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The common room of Heights Alliance was unusually quiet for a Sunday evening—everyone buried in textbooks, notes, and the occasional groan of fighting-villians-is-easier-than-this.
They were preparing for midterms.
Izuku Midoriya was hunched over his notes, between Uraraka and Iida murmuring to himself as he rewrote something for the third time. Across from him, Katsuki slouched in an armchair with his chemistry book open but unread, arms crossed, pretending to study while actually watching Deku out of the corner of his eye.
Focus, asshole, Katsuki told himself. This is organic chemistry, holy mother of chemistry, not—
Izuku’s phone rang.
He answered on the third ring, voice dropping to that soft, earnest tone he used with literally everyone except maybe villains. "Hello? The—what now?"
The room stayed mostly quiet, but several heads tilted subtly.
Izuku slipped into the hallway, lowering his voice immediately. The door shut.
The room buzzed.
“Ooooh,” Mina said, already grinning. “Secret boyfriend?”
“He would tell us,” Uraraka said automatically, then hesitated. “Right?”
Outside, Izuku's face cycled through confusion, recognition, mild horror, then determined nodding. "No, no, I remember! You showed me the collection last time I visited—behind the bar, right? The really... big one." A pause.
Katsuki could hear Izuku’s muffled voice through the door.
Izuku came back in, pink to the tips of his ears, stuffing his phone into his pocket like it might explode.
“Everything okay?” Yaoyorozu asked.
“Yes! I mean—no. I mean—” Izuku laughed nervously. “I have to go out for a bit.”
“Now?” Iida said. “But we have a test tomorrow!”
“I know, I know, but this is sort of an emergency?”
“What kind of emergency?” Mina leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
Izuku opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked at the floor. “A… cultural artifact has been stolen.”
“What?” Katsuki was irritated at the vagueness of the other boy.
Izuku hesitated. Then sighed. “Okay. You know Mr. Hansen?”
“No.”
“He owns this place. We met during my middle school internship with the coastal rescue unit.”
“Of course you did,” Katsuki muttered.
Izuku pressed on. “Anyway. He called because someone stole the walrus penis bone.”
"The—what now?"
“The baculum,” Izuku clarified, like that helped. “Walruses have one. This one was from a naturally deceased animal and donated to the restaurant decades ago. It’s sort of… iconic. I'm, um. I'm going to go help.”
He fled.
The door shut again.
Kaminari was the first to crack. "Dude. Did he just say walrus?"
The room erupted into strangled noises.
Katsuki slammed his book shut harder than necessary. "The fuck is that nerd getting himself into now?"
Then Mina clapped both hands over her mouth. "He has a friend with a stolen walrus dick bone?!"
Kirishima wheezed. "Bro—how does Midoriya even find these people?"
Sero leaned back, grinning. "Remember the guy who collects cursed cat figurines? Or the one who runs the underground raccoon café? Deku's friend circle is built different."
Iida adjusted his glasses. "If this is a legitimate missing artifact situation, we should offer assistance—"
"No need," Katsuki cut in, already heading for the door. "I'm going after him."
He didn't wait for protests.
Outside, he caught up to Izuku halfway down the path to the gate, breath puffing in the cool night air. Izuku jumped.
"K-Kacchan?!"
"Shut up and walk faster, nerd." Katsuki fell into step beside him, hands jammed in his pockets. "You're not goin' alone to some sketchy bar to chase a stolen walrus cock. What kinda dumbass friend calls you for that?"
“Well, he said the police aren’t taking it seriously, and it’s really important to the local community, and—”
"Still a sucky friend."
Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. "He's... nice? His family owns this cheesesteak place in—well, it's far, but the train—anyway, the walrus baculum's been there forever. It's like their mascot. People guess what it is, bartender reveals it's a walrus penis bone, everyone laughs... until some tourist swiped it last week. I go by on weekens usually cause the food is nice and he thought I could help—"
Katsuki snorted, fighting a grin. "You really are a walking disaster magnet."
"It's not funny!" Izuku protested, but he was smiling too. "He sounded so sad. Like someone stole his grandma's ashes or something. Except it's... you know."
"A giant prehistoric dick bone."
"Yeah."
They walked in silence for a minute, shoulders brushing every few steps. Katsuki could feel the warmth radiating off Deku even through their jackets. It was stupid. It was so fucking stupid how much he liked just... existing next to him.
"...You're too damn soft," Katsuki muttered, staring straight ahead. "Runnin' across half the goddamn prefecture because some bar owner's walrus wang went missing."
Izuku laughed quietly. "Maybe. But Kacchan is helping me anyway so who is the soft one really?"
Katsuki's ears went hot. "Tch.Like I'd let you go alone at this hour."
Izuku bumped their shoulders together gently. "Thanks, Kacchan."
Katsuki didn't reply—just kept walking, fighting the urge to grab his hand like some lovesick extra.
Back in the common room, class 1-A was having a very interesting conversation.
Mina: "Do you think they'll bring it back? Like, will Deku carry a walrus penis bone on the train home?"
Kaminari: "Hero tip: never google 'walrus baculum' in public."
Todoroki, dead serious: "I think it's admirable. Loyalty to friends—even unusual ones."
Kirishima, wiping tears of laughter: "Manly as hell. Saving the sacred walrus dong."
And somewhere, in a late-night train Izuku was quietly explaining walrus mating habits to a very attentive (and secretly smitten) Katsuki, who pretended to be annoyed but hung on every word.
The train rattled along the tracks, city lights streaking past the windows.
Izuku sat pressed against the side, notebook open on his lap even though the fluorescent lighting made the pages glare. He was scribbling furiously—something about quirk ethics case studies—muttering half-formed sentences under his breath.
Katsuki watched him curiously.
The nerd hadn't even cracked his midterm review packet since they left the dorms. Not once. He'd pulled out the notebook like it was muscle memory, but Katsuki knew the difference between "studying" Izuku and "distraction" Izuku. This was the latter.
Katsuki kicked Izuku's sneaker lightly under the seat. "Oi. You gonna stare at that page until it catches fire, or are you actually gonna read it?"
Izuku blinked up, startled. "Huh? Oh—yeah, sorry! I was just... thinking about how walrus bacula are actually really interesting from an evolutionary standpoint. Did you know the size correlates with—"
"Deku." Katsuki's voice dropped, not sharp, just... tired. "Midterms are in two fucking days. You spent the last two weeks bitching about how you needed every spare second to review hero law and quirk physiology. And now you're on a goddamn quest for a stolen sea mammal dick stick instead of drilling flash cards."
Izuku's shoulders hunched a little. He closed the notebook slowly, like he was ashamed of it. "I know. I just... he sounded really upset on the phone. And it's not like I'm not studying—I'm multitasking!"
"You're gonna crash and burn if you keep this up, nerd. You think running around playing detective for some bar owner's weird trophy is gonna help you pass if you show up to the exam with eyebags down to your chin and half-remembered statutes?"
Izuku bit his lip. "I... I'll be fine. I always pull through."
"Yeah? Like last semester when you stayed up three days straight for the practical and nearly face-planted into Aizawa's scarf?"
"I scored more than Kacchan."
Katsuki huffed a laugh despite himself. Goddamn it, he had scored more.
He reached over without thinking—grabbed Izuku's notebook right out of his hands. Izuku yelped.
"Kacchan—!"
"Shut up. I'm looking." Katsuki flipped through the pages. Neat handwriting, color-coded highlights, little doodles of All Might in the margins like good-luck charms. It was so painfully Izuku, Katsuki couldn't help but smile.
"You're missing half the precedent cases on quirk usage in public spaces. And your quirk physiology section is a mess—crossed-out theories everywhere like you second-guessed yourself into paralysis."
Izuku winced. "I was going to fix it tonight..."
"Yeah? When? After you retrieve the holy walrus wang and write a 500-word essay on its cultural significance?"
Izuku sighed tiredly.
Katsuki shoved the notebook back at him, but gentler than he meant to. "Fine. We're doing this. But you're studying the whole damn way there and back. No excuses. And when we get to this cheesesteak joint and find your buddy's missing boner bone—"
"Baculum," Izuku corrected automatically.
"—whatever the fuck—then you're sitting your ass down and I'm quizzing you until your brain leaks out your ears. Got it?"
Izuku stared at him, eyes wide and shining under the lights. For a second Katsuki thought he might cry or hug him or something equally mortifying.
Instead, Izuku smiled and simply took the notebook from his hands.
Katsuki is... dissapointed.
The cheesesteak joint was exactly the kind of place Izuku would befriend the owner of: narrow storefront squeezed between a vape shop and a laundromat, neon sign flickering “Tokyo’s Finest” in red-white-blue glory, and a hand-painted banner inside proudly asking “Guess What It Is!” (The banner now had a sad little piece of duct tape over the word “what” like someone had tried to preserve dignity after the theft.)
The bell jingled as they stepped inside. The place smelled like onions, provolone, and something strange.
Behind the counter stood a burly guy in his late thirties—Tony, Izuku’s friend—with a faded tattoo of a cartoon walrus on his forearm and the kind of exhausted expression usually reserved for parents of toddlers.
“Deku!” Tony lit up like Izuku had personally returned his missing kidney. “You actually came! And you brought… uh…” His eyes flicked to Katsuki, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else on earth.
“Bakugou,” Katsuki supplied flatly. “I’m here to make sure he doesn’t get arrested for accessory to baculum burglary.”
Tony blinked. “Right. Cool. Uh—thanks for coming, man.”
Izuku was already in full detective mode—notebook out, pencil flying. “Okay! Walk me through it again. Last seen when?”
Tony leaned on the counter. “Thursday night. Closing shift. I polished the case, put it back on the shelf behind the bar like always. Friday morning? Gone. No broken glass, no forced entry. Someone just… reached in and yoinked it.”
Katsuki snorted. “So your security is dogshit.”
“Hey,” Tony protested weakly. “We lock the front door. The case isn’t locked because—c’mon, it’s a walrus dick bone. Who steals that?”
“Apparently someone,” Izuku said earnestly. He turned to the handful of late-night patrons scattered at the booths: a couple of tired delivery guys, an older man nursing a soda, and a woman in scrubs scrolling her phone.
Izuku approached the scrubs lady first, polite smile dialed to eleven. “Hi! Sorry to bother you—did you happen to notice anything unusual here on Thursday or Friday? Maybe someone acting… suspicious around the bar area?”
Katsuki followed two steps behind, arms crossed, looming just enough to make people sit up straighter.
The woman looked up, confused. “Uh… no? I come here for the cheesesteaks, not the… whatever that thing was.”
Izuku nodded seriously. “Understood. Thank you for your time.”
Next booth: one of the delivery guys. Izuku crouched slightly so he wasn’t towering. “Excuse me—were you here Thursday night? Did you see anyone lingering near the bar?”
The guy shrugged. “Nah, man. I was in and out. But the big guy in the trucker hat was taking a lot of selfies back there. Kept saying ‘this is going viral.’”
Izuku’s eyes lit up. “Selfies! With the baculum?”
“Yeah. He was real proud of it. Like, posing with his arm around the case.”
Katsuki muttered under his breath, “Great. We’re looking for Insta-tourist scum.”
While Izuku moved to the older man, Katsuki pulled out his phone and opened the hero law flashcards he’d made earlier—digital, color-coded, because he was a goddamn professional.
He leaned against the booth wall, voice low but firm. “Alright, nerd. While you play Columbo, answer this: What’s the precedent set in Hero Commission v. Tachibana regarding unauthorized quirk use in commercial establishments?”
“Kacchan what are you doing?”
“What? When I think you need my help I'll step in. Now just answer the question for me Deku.”
Izuku nodded just as Katsuki was about to re-read the question to him.
“Tachibana was the first case to establish that passive emitter quirks—like minor scent-based ones—count as ‘quirk usage’ if they affect customers without consent. Ruled that businesses can prohibit them under private property rights unless it’s a medical necessity. Next?”
Katsuki’s lip twitched. Wow, Deku was attentive. Also, not bad.
“Too slow on the citation year.”
“2018,” Izuku shot back instantly, now turning to Tony again. “Tony-san, do you have security footage? Even grainy stuff might show the trucker hat guy.”
Tony winced. “Camera’s been busted for months. Budget, y’know?”
“Of course,” Izuku sighed, but he didn’t sound defeated—just determined. He flipped to a new page in his notebook. “Okay. Description of the suspect?”
“White guy, maybe thirty-five? Big gut, red trucker hat with a fish logo, cargo shorts even though it’s October. Took like twenty pictures. Left a twenty for a soda and dipped.”
Katsuki scrolled to the next flashcard. “Pay attention, Deku. In All Might Foundation v. Osaka Prefecture, what was the key distinction between ‘public safety’ and ‘public convenience’ exceptions for quirk suppression devices?”
Izuku answered without missing a beat while simultaneously asking Tony, “Did he pay with card? We could trace the transaction—”
“Cash,” Tony groaned.
“—right, of course. Kacchan?”
“Key distinction,” Katsuki repeated, voice steady, almost gentle under the gruffness. “Suppression devices can be mandated for ‘public safety’—imminent threat—but not just for ‘convenience’ or crowd control. Osaka tried to ban support-item amplifiers at festivals. Lost because no specific danger was proven.”
“But my answer would also count because I said—”
“No it will not count.” Katsuki said, rather spitefully.
“Oh.”
Izuku turned back to the delivery guys. “Did anyone get a good look at his face? Or maybe… hear an accent? License plate? Anything?”
One of them perked up. “He had Florida tags. I remember because he complained about the cold the whole time he was here. Kept saying ‘back home this is shorts weather.’”
Izuku’s pencil flew. “Florida tags. Trucker hat. Fish logo. Selfie enthusiast. Got it.”
Katsuki swiped to another card. “Quirk counseling ethics. Rule 4.2 of the Hero Code—what does it prohibit regarding client confidentiality when a third party is at risk?”
Izuku recited it flawlessly while walking back to the bar, leaning close to Tony. “Can I see the shelf where it was kept? Maybe there’s fingerprints or—or fibers or something!”
Izuku found nothing and pouted pitifully at Kacchan.
The cheesesteak place had mostly emptied out by now—just the two of them behind the bar, Tony wiping down the counter like he was trying to give them privacy without actually leaving the room.
Izuku was on his knees in front of the open display shelf, shining his phone flashlight into every crevice. Katsuki stood over him, arms crossed, pretending to supervise while actually fighting the urge to reach down and haul the nerd up by the back of his hoodie before he got dust all over his stupidly soft hair.
“Found anything useful, Sherlock?” Katsuki asked, voice low.
Izuku tilted his head back to look up at him—way up, since Katsuki was looming—and the angle made his eyes look even bigger, greener, ridiculous. “Not yet. But there’s this weird smudge here. Could be a fingerprint? Or… grease from the grill? Hard to tell.”
Katsuki crouched down beside him without thinking.
“Gimme the light.” Katsuki took the phone from Izuku’s hand—fingers brushing, lingering half a second too long—and angled it better. “Yeah, that’s not grease. Looks like someone wiped the shelf but missed a spot. You're right.”
They ended up finding receipt with the guy's phone number on it.
Izuku dialed and put it on speaker. It rang twice.
A gruff voice answered. “Yeah?”
“Hi! This is—um—sorry to call so late. I found your number on a receipt at Tony’s Cheesesteaks? I was wondering if you’d been there recently and maybe… noticed anything strange? Around the bar?”
Silence. Then: “The hell? You the cops?”
“No! Just—friends of the owner. Looking into a missing… item.”
Another pause. Then a low chuckle. “Ohhh. You mean the big ivory boner? Yeah, I mighta seen somethin’. Guy in the trucker hat was real proud of it. Took it right off the shelf when Tony went to the back for more rolls. Said it was ‘ goin’ to a better home.’ I got video. Phone camera. Whole thing.”
Izuku’s eyes went wide. “You recorded it?!”
“Thought it was funny as hell. Posted a clip to my story but took it down when I realized it might be, y’know, illegal. You want it?”
“Yes please!” Izuku practically vibrated. “Can you send it to this number? I’ll—um—give you Tony’s Venmo if you want a reward or—”
Katsuki cut in, voice rough. “Just send the damn video. We’ll handle the rest.”
The guy laughed again. “You sound like you’re gonna murder someone. Chill, man. Sending now.”
The video pinged through seconds later.
They huddled over Izuku’s phone—heads close again, shoulders pressed, no space left to pretend it was accidental. The clip was shaky but clear: trucker-hat guy, cargo shorts, fish logo, glancing around before snatching the baculum, wrapping it in a napkin and strolling out whistling.
Tony whooped from across the room. “That’s the bastard! I remember him now!”
Izuku paused the video on a decent face shot. “We can send this to the police. Or… track him down ourselves? He can’t have gone far if he was still local.”
Katsuki stared at the screen—at Izuku’s profile lit by the phone glow, at the way his lashes cast shadows, at how determined and soft he looked all at once.
Tony watched them with raised eyebrows.
“…You two want a couple cheesesteaks? On the house. For, uh… moral support.”
Katsuki grunted. “Extra onions.”
Izuku lit up. “And cheese whiz!”
They were going to solve this case.
And then Katsuki was going to make damn sure Izuku aced midterms.
The restroom door swung shut behind Katsuki with a soft squeak. He’d only been gone maybe ninety seconds—scrubbed the dust and cheese-whiz grease off his hands and returned to find their seats empty.
Katsuki stopped dead.
“Where the hell is he?”
Tony winced, already raising both hands like he was surrendering. “Your buddy—Deku?—he got a text. Said he knew exactly where the trucker-hat guy was headed. Something about a late-night pawn shop two blocks over that buys ‘novelty bones’ no questions asked. He bolted. Said he’d be right back and not to worry.”
“Figures,” Katsuki mutters.
He dropped onto the nearest stool. Elbows on the counter. Head in his hands for half a second before he scrubbed his face and sat up straight again.
Tony slid a fresh fountain Coke in front of him without asking. “On the house.”
Katsuki grunted something that might’ve been thanks. Took a long pull through the straw. The cold fizz helped. A little.
Tony was talking.
“So last week,” Tony started, “my oldest—Maria, she’s sixteen goin’ on thirty-five—she gets it in her head she’s ready to take the ol’ truck out solo. Big ol’ F-150, lifted just enough to make folks move over on the highway without even askin’. I tell her fine, darlin’, because man sometimes you really can't say no to these kids but only ’round the block, y’hear? She hops in, all confident-like, ponytail bouncin’, crankin’ up that pop music she likes loud enough to wake the dead.”
Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. She crashed into shit?”
Tony barked a laugh. “Mailboxes. Three of ’em. Three goddamn mailboxes. She misjudged the turn into our driveway—clipped the neighbor’s first, then ours, then the one clean across the street for good measure. Looked like a war zone out there. She just sits in the cab, hands glued at ten and two, starin’ straight ahead like if she don’t move, it didn’t happen. I walk out, open the door real slow, and she whispers, real quiet-like, ‘Daddy… I reckon I need more practice.’”
Katsuki snorted despite himself.
“Yeah, she’s alright,” Tony said, grin softening. “My wife—Lisa—she comes strollin’ out, sees the wreckage, and instead of hollerin’ she just starts laughin’. Full-on, can’t-breathe, holdin’-her-sides laughin’. Maria starts bawlin’, thinkin’ she’s in deeper than a tick on a hound dog, but Lisa just pulls her into a big hug and goes, ‘Baby girl, at least you didn’t hit the hydrant this time.’ Turns out Lisa did the exact same dang thing when she was sixteen. Same truck, same street. Family curse, I reckon. Or maybe just these streets teachin’ us young.”
Man these people were talkative, Katsuki thinks.
His mouth twitched. “She still lets her drive?”
“Hell no. Not without me ridin’ shotgun. But she didn’t ground her neither. Just made her write apology letters to the neighbors and mow their lawns for a solid month. Kid’s been parallel parkin’ like a pro ever since. Ain’t that somethin’?”
Tony paused, rag still in hand, eyes goin’ a little distant like he was seein’ it all over again. “Lisa’s got this way about her, y’know? I’ve been tellin’ the same dumb jokes since we were courtin’. The one about the fella who walks into a bar—ouch. Or why don’t skeletons fight each other? They don’t have the guts. Twenty-three years later I still trot ’em out, and she still laughs. Every dang time. Not that polite chuckle folks do when they’re bein’ nice. Real laugh. Like it’s the first time she’s heard it. Makes me feel like I’m still that dumb twenty-year-old tryin’ to impress her at the Sonic with a cherry limeade and bad pickup lines.”
Katsuki looked down at his glass. The ice had mostly melted. “That’s… good.”
“Yeah, son. It is.” Tony tilted his head, studying him easy-like. “Then there’s my youngest, Sofia. Twelve years old and full of fire. Obsessed with that hero—the unbreakable one, what’s-his-name with the blue hair streak. Decides she’s gonna dye her hair electric blue to match. We let her, figurin’ what’s the harm? Big mistake. She does it herself in the bathroom sink with some cheap box dye from the drugstore. Looks purty as a picture for about twelve hours. Then shower time—whole mess washes out in streaks down the drain. She comes tearin’ out in a towel, bawlin’ her eyes out, thinkin’ she’s ruined for life. Lisa sits her down on the couch, wraps her up in a blanket like a burrito, and spends the next hour braidin’ what’s left while spinnin’ tales about when she tried to bleach her own hair platinum back in high school and ended up lookin’ like a dang dandelion gone wrong. Sofia stops cryin’, starts gigglin’. By the end they’re both laughin’ so hard they’re snortin’. Kid went to bed with wet hair and woke up with blue tips clingin’ on for dear life anyway. Said it was ‘fate.’ Bless her heart.”
“Sounds like a damn circus,” Katsuki muttered.
“Every day, son,” Tony agreed, chuckling low. “But it’s our circus. Wouldn’t trade it for all the tea in China.”
He set the rag down gentle-like. Looked Katsuki square in the eye, voice droppin’ a notch softer. “You need someone like that in your life, kid. Someone who’ll laugh at your same dumb lines twenty years down the road. Someone who sees you mess up six ways to Sunday and still pulls you in for a hug instead of walkin’ away. Someone who makes all the chaos feel like home.”
Katsuki stared at the scarred wood of the counter.
“Yeah.”
A small smile tugged at Tony’s mouth. “So… it’s Deku, huh?”
Katsuki’s shoulders tensed. Head snapped up. “The fuck—”
“Easy there, tiger.” Tony raised both palms, slow and easy. “I ain’t blind, son. It’s written all over you. Plain as day.”
Katsuki scowled, but the heat in it was fadin’. Just tired now. “Not to him.”
Tony hummed thoughtful-like. “Some folks go blind as bats when it’s about themselves. Especially when they’re scared of breakin’ somethin’ good.”
Katsuki didn't reply.
Tony leaned back. “You two go way back?”
“Since we were in diapers,” Katsuki muttered. “His mom dumped him in my crib when he was two weeks old so she could sleep. Our moms were next-door neighbors. Been stuck to him ever since.”
Tony nodded slowly. “Great boy, that one. That Deku.”
Katsuki’s chest tightens, sharp and fond. “Yeah. I know.”
Tony watches him carefully. “He clearly likes you too.”
Katsuki snorts. “Yeah, right.”
“No, trust me, kid.”
Katsuki shakes his head. “You should’ve known Deku by now. We’ve got midterms in two days and he’s here helping you. Deku’s like that. He’s sweet to just about anybody he’s met.”
“Yeah,” Tony said quietly. “I figured. Kid’s got kindness leaking out his ears. But the way he looks at you? That’s different.”
Katsuki snorted, but it sounded weak even to him. “Yeah, right.”
“Trust me on this one,” Tony said. “I’ve watched atleast a thousand first dates and propsals in thsi very restaurant for twenty years. I know the look.”
Silence again.
Tony picked up the rag, started wipin’ slow. “Anyway. Ain’t my rodeo. But when he comes barrelin’ back through that door—probably covered in pawn-shop dust and grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ sweet taters—maybe don’t wait another twenty years to say somethin’. Life’s too short for that kinda waitin’.”
Katsuki didn’t reply.
He just sat there, elbows on the counter, waiting for the bell to ring.
And when it finally did—when Izuku stumbled in, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, holding the baculum aloft like a trophy, eyes searching the room until they landed on Katsuki and lit up like fireworks—
Katsuki felt something in his chest loosen.
“Took you long enough, nerd.”
Izuku beamed. “I got it! Kacchan, I got it!”
He set the bone down and launched himself forward without slowing down, pure momentum and joy and zero regard for physics.
Katsuki was already on his feet.
Instinct, old, bone-deep instinct kicked in before his brain could catch up. He stepped forward, arms out, and caught Izuku mid-leap like he’d done a thousand times when they were kids: one hand under his thighs, the other around his back.
Katsuki has no idea what possessed him to spin in that moment. But the childlike shriek Izuku gave at being spun was so worth it.
Something in Katsuki’s chest finally, finally gives.
He kisses him with everything he’d never said poured into the press of his mouth against Izuku’s.
Izuku went still.
The excited yells died in his throat and for one terrifying heartbeat, nothing happened. Then Izuku pulled back just enough to stare at him incredulously.
Katsuki’s heart was trying to punch through his ribs. He didn’t let go. Couldn’t. Just held on, arms locked, waiting for the rejection, the confusion, the—
Izuku stared at him for another half-second.
Then Izuku makes a small, startled sound and surges forward, kissing him back ferverently. He whimpered into the kiss, and it was small, needy, and devastating and he pushed harder, tongue sliding against Katsuki’s like he’d been starving for it.
Katsuki’s knees almost buckled.
Izuku’s hands slide up, fingers tangling in Katsuki’s hair, tugging just enough to make Katsuki swear softly into the kiss. It’s uncoordinated and eager and entirely Deku—like he’s decided this is Important and is giving it his full attention.
Katsuki’s hands tighten at Izuku’s waist, steadying them both, heart slamming so hard it’s embarrassing. He kisses back, a little rough, a little breathless, a little like he’s been holding this in since kindergarten and just realized he doesn’t have to anymore.
They break apart only because they’re both laughing, breathless and flushed.
Izuku grins at him, bright and wrecked and incandescent. “Oh.”
“Shut up,” Katsuki says weakly.
Izuku laughs harder and leans his forehead against Katsuki’s. “You kissed me.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki mutters. “I noticed.”
Izuku beams like this is the best day of his life, like the walrus bone case and the midterms and the entire universe have aligned perfectly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for years.”
Katsuki freezes. “…What.”
Izuku blinks. “Wait. You didn’t know?”
Katsuki groans, dropping his head back. Somewhere behind them, Tony laughs outright.
“Oh, kid,” Tony says warmly. “Told you.”
Katsuki grinned at him.
“What's he talking about Kacchan?”
“Absolutely nothing sweetheart, don't you worry.”