Chapter Text
Soon I'll be at the top
And probably choke on a lemon drop
The summer heat clung to everything like a second skin.
Izuku and Katsuki lay sprawled on a faded picnic blanket they'd dragged out from the shed that morning. The ground was warm beneath them, earth still holding onto the day's heat.
The cicadas were loud and the days stretched without asking anything heroic of them.
There were plans floating around in group chats and half-made promises about meetups and beach days and barbecues, plans that kept landing squarely in Izuku’s inbox because Katsuki had not given a single person his address or phone number and did not intend to, which meant he was not invited anywhere and Izuku was invited everywhere.
He had politely declined everything because Katsuki read over his shoulder and scoffed and said they were fine here, weren’t they, and Izuku agreed.
They were fine here.
Their fingers were sticky, dyed red and orange from the dripping treats they'd devoured earlier. Grape for Izuku, cherry for Katsuki. Popsicle sticks lay discarded nearby, forgotten in the grass. Izuku licked at his thumb absentmindedly, trying to catch a stray drop that had trailed down his wrist, but it just smeared the mess further.
"Kacchan," Izuku murmured, voice soft and half-asleep. He turned his head, cheek brushing the blanket, and grinned at Katsuki. "You got some on your chin."
Katsuki attempted to lick it off. Izuku laughed.
Above them, the clouds were beginning to drift apart, revealing more stars. Izuku tilted his head back, watching the shapes shift.
“That one looks like All Might,” he said eventually, pointing.
Katsuki opened one eye, following Izuku’s finger. “Looks like a dog to me.”
Izuku giggled.
Another cloud drifted by, wide and flat, and Katsuki said it looked like a fish, and Izuku disagreed and said it looked like a shoe, and they argued about it in low voices until Katsuki turned his head and smiled long enough at Izuku for him to turn away, face heating up.
Izuku props himself up on one elbow a while later, closer now, shoulder barely brushing Katsuki’s. “If you were a cloud, what would you be?”
Katsuki scoffs. “Something violent.”
“That narrows it down zero percent.”
“A blast,” Katsuki says. “One of those clouds that looks calm and then—boom. Storm.”
Izuku nods thoughtfully. “Cumulonimbus.”
“Gesundheit.”
Katsuki stares up again. “You’d be one of those useless fluffy ones that people take pictures of.”
"Aw, are you calling me pretty Kacchan."
"Mm."
Katsuki’s thumb traced lazy circles over Izuku’s sticky knuckles, a thoughtless little habit he’d picked up over the years.
“Zuku,” Katsuki pointed at a cloud. "That one looks like a heart. Maybe that one's you."
Inko’s voice cut through the heat and the quiet like a bell. “Boys. What is this.” Her voice called out, from the kitchen.
Katsuki's eyes snapped open and he shot upright, eyes wide with sudden realization. “Oh shit. The onions.”
He scrambled up from the blanket, nearly tripping over his own feet, shirt riding up as he bolted inside. Izuku followed close behind.
Inko stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised, fanning the air with a dish towel. “Katsuki-kun, were you caramelizing onions or setting the house on fire?”
Katsuki groaned, already yanking the pan off the burner. “Fuck. They take forever, I forgot.”
Inko sighed, peering into the ruined pan. “Well, now I can’t use this for dinner. It’s going to take me ages to scrub this.”
Katsuki groaned and trudged to the sofa. He flopped dramatically onto the couch, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish. “It’s too fucking hot,” he complained, voice muffled by the cushions. “Everything’s melting. Including my brain.”
“I think I just lost a layer of skin.” Izuku complained.
He reaches out blindly. “If I die, tell my story.”
“I will,” Katsuki says. “I’ll say you were brave. You faced the summer with a fan that just moved the hot around.”
“Remember winter?”
Katsuki laughs softly. “Don’t romanticize it. You complained then too.”
“Yeah, but it was poetic suffering. Scarves. Dramatic sighs. This is just… damp.”
Katsuki nudges Izuku’s foot with theirs. “We could shower again.”
“We showered an hour ago.”
“So?”
"So water's not free Kacchan."
Katsuki lets out a long, suffering exhale through his nose. “Let’s move to the Caribbean.”
“…It’s hotter there, Kacchan.”
“Oh. Shit.” Kacchan squints at the ceiling and groans. “I was only thinking about the water."
"And you thought of Caribbean?"
"It's always advertised with bright blue colours! Fuck off Deku."
"Hm. Venice then?"
“Venice.”
“Yes. Water city. Romantic. Gondolas.”
“You hate crowds.”
“I will learn to love crowds.”
“You hate boats.”
“I hate small boats.”
“Gondolas are small boats.”
“They’re romantic small boats.”
Inko smiled, soft and amused. “You two have just been lazing around all day. Go on, go shopping. I’ll give you a list. We need a few things for tomorrow.”
They groaned in perfect unison, but they got up anyway. Inko handed them the list, patted their cheeks like they were still five, and shooed them out the door.
The evening air was still warm, but the sun was low enough now that it felt bearable. They walked side by side down the familiar street, shoulders brushing.
“Let’s buy more popsicles,” Izuku said, already bouncing a little.
"I have a better idea," Katsuki drawled, “Let’s buy like twenty. We can bathe in them.”
Izuku snorted.
The shop was cool and bright, and people smiled when they saw them, neighbors who had known Izuku and Katsuki forever.
Izuku drifted instinctively toward the snacks aisle while Katsuki focused on the list.
“Izuku? Where are you?” He called out after a while.
Izuku came hopping back, holding up a bag of gummies like a trophy. “Look, Kacchan! They have the new flavor!”
Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Put that back, Izuku. We’re not buying candy.”
“Nooooo,” Izuku whined, clutching the bag to his chest. “Please? They’re so good.”
Katsuki sighed, but there was no real fight in it. He grabbed two cartons of ice cream instead and tossed them into the basket. “Fine. But only one bag.”
Izuku's phone rang, Uraraka’s name lighting up the screen.
“Uraraka-san? Hi!”
Katsuki’s ears perked up.
“Eh?? Today??” Izuku’s voice went high. “I didn’t even know we were going.”
A pause. Uraraka’s voice was loud enough that Katsuki could hear the tinny disappointment through the speaker.
“I texted you!!”
Izuku’s eyes slid to Katsuki, narrowing. Katsuki looked away, suddenly very interested in the expiration date on the ice cream boxes.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku said softly into the phone. “Aw… yeah, I guess I’m not coming.”
He hung up looking rather crestfallen.
“Kacchan! You can read my texts, but at least tell me when you do.”
“I forgot,” Katsuki mumbled, jamming the last of the groceries into the basket. “They’re going to the beach the day after tomorrow. Join them. Dunce Face asked you.”
Izuku blinked. “…But you won’t come.”
Katsuki scowled, snapping the basket handle upright. “I don’t wanna be around that many people. We see them all the damn time in class. What’s the point of seeing them more.”
Izuku looked at him rather oddly. “You see me all the time too, Kacchan.”
Katsuki frowned at him. “No, I don’t see you nearly enough. First I had to get used to round face always hanging off you, and now it's half the class always crowding around. I don’t get to spend any real time with you.”
"Oh you're so silly. We spend so much time together."
Katsuki glared at him as he paid the cashier and walked ahead. Izuku ran after him.
Later, after dinner dishes were stacked and the house had settled into its familiar nighttime quiet, Katsuki stayed over the way he almost always did, shoes kicked off by the door.
They brushed their teeth in the bathroom mirror side by side, elbows bumping, Katsuki’s hair sticking to hsi face and Izuku’s curls frizzing in the humidity. Then they flopped onto the bed, the ceiling fan spinning fast overhead, stirring the warm air.
Izuku was quiet.
Katsuki noticed, of course. He propped himself on one elbow, frowning down at him. “If this is about the beach, I’ll go. That’s no reason to look so upset, ‘Zuku.”
Izuku blinked, startled. “Oh—no, Kacchan, that’s okay. Really.”
“Then what,” Katsuki said, quieter now. “What’re you upset about.”
Izuku let out a long breath and flopped onto his back, arms splayed wide. “No, I was just… thinking about Shigaraki.”
Katsuki clicked his tongue. “This is vacation. Why’re you thinking about all that shit.”
“I know, I know,” Izuku said quickly. “It’s just… it might be a while before the class is all together again. Something’s always happening, and it’s… it’s a lot.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki admitted after a moment. “It is.”
“We’re too young,” Izuku whispered.
“We are,” Katsuki agreed, and then, more firmly, “But there’s sensei and everyone else. You don’t have to worry so much.”
Izuku nodded, but his eyes were still far away.
Katsuki studied him for a long moment, then reached over and ruffled his hair roughly. “I know the whole One For All burden is… heavy. But you’re the strongest person I know, Deku. You’ll be fine.”
“What if like…” Izuku’s voice cracked. He swallowed. “What if—”
“No,” Katsuki cut in immediately. “Nothing’s gonna happen.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
Izuku’s eyes filled. “I don’t want you to get hurt either, Kacchan. That’s so much worse.”
“Neither of us will get hurt,” Katsuki said, firmly. “Now come on. Let’s sleep. We’ll prepare for that beach trip tomorrow.”
Izuku nodded, but they both knew he was still thinking about it. Still worrying.
Katsuki shifted closer, draping an arm over Izuku’s waist and pulling him in until their chests pressed together. He buried his face in Izuku’s hair. “Come on, Izuku. No bad thoughts.”
Izuku turned his face toward him instead of the ceiling, breathing in Katsuki’s scent, warm and clean and unmistakably him, and he thought, with a sudden ache, about how beautiful Katsuki looked like this.
The way the moonlight caught on his eyelashes. The way his hand rested warm and steady on Izuku’s back.
He looked unguarded, eyes soft in the low light, hands warm against Izuku’s back because Katsuki had always liked pulling him in, like this was where Izuku belonged, and something in Izuku’s chest gave way, tears gathering before he could stop them.
“Kacchan…” he started, voice trembling.
Katsuki hummed.
“You’re my best friend,” Izuku said, his voice trembling.
“You’re my best friend too, ’Zuku.”
“Kacchan, um… I… if this thing—the war that’s bound to happen right—”
Katsuki nodded.
Izuku took a shaky breath. “Kacchan, I want you to know that I want us to be more than just...be—”
Katsuki’s hand came up fast, covering Izuku’s mouth. “Shut up.”
Izuku’s eyes widened. He looked crestfallen.
"But you didn't even—”
"No, whatever you were about to tell me. Don't"
"Kacchan—”
“No, no—please,” Katsuki said again, softer but firm. He loomed over Izuku now, eyes bright and fierce in the night. “I don’t wanna hear it.”
Izuku’s chest ached.
“Tell me after the war,” Katsuki said. “The war we’ll both survive.”
Oh.
“Kacchan,” Izuku whispered, mumbling through Kacchan's hands, tears spilling over. “Please, I just—”
“No,” Katsuki said fiercely. “You have to tell me. You have to survive, and you have to tell me. I don’t wanna hear it now.”
Izuku closed his eyes, pain and relief twisting together inside him.
“I don’t care.” Katsuki leaned down until their foreheads touched. “You will survive. And you will tell me. Don’t you dare, Izuku. Don’t you dare tell me now.”
Izuku swallowed hard. “Okay, Kacchan.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to form the sentence anyway.”
Katsuki scoffed, though his arm tightened around him. “Fucking nerd. All that bravery and you’re such a pussy when it comes to this.”
“You’re one to talk,” Izuku murmured.
“I’ll beat you to it,” Katsuki said.
“Sure, Kacchan.”
Katsuki kissed his forehead, and it was quick and oh it was gone before Izuku could think, then Kacchan pulled him in tight, arms locking around him.
"Good night 'Zuku."
"Good night Kacchan."