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Izuku honestly didn’t remember the explosion much. The aftermath was just smatters of images and dull sounds drowned by the ringing in his bleeding ears.
He remembered Kacchan, mostly, the paleness of his face and wide vermillion eyes as he forced Izuku to stop assisting with the apartment building evacuation.
His apartment building. Where someone had thrown a bomb through his window. He'd been fortunate. He'd returned home carrying his suit. Sensing the threat, the suit had sprang up to shield him.
Which was the only reason he wasn’t a smear of ashes with everything he owned.
Kacchan stayed with him in the emergency room, the only clear thing among the blur of doctors, tests, and medications. He was at Izuku’s side as he stood, bandaged and lost on the sidewalk as he tried to list everything he needed to do in his foggy head.
A hand squeezed lightly around his arm. “Stay with me.”
Izuku looked at Kacchan in surprise.
“Stay with me,” Kacchan repeated firmly, eyes still edged with strain. “My house has good security, and it’s maybe five more minutes than you’re used to on the metro to U.A.”
An alarm bell rang in Izuku’s head, saying he should decline, saying it was foolish of him to indulge, to be too close, that there were reasons he tried to keep their lives from being too entangled.
Instead, aching, drugged, and overwhelmed, he had smiled shakily and agreed.
Staying with Kacchan softened the blow of losing everything he owned. He learned the villain had been captured quickly, just someone out for fame. No one had been killed, thankfully, but he felt bad so many lost their homes because of him.
“Ain’t no one’s fault but that dick villain-wannabe, Izuku,” Kacchan told him when he voiced it, tone pitched so Izuku could hear him better past the cotton balls in his ears. His heart flip-flopped at the small gesture.
Kacchan did a lot of things that made his heart race like that.
When the concussion healed enough, Kacchan sat on the futon with a new laptop for him, their sides pressed together as they went through online stores and made lists and orders of things Izuku needed. He thought Kacchan might complain and demand the return of the clothes he lent him when replacements arrived. He never did, so Izuku kept selfishly wearing them.
Kacchan set up a system so Izuku would stop forgetting his medication. He made him coffee and meals. Sometimes Kacchan just lingered in the same room while they both did their own thing, co-existing comfortably and commenting on things now and then. When he was well enough to return to teaching, Kacchan made him bento to take, especially helpful when Izuku had medications that required food. Sometimes if Izuku’s hands were stiff, Kacchan would straighten up his tie, which made Izuku burn with a want to kiss him.
Izuku felt greedy. Experiencing Kacchan’s unguarded kindness made his heart ache. The domesticity he’d only dreamed about flooded him with renewed affection until he was afraid it’d gush out of his mouth.
And that was a problem.
A week turned into a month, and still Kacchan made no noise about his moving out. He also hadn’t invited him to stay, his weight room and office remaining thus while Izuku slept on the front room’s futon. Izuku’s brain crawled with confessions and the inevitability of needing to leave.
He had to. Before he did or said anything foolish and ruined everything.
He reminded himself constantly his key and security access were temporary, as was his shampoo and conditioner sitting snug against Kacchan’s, and how he smelled of Kacchan’s body wash now, and how a new double holder replaced the single one to hold their toothbrushes, or how he had a dedicated All Might coffee mug in the cupboard, a place for his shoes and house slippers, a hook for his jacket and coat.
Temporary.
When his repaired suit arrived, Kacchan brought it directly to the school as soon as classes were out. Izuku's students applauded and cheered when the two sped away.
Being in the air again was exhilarating, Kacchan’s playful taunts spurring them faster, through more thrilling maneuvers. There were no calls, just them enjoying the wind in their faces until Kacchan reminded him they should head home to eat.
”Head home”, in those words. It made Izuku’s heart pinch painfully. He wished so badly…
Before, he’d head to his apartment while Kacchan went his own way. Now they both landed on the step of Kacchan’s house, the full-time pro unlocking the security and guiding them in. He pushed his eye mask up to his forehead, grinning and eyes alight as he shucked off his equipment, leaving him in the skin tight top and compression sleeves that made Izuku’s throat dry. When Kacchan bent to remove his boots, heat singed Izuku’s ears and cheeks, so he attended removing his own hero costume.
He pressed the panel that would make the suit shrink back, the ripple of layered weight leaving to form into a neat case. He glanced up to see Kacchan watching as well, his eyes and smile soft but lively with a barely contained energy. The red drifted back up to Izuku’s face, and he stepped forward, fingers light on Izuku’s white sleeve. It made Izuku’s breath catch.
The touches had become more frequent, and right now with the high from their chase, Izuku tilted forward, toward his mouth before he stopped himself and jerked back, lips sealing and pulse thundering in his ears.
Kacchan smirked, amused. “You good, nerd?”
He managed a small, jerky nod, hoping Kacchan would leave it and head to the kitchen. He didn’t, simply standing there, as though waiting for something. He studied Izuku’s tension, those intelligent, observant gears working.
Kacchan moved first, leaning forward, hand still warm on Izuku’s bicep. If he didn’t move away, Izuku would give everything away, would ruin everything, would unveil all his selfish wants.
“I’m-moving-out-soon,” he blurted.
A blink. He watched the softness turn to confusion, brow pinching and red fire flicking with irritation. “What?” Kacchan rasped.
Izuku swallowed, repeating slower. “I’m moving out soon. You-you have to be getting tired of me-me taking up your space.” His eyes stung, throat tight. He fought the sensations down.
The brows lowered, lips and gaze hardening crossly. “You think I’m tired of you in my space,” he repeated, as though tossing it back at Izuku would help him see the flaws in it.
“I-I’ve been here over a month, Kacchan. I’ve looked at a few places—”
The crossness disappeared into something else, something Izuku wasn’t so familiar with. Vulnerability. Hurt. “You’ve been looking?”
“I haven’t put in any inquiries. I know I should. I need a secure place, since I don’t want anyone to get hurt again.”
“Anyone to get hurt,” Kacchan scoffed at him.
Izuku stayed frozen in his shoes in the gengkan, Kacchan in his socks in his home, as though the barrier would protect him somehow as he tried to face cold reality. “I’m so-so very grateful you—” Shoot! He couldn’t stop the hiccup rising in his throat, the way Kacchan’s face blurred. “But I can’t stay.”
“Why?” Kacchan asked, voice strained, hands curling and forearms flexing in frustration. “When have I indicated that I want you to leave?”
“You haven’t!” Izuku blurted. “I just can’t-can’t stay or I’ll-I’ll…”
“You’ll what?!” Kacchan demanded, voice wasps and strained steel.
Izuku couldn’t answer, trying to get his sniffling under control.
Kacchan breathed out a growl, took a deeper breath. Izuku could still feel the heat radiating from him. Kacchan pulled his mask off, working on his sleeves as he spoke, eyes focused down. “Listen, nerd. When I heard your apartment was attacked… I freaked out.”
Izuku swallowed, listening.
“And I promised myself that I wouldn’t…” He huffed in frustration, peeling off the last sleeve and tossing them at the table. “That I wouldn’t lose you without showing you how much I care. And I’ve been trying to just show it, because I’m shit with words.”
“Kah-Kacchan.” He didn’t like this, seeing Kacchan out of sorts and so uncertain, shifting his weight like he wasn’t sure which direction to walk.
“I like having you here, having you close, but if I’m, fuck, being too much, or you want me to back off, or-or need to tell me what’s what but are scared of hurting my feelings, I’d rather you just say it outright than leave and—”
“You’re not the problem!” Izuku interrupted. He covered his eyes with his scarred hands. “I’m the one who’s the problem!”
“Well, then be my problem!”
“Don’t,” Izuku whispered into his hands.
“Izuku…” Those warm hands slid up his wrists, thumbs prying at the edges of Izuku’s hands to pull them apart. Once Izuku dared to blink his eyes open, he was faced with the full brunt of soft vulnerable red, bright with hurt. “Stay.”
“Ka-Kacch…”
“Stay,” he repeated, forehead bumping against his, his face blurry with proximity and Izuku’s flooded eyes. “You don’t have to do anything for me. Just…stay.”
Izuku was too weak. He tilted his head, lips catching the soft surface of Kacchan’s mouth.
He’d never kissed anyone before. The softness of lips surprised him, the zing and butterflies sweet next to the frightened part of him bracing for the fall out. Now Kacchan would understand why Izuku shouldn’t be here, why he didn’t deserve all the kindness and—
Kacchan pressed back swiftly, hand sweeping to Izuku’s nape to cut off any retreat as he hungrily shifted his lips against his, parting them briefly only to press back again.
The butterflies melted his joints. Izuku’s legs gave out. Kacchan sank right with him, other hand on his jaw. Their lips repeatedly brushed and locked soft sensitive skin together. Izuku’s every nerve lit, helpless little whimpers in his throat. Finally they parted, breathing hard, foreheads together.
Kacchan ran his hand through Izuku's wind-tangled curls, as though he couldn’t speak either for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku blubbered finally.
Kacchan laughed a little breathlessly. “So. I wasn’t reading that wrong after all?”
“You knew?” he croaked.
“Suspected. Hoped really damned hard.”
“But you-you didn’t even move me into one of the other rooms or anything.” Izuku stammered.
Kacchan leaned closer, lips tickling his ear. “Because, Izuku, the only room I wanted you to move into was mine.”
“Oh,” Izuku breathed, half afraid his soul would leave his body.
“Right, I gotta use my fucking words, don’t I.” He leaned back to grab Izuku’s chin, eyes fixed on his. “I want you to stay, and while I’ll take you as a roommate, I definitely want you as my sexy, nerdy-ass, ridiculous partner, like as a boyfriend kind of partner. Sex would be a great bonus, too.”
“Seh-sex?!” Izuku peeped, brain short circuited briefly before rebooting, years of longing making a hopeful smile break out. “R-really?”
Kacchan groaned. “Yes. You know how difficult it’s been not touching you? For years, Izuku! So. Fucking stay.” His eyes danced over his face. “Aaand you’re going to start ugly crying now, aren’t you.”
“Yes!” he squeaked, tears flooding again.
Kacchan chuckled at him, thumbs interrupting the streaming salt on his cheeks. “Crybaby,” he said, voice rusty and soft. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to cook supper, we’re going to sit down and talk about cohabiting permanent like. Maybe, if you think you won’t faint, we’ll fold up the futon for good.”
So he could be in Kacchan's room. Izuku stared at him, awed. “I love you,” he breathed out swiftly.
Surprise flitted over Kacchan’s face before he smiled, one of his rare, happy grins. “Same.” He stood, reaching down to help up.
"Shoes off nerd. You’re home.”