a perfect storm of silence and intoxication and a forehead resting on his shoulder that pushes him to his limits. He’s kept his mouth zipped shut for months, but in Izuku’s presence the urge is always there, to just say it. 

To just say it.

“Hey,” Katsuki says quietly, looking down at Izuku’s unmoving form. “You sleeping?”

It takes a second, but after a moment, Izuku hums, the sound like a weak engine. Good enough, he supposes.

Katsuki takes a breath, working his jaw once, then twice. He probably shouldn’t do this. Not here of all places, not now. He probably shouldn’t…

Oh, what the hell. 

“I got a secret too,” Katsuki confesses, quiet and honest. “A big one. And…it’s for you. Reason why I’ve been so busy lately is mostly ‘cause of that. I can’t tell you what it is right now though, since it’s not ready. Won’t be for a while, I think. But one day, you’ll get to find out.”

He closes his mouth and waits–for what he’s not sure. But for a tortuous moment it is all silence, air that is unchanged, words that have been rendered unheard, a limbo of words confessed yet functionally unreceived. Feels like a cough drop stuck in the throat.

Then Izuku shifts a bit, making a noise that sounds a bit like a yawn, and he says muffedly, “Really? You p’rmise?”

And there. It was said–not fully, but still said–and it was heard.

Katsuki doesn’t know where his heart just went, but it’s definitely somewhere it shouldn’t be, and definitely beating quicker than it should. But don’t confuse him–he’s not exactly sure what this feeling is, but it’s not fear. Not entirely. Not horribly. It’s some sweet spike of serotonin and excitement, and the kicker is that it’s just a taste of what it’ll actually be like when the project is finished.

“Yeah,” Katsuki says, face fighting an awful grin. “Promise.”

“Okay, then,” Izuku sighs contentedly, sitting up. He rubs a hand over his eyes, twists himself to face forward, leans the side of his heavy head on Katsuki’s shoulder, and mumbles, “Goodnight.”

Katsuki doesn’t say goodnight to him back. Part of Katsuki wants to tell Izuku to get back up. Part of Katsuki wants to tell Izuku the whole entire truth of what he and the rest of those idiots up by the stage have been working towards this past year, just so he can see the look on his damn face when he hears it.

But he doesn’t. He’s not that drunk. He’s not that taken. He’ll just settle for the next intoxicated person to come up and sing to drown those thoughts away, over and over until the night is done. Then he’ll peel Izuku off of his shoulder, give him a ride home, and that’ll be that. Perfect ending to a decently fun night.

But nothing ever goes the way Katsuki wants it to, so the peace doesn’t last. The night was never going to end like that.

“Kacchannnn,” Izuku says hoarsely into the crook of Katsuki’s neck after a few minutes, voice rising from the dead like a mummy revived. That is to say–it comes with a dreadful ass omen. 

Katsuki resists the urge to sigh, but it’s a close call. “I thought you were asleep,” he grumbles.

“No,” Izuku insists, trying to shake his head with the little space he has, which just causes his hair to tickle the side of Katsuki's neck. “No…” A pause. “Well, maybe. But…Kacchan, you should–we should go up and sing a song together.”

“No,” Katsuki says immediately, heart dropping to the floor. “Absolutely not. There’s no way in hell we’re doing that. You couldn’t pay me to do that.”

Katsuki can almost feel the frown. “But…why not?”

“Because…” Katsuki tries, tapping his finger anxiously against the wood of the table. “For one thing, you…you can barely sit up right by yourself right now! How would you even be able to make it through one song without keeling over and busting your head open, huh?”

Izuku doesn’t give an answer to this right away. Instead, he chuckles a bit to himself, lifting his head to reveal something twinkling and teasing in his hazy jade eyes.

Then softly, with a nostalgic smile in his voice and a tilt to his head, he says, “You can be my cane.” 

Despite himself, Katsuki’s smile is sharp and sweet. He lets out a puff of air, shaking his head. “Oh, fuck you,” he says, turning off to the side with crinkling eyes.

“Is that,” Izuku hiccups, swaying forward, “is that a yes?”

Katsuki turns further away, Izuku just leans closer.

“Hmm?” he sings, voice curling at the ends. “Did you say yes? You want to sing with me, r-right?”

This fucker–he sounds too smug. “What song would we even sing?” Katsuki says as bothered as possible, mouth still fighting that sweet shape. “You probably already sang all the songs they got in the book.”

There is no hesitation, only a bit of lag from the inebriation. “I saved one for you,” Izuku says. “The hero one. From that American movie. The one with…with the ogre guy. And the donkey.”

Katsuki furrows his brows. And then–

“Holding Out For A Hero?” he asks bewilderedly, snapping his gaze back towards Izuku. “But there’s two versions to that song.”

Izuku blinks, expression not revealing a thing.

“You don’t want to sing in English,” Katsuki says warily. “You don’t–right?”

Izuku blinks again, and then nods slowly; Katsuki’s expression becomes beyond exasperated. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Listen, I’ve been practicing,” Izuku argues. “All Might always plays it when I drive him somewhere–I think it might even be his favorite song.”

“Well, he’s not even here right now,” Katsuki exclaims, eyebrows raised to his forehead, “so why in the hell do we have to sing the old man’s favorite song!?”

“Because it’s so…moving,” Izuku says ardently. “And even though I don’t understand everything, I feel the…emotions of the song. It crosses the language barrier. Someone…someone needs saving. And we have to help them, Kacchan.”

“By singing,” Katsuki says, tone dry.

Izuku looks so serious. His eyes, while a little drowsy, are surprisingly deadset. Determined. 

“Yes,” he stresses, bobbing his head. 

Katsuki just stares at him for a second, contemplating everything. His life choices, his choice to come here tonight, his choice to stay.

From up front he can hear the announcer ask for any more takers before they close up for the night.

This is so stupid.

Katsuki sighs dejectedly, and says with a heavy, heavy heart, “Fine. We’re going to make damn fools out of ourselves, but fine. Get the fuck out of the booth, and go tell them you want that one. But tell them you want the Japanese verison–we can sing your song but there’s no way we’re singing it in English.”

At this, Izuku closes his eyes and sighs victoriously, lifting a heavy fist in the air. Kind of…like…

“Put your arm down!” Katsuki exclaims angrily. “You’re not even doing it right, shitty Izuku! That's–that’s disrespectful to All Might and everything he stands for.”

“But,” Izuku says, head lulling over his chest. “I won.”

“You didn’t win shit,” Katsuki says, grabbing his arm and pulling it down for him. “You’ve just guaranteed that we’ll look like idiots up there. Someone might even record that crap.”

Izuku huffs out a laugh. “It’s okay,” he assures. “We’ll be idiots…together.”

Katsuki just rolls his eyes. “Just get out of the booth already.”

It takes one or two tries to work up the energy, but Izuku manages to move himself out, holding onto the table for dear life while he does it, but the results are all that matters. Once he stands, he staggers a bit, before surging forwards towards the stage.

Two steps are taken before he pauses to turn back.

“If I go,” Izuku says slowly, eyes concerned and illuminated from a green flash of light that comes from above, “Y…You’ll follow, right?”

Maybe if he wasn’t a little drunk, the answer to this question would have been different. Maybe it would have been less sentimental, or less stupid, or less true. There’s a lot of maybes, but in this moment, Katsuki’s answer to this question is surprisingly simple. He says, “You should know the answer to that by now, shouldn’t you?” 

And something blooms on Izuku’s face: a smile like he didn’t expect to hear this answer, but like he’s over the moon about it anyways. And yeah–Katsuki smiles back at him, too. 

Then he rises with as much dignity as he has left to meet his fated end head on–drunk karaoke to All Might’s favorite song with Izuku.