Archive of Our Own

The thing is, Izuku needed a ticket through the door. There’s no way he could just stroll up to the Bakugou family house after all these years like hey, remember me? I was four the last time your son willingly invited me over but I definitely have to see him now that he’s been rescued from Kamino. Pretty please let me through the door and up to his bedroom.

Yeah, no amount of polite smiling or slightly-less-polite waterworks would let that slide. Izuku needed to have a reason. 

And that reason just so happened to take the shape of the limited edition Silver Age All Might Year of the Dragon action figure that had been released when they were three. And that Izuku may or may not have acquired through…morally questionable means. 

So, Izuku steeled himself, took a deep breath, and rung the doorbell- one sweaty hand delicately cradling the figurine while the other held tight to the strap of his yellow backpack. 

Kacchan’s mom was the one to open the door, her expression fierce and thunderous and already yelling about how the damn papz should mind their own fucking business when her eyes landed on Izuku. 

And softened, slightly. 

So, Izuku was a step up from paparazzi, at least. That was a good start. 

“H-hi Mrs. Bakugou.”

Kacchan’s mom blinked like she expected Izuku to disappear when she opened her eyes. 

When he failed to do so- still standing, sweaty and nervous, on her front porch- she said, “Izuku. I haven’t seen you in…”

Izuku offered her an understanding half-smile. “A long time,” he finished awkwardly. 

“Very long,” she felt the need to correct. 

And with that, any hopes Izuku might have had of memories of his four year old self allowing him easier passage into the household were dashed. Completely zapped. Like a moth in a light-up, electric bug trap.

Mrs. Bakugou raised a delicate eyebrow and Izuku clamped his mouth shut tight, only half convinced that his moth-related thoughts hadn’t been mumbled out loud. 

“Um,” Izuku tried again. “I- I have this.” Izuku held up the figure for inspection, hope warring with unease when Kacchan’s mom showed no signs of recognition. 

“It’s a limited edition,” Izuku continued. “For the Year of the Dragon? Because All Might did that collab with Ryukyu when she was still a rookie hero a-and I’m sure you don’t care about any of that but I know that Kacchan doesn’t- um, well, he doesn’t have it in his collection. Unless maybe you bought him a new one. I remember him losing one in elementary school.”

Izuku was very careful not to say this one, because he was still, perhaps despite his better judgment, trying to get inside of the house and who let thieves into their houses? Even if the sticky fingered perpetrator had been a toddler at the time. 

Izuku meekly scratched at the back of his head. “I- I know Kacchan kind of outgrew them but…well, I thought maybe it would be nice and-”

“You want to see him,” Mrs. Bakugou interrupted. 

Izuku froze mid-ramble, warily looking up from his shoes to meet her penetrating gaze. 

Izuku thought it might be best to go with honesty. 

“I was scared,” he admitted. “When I saw…”

Mrs. Bakugou released a long sigh through her nose, painted nails clacking consideringly on the frame of the door. 

“So was I, kiddo,” she muttered, sparing another, thoughtful glance at the action figure in Izuku’s hand. “I remember him being torn up for weeks about that thing after he lost it.”

Guilt poked at Izuku’s heart, but not enough to make him regret the actions of his covetous, childhood self. 

Mrs. Bakugou pursed her lips. “You can’t stay for long,” she warned. 

“I won’t,” Izuku promised, relief drawing a few tears to the corners of his eyes. “I won’t,” he repeated. “I just want to see him a-and make sure…”

Mrs. Bakugou brought a hand roughly to his curls- like maybe she meant to pet through them but ended up turning Izuku into a bobblehead, instead. “Can’t believe you’re so tall nowadays. D’ya still refuse to eat peas?”

Izuku flushed at the question. “I- I- No, I don’t.”

He strategically avoided them whenever possible and sometimes balled them up in a napkin when his mother wasn’t looking but that definitely wasn’t the same thing at all.  

“Go on up,” she said after another quiet moment, stepping aside to let Izuku through the door. “Just don’t expect…” Mrs. Bakugou's brows creased. “Well, you know how he is.”

“I do,” Izuku replied. 

Despite the distance between them now, he did know Kacchan, and that was a truth Izuku clung to as he shakily made his way up the staircase and to Kacchan’s bedroom door, tucking the figure safely into his bag. 

Part of him wondered if Kacchan’s All Might posters were still on the wall. If they were swapped out with updated versions, maybe. 

If they were taken down entirely. 

Izuku took a deep, deep breath. And knocked. 

“Go away, hag,” Kacchan muttered through the door. 

The sound of Kacchan’s voice, annoyed as it was, brought an involuntary smile to Izuku’s face. There was a new lightness in his chest fighting to make space beside all the worry and fear that had gripped him since the second he clicked on the news and saw Kacchan’s photo displayed alongside the word kidnapped. 

Kacchan was not kidnapped, anymore. He was right behind his bedroom door. Annoyed. 

Alive. 

Izuku blinked away the beginnings of tears and knocked again. 

“Um, it’s…it’s not her, Kacchan.”

The silence on the other side of the door felt heavy. Or maybe it was just Izuku that felt heavy, waiting outside of the bedroom of his childhood friend turned teenage nothing with a whole lot of weight on his chest for Kacchan to really be nothing to him now, despite their lack of contact these past few months. 

Izuku didn’t think Kacchan could ever be nothing to him, even if it took years and years for their paths to ever cross again. 

Izuku didn’t want to wait years.  

“C-can I come in?”

There was some shuffling on the other side- a gentle thud that might have been Kacchan’s feet hitting hardwood floor or might have been an object halfheartedly thrown towards it in rejection. 

Izuku shifted his weight and prepared himself to be satisfied with just the sound of Kacchan’s voice- satisfied with trying again later, when things were less fresh, maybe- when the door whipped open, causing Izuku to take a startled step backward. 

Kacchan’s eyes were wide. 

Izuku’s answering smile was wobbly. 

“Hi, Kacchan,” he whispered. 

Izuku knew he didn't imagine the way Kacchan’s stance utterly eased under the nickname but he was smart enough not to point it out. Smitten enough to tuck away the knowledge where he would never, ever forget. 

“Deku,” Kacchan said uncertainly, a bit of wariness leaking back into his expression.

Izuku didn’t really blame him. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku said again, a little wondrously, a little preoccupied scanning over Kacchan’s frame for any visible signs of injury or distress. Eventually, Izuku’s examination led him back to Kacchan’s red, red eyes. “Hi.” 

Slowly, Kacchan stepped back from the doorway, attention remaining on Izuku, and Izuku took this as a silent cue to enter the room. His gaze tracked first over the walls, where one vintage All Might poster was proudly displayed above Kacchan's alphabetized bookcase, then to the half-open closet door where Izuku thought he could spy the posters from their childhood tacked up, then the strangled mess that constituted Kacchan's bedsheets.

Kacchan shut the door with a quiet click and leaned against it, arms crossed. He didn't stop his own silent examination of Izuku even when Izuku's wide-eyed, spinning gaze brought them face to face again.

Izuku's muscles stiffened, but he made no move to hide. He pursed his lips in response the redness in his face, breathing carefully.

"So," Kacchan said quietly. The undersides of his eyes were red, his posture tired.

"So," Izuku repeated, unable to think of anything better. Anything that wasn't you're alive you're safe you're alive or how Izuku's heart was singing with the utter joy of it.

"Heard you have somethin' for me."

Izuku stiffened further, casting his gaze low. He really thought he'd be able to get away with keeping it.

"Right, um, lemme just…"

Izuku pulled his backpack around his right shoulder and unzipped it slowly, offering a mental goodbye to one of his most prized figurines before holding it out toward Kacchan.

"It's-"

"Mine," Kacchan finished, surprised.

"Well," Izuku hedged, holding the figure close to his stomach so he could interlace his fingers. "Um-"

"I can't fucking believe you're confessing after all this time."

"I'm not confessing," Izuku clarified. He wouldn't claim that this wasn't originally Kacchan's. If pressed. If there wasn't any other way for Izuku to talk his way out of it without lying. "Um, I'm…I'm offering-"

"The old hag was fucking convinced I lost that shit," Kacchan muttered, taking a step away from the door at his back.

"Yeah, um…" Mrs. Bakugou had basically said as much at the door, and also Izuku vividly remembered Kacchan's turmoil in the weeks after the figure's disappearance and the intense spiral of guilt it had sent young Izuku into. But, at the end of day, Izuku held firm to the fact that Kacchan hadn't been appreciating it enough so the rehoming of the figure was ultimately for the best. "That sounds rough," Izuku finished awkwardly, eyes darting around the room before returning again and again to Kacchan's face.

Kacchan took another step forward, attention on his gift. And seeing as Izuku was going to have to part with something so precious, it only felt right to tilt the figure slightly to his side as Kacchan approached, so that Kacchan's reaching arm created the perfect opportunity for Izuku to lean his forehead against Kacchan's collarbone, his shaking, empty hands looping around Kacchan's torso when he wasn't immediately exploded.

Izuku expected it to last for a single moment. Maybe less. Something precious didn't become less so for lasting only a moment. But Izuku held his breath as he leaned into Kacchan and Kacchan let it happen, moment after moment after moment. Kacchan's other hand looped around Izuku in an approximation of a hug, examining the figure in his hands with his chin perched, unbothered, on Izuku's head.

It seemed hysterical to Izuku now that he had ever wanted to be taller than Kacchan. Not when he could do this. The tears on his lashes dampened Kacchan's sleep shirt.

"It's in good condition," Kacchan said, the barest note of appreciation leaking into his tone.

Izuku couldn't help but scoff slightly into the hollow between his body and Kacchan's. Any damage that had come to that figure had been during Kacchan's brief period of ownership.

"I know what you're fucking thinking," Kacchan muttered, chin digging painfully into Izuku's head.

Izuku squirmed, trying to duck his face lower without sacrificing his grip or his closeness. "Ow, ow, Kacchan!"

"Asshole."

"I give!"

"Damn right," Kacchan said, letting up. Then Kacchan stepped away and Izuku had no choice but to loosen his grip, watching Kacchan move to sit lightly on the edge of his bed, still peering thoughtfully at the figure.

Capitalizing on the fact that he hadn't yet been shouted at to leave, Izuku perched beside Kacchan, leaving only enough space between their legs that Kacchan couldn't accuse Izuku of invading his personal space bubble. Bubbles were quite thin, and Izuku was prepared to argue as much.

Kacchan gently moved All Might's arm down then up and over again. "I didn't think I'd ever see this thing again…"

Looking at Kacchan's profile like he was trying to memorize it, Izuku blinked away the lingering burn on his lashline. Those days between Kacchan's kidnapping and his rescue had been…difficult. Izuku swallowed roughly. "Yeah, I…um…Kacchan, I'm really glad that-"

"Shaddup," Kacchan muttered, pushing Izuku's face away with the palm of his hand.

Izuku flashed a small grin. "Yeah, alright."

Then Kacchan turned his sharp, sleepy gaze on Izuku and it swallowed him whole. "Where the fuck have you been?"

Izuku's expression wobbled. Where the fuck had he been? He'd been apart from Kacchan for the first time in their lives and unlike the sludge villain incident, he'd had to watch from the sidelines. But that wasn't what Kacchan wanted to know. He'd probably think it was arrogant for Izuku to assume he could have helped at all, had he been at UA.

"I, uh, I went to a city high school for a- a month or so?" Izuku answered. "But…"

But it was bad. Izuku had never known how much he thrived off of Kacchan's attention, negative or not, until he found himself completely and totally ignored, day after day. He might have been a bug beneath Kacchan's ambitious heel but at least bugs were part of the ecosystem.

"So then I transferred," Izuku hurried to say, clearing his throat and offering a small, proud smile. "Support course at Shiketsu."

His hero course application had been denied but that was what backup plans were for. And the hero students at Shiketsu liked him. They were helping him train for next year. His support course instructor was begging him not to go- like he thought Izuku actually had a chance of making the hero course. Like he valued Izuku's presence on the support track, too.

"Um, I think you might meet some of them soon, actually."

Izuku reached into his backpack and pulled out his newest notebook, flipping quickly through pages of support item designs, looking for the ones accompanied by full-body mockups.

"Um, here," Izuku said, stopping on one of Camie.

Kacchan reached for Izuku's notebook with a furrowed brow and Izuku let him take it, dumbstruck by the sight of Kacchan thoughtfully leafing through the pages instead of searing the edges in warning.

"These are…mine," he deduced. Izuku blanched, leaning closer to see that Kacchan had landed on the mockups Izuku had done in his spare time for better arm bracers than the ones he'd seen Kacchan wear during the sports festival.

"Oh! Those! I'm- I wasn't!"

"You noticed the recoil issue," Kacchan murmured, mostly to himself, attention fully locked on the page. "That means any villain worth their salt will, too." Then Kacchan pulled himself from the train of thought and flicked to a different page.

Kacchan's brow furrowed. "And these are yours."

Izuku nodded, not daring to look over at the page he'd drawn up for himself- utilizing more support items than any current hero student he worked with.

"S'not stupid," Kacchan whispered. Izuku blinked at his feet, uncomprehending. "Finally acknowledging your fucking weaknesses. You have a shit ton of them, too."

"You're not mad?" Izuku asked quietly, frowning.

"I'm fucking livid," Kacchan replied evenly, picking up the figure once more. "You're a sticky fingered fuck and you made me think I was fucking crazy for saying someone stole this."

Izuku looked at Kacchan evenly, refusing to be redirected. "Kacchan," he said, "I don't understand."

"Why the fuck is that my problem?" Kacchan replied, mouth tugging into a sneer.

"It's…well it's not, I guess," Izuku conceded, "but-"

"Jesus, you're so goddamn annoying," Kacchan snapped, tossing Izuku's notebook aside on the bed. "Just drop it already."

"Fine," Izuku huffed. "But- but only if you drop it, too."

Kacchan raised a questioning eyebrow. Izuku's gaze dropped pointedly to the figure, cheeks warm.

"Oh, you fuck," Kacchan huffed, almost laughing. "You already got off scot-free and now I'm not supposed to call you a thief? Which you are?"

Izuku leaned closer, ignoring the accusation. "But I'm not supposed to ask why you're suddenly okay with my goal of becoming a hero?"

Goal, not dream. Because goals were something you planned to achieve. Inasa told him that.

"Tch. Whatever." Kacchan turned his head away, scowling. Then he shot Izuku a sidelong glance and added, "Perv."

Izuku's eyes widened. "Wha-?"

Kacchan's gaze flicked to the hand Izuku had placed on Kacchan's thigh at some point during their conversation. Izuku ripped it away like he'd been burned, nearly falling off the bed in the process.

Kacchan dragged Izuku back upright by the collar, scoffing, and Izuku choked on his own spit when Kacchan dropped his head onto Izuku's shoulder.

Izuku was half convinced he had fallen off the bed. Maybe he'd fallen so badly he knocked himself out and now this was his dream.

"Fucking weird ass dream," Kacchan muttered.

"But-!"

"What are those chucklefucks at Shiketsu up to, if you're so buddy buddy?"

Izuku took a grounding breath, amazing by the weight of Kacchan moving with him. Carefully, Izuku leaned his cheek against Kacchan's soft, spiky hair and, sitting side-by-side in his childhood bedroom, something more than children but not yet grown, Izuku talked.

And talked.

And talked.

And when he realized Kacchan had fallen asleep, Izuku gently slipped off the bed and maneuvered Kacchan into a more comfortable position to sleep. His hand lingered on Kacchan's for a moment, one finger on the pulse point in his wrist- warm, safe, alive- and then, with only a small amount of guilt, Izuku eased the All Might figure from Kacchan's limp grasp and tucked it back into his backpack.

"He's asleep," Izuku told Mrs. Bakugou when they crossed paths by the front door, hoping the warmth on his face didn't immediately out him as an incorrigible fanboy with hoarding problems.

"He's asleep?" Mrs. Bakugou echoed, sounding shocked.

Izuku merely nodded.

"Well, that's…good," she breathed, gaze drifting toward the staircase like she might see Kacchan lying there on the wood instead of in his bedroom.

Izuku nodded again, unsure of what else to say.

"Um, goodnight Mrs. Bakugou."

Kacchan's mother looked softly at Izuku for a long, curious moment.

"Goodnight, kiddo."

As he walked home, Izuku tilted his face to the night sky, backpack heavy with his stolen spoils and heart full with so many things he never thought he'd receive from Katsuki Bakugou.

He'd have to find a new ticket in, Izuku decided. If Kacchan didn't track him down first.

The thought brought a smile to Izuku's face.