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Izuku’s hands twitch with the sudden tickle of Katsuki’s fingertips, sliding along the sides of his own. Heads bent down, the boys remain in absolute silence, which is serving as padding for all they were not voicing. It is not cold.
But Izuku isn’t warming up either. He glimpses at Katsuki’s calm concentration. Disrupting it will perhaps cause unknown but on hindsight completely foreseeable consequences. It is a matter of methodical unwrapping. His fingers fiddle inside Katsuki’s still palms.
“What are you thinking about?” Izuku tested.
Katsuki grunts, and surprisingly answers, “Your stupid face.”
Izuku’s eyes scrunch in distaste, and mellow when he looks at Katsuki’s glaring eyes. They scour his face, like a pour of warm water on his scalp: drops tracing a way down to his nose bridge, to the side, hesitating, and finally sliding to perch on his upper lip. Red eyes shoot back up, and Izuku sees a slight shift on Katsuki’s jaw.
Sighing with defeat, he asks “Can’t you ever say anything nice?”
Izuku doesn’t expect an answer, but the reply comes anyway, “And why the hell would I want to?”
Oh. Izuku can work with this.
He leans in just the slightest bit and says with a shrug, “I-if you say nice things to people, they might say nice things to you too.” He is pointedly not looking at anything but their hands. His are remarkably shaking. He hopes Katsuki decides to ignore them.
Katsuki scoffs, “I don’t fucking need anyone telling me nice things.” Izuku perceives a small movement from Katsuki’s body in front of him. Did he lean in too? Even if it was involuntary on Katsuki’s part, Izuku lightly preens at the thought of getting this rise out of him.
“O-of course you don’t.” he scowls at his composure’s betrayal, “But you might want something only someone else can give you.” Izuku raises his head, tentative.
Resolute.
Katsuki is staring back at him, closer than before. “If I want something, I get it myself.”
“Without being nice?” Izuku closes in.
“Fuck nice.”
“You can’t get everything being like that, Kacchan.”
“Just watch me.”
Izuku is barely capable of smothering a jolt when he notices Katsuki’s voice doesn’t betray the evident strain his body is under. Izuku’s mind is spinning from Katsuki’s closeness wafting into his head. No trace of cologne, only sweat, and some hair product Izuku can’t put his finger on.
He sighs and makes a lazy turn of his head to the left, “I wouldn’t be so sure.” His cheek grazes Katsuki’s jaw, set as stone. Izuku’s eyes dawdle, considering the floor.
His heart jumps as Katsuki violently inhales next to his ear. His breath is warmth and spice as he blurts out with difficulty, “You smell –good.”
Izuku’s cheeks are flaring red and he quickly hides his cheeky grin on Katsuki’s lips, which were about to bury themselves on Izuku’s hair out of burning-face embarrassment. He gives Katsuki a peck that lasts longer than intended on his lips when it’s over, like a ghost. Katsuki’s eyes are pressed closed, while his thumbs make circles on Izuku’s hands. He tightens his hold on the sweaty hands with surprising firmness. In an attempt to mollify Katsuki’s creasing scowl, Izuku lays his forehead on Katsuki’s and whispers, “You can –if you want –, you can have more of those. I want to give you more.” He bit his lip, “Do you want me t–”
Katsuki’s mouth is on his, making Izuku give in without offering any real resistance. He melts into the motion of lips pressing and relenting, skin grazing fingers, eyelashes tickling. A tiny giggle escapes through his teeth, but if anything Katsuki’s smile is indication it’s not completely pissing him off.