Archive of Our Own

0: Izuku Midoriya

It all started, as it often does, with Katsuki running his big fat mouth.

The truth is, he’s noticed.

He’s been noticing.

He’s been noticing that Izuku’s pushing himself into a corner. That he’s stopped reaching out to others. That he’s been distancing himself from their friends and classmates so expertly over the past few years that most haven’t noticed he’d done it at all.

He’s trying to make himself as invisible as he was back when Deku meant something entirely different - to fade into the background - and fuck Katsuki if he was going to let him do that shit again. Not on his watch.

The problem is, Katsuki had mistakenly thought this whole self-pity shtick was because of the whole Quirkless-No-Longer-A-Hero thing. Which was fine. That was something Katsuki could fix. Not that it’d be easy, but it sure-as-fuck would be worth it.

The two of them could go back to how it was. How it should have been.

But here he is, with the suit and a license and an offer to join Katsuki’s agency on a silver goddamn platter and Izuku still looks the other way - all while making this sour-ass expression like Katsuki had just spit in his drink or somethin’.

“I like teaching, Kacchan. I’m not going to drop my job to be your sidekick.”

Funny, because Izuku Midoriya sure as shit just kicked him in the side.

When the fuck had Katsuki said the word sidekick, anyway?

Not important. He presses on.

“I didn’t say you need to quit your job,” he tries to explain, definitely not pouting.

He tries to ignore the too-obvious way Kirishima inhales sharply from the passenger seat as Katsuki steps on the gas.

“It’s not like I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Kacchan. What all of you have done for me.”

Katsuki’s eyes flash up to the rear-view mirror.

Izuku’s fidgeting in those plush seats like he’s trying to disappear into them. Hell, with how deep he’s wedged inside, he may be close to doing just that.

“…But it’s been… a really long time. I’ve got a job now. Responsibilities. Bills. I can’t just… just… quit everything to play heroes with you!”

“Play?” Katsuki spits. “So being a Hero is a game to you now?”

“Guys, guys! C’mon now,” Kirishima breaks the tension with a unnecessarily hard smack against Katsuki’s arm.  

“I think what Bakugou is trying to say is that we’re all really looking forward to working with you in the field again, Midoriya! It’ll be just like old times, right?”

Kirishima turns around and grins at Izuku, the latter shooting him a too-bright (if not weirdly hesitant) smile back.

Still, he catches him glancing in Katsuki’s direction every few minutes, wringing his hands, picking at his lip, messing with his hair – the typical nervous ticks that Katsuki knows all too well by now.

He wants to say something to Katsuki. Katsuki wants to say something to him, too.

Been wanting to say something.

He just doesn’t know how.

“Kacchan? I, uh – “ his nerd cheeks flush like he’s in middle school again and Katsuki clenches his jaw, pretending like the sight doesn’t make his breath hitch or his heart stutter.  

He wraps his hands around the steering wheel a little tighter.

Katsuki is getting the vibe that Izuku is about to say some shit that he’s really not gonna like hearing – so, instead of waiting for that proverbial bomb to drop, Katsuki vomits out some words that, hopefully, come out in the right fucking order to get the way he – urgh, feels – across.

“I don’t want you to be my sidekick. I want you to be my equal.”

I want you to walk by my side, Katsuki doesn’t dare say.

How else can he have that if not through hero work?

Without heroism, what else do they even have in common?

Might as well be two strangers living two separate lives.

And that?

That’s unacceptable.

Katsuki can’t let that happen.

“I…” Izuku hesitates, voice softening to a whisper barely audible above the roar of the engine. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Izuku’s eyes dart out the window. He keeps his gaze fixed at the passing streetlights, but Katsuki can see the way he’s chewing a hole in his goddamn lip, can see how hard he’s grasping onto the straps of his backpack, can see how he keeps tapping his foot at increasing frequencies without rhyme or reason.

How long have they known each other, now?

The nerd should know better than to hide things from Katsuki. Maybe he wants the subject dropped, but Katsuki has no intention of letting it go.

“It is, cause I’m telling you it is. Okay? You’re allowed to be selfish, Izuku. You’re allowed to want things.”

The subtle twitch of the other’s brow, the darkening of his already flushed cheeks, the flicker in the corners of his lips reminiscent of that carefree smile he hasn’t seen in fuck knows how long -  it’s enough for Katsuki’s beat-up heart to thump so hard is starts to physically ache.

“You’re right, Kacchan,” he says sheepishly, eyes darting up to meet his through the rearview mirror.

Katsuki holds his breath.

This is it.

Finally, all this waiting, this hoping, this endless grind will pay off.

Katsuki parks the car.

He gets out and watches Izuku climb out the passenger side door, lump in his throat.

He waits. He feels like he’s been waiting for a long-ass time.  

“I’ve been thinking for a while about… wanting things,” Izuku continues as he shuts the door behind him.

“…Feeling like I deserve things.”

Izuku looks up at Katsuki with those beatific eyes and stupidly long eyelashes and dear God Katsuki’s heart skips a couple dozen beats as if it to remind him just who it burst for all those years ago.

This encounter is rapidly turning into a medical emergency and the nerd hasn’t even said anything yet.

It’s going to be worth it. It’s gotta be.

“I’ve made up my mind -"

Katsuki stops breathing. 

"...I’ll finally talk to her! Thanks, Kacchan!”

With a hop in his step, he grabs onto the lapels of his ugly-ass yellow backpack and runs off, looking dumb as hell in his suit and dress shoes, leaving Katsuki standing there, hands in his pockets, mouth half-opened, unequivocally stunned.

What’s worse, the nerd has the audacity to turn around and, when he notices Katsuki still watching him, he flashes him a wide smile and an enthusiastic wave, shouting ‘See ya!’ to the Tokyo sky.

Katsuki’s hand rises up without his permission, but not to wave to a friend he’ll see in a few days. It’s a less enthusiastic send-off – that of a man staying on land, watching a ship depart into the deep blue sea, not knowing when – if ever – it will return.

“…Yeah…” he says to no one.

“…See ya.”

But it’s not a ‘see ya,’ is it?

Its goodbye.

Every time he thinks he’s caught up to Izuku, the nerd starts running in an entirely different direction.

This whole time, they were having two wholly separate conversations. Katsuki was talking about one dream – the one that he’d thought they’d always share - but Izuku, apparently, was talking about another.

No matter what Katsuki does, Izuku keeps getting further and further away and Katsuki’s starting to get the impression that he doesn’t want to be followed.

He almost forgets that Kirishima is still in the car when he gets back inside.  

“Dude…” Kirishima laments, putting a way too sympathetic hand on his shoulder. 

“Not another fucking word,” Katsuki says before revving the engine.

Kirishima puts his seatbelt on in record time.

1: Ochako Uraraka

They may not have spoken since that night, but by virtue of existing on this hell of an earth, Katsuki has been hearing things.

A lot of things.

Gossip about who’s dating who has been so run-of-the-mill for their class that, in general, no one considers it news anymore. Its barely worth mentioning that Dolt Brain and Ears have broken up/gotten together for the umpteenth time or who Ashido saw at that gay club grinding up with one of their former classmates from 1B. They’ve heard it all before.

It’s boring.

Except, apparently, when it’s about Izuku and Pink-Cheeks.

According to Invisible Girl, its ‘different with them.’ They’re the ‘sweethearts’ of the group. The ‘will-they-ever’s.’ The ‘end-game.’

Katsuki doesn’t know what any of that means, exactly, but he’s got the gist.

Everyone else can have flings and fuck around and make up and break up, but Izuku and Pink-Cheeks?

They’re meant-to-fucking-be.

And maybe it would be a little easier to stomach if it was all just bullshit - if Izuku was still the same blushing sixteen year old who couldn’t look a girl in the eye instead of a grown-ass-man with a six pack and a pension.  

But it’s not bullshit.

Izuku fucking Midoriya made a move on Cheeks and its going.

He almost didn’t believe it the first time he walked into that nerd’s classroom post Katsuki-opening-his-big-fat-mouth-day; ignored it, maybe willfully, maybe not. But Katsuki guest-appears in Izuku’s classroom at least once a month and after the third time seeing the same audacious bullshit, Katsuki would have to be actively lying to himself if he said he didn’t notice.  

There’s extra pep in the nerd’s step. A perpetual redness coloring his cheeks. An extra sparkle in his eye. His dress-shirts are less wrinkled and more than half the time Katsuki sees him, his tie is tied correctly.  

Meaning that, in the mornings, someone is waking up next to him. Small, delicate fingers linger around his collar, fix his tie as the two of them stand within mere centimeters of one another, pat along his shoulders to smooth out the wrinkles, maybe run themselves through his hair; maybe to fix that rat’s nest of a hairdo or maybe just to touch him for a little longer.

Either way, Izuku Midoriya looks more put together than Katsuki has ever seen him, and it seems like the mornings where he doesn’t look like shit are becoming more common than not.

It all leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but what’s he supposed to do about it? Complain that Izuku seems happy for the first time in fuck knows how long? That he seems way happier than when he was gifted that suit?  

Katsuki's got to face the facts. Izuku hasn't said it out loud, but Katsuki still hears him loud and clear. 

He can see it in the other’s posture, in the way he speaks, in the way he smiles. He’s not thinking about getting back out into the field, not thinking of joining Katsuki or their classmates on patrol, not thinking about that former half-lived life of his.

Deku doesn’t give a shit about being a hero anymore.

He’s in love.

And it makes Katsuki’s palms sweat and heart race and stomach twist because yeah, sure, most people their age give a shit about stuff like this, but not Katsuki. Not Izuku. For them, it was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to be different.

Katsuki plops down across from Izuku in the teacher’s lounge, waving to Aizawa as he unpacks his protein-packed lunch of chicken and rice before this month’s ‘lesson’ – ‘What Its Like To Get Your Asses Beat By Dynamight’ – Katsuki’s personal favorite. He leans back in the chair and throws his feet onto the table, eyeing the cutesy boxed lunch that someone who can actually hold a knife made for him.

“So,” Katsuki motions towards the box. “…That going well?”

Izuku nearly drops the whole thing on the ground, face flaring a comical red.

“W-what?!” he sputters, doggedly avoiding eye contact as he attempts to wrangle his run-away chopsticks.

“I -um. Have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Katsuki sighs and rolls his eyes.

He hates this.

The nerd has no idea how much of a good friend Katsuki is being right now.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you and Pink Cheeks are a thing.”

Best he can guess, the two have been seeing each other for a few months already. He hasn’t fucking asked, because why would he, but no one ever shuts up about them and it’s not like they exist in a vacuum. Izuku should know that Katsuki knows.

Why is he acting so nervous and flustered all of a sudden?

“It’s just…you probably think all this is pretty lame, huh?” Izuku says with a shaky laugh.  

Katsuki stares at him.

What is this nerd talking about?

“…If I was taking teaching and being a Hero seriously I wouldn’t have time for things like, um. Dating.”

“The fuck you mean?” Katsuki sits up, furrowing his brow.

“I mean, all the great heroes are single, right? All Might never dated anyone. Or. Um.”

Izuku glances at him skittishly before he clears this throat and continues.  

“…You.”

Katsuki tilts his head, taking a bite of chicken so he can take a second to process the crock of shit he’d just heard.

He swallows and points his chopsticks at Izuku.

“…Yeah, no shit I don’t date. And don’t use All Might as an example. The less you’re like him, the better.”

“But I – “

“Maybe dating someone will finally convince you to not try to speed-run yourself into an early grave, huh?” Katsuki continues, cutting him off. “Not like the rest of us ever made you reconsider.”

The words are unexpectedly bitter and Katsuki snaps his jaw shut, leaning back into the chair and biting into his chicken with more ferocity. 

He’s not sure where the hell that came from. And from what he can see of Izuku’s expression, the other feels the same.

He swears they’re going to finish lunch in blissful silence – which is fine by him – but Izuku, for some reason, starts talking again.  

“Have you ever just… imagined a version of someone in your head? And then when you meet them, or get closer to them, you realize they’re completely different?”

“Pink cheeks not living up to expectations?”

“No! No. I just mean – maybe I – “

There’s a strange, sad expression that flits across Izuku’s face - Katsuki catches it before Izuku tucks it away, replacing it with his beaming smile.

“It’s silly. Don’t worry about it.”

“Mhhm.”

Katsuki does just that. He doesn’t worry about it.

Instead, he scarfs down the rest of his rice and gets ready to kick a couple of high-schooler’s asses.  

When he walks into Izuku’s classroom two weeks later, he notices the fucked up tie like a homing beacon.

Katsuki’s suspicions are confirmed when lover-boy takes out a pathetic pre-packaged bun in the teacher’s lounge and eats it with all the enthusiasm of chewing on plastic.

Ain’t that interesting. No adorable home-made bento in sight.  

He pretends not to give a shit for the duration of the lunch, but with the period running out and his own nerves running ragged, Katsuki does the unthinkable.

He brings it up.

“C’mon. Spill.”

Izuku, having been done with his so-called ‘lunch’ for well over ten minutes now, fumbles with his tie, rolling and unrolling the cheap material between crooked fingers.

“…Its embarrassing. I don’t… I don’t want to bore you with relationship trouble.”

The way Katsuki sits straight the fuck up, suddenly giving Izuku his whole undivided attention, is probably something he should be a bit embarrassed about.

He isn’t. But he pretends he is.

He takes a sip of his water as he leans back all the while replaying those words over and over again in his head.   

Relationship trouble. Relationship trouble. Relationship trouble.

…As in, that shit’s not working out.

There was a part of him that sincerely believed – just like the rest of their nosy-ass classmates – that the second those two naïve love-birds broke past their nerd barrier, there would be nothing that could separating them. He’s talking the whole package -  wedding bells, two-point-five kids with the roundest cheeks and hugest eyes the world has ever seen, happily ever fucking after, a love story for the ages bullshit.

He was ready to accept it. Even ready to – urgh – be happy for them.

Seems like he doesn’t have to be.

Katsuki’s so giddy right now he might let out an honest-to-god giggle.

He does not do that. Instead, he nods sagely, putting on his best ‘sympathetic expression’ before setting aside his lunch and leaning forward to signal that he’s listening.

Because damn is he listening.

“…I feel like… the version of me that lives in her head is the me from high school, y’know?”

He chews on his lip. The skin there is flaked and dried and a little bloody. He’s been chewing on his lip a lot.

“She didn’t know me when I was Quirkless, and as she’s getting to know me as a Quirkless person now… I don’t know. I feel like I’m disappointing her.”

Izuku must have been ruminating on this shit non-fucking-stop considering how fast he’s talking, how pressured and rehearsed his words sound. Probably been bottling this shit up, pushing it down, hiding his true feelings just like he always has.

Probably felt like he couldn’t tell anybody.

Except for Katsuki.

“…She wanted someone to relate to, someone that’s also a Hero, someone that doesn’t work a boring nine-to-five or needs to fill out paperwork or grade worksheets or go to Parent-Teacher conferences instead of training together or doing other, you know. Hero things. But that’s not me anymore.”

Izuku sighs.

“Quirkess Deku is not the Deku she signed up to be with.”

Katsuki’s giddiness evaporates faster than explosive sweat mid-Howitzer.

He wants to believe the shit’s Izuku saying is true. Wants to convince himself its Pink Cheeks royally fucking up their relationship, that Izuku’s the innocent victim in all this, that its just not ‘meant-to-be…’ except.

He knows Pink-Cheeks. She’s not the kind of person that would give Izuku shit for being Quirkless. Out of everyone, she’s probably one of the few that doesn’t expect him to be the same as he was in high school. Doesn’t want him to be the same as he was in high school. 

Which leaves the common denominator sitting in front of him as the real cause of their problems.

“Is she the one bothered by you being Quirkless,” Katsuki asks, “Or are you?”

The resounding silence is answer enough.

Katsuki should have known. 

Its Izuku shooting himself in the foot, again. Making himself miserable, again. Believing he doesn’t deserve to be happy, again.

“…You wouldn’t get it, Kacchan,” Izuku frowns, talking at the ground, “You’re all living your dreams, doing amazing things with your Quirks, and I’m just… “

Izuku sighs once more then looks back up, sporting a too-wide and too-fake smile, his go-to mask donned before he's processed what he just said.

His eyes go wide as he waves his hands defensively before Katsuki has a chance to respond.

“N-not that I’m complaining! I only had a Quirk for just over two years, and you’ve all had them your whole lives! Maybe I’m just embarrassed. You’re all so amazing, and I’m just…”  

Katsuki almost doesn’t believe what he’s hearing.

Now he’s bummed about being Quirkless?

After not saying a goddamn word about it for eight years?!

Katsuki still remembers waking up in the hospital after it was all over. Remembers limping over to Izuku’s and All Might’s room. Remembers the way Izuku looked at him, blank and emotionless, mentioning the loss of One for All as if it was an afterthought.

He told him that it was fine, that he wasn’t upset, that he was always Quirkless – that this is just going back to how things used to be. That he was fine with it. 

But Katsuki? Katsuki wasn't fine with it at all. Its like his entire life crashed around him in that moment. 

After everything they’d been through, after Katsuki pushed himself to death and back, he wasn’t ready to go back to how things ‘used to be.’ 

But Izuku left the race of his own volition, told Katsuki that it was okay - better, even - and that was that.  

Katsuki hated it, but what the fuck was he supposed to do? The loss of One for All felt personal, but that’s his own cross to bear.

It wasn’t Izuku’s fault that everyone else bored him. It wasn’t Izuku’s fault that no one, no matter how talented, no matter how ‘amazing’ their Quirk was, couldn’t hope to measure up to him. It’s not Izuku’s fault that no one he's ever met, before or since, can push him or excite him or light him up the way that nerd did. 

So Katsuki’s been mourning that loss on his own. After all, Izuku didn't care anymore, so why should he? 

But now, out of nowhehere, eight years later, Izuku Midoriya gives a shit about being Quirkless because he couldn’t live up to his girlfriend’s expectations?

With that defeated, self-deprecating look on his face, like there's nothing he can do about it? 

It’s like watching him lose it One for All all over again.

Katsuki doesn’t want that. He can’t stand seeing that resigned, distant look on his face. Doesn’t want to watch Izuku lose that ‘spark’ when he was just getting it back – even if it was, in Katsuki’s opinion, for the wrong reason. 

Be it hero-ing or teaching or love or whatever-the-fuck, Katsuki just doesn’t want him to stop wanting.

“Fuck. Listen, I know I’m the one who put that stupid bullshit in your head, but you’re better than that now. There’s nothing wrong with being Quirkless. There never was. You’re not any less of a Hero because you don’t have One for All anymore. You were a Hero before you ever got it and you’re a Hero now, suit or not. If she makes you feel otherwise, then maybe you should be with somebody else.”

Katsuki bites his tongue. That was a little too sincere, a little too honest, a little too vulnerable. Its like he’s cracked his ribcage open and showed Izuku his beating heart – again.  

Still, it’s worth it when he sees the expression on Izuku’s face – the way that resigned expression instantly brightens, the way his smile becomes so wide its nearly blinding, the way he looks at him with these big-ass eyes, full to the brim with all the shitty misplaced admiration that he had for Katsuki when they were kids.

Something strange and crazy and dangerous ties Katsuki’s stomach into knots.

He makes a mental note to double check whether the chicken he brought for lunch today was expired.

“You’re right, Kacchan. You’re always right.”

Izuku grabs the wrapper of his disgusting pre-packaged lunch and stands to throw it away, hair hiding his expression.

Katsuki stands to follow.

He promised himself a long time ago that he’d never get in Izuku’s way.

So he'll support him. No matter how fucking awful and weird and wrong it feels. 

Although Katsuki's not sure what it means to support this version of Izuku Midoriya, he's certain he's about to find out. 

2: Melissa Shield

“The data you’ve been gathering with the suit has been really valuable! You’re amazing, Deku!”

Izuku laughs bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck with his crooked hand. Katsuki noticed, because he’s always noticing, the way his nape’s turned an interesting shade of red at her compliment.

“Thanks, Melissa. Your work is just… unbelievable. Really. The weight and elasticity of the cables is so similar to Black Whip that I almost forget I’m not using it sometimes!”  

Izuku’s eyes dart to Katsuki for half-a-second before re-focusing on the screen with an almost exaggerated intensity.

Katsuki watches the way Izuku’s throat bobs with a forced swallow.  

“I’m so glad! Do you feel like the tensile strength – “

Katsuki tunes her out, keeping his gaze fixed to Izuku.

Katsuki and All Might, having a vested interest in the project, have been showing up to these monthly meetings with Izuku, Melissa and Mei since the suit’s inauguration day. He’s been standing there for months, arms crossed and legs tapping, mentally cataloguing how much Izuku’s using the suit, what he likes about it, what he doesn’t, and how they can fix it when it’s time for maintenance.

This is the first month where the suit’s use has skyrocketed, and Katsuki can’t deny how fucking good that feels to hear.

They may not be working together much, but Katsuki’s fine with that.

Izuku is using the suit more than ever, he’s working as a Hero more than ever and, most importantly, he looks happy.  

“And, um.”

Something about her tone has Katsuki focusing back on the conversation at Mach speeds. The way Melissa tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, the way she bashfully glances away, how her cheeks pinken in that ridiculously innocent way – it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Katsuki’s stomach sinks before he’s even aware there’s a hole in the hull.

Fuck. Katsuki wishes that he'd stop noticing things.

Screw whatever god it was that made him so damn perceptive. 

“We’ll talk tonight, Izuku-kun?”

“Yup!” Izuku-‘kun’ squeaks out before waving awkwardly and jamming the ‘Power’ button of the computer with so much force you’d think he’s got personal beef with the thing.

If Mei and All Might noticed, they don’t comment. They, as usual, make some small talk which Katsuki’s responds to in his signature huffs and grunts, before leaving Izuku and himself alone.

Apparently, the nerd got frozen in place. His finger still rests on the ‘Power’ button. His face is ruddy red and he’s pointedly not making eye contact with Katsuki.

“Izuku-kun, huh?” Katsuki starts, circling around the nerd and bending down so the avoidant little shit has to look him in the eye.

Izuku goes rigid, the blush darkening to an almost concerning purple. He grasps at the fabric of his crappy suit pants as his spine goes ramrod straight, not-so-subtly trying to put space between the two of them.

Katsuki has no plans to let that happen. Katsuki takes a step forward and narrows that forced distance without a second thought.

“When did that happen?” Katsuki accuses, poking Izuku in the chest with his gloved finger in a manner most would call ‘borderline threatening.’  

Izuku startles as if coming out of a trance, flapping his stupid eyelashes like he’s hoping Katsuki disappears between each subsequent blink.

Fat fucking chance.

“We’ve just… I mean… it’s just, with the check-ins for the suit, we kind of…Er. Got closer.”

Katsuki’s eye tries not to twitch.

It fails.

The suit.

The suit brought Izuku closer.

To Melissa.

Sure.

Why not.

He put his blood, sweat, tears, pride, and, oh, eight years of his fucking life! into funding that stupid gift – ya know, the thing that was supposed to help them realize their dream together - and yet?

The suit hasn't helped Katsuki see any more of the nerd, but somehow said nerd is dating the person that made it.

…Is that why he’s been using it so much more lately?

Oh. Katsuki could strangle him.

He thinks he just might.

“…I listened to what you said, about… about being with someone that doesn’t feel weird about me being Quirkless. Or doesn’t make me feel weird about being Quirkless.”

He’s pretty sure he never said ‘Go Date Someone Quirkless,’ but it’s far from the first time Izuku Midoriya wildly misconstrued Katsuki’s words, so he’s willing to let it pass. For now.  

“She gets it, you know? She’s Quirkless too, but she never let it stop her from being one of the best engineers in the world, ya know? And she knows a ton of heroes and loves talking about Quirks and to how best support them! It’s been really interesting to get her insight on my student’s Abilities!”

Katsuki irritation dims a fraction.

That’s… kind of nice for him, he guesses. He's got someone to nerd out with. 

“Plus we’re long distance, which is… Its good, right? She can focus on inventing, I can focus on teaching and Hero work, and we make time for each other in between. It’s the best of both worlds.”

He looks at Katsuki with big, glittering, hopeful eyes, like he’s waiting for Katsuki’s seal of approval.

"Isn't it?"

Katsuki doesn’t know what the hell to say.

…In a way, it’s better than the whole thing with Cheeks. Katsuki doesn’t know Melissa that well. She doesn’t live here. She doesn’t know their friends, either, so risk of overhearing gossip that will make him want to blow out his own eardrums is at a minimum.

He doesn’t have watch this happen.

And if its motivation for Izuku to use the suit, that works in Katsuki’s favor, too.  

Katsuki gets to ‘Play Hero’ with the Nerd. The Nerd gets to be ‘In Love.’

It really is the best of both worlds.

“What do I care?” Katsuki rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in feigned annoyance.

“Just don’t do anything to piss her off – she can rig your suit and, BOOM, mid battle? Dick ripped clean off.”

Katsuki makes a motion as if something’s flying through the air before his fingers spark, forming small explosions in the palm of his hand.  

That startles a laugh out of the nerd and he grins, wide and sincere, eyes crinkling in the corners as he playfully shoves Katsuki.

“Kacchan, no! Don’t say that! She’d never – “

Katsuki pretends that the push had enough strength to actually jerk him backwards, and, trying to look offended, Katsuki puffs up his chest as he crowds Izuku against the desk.

“You wanna start somethin’ - ?” Katsuki grins, holding both hands before him as they spark with ready-to-use explosions.

He lunges towards Izuku, the latter jumping out of the way, dodging him as he howls with laughter.

The whole time they’re running around play-fighting, Katsuki thinks, ‘Yeah. Long distance girlfriend? I can get used to that.’

He does, mostly, get used to that.

Sure, when Izuku’s not talking to her, he’s talking about her.

Sure, Izuku has his face glued to his phone more times than not.

Sure, he’s ditched a few class dinners for ‘virtual dinners’ with Melissa.

But since he’s using the suit more, he’s in the field more. Since he’s in the field more, he’s fighting by Katsuki’s side more. Since he’s fighting by Katsuki’s side more, he’s being a competitive little shit more, and Katsuki likes it when Izuku is a competitive little shit.

It’s like his rival is back. Hell, Katsuki can feel his own spark returning, and for that he’d be willing to put up with as many Melissa-themed info-dumps as it takes.

In fact, he hopes Izuku and Melissa last for-fucking-ever.

Which is why Katsuki refuses to mind his own business when Izuku comes back to the ramen joint after taking Melissa’s phone call pale as shit and looking like he’s on the verse of a mental breakdown.

“Bad news?” Katsuki asks, nodding his head to Izuku’s cellphone, face down on the table and pushed away like it’s contagious or somethin’.

Izuku looks up at him from his staring contest with the untouched bowl of ramen like he’s surprised Katsuki’s there. He’s swallows nervously before forcing out a laugh.

“What? No. Hah-hah. Melissa was just. She’s coming to visit, I mean. She’s bought plane tickets and everything. She was asking…”

Izuku trails off, face going from pale to yellow to vomit green to greener. He’s visibly sweating. He wobbles on his stool like he’s going to fall off. He looks physically ill.

Katsuki blinks, surprised at the sudden change. Everything with them was fine just ten minutes ago. So what happened? Is she coming out here to break up with the nerd? Is that why he’s freaking out so bad?

“She was asking… ifsheshouldgetahotelroomorstaywithme.”

Katsuki tries not to choke on a noodle.

“Fuckin’… pardon?”

He must have misheard, because it sure seems like Izuku fuckin’ Midoriya, age twenty-seven, is on the verge of a panic attack because his long-distance girlfriend asked to stay with him during a visit. 

Sounds like the opposite of a problem.

“What, you don’t wanna see her?” Katsuki probes, taking in another mouthful of noodles.

He chews as Izuku goes through what looks like every stage of grief with a few fresh new ones thrown in.

“It’s not that! It just... It makes me nervous.”

Izuku ducks his head, hiding his face behind his too-long curls, staring down into his ramen bowl again. The motion exposes the back of his neck – and that? That is shining a bright fucking neon red and only getting redder.

“I feel like… if she wants to stay with me … she’ll maybe want to. You know.”

His collar is sticking to his skin, damn with sweat, more beading just underneath his ear.

“…Take things to the next level.”

Katsuki takes his eyes off the one droplet that’s making a slow trail down Izuku’s nape and levels the other with his least impressed look.

“Izuku. You are twenty-fucking-seven years old. Use your big boy words.”

“What if she wants to have sex with me?!” he squeak-yells before slapping a hand over his mouth in abject horror.

The entire restaurant goes dead silent.

The cook making bowls stops mid-pour. The guy pouring beers forgets to shut off the tap. Conversations stop, the clanking of utensils and patron’s slurps cease. Even the music, which isn’t even coming from this restaurant, seems to pause. Katsuki’s not immune – his own jaw falls open, one straggler noodle falling out of his mouth back into the bowl.

“Urgh, I don’t want to talk about this, Kacchan. This is so embarrassing,” the nerd laments a little too fucking late, covering his face with his hands and groaning as he tries to fuse with the table.

Katsuki wants to talk about this so bad he thinks he might combust if he doesn’t.  

His palms are already slick enough that he has to focus on not dropping his chopsticks or accidentally setting the whole ramen joint on fire.

“You don’t want to have sex with her?” Katsuki asks incredulously.

Izuku ducks his head down even further. Another few centimeters and he’ll be drowning himself in that uneaten soup, and Katsuki has a sneaking suspicion he’d rather do that than continue to have this conversation with him.

Too bad for him, because this is the most interesting shit Katsuki’s ever heard.

“Didn’t you and Pink Cheeks –“

“NO!” Izuku whisper-yells, eyes wide, looking so offended at the question that Katsuski briefly wonders if he hallucinated the whole ‘them dating’ thing.

“…You were together for six months,” Katsuki tries to confirm.  

“There’s no timeline to these things! We were taking it slow!”

Katsuki cannot for the life of him understand what is happening.

Taking it slow.

With Ochako Uraraka.

They could barely make eye contact from the first day of high school and since then it’s been a physically painful eight years of tension that was intolerable to watch, much less live through. He figured they’d be ripping each other’s clothes off the second they got past the stuttering and hand-holding phase. That they’d be like a Rube Goldberg machine of fucking - once one piece came down, there’d be no stopping it.

Apparently not.

In six months of dating. Six months of sleeping over at each other’s places. Six months of custom cutesy bentos.

After ALL of that.

They had not fucked.

“So what, you don’t get horny?” Katsuki questions, more rhetorically than anything.

Now that he thinks about it, Izuku never really participated in the nasty boy-talk back at the dorms. He always made some excuse to not list his favorite jerk off material or favorite porn videos or which of the class 1B girls was the hottest. Katsuki assumed it was because he wasn’t a nasty fuckin’ cretin like the rest of their classmates and maybe respected him a little bit for it, but what if he was wrong?

What if Izuku’s just not… interested?  

“I do! I definitely y- I do,” Izuku defends, making eye contact with Katsuki for the first time in the conversation, eyebrows raised and mouth agape in indignation.

“…But you aren’t horny for her,” Katsuki finishes his thought aloud.  

Silence.

Fuckin’ Bingo.

“...Can you not word it like that?” Izuku bemoans, putting his head in his hands and shaking it back and forth miserably.  

Katsuki doesn’t get it.  

Melissa’s tall, smart and nerdy with a body that suggests anything but. She’s a Hero otaku’s wet-dream.

So what gives?

“What, you not into blondes?” he digs further, sticking a whole egg in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

When he looks back up Izuku is staring; the second he notices Katsuki’s looking back, he returns to the staring contest with his soggy, untouched soup. A staring contest that he is very much losing.

“…Um. No. It’s not that.”

“Glasses…?” Katsuki tries again.

Izuku shakes his head.

“The fact her dad tried you kill you?” Katsuki guesses again, and that one at least earned him a petulant glare, so Katsuki calls that a win.

“No, Kacchan. No. It’s not – “

Conveniently, Izuku seems to remember that he’s got ramen in front of him – attempts to lift some noodles in his chopsticks and watches pathetically as they fall apart and land right back in the broth. He sighs, defeated.

“Melissa is beautiful. And smart. And wonderful. There’s nothing even remotely wrong with her. I just… I don’t… see her like that. She… she deserves to be with someone who does.”  

Sure.

Izuku can make himself sound like the good guy here, but Katsuki has the balls to point out the obvious problem.

That he had to have known he wasn’t attracted to her before asking her out.

So, what, he’s been wasting that girl’s time for the past three months for no reason?

“Gauging her reaction, she didn’t know sex was off the table. You been stringing that poor girl along all this time? That’s low, Izuku.”

Same old shit. Izuku’s not even letting himself have what he really wants.

Katsuki’s getting real bored of watching Izuku fuckin’ Midoriya half-assing his way through life. Through these "relationships" he supposedly wants so bad. 

Katsuki points a chopstick at Izuku accusingly.

“Why are you dating people you don’t wanna fuck if you want a relationship that involves fucking?”

At least the nerd has the gall to look embarrassed.

“…Yeah. You’re right, Kacchan. I should be honest with her. Honest… with myself.”

And that’s the end of that.

Izuku orders a new bowl of ramen and Katsuki, in his opinion, has earned himself a beer. The two finish their ‘meal’ in silence and go their separate ways like they always do.

Still, Katsuki can’t help but ruminate on it – during the rest of the dinner, during his drive home, as he lays in bed waiting to fall asleep.

If Melissa Shield and Ochako Uraraka don’t do it for him, then what the fuck is this nerd even into?

What kind of weird shit gets him going?

3: Rody Soul

“Izuku, are you – “ Katsuki stops dead in his tracks.  

Leaning over Izuku’s desk with his hands in his face and ass up in the air is that stupid fuck.

Even though he hasn’t seen the guy since they were second years, Katsuki recognizes him instantly. He’s wearing a pristine white pilot’s uniform, dreaded locks collected in a low ponytail underneath a pilot’s cap. If he didn't clock him by the stupid-ass haircut, then he'd have realized exactly who he was when he notices the pink-feathered bird-shaped Quirk sitting on his shoulder - wearing a matching tiny pilot uniform. 

The rage that flares within him at the very sight of him is illogical and putrid, making him tense and sweaty like he’s just stepped into a sauna.

His body’s ready for battle, and for fucking what?  

“What the hell are you doing here?” Katsuki barks out, marching up to Izuku’s desk like he’s caught them doing something illegal.  

It’s the pink bird thing that looks at him first – it rolls it’s eyes at him and sticks out it’s tongue. Katsuki follows suit, sticking his tongue and both middle fingers before Rody finally turns around and acknowledges his presence.

His brows raise in surprise, but he looks far from intimidated. He eyes him from crown to foot, grin widening with each passing second. Katsuki swears the fucker winks at him before he’s turning his full attention back to Izuku, ass up in the air for all the world to see.

“I have a layover in Tokyo today so I thought I’d say stop by and say hi to my favorite sensei.”

Rody leans in even further until he’s practically straddling the desk and pinches Izuku’s cheeks right between thumb and forefinger in a manner that some might call teasing and others might call provocation.

“See you tonight,” Rody drawls as he lets go of Izuku’s cheek and swings himself upright. He smirks, pulling down his uniform jacket and straightening his cap.

“Good to see you again, Bakugou,” he croons, sending a lidded gaze in Katsuki’s direction that’s so fucking irritating he briefly considers sending an AP shot right through his forehead. Katsuki does not growl as he watches the bastard ever-so-slowly saunter towards the door, thinking he’s cool for not looking back.

At least that stupid fuckin’ bird gives away his petty nature – it turns around, makes sure Katsuki is looking, and shakes its stupid bird butt at him – then disappears with its annoying owner.  

Katsuki spins around and stomps up to Izuku’s desk, pretending not to notice that dopey, starry eyed look the other’s wearing.  

“…What the fuck was that?”

Finally the nerd snaps out of whatever the hell that was.

“Oh! Um. Hey Kacchan.”

Izuku pulls away from his desk, stands up, hands automatically reaching up to straighten his tie – a tie that Katsuki did not fail to notice is more askew than usual.

Katsuki grinds his teeth hard enough to hear something crack.

“Sorry, I, uh, didn’t realize you’d be here already, aren’t you a little early – “ he circles his desk, straightening some papers that were definitely previously in one neat pile, now scattered all over his desk.

Katsuki watches him, burning up from the inside.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this angry – and that makes him even angrier.  

“No, Izuku, you’re not changing the subject.”

There’s something boiling deep underneath that Katsuki thought he had gotten under control; so much so that he hadn’t even thought about it, not in years, and suddenly all that ugliness is oozing out and Katsuki’s not sure how to stop it.

That dreamy look on Izuku’s face. The fucked up tie. The fact that Izuku’s bottom lip looks glossy and swollen under the fluorescent light. The fuckin’ swagger in that Rody guy’s step as he walked out of here like he owns the place.

Like he owns Deku.

How did he not put two and two together sooner?

That stupid pink bird has little cartoon hearts floating over its head, for fuck’s sake.

“…Are you fucking that bird-brain?”

Izuku’s stutters and sputters worse than he did in high school and oh, Katsuki has not wanted to wring his neck this bad in a long, long time.

“We aren’t – we haven’t – we just started dating, Kacchan, oh my god! You can’t just ask people if they’ve – “

Katsuki slaps his hands on Izuku’s desk, trapping the other against the blackboard so he stops circling the thing like some caged animal and looks him in the eye.

The room is fuckin’ stifling. He feels like he can’t catch his breath and his chest is starting to hurt and he knows from the way the edges of his vision blur he needs to step away from this situation and calm the fuck down or Izuku’s gonna be running his stupid ass to Recovery Girl any minute now.

But he can’t.

This one fucking bothers him.

Pink Cheeks was fine. Melissa was even better. He was willing to accept those two.

But him?

He can’t. He won’t.

“Since when are you into men?!”

Wrong thing to say, apparently, because Izuku’s skittishness disappears entirely; he huffs, straightens his back, crosses his arms and nails him right in the eye with that patented homeroom teacher disappointment.

Katsuki gets a distinct flashback of Aizawa doing the same damn thing half a lifetime ago, and, worst of all, it works. Illogical anger dampened, Katsuki can take a breath, take a step back, actually think clearly for a second. Sixteen year old problems require sixteen year old solutions. 

“Do you have a problem with me dating men?” Izuku accuses, and Katsuki swears he must have been doused with cold water because the rest of that raging fire within gets snuffed out, just like that.

“I just… we’ve known each other since we were in diapers,” Katsuki tries, feeling colder and wetter and more pathetic by the second. “You never told me…”

“Do you need me to run my sexuality by you every time I start dating someone?” Izuku snaps back.

Katsuki opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

No, he wants to say. Why would he care? Kirishima’s his best friend and if Katsuki was homophobic he thinks he would have figured it out by the fifth time he walked in on him banging someone from class 1B, so no, he doesn’t have an issue with ‘men dating men.’ Or women dating women. Or humanoids dating heteromorphs. Or any number of combinations or any and all of the above.

…Or so he thought.  

Katsuki closes his mouth and takes a step back.

He needs to get some air.

He doesn’t expect Izuku to jerk forward, hand outstretched, fingers just short of grabbing onto Katsuki as if he’s trying to stop him from leaving.

When Izuku looks back up at him, his big-ass eyes filled to the brim with fresh tears.

He freezes, heart squeezing painfully at the sight.

Damn it.

He didn’t mean to make the damned nerd cry. But he still did. He still does.

“… I didn’t know,” Izuku explains, voice warbling. 

“What you said last time we met up… It just helped me figure something out. This is… new, for me, Kacchan. Please don’t… don’t be a jerk about this.”  

Katsuki averts his gaze, staring down at that grimy classroom floor.

Five minutes ago he couldn’t even comprehend acting like a jerk about something like this.

Guess you learn something new about yourself every day.

“Sure, fine, whatever,” he mumbles at the ground. “’M get some air. Be back.”

He spins on his heel and high-tails it out of that classroom, heading for the exit as fast as he can without his Quirk.

Once outside, Katsuki exhales, leaning his head back against the school building as he takes big, gulping lungfulls of that sweet, sweet fresh air.

It takes longer than Katsuki cares for, but eventually, his breathing calms, his heart slows, and his thoughts clear. 

He can come at this objectively. 

Something that Katsuki said made Izuku realize he likes men, huh?

Katsuki doesn’t exactly remember what he said last time they met up. He remembers finding out that despite dating two beautiful women who were crazy about him, Izuku was too chickenshit to seal the deal. That he was a nerd with no game in high school and he’s still a nerd with no game now.  

…He also remembers giving Izuku shit for dating people he wasn’t sexually attracted to.

So, what?

Izuku Midoriya went home that day, gave it a good long think, and decided the person who made both his heart and dick hard was Rody fucking Soul?

Katsuki grimaces. 

It’s not like he hadn’t noticed (because of course he did, because he’s always fuckin’ noticing) that Rody had his eye on Izuku the entire time they were in Otheon. But so what? That’s just how it is with Izuku. He’s got the type of personality that draws in weirdos and losers and he’s too damn nice to tell them to go fuck themselves so the nerd’s got friends that would lay down their lives for him all over the world. 

But he's not going around bonin' all of them. 

What makes Rody Soul so special?

The bell rings overhead and Katsuki shakes himself like a wet dog and smacks his own face. Its game time. He’s here to teach. He’s a professional Hero. He is helping shape the future of this country. He is a grown ass man and he’s not freaking out about his childhood friend maybe being gay. 

He is not thinking about Rody Soul.

He is not thinking about Izuku Midoriya with Rody Soul.

…The instant he walks into that gym and sees said Izuku Midoriya, he is thinking about Izuku Midoriya with Rody Soul.

He stands next to Izuku, scowls, cocks his hip, and feigns listening to the introduction to today’s lesson, all the while letting his stupid brain run amok.  

If Izuku’s gay, that’s fine. Katsuki doesn’t care.

But he thought he knew him better than anyone.

How could he miss something so damn important?

What else does he not know about him?

More importantly, what else is he hiding from him?

Katsuki’s eyes drift over to Izuku – focused, enthusiastic, holding the whole classes attention effortlessly in his Deku-sensei mode - and notices.

Notices the way his dress pants press against his thighs when he crosses his legs. The way he uses his hands when he talks, crooked fingers moving just a bit more slowly, more stiffly than that of his ‘better’ hand. The way his muscles bulge as he removes his suit jacket, or the way his too-small dress shirt stretches over his chest, putting that middle button and everyone’s eye in the room at risk.

He’s been working out more since starting to use the suit, yeah, but he’s leaned out lately, too. More… defined. Less function, more aesthetic. It’s not Izuku’s style, but maybe he’s got new priorities now that someone is regularly seeing him naked.

Katsuki inhales sharply.

What’s so great about Rody that he has to go and change himself for the guy?

Sure, the fuckers not... bad looking. Sure, he’s gotten taller, and by the way the uniform fit him he’d clearly filled out since the last time he saw him. And whatever, maybe Izuku gets a hard-on for country bumpkins overcoming adversity and following their dreams of becoming pilots. And he’s got a stable job with a good income and wears a uniform, but so fucking what?

Katsuki’s taller and fitter. Katsuki’s also following his dreams – he’s not number 1 yet, true, but he’s well on his fuckin’ way. Katsuki’s got a stable-ish job with a decent income and he also wears a uniform. A functional one, too, not just for show.   

And he saves lives.

What does Rody do? Not kill people? Most people don’t kill people. Like Katsuki’s supposed to be impressed with that. Woohoo, so he flies an airplane, who gives a shit. Katsuki can fly with his own two hands! Faster, too. He’d like to see him maneuver a 737 the way Katsuki can maneuver his Cluster. Loser. 

“So if you want to take down an airborne opponent – “Deku sensei continues, and the appearance of a familiar black suitcase has Katsuki tuning back in.  

He watches Deku sensei unlock the case, removing a singular gauntlet – not the whole suit, to Katsuki’s disappointment – and donning it. Katsuki knows that’s not the point; this is a demonstration for the kids, not their game of Catch-a-Kacchan. But Katsuki wouldn’t mind if it was just the two of them. If they did chase each other around this gym until they were both breathless and exhausted and hurting all over – until there wasn’t room for anything else.

“Ready Kach – er. Dynamight?”

Katsuki blinks. He’s really fuckin’ distractible today. It’s starting to get on his nerves.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, then grasps the shirt of his winter suit and, in one fell swoop, shucks it off, leaving nothing but his cargo pants and boots for cover.

“Let’s get started, nerd.”

Nothing happens, so Katsuki looks back at sensei, not expecting to be met with that deer-in-the-headlights, slack-jawed, bewildered stare.

What’s Deku-sensei acting all scandalized for?! He did the same damn thing in Aizawa’s class two fuckin’ hours ago! It gives the kids an advantage. Nowhere for him to store his nitroglycerin, no long sleeves to hide where his explosions are coming from, and the lack of material makes it harder for him to build up enough of a sweat to really blow this place sky-high.

He hardly gives a shit when he hears the giggling of the seventeen year old girls behind him or the distinct click of what sounds like a phone camera; its Izuku’s horrified expression that’s starting to make him feel weirdly… naked.  

Which is a fuckin’ insult. Izuku's trained with Kirishima a billion times, went up against Lemillion completely bare, his blonde balls flying in the breeze, but Katsuki takes his shirt off and the nerd’s green around the gills?

Katsuki tsks and crosses his arms, refusing to doubt himself and his frankly fantastic body for a second longer.

Whatever. Fuck him.

Deku’s got shit taste anyway.

Fuckin’ Rody.

Katsuki launches himself into the gym scaffolding, testing his maneuverability and rate of sweat collection with a few explosions before sensei wakes the fuck up and actually uses that gauntlet to supposedly show the kids ‘how it’s done.’

Which he doesn’t show them, because the nerd is barely even trying. That artificial Black Whip doesn’t even come close.

When they were teenagers, Izuku would not stop until he had Katsuki on his back.

Now? He’s acting like he’s afraid to get near him.

It’s annoying.

Luckily, he’s got somewhere to channel that energy.

One by one, Deku-sensei’s students try to come up with techniques centered around their Quirks to catch Katsuki with the goal of getting him to touch the ground and one by one he outsmarts them and out-blasts them and sends them back to sensei with their (sometimes literal) tails between their legs.

Hell, when he was done with the one-on-one sessions, hopped up on adrenaline, Katsuki challenges the whole class to come at him at once and, making sure Deku-sensei is watching, wipes the floor with ‘em.

Better put the effort in and actually teach ‘em next time, Katsuki thinks the last of the students scamper to the locker-room.

Mojo back, Katsuki saunters up to Deku sensei sitting up against the gym wall, using his knees as a desk to write something frantically into his notebook.

“Well, sensei? How’d I do?”

Izuku glances up for less than half a second before his eyes are ping-ponging back to his lap. He slams his notebook shut and chuckles uncomfortably, eyes decidedly not roving up but attempting to affix themselves to literally anything other than Katsuki despite Katsuki very intentionally blocking off the nerd’s entire field of vision.

Sometime during that exercise, Izuku took his tie is off and undid first button of his dress-shirt. The tiny sliver of revealed skin is shiny, undershirt clinging to his torso with sweat.

Was it hot in the gym? Katsuki knows that his explosions release a lot of heat, but none of the other students had complained, and Katsuki's sweaty at baseline, so...?

“Uh… You were. Um. Amazing as always, Kacchan.”

Katsuki wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and pushes sticky hair out of his eyes, annoyance flaring once again.

Why the hell won't he look at him? 

“Amazing as Rody?” Katsuki huffs, realizing way too late that his brain and his mouth messed up their respective lines.

Well. Too late to take it back now.  

Izuku finally looks up at him wearing the most indiscernible expression Katsuki’s ever seen; his eyes are wide, lips flat, nostrils flared. His fingers curl around his notebook, not seeming to notice that he’s bending it.

“Kacchan. You can’t – that’s different.”

“Why?” he shoots back petulantly.

Izuku doesn’t answer.

Instead, he stands, back pressed flush to the wall like he can’t even risk brushing up against Katsuki or he’ll catch somethin’, then scrambles away, his only goodbye being a hurried ‘have to get back to class’ yelled like an afterthought when he’s already out the gym’s front doors.

Katsuki grabs the bag he left sitting next to Izuku, takes out his flame-proof towel and wicks himself off before putting his shirt back on.

He had felt so much better after kicking those kid’s asses, and now that tension in his gut is back full-force.

He’s annoyed.

He’s really, really fucking annoyed.

It’s all Rody Soul’s fault.

Now, Katsuki’s not the most astute when it comes to things like this, but even he can tell Izuku’s been avoiding him the last few weeks.

Not a single request to come and ‘teach’ for his class, their patrols never seem to match up anymore, and coincidentally Izuku’s ‘busy’ the last few class dinners.

But that’s fine. Katsuki can wait.

Eventually, the nerd shows up to the izakaya, eventually someone gets two drinks into him, and eventually Katsuki’s driving his drunk ass home. Again.

It’s not the first time Izuku’s been in his car since the night he invited him to his agency, but it’s definitely the first time since Katsuki found out Izuku fucks dudes. It’s the first chance they’ve had to talk since the incident, and Katsuki is astutely aware of that fact.

Now, here he is, sitting in his passenger seat, drunk off his ass, the two of them completely alone.

Izuku is staring out the window, pink-cheeked and hazy eyed, rocking back and forth to the rhythm of a song no one else is privy to, seemingly uninterested in talking.

“…Long distance is way harder with Rody than it was with Melissa,” he suddenly starts out of fucking nowhere.

Katsuki grasps on to the steering wheel like the thing’s a life ring and he’s been thrown into the deep end.

Fuck. He wasn’t prepared for this.

“…Why.”

“Because… you know. I. Want to see him. And stuff.”

Katsuki inhales sharply. 

Because Katsuki is the unluckiest motherfucker on this earth, he knows exactly what ‘and stuff’ means. Izuku doesn’t mind long distance in general, but he’s fucking the bird-brain. He wants to keep fucking the bird-brain. So much so that their current however-frequent meet ups aren’t satisfying.

He wants more than Rody can give him.

“He travels a lot for his job, and when he’s got time off, he wants to be with his siblings, so it’s not like I can ask for more…”

Katsuki hopes he doesn’t sound as breathless as he feels.

“…So you found out you have a sex drive and the long distance shit isn’t doing it for you. That right?”

“I hate you,” Izuku whines, but he’s drunk enough that his ‘teasing’ shove is a little light on the shoving and a lot more heavy on the touching, and Katsuki is way too aware of that Izuku’s overheated hand stays there, on his bicep, and does not let go.

“It’s just… it’s so good,” he says, all breathy, fingertips brushing down Katsuki’s arm like he’s trying to leave a mark before abruptly pulling away.

Katsuki nearly slams on the breaks then and there.

His heart is fucking pounding, his pulse is thudding in his ears, and the temperature of this stupid car just increased tenfold.

He fidgets with the temperature dial instead of responding, because he does not know what the hell else to do and if he doesn’t keep his hands busy he’s going to become a fire hazard to them both real fuckin’ soon.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Izuku slide down in the seat, hands grasping his own thighs, running up slowly towards his groin, pulling his slacks flush with the dense muscle underneath.  

Katsuki swallows the lump in his throat. Tries to swallow it again. And a third time.

But he’s never been so parched and no matter how hard he tries it just won’t go down.

“His hands are so big, and every time he touches me – when he grabs my thighs or my chest – it’s like this… fire lights up inside of me. And I want.”

His voice is distant, half-whispered, so fucking rife with longing that Katsuki can’t decide whether to puke up his stomach a’la Frog Girl or… or…

Or something else.

The AC’s already on the coldest setting it’s got, but he’s still burning up from the inside out, so Katsuki rolls down his window, nearly sticking his head out to taste the night air.

Something is wrong.

His clothes are sticking to him, he’s pouring sweat, his nerves are alight and, worst of all, his own pants are starting to feel really, really tight and he’s not sure he can hide that fact for much longer.

“…You know what that’s like, Kacchan?”

Izuku bites his lip, glazed eyes fixed on Katsuki, and he just can’t.

“No,” Katsuki grits out and slams on the gas.

Fuck the speed limit.

This is an emergency.

Izuku doesn’t seem to notice the increase in speed. Instead, the same hands grasping his own thighs let go, then wrap around himself as if in a hug.  

“I… really like him,” Izuku says, eyes downturned, lips pouted.

Katsuki doesn’t want to see him pouting. Doesn’t want to see the glistening skin of his neck. Doesn’t want to look at those scarred, bent fingers, and how forcefully dig into the muscles of his own arms like he needs that intensity, that pain, to stay afloat.

“But… it’s not enough.”

It isn’t, is it?

It’s just not enough.

“Then don’t date long distance,” Katsuki chokes out, veering past the few other cars on the highway. He’s glad he bought his car customized with non-flammable material – with the amount of nitroglycerin leaking out his skin he’s pretty sure his car could be classified as a missile. Not killing himself, Izuku, and the remaining drivers on the road – that’s what Katsuki has to focus on right now.

There’s no room for anything - and he means anything - else.  

Thankfully, Izuku keeps his mouth shut, and they make it the rest of the way to the nerd’s place in one piece.

Izuku doesn’t look at him as he gets up to leave, and Katsuki finds he can’t quite bring himself to look at Izuku, either.

4: Yo Shindo

Okay, so maybe he’d missed a few of these get-togethers.  

Whatever. It’s not like he’s intentionally avoiding the monthly class meet-ups. He’s just busy. He takes his job seriously. So seriously that he hasn’t had time to help teach, either – not that a certain UA teacher’s made any invitations.

This has nothing to do with what happened the last time he was here and drove a certain UA teacher home. Absolutely fucking nothing to do with the extremely shameful humid hurried hand-job Katsuki gave himself under the covers three hours into staring at his ceiling so he could finally sleep and definitely nothing to do with the delirium-induced thoughts of someone’s nerdy face and hands and mouth that flitted into his head during said hurried hand-job that made his cum all over himself in record time.  

Had to be a weird stress reaction or somethin’. He’s sure of it.

But, he’s here now. Katsuki was running a bit late, definitely not because he was nervous about showing up at all, but the second he walks in the energy of the place makes him feel right at home. Its boisterous and loud and familiar and, although he’d never say it out loud, he can still admit to himself that he missed this. Automatically his eyes seek out the lilting ridiculous laugh of one Izuku Midoriya only to see a face he does not expect ruining his view.

What the fuck.

No, really, what the fuck.

The guy’s voice is low in that fake way that makes it seem he’s talking about something real secretive but somehow still carries across the room, nasty-ass hand waving over all their food, shoulders bumping into Izuku’s every time he so much as breathes, smile plastered to his stupid face, each glance in Izuku’s direction making it even wider. He tells the story while looking exclusively at Izuku, like he’s the only person in the whole damn world, but projecting in a way that shows he knows that there’s thirty other people here and he’s going to make them pay attention to him, one way or another.

Katsuki sits down at the available seat two tables away, right between Kirishima and Kaminari, never taking his eyes off the fuckin’ parasite.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Katsuki asks, jerking his head towards Yo Shindo. The fucker is way, way too in Izuku’s space, with his stupid bleached haircut and his stupid little earing and his stupid made-for-TV voice. He’s makes himself impossible to ignore and next to Izuku’s plain face and office-ready suit and tie, he stands out even more.

“He’s been coming with Midoriya,” Kaminari informs him, not fake-vomiting with utter disgust as he should be.

“I think they teamed up or somethin’ a few weeks ago when you were busy and have been hanging out ever since.”

Katsuki sets down his glass so he doesn’t shatter it in his hand.

When Katsuki was busy, huh?

Okay. So Yo Shindo, so called Hero Grand, is here just to piss Katsuki off. 

This arrogant asshole is always trying to make himself relevant. Hell, he’s ranked five spots behind Katsuki at #20 on the Hero charts, but he still talks mad game about overtaking Katsuki every fuckin’ interview.

Why the fucker’s so fixated on Katsuki specifically on not on the other, hmm, eighteen people on the rankings above him, he’s got no fuckin’ clue.

So of course he’d cozy up to Katsuki’s – Katsuki’s -

…Friend.

Bastard. Making… Friends.

With his…Friend.

“He didn’t even go to UA,” Katsuki grumbles, shoving some karaage into his mouth and chomping on it without tasting anything meat-tenderizer style.

“Shh, shh everyone listen!” Mina quiets the room, and suddenly Katsuki can hear that fuckers voice loud and clear and in high definition.

“…And then, delirious and dizzy and thinking I’m on fuckin’ on death’s door, right? Someone lifts – yeah, one and done, bridal carry and everything, I’m a solid 90 kilo and I’m just being deadlifted by some guy a head shorter than me, color me surprised, right? And I’m thinking I’ve hit my head real hard because I swear I recognize his voice  – and I’m thinking… there’s no way… is that Midoriya? What’s he doin’ all grimy in that creepy-ass suit rescuing me from escaped convicts like I’m some damsel in distress?”

Laughter rings out throughout the izakaya.

Katsuki does not see what’s so funny.

He hasn’t heard a lot of stories from the time Izuku was doing his stupid-ass vigilante stint and he’d prefer to keep it that way. It was a dark fuckin’ time in Deku’s life, and glorifying it is the last thing they should be doing.

Besides, the fact that Deku was starved and sleepless and near the end of his rope and still rescuing bastards like Yo Shindo while Katsuki was safe within the UA walls, fighting tooth and nail to convince the adults that they need to look for him makes him sick.

“Literally – literally! And, listen, this guy absolutely floored me, right? Like I gave him my best and Muscular eviscerated me. And, listen. No joke. All it took was one fucking punch and it was over! This kid, stinking like he hadn’t showered in a month, in the middle of a mental breakdown and a year younger than me just completely emasculated me and then just disappeared into the smoke like some bad-ass comic book hero!”

“Yo, stop!” Izuku blushes, giggling at the stupid story like he’s actually flattered, hiding his ruddy face behind his beer

Yeah, Yo. Katsuki thinks. Stop.

He takes a big-ass gulp of whatever the hell is in his glass, noting that it burns something awful going down his throat.  

…Did he even order this?

“It was fucking hot,” Yo says, elbowing said blushing nerd, lowering his voice like he was pretending to be quiet, but it’s obvious the whole table – hell, the whole fucking establishment – heard.

Pinkie howls, Invisible Girl screeches, Todoroki says something no one can fucking hear but he’s sure he’s supportive, the bastard, and Katsuki…?

Well. He flags down the server.

Today he’s going to break his personal rule of only one drink per outing. For no reason in particular.

If it’s a double, well. It’s in one glass, so it still counts as one drink, right?  

Kirishima and Kaminari exchange a not-so-subtle look; Katsuki sees it, but he’s too busy downing the shot and glaring daggers at whatever is going on between Yo Shindo and Izuku to comment on it.

Katsuki feels like he’s going crazy.

Is no one else seeing this?

Izuku and Shindo are all over each other. In front of everyone. A hand on Izuku’s thigh. The lingering fingertips on Shindo’s bicep. The constant and excessive eye-contact.

They’re practically fucking in the middle of the izakaya and no one is paying attention!

Where the fuck is Uraraka? Is she seeing this shit?

Katsuki’s head roves around in search of something pink and bubbly and he finds her another table down, sat with Frog Girl and Engine-Legs, but she’s laughing and drinking and lost in her own conversation. Like she doesn’t even care about what’s happening just a few meters away from her.

Like she’s not thinking about Deku, at all.

Fuck. Katsuki wishes that was him.

Unfortunately, he’s never not thinking about Deku.

It’s becoming more and more of a problem. Particularly today. 

Particularly because he’s seeing two of him and both of them are giving that pretty-boy fuck-me eyes in front of everyone and, even worse, he hasn't seemed to have noticed that Katsuki’s even here.

Hasn’t looked up at him even once!

For a brief moment, Katsuki wishes that he smoked so he could step outside and inhale something toxic instead of poisoning himself by continuing to look at whatever the fuck is happening between those two. Alas, he’s in top physical form and taking extra good care of his heart, fuck you very much, so he does what anyone would when they need to move and they’ve had a few drinks.

He goes to piss.  

When Katsuki stumbles to the bathroom, he almost convinced he’s gone into alcohol-induced psychosis.

Because why is Yo Shindo, of all people, standing at one of the urinals, dick out, pissing in this same bathroom!?

Didn’t he just see him out there? With Izuku?

Unless there really are two of him…?

Katsuki strategically picks the urinal one over from Shindo, pretending he didn’t notice him, and also pretending that he’s not taking a little peek at his dick. Casually. Like a normal dude would with any other normal dude in a public bathroom.

And, much like any other normal dude, Katsuki doesn’t instantly take that information and use it to wonder whether sweet freckled Izuku Midoriya sucks that dick or fucks that dick.

Gross.

Is Yo hot?

Katsuki better ask Kirishima. He just has to wash his hands and walk out and Kirishima will help him figure out what in this world could attract Izuku Midoriya to someone as slimy and perfectly average in the dick department as Yo Shindo. 

“Better watch it, number twenty. ‘Zuku’s not interested in heroes.” Katsuki slurs at him instead of doing any of that.

He hears the sound of a zipper then the rush of water from a nearby sink.

“Yeah? That’s surprising. Cause he’s plenty interested in me.”

Katsuki’s jaw snaps.

Oh, that goading, self-important, disgusting little fucker.

He’s going to drown him in one of these toilets.

“He’s too good for you.” Katsuki attempts to be reasonable, putting away his own dick, zipping up his own fly.

He turns towards the mirror, making eye contact with Yo Shindo despite the fact that he very much wanted to avoid that exact thing.   

In the mirror, Yo smirks.

“Yeah? Feeling a little jealous?”

Katsuki scoffs. He must have drank too much. Why else would his face burn as hot as it does?

“Fuck you.”

Yo also puts a circle in front of his mouth with his thumb and index finger and sticks out his tongue.

“Oh, he will.”

He winks and saunters out of the bathroom, leaving Katsuki immobilized as if Todoroki’s thrown up an Ice Wall in here while he wasn’t looking.

He’s not thinking about it. Not thinking about it. Not thinking about it.

Not thinking about Izuku Midoriya’s wide eyes and plush lips and long lashes on his knees with cock in mouth –

He washes his hands. Then he washes his hands again. Then he washes his hands a third time, just to make sure he’s washed his hands

..Has he washed his hands?

Things start to blur a little after that.

He orders another beer. Maybe two. It’s a drinking party, right? Who’s counting?

(Kirishima is. He’s keeping a tally. He gives him shit about it later. Not now, because they’re friends, and Kirishima knows Katsuki is maybe, kind of, sort of, having a bit of a mental breakdown.)

If he can’t drink enough liquor to make him stop thinking, at least he can drink enough that his dick can’t get hard again even if he wanted it to.

Usually these nights drag on and on and on and Katsuki is itching to get the fuck out, but all of a sudden its two in the morning, the shop is closing down, and Katsuki’s one of the last people left. Him, Kirishima, Kaminari, Ears, Ashido, and them.  

He watches the two of them heading out the front door - Yo’s hand around Izuku’s waist, Izuku’s head resting on Yo’s shoulder.

He doesn’t remember standing up and he doesn’t remember rushing towards the two of them and he definitely doesn’t remember grabbing Izuku’s wrist and pulling the nerd towards him.

“C’mon, ‘Zuku. I’m driving you home.”

Glazed green eyes blink at him with surprise.

“Oh, hey, Kacchan. That’s alright. Yo is going to take me home.”

“Yeah, Kacchan,” the bastard adds, looking at him with a smirk so rancid he’s practically asking to be punched. “Yo is taking him home.”

“Watch your mouth,” Katsuki warns, puffing up his chest. Yo Shindo lets go of Izuku and approaches him, making himself look bigger, until they’re quite literally pec to pec.

Yo Shindo’s taller than Katsuki.

Katsuki does not like that.

Katsuki feels his keys get yanked out of his hand and a flash of red comes between him and the pretty boy.

“Alright, you two, c’mon now. Ignore him, yeah? He doesn’t usually drink this much.”

An arm wraps around his shoulder and he’s being pulled in the opposite direction. Still, he looks back, watching Izuku leave arm in arm with that dirtbag, feeling all the alcohol start to come right back up his throat.

“You’re not taking anyone home,” Kirishima lets him go and points at his face. “You. Are. Drunk.”

“Fuck you,” Katsuki agrees, pushing him, unsure why the room is moving in the opposite direction as he’s stumbling backwards.

“What’s with you, man?” Kirishima asks, softer now, brows arched with concern.

Katsuki shakes his head.

He’s just tired and dizzy and wants, more than anything, to be at home.

“Fuck if I know,” he answers, and that’s the best he’s got.

Kirishima walks him to the station and he gets on one of the last train going to his prefecture, feeling like complete and utter shit.

This isn’t him. Katsuki isn’t the kind of guy to get plastered on a work-night. Katsuki’s not the kind of guy to pick a fight with some loser who ain’t worth his time. Katsuki is twenty-eight fucking years old.

What is wrong with him?

Yo got under skin and Katsuki doesn’t understand why.

Maybe it’s because he’s the first person Izuku’s dated that Katsuki just… doesn’t like.

Ochako and Melissa were both fine. Rody? Well, he’s a lot of things, but he’s also, as much as Katsuki hates to admit it, a good guy.

But fucking Yo Shindo? Topless-ads-to-go-up-in-the-rankings-Yo-Shino? Major famous fuckboy Yo Shindo? Hero most likely to give you an STD Yo Shindo?

Izuku chose that dirtbag?

Izuku must have been living under a rock and hasn’t read any hero news in the past few years, somehow immune to the scandal after scandal their good friend Hero Grand seems to be involved with. Dating him isn’t going to look good for Deku’s hero rankings, either.

If he ever decides to take them seriously, that is.

Katsuki gets off at his stop, stumbling to the station, and lets the cool winter air sober him up.

Whatever. Yo Shindo is just a phase. Izuku’s a late bloomer, he just figured out he’s gay, he probably just needs to hook up with this fuckboy and get it out of his system.

This is temporary.

He’ll be gone before Katsuki knows it.

…He is not gone before Katsuki knows it.

In fact, Yo Shindo is around more than ever.

He’s seen more of that fucker’s face in the past few months more than he’s seen his own mothers, and there’s no other logical explanation than to assume he’s using Izuku. Somehow.

That’s why they keep patrolling together.

That’s why they keep being sighted together outside of work.

And that why, when Katsuki shows up for another demonstration for Izuku’s class, Yo Shindo is already there.

“Oh! Kacchan! I thought you couldn’t make it –“

“I rearranged my schedule; what is he doing here?”

“Yo offered to – “

“Oh, this is great! Its even better for two pro heroes so close in rank to give the demonstration. What does the class think?” Yo interrupts, turning towards the students.

The classroom erupts in cheers and, well. At this point, if he said no, Katsuki would look like a dick and Yo would look like a hero.

Katsuki is not letting Yo look like a hero.

Izuku looks between the two of them, expression unreadable, before giving the two of them a forced smile.

“Um. Sure. Okay. Lets all go to Ground Beta.”

And so they do.

“This… uh. Will be a demonstration of using your surroundings to your advantage. Kach – um. Dynamight has the advantage in the air, but Y – Grand has advantage on solid land, so watch carefully as they use the city-scape in their strategy.”

Katsuki grins.

Oh, he’s going to end this fucker.

The two of them take off running. Grand touches the ground – typical opening move – breaking the concrete into a million pieces as Katsuki jumps into the air, grabbing on to a window ledge. He blasts himself towards the building Yo is hiding in, shooting AP Shots at every window he sees the fucker run past, but can’t seem to catch him.

It takes a stupid amount of time to realize that he lured him into a corner. Katsuki looks up, wide eyed, as the building above starts falling on him – but with Cluster? He’s out of there before Yo can so much as blink.

“Can’t vibrate the air, moron!” Katsuki yells – then out of the skyscraper window, Yo launches himself at Katsuki, grabbing on to him with his grimy hands.

“Yeah, but I can vibrate you!” he responds, and suddenly Katsuki feels his entire body shaking; it makes his vision blur and, panicked, Katsuki launches an explosion towards Yo, but the angle is all wrong, and Katsuki feels his back hit the side of a building, sliding down onto the concrete rubble.

“Damn,” Yo calls, grinning wildly at him. “Can’t even catch a guy five rankings behind you. No wonder you flopped so hard after your debut.”

Katsuki pushes himself upright and bares his teeth.

“What did you just say?”

He keeps walking towards him, arms wide, abs on display, thinking he’s such hot shit.

“You heard me. You went to U.A., you’re famous, you had everything handed to you to be one of the best, and you flopped spectacularly! How does it feel to fuck up that bad?!”

Katsuki’s nostrils flare, breathing picking up. He can feel his gauntlets whickign the sweat coming off in rivets from his palms. He starts walking towards Yo, the anger he’s been trying so damn hard to keep in control growing and growing and growing.

“How does it feel to be a fuckin’ nobody?” Katsuki barks back.

They’re within touching distance when the idiot gives Katsuki a condescending look.

“Not nobody. I’m your favorites boyfriend. The person he chose.”

Katsuki’s hands both fist. His hands shake at how hard he’s clasping them.

“You’re nothing.”

“That’s not what your boy says when I fuck him so good every – “

Katsuki swings and, with a satisfying crack, lands the punch right on the pretty-boy’s no longer pretty nose.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Get out of his life.”

Yo looks back at him, spitting out the blood dripping in his mouth.

“Make me.”

What happens next can only be described as a down and dirty old fashioned brawl. They’re kicking, punching, biting, tearing. At some point, Katsuki’s pretty sure he ripped the idiot’s earring out. Payback for the fucker knocking loose one of his teeth.

There’s yelling somewhere in the background – he’s half-aware that the kids have formed a circle around them, cheering, goading them on, and Katsuki decides that now is the perfect time to show Izuku’s kids who comes out on top.

“ENOUGH.”

Katsuki lunges for Yo but a hand on his chest stops him in his tracks. It takes Katsuki a solid ten seconds for Katsuki to realize who that hand belongs to – when he looks up, he sees Izuku standing between the two of them, expression absolutely pissed.

“Both of you. Get out of here. Now.”

“Izuku – “ Katsuki starts, stepping towards him, but the scathing look Izuku shoots at him makes Katsuki want to bury himself under a pile of rubble.

“What is wrong with you?!” Izuku whispers at him furiously, crapping an arm around Yo’s midsection, helping the limping fuck-wad walk back towards the UA Building and, Katsuki assumes, Recovery Girl’s office.

He can’t help but feel a little happy that he kicked that idiot’s ass so thoroughly that he can barely walk.

Which, objectively, makes Katsuki the bad guy in this scenario. 

Damn it. 

…What is wrong with him?

He’s been feeling on edge, unwell, so fuckin’ uptight for the last few months, and he can't seem to shake it. The last time he felt like this was when he was a teenager, but he was so fuckin’ sure he grew out of it. Dealt with that volatile, shitty part of himself.

Apparently not, because here he is, starting fist-fights with pro-heroes in front of a bunch of school-kids and getting worked up about some pointless smack-talk.

He does home, licks with wounds, and doesn’t hear anything from Izuku.

He guesses it serves him right.

The next time their class meets up at the izakaya, Yo Shindo is not there.

He wants to bring it up. Wants to ask. 

Instead, Katsuki keeps his distance. He needs to give Izuku space. 

...For Izuku's sake. Definitely not for his own. 

Katsuki waits outside the izakaya while Kirishima goes to take a piss; he tries to avoid staring when Izuku exits, going so far as to pretend not to see him even when the nerd stands right next to him.

“Hey… Kacchan…”  

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Katsuki interrupts bitterly, refusing to look at him. 

“I broke up with him.”

Katsuki’s heart jumps to the base of his throat.

He turns towards Izuku; bundled up in a scarf and winter coat, he looks…

He looks like he should get his cheeks pinched. Is all.

“Took you long enough to figure out he was a shithead.”

Izuku doesn’t respond.

Katsuki doesn't apologize.

“Yo was fun,” Izuku finally answers, voice soft, almost sad. “I liked being with him.”

Katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah? Then why’d you break up with him?”

Izuku exhales slowly, breath foggy in the winter air.

“I didn’t how he was so… antagonistic. Towards you.”

Katsuki barks out an unexpected laugh.

Ain't that somethin'. 

“Yeah, no shit. Most people don’t like me. What’s your point.”

When he looks at Izuku again, the other is already staring up at him, eyes wide and glossy and mesmerizing. His ears, his cheeks, even the tip of his nose is pink. There's a nauseatng sincerity in his expression that makes Katsuki feel like he doesn't deserve to be on the other end of it.  

“It’s important for the person I date to like you, Kacchan.”

Katsuki laughs again.

Whatever is going on in Izuku’s head, the fucker’s even more deranged than Katsuki is.

“Yeah, well, good fucking luck with that.”

5: ???

“Explain to me what I’m seeing here.”

When Kirishima invited Katsuki to have dinner with him and ‘the person he’s seeing,’ Katsuki didn’t think twice about it.

Of course he was gonna meet with Kirishima’s new flame. His buddy didn’t date much and he’s definitely never introduced Katsuki to anyone he’s been with, so this person’s gotta be important to him. Katsuki would support this no matter who the fuck it was, even if it was the Devil Himself.

Katsuki almost wishes that it was the Devil Himself.

“Hey. Kacchan.”

He refuses to believe his eyes.

Okay. Katsuki’s got something wrong here. He’s gotta re-trace his steps.

Kirishima invited him out here. To have dinner with someone he’s dating. That he’s serious about.

And Izuku Midoriya is also here. 

That's probably not a coincidence. 

Katsuki slowly sits down across from the two of them, wondering whether he’s entered some kind of Quirk-spun Hell. If he’s actually mid-battle right now and this is a hallucination meant to disturb and distract him while he gets his ass beat in real life. 

He pinches himself under the table.

Nope. Still awake. Still sitting across from his best friend and his childhood friend. Saddled up next to each other in the booth. Together. 

Well. This is one goddamn of a fucked situation.

“So um… It’s still super new, but we wanted you to know before anyone else,” Izuku unhelpfully explains.

What the fuck does he mean, we?

Katsuki thinks he’s actually going to kill them both. Right here. Right now. And take the entire restaurant with them for good measure. 

Katsuki has never felt so uncomfortable in his goddamn life.

There’s been few times where he’s been at a complete loss for words, and turns out, this is one of them.

The server comes, they order drinks, and Katsuki just stares blankly ahead, looking at anything but what he’s actually seeing.

Kirishima and Izuku?

Kirishima and Izuku?

Kirishima and Izuku?

Sharing a menu? Brushing their hands together? Laughing and whispering to one another?

He watches Kirishima tuck a stray curl behind Izuku’s ear and, suddenly, Katsuki’s decided he’s had enough.

He stands ramrod straight out of his booth, steps out, and grabs Kirishima by his regrettably clip-on tie.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Katsuki doesn’t ask, ushering Kirishima to the bathroom.

Now that he’s there, he has no idea what he wants to say.

Katsuki paces in front of the sinks, running a hand through his hair. There’s a pressure building up in his chest that borders on painful, and his heart is racketing against his ribcage like crazy, and his vision is starting to go. He may actually, sincerely, need to go to the hospital. 

What the fuck. 

“What’s up, man?” Kirishima asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. Its a tender gesture, one that he’s done a million times before, but in the moment Katsuki wants to blow Kirishima’s hand off his shoulder and into the sun.

Katsuki jerks away and glares at his so-called best friend.

“…You can’t date him.”

Kirishima crosses his arms and lifts a brow in question.

“What? Why not?”

Katsuki drags a hand across his face and resumes his pacing.

This is hell. He's in hell.

“Why not?! Why not? You know why!” Katsuki snaps, glaring down at Kirishima as he crowds him with clenched fists and gritted teeth.

Kirishima just stares back up to him, utterly unimpressed.  

“No. I don’t. Why don’t ya tell me?”

Katsuki growls as he pulls back, resuming his pacing for the third time.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Katsuki sighs.

He knows.

Of course he knows.

He’s known for a while, but admitting it? Saying it out loud?

Katsuki would rather get tortured by the League of Villains again.

Katsuki’s not as stupid and emotionally stunted as his mom insists he is, okay? He’s been deciphering this particular mystery since that though of Rody Soul up in Izuku’s business made him sick to his stomach. Since the thought of having Izuku’s hands and mouth on him have made him harder than Kirishima’s Unbreakable when he had spent his life convinced he didn’t experience attraction to anyone, in general, period. Since he wanted to fucking kill Yo for putting his hands on Izuku and not just because he was annoying.

He could accept Izuku being straight. He could even accept Izuku ending up with some random guy that he’s got nothing in common with. He could nut up, shut up, and endure it.  

But he can’t with Kirishima. He just can’t.

It would kill him.

“Damn it. I like him, okay? I like him.”

Katsuki exhales, feeling like the biggest, oldest, most stale breath has finally been released from within.

“There you go. Did it feel good to finally say it out loud?”

Katsuki takes a deep breath in. Yeah. That feeling – that heaviness in his chest – is gone.

“Yeah, actually. It did.”

…Wait a fucking second.

Katsuki spins towards Kirishima, eyes narrowed.

“What the fuck, Shitty Hair? You knew?”

It’s the first time the other has looked like his goofy self since this whole nightmare started. Kirishima ducks his head, rubs the back of his neck and shrugs.

“Yeah, man. We all know.”

Katsuki gapes at him. 

Cool.

So he had to fucking suffer the past however many months, feeling physically ill and mentally unstable and convinced he was about to go into cardiac arrest at any moment, but everyone had already known the goddamn answer to this existential question that's been keeping him up at night and laughing about it behind his back?

Would be nice if someone had told him, but Katsuki’s is this universe’s punching bag, he guesses, so here they are. Telling his best friend, who is dating his childhood friend, that he likes his childhood friend.

Maybe more than likes, but even thinking that would leave this entire damned restaurant with no survivors. 

“Well,” Kirishima adds almost as an afterthought, “Everyone except Midoriya.”

“Fuckin’ peachy,” Katsuki covers his face with his hands and groans, briefly considering exploding himself. That should get him out of this, right?

"Dude. I'm doing this for you." 

Katsuki glares at him.

"...You're banging the guy I like. For me." 

"Bakugou, I'm not -" Kirishima huffs and shakes his head.

"Listen, man. I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself. It’s been almost two years since he’s started dating and you haven’t done anything about it. You've gotta - you've gotta tell him how you feel. If not for you, then for me. It's literally torture being in the same room as the two of you.”

"What are you even talking about?" Katsuki demands, approximately two seconds away from punching his dear best friend in his stupid goddamn mouth. 

Kirishima stares at him incredulously.

"Are you - are you fucking with me right now? Dude. I like Midoriya. A lot of people like Midoriya. It it’s not me, it’s gonna be someone else. Someone that he’s going to choose over you. Unless you stop whatever masochistic self-flaggelation thing you're doing right now and talk to him.”  

Katsuki is approximately one second away from punching his dear best friend in his stupid goddamn mouth. 

“You hear yourself? He's been choosing people over me. He's chosen everyone over me. What's me telling him gonna do?" 

Kirishima groans, pulling at his own hair with frankly exaggerated frustration despite Katsuki's absolutely reasonable argument.

“You never once wondered why, despite Midoriya being so popular and so well-liked by all our classmates, no one has ever confessed to him? Why no one asked him out in high school? Or college? Or in the three years between graduation and when he magically decided he should start dating?”

Katsuki blinks.

“Because… he’s a nerd?” Katsuki tries.

Kirishima groans, shaking his head in disappointment.

“You’re smarter than this, man. Figure it out.”

And, just like that, Kirishima Eijirou salutes him and climbs out the bathroom window, leaving Katsuki standing in the middle of this bathroom like he’s fucking lost his mind.

Well.

Now that he’s said it out loud, he can’t take it back, can he?

He can either be a coward and climb out that window and pretend this isn’t destroying him for another fourteen years, or he can nut up, walk out to that table and fuck up the one relationship he’s spent half his life fixing.

The answer is obvious. He washes his hands, exists the bathroom, and walks towards his dream, good and ready to have it shattered. 

+1: Katsuki Bakugou 

Katsuki makes it back to the table without backing out and running the other way, so overall, he considers this a success.

Izuku looks up at him and he considers bolting right then and there.

“Where’s Kirishima?”

“He got the shits. Had to go home,” Katsuki says with a shrug.

A little bit of payback, with all the bullshit he’s put Katsuki through today. Hopefully the next rumor-mill about Kirishima will be all about his date-diarrhea. Asshole. 

“Oh!” Izuku shifts in his seat, surprised expression forming into one of vague discomfort.

“Well, um. Maybe we should try another time, when he’s feeling better –“

Izuku makes a motion to stand up, but Katsuki fast enough to grab his wrist, pulling him back down.

“Sit. We’re already here. Might as well eat.”

Izuku sits down tentatively, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.  

 “…Or is having dinner with me too much of a fuckin’ chore for you?” Katsuki spits, doing a piss-poor job at keeping the bitterness out of his voice.  

Izuku’s eyes shimmer as he meets his, so hurt he’s not even bothering to fake his usual smile.

“What? Of course not, Kacchan. Its just.” He shakes his head.

“…This can’t be a good sign for me, right?”

Katsuki tilts his head up in question. 

“…I mean that none of my relationships work out. Maybe I’m just not… meant to have something like that.”

“…Why say that?”

“I mean, you said it yourself. It’s supposed to be easier, isn’t it?"

Izuku stirs his drink with his straw miserably.

"Being with someone is supposed to be like... like being with your best friend. It should be someone you can be yourself with. Someone that lifts you up, makes you happy, makes you laugh, who sticks by your side even through the rough parts."

He stabs at the ice with said straw and keeps talking. 

"...Someone that you’re attracted to, that you have chemistry with, but also someone you can have interesting conversations with, someone you respect. Someone that gets along with your friends and family. Someone who understands Heroes, but also has no issues with you being Quirkless. Someone that… gets it.”

Katsuki stares. 

Does the nerd hear himself right now? 

Does he not see the person sitting right in front of him? 

“…But it seems that there’s no one out there like that. Not for me.”   

Katsuki inhales and steadies his voice.

Well. Here goes everything. 

“…I’m like that."

Izuku looks up at him sharply, suddenly looking exhausted.  

“No one’s like you.”

“…I’m like me.”

They sit in the silence, staring at one another, and Katsuki sees the exact moment the first flash of understanding shoots through Izuku’s expression. His face flares red and he looks down at the menu. 

“Um. W-well. Anyway. Let’s order.”

Before Izuku can start rambling about the entrees, Katsuki’s hand darts out. With a palm that he swears isn’t too sweaty, he pushes the other’s hand back to the table.

He doesn’t let go as he meets Izuku’s eyes, slowly. Intentionally. 

“Tell me you understand what I’m saying.”

Izuku tries to pull his hand back, but Katsuki grabs on tighter. Doesn’t let him back out of this. Just looks him in the eye and waits.

“Kacchan, its – I don’t – It’s not funny to joke like that, okay?”

“You know me. Do I fuckin’ joke around?”

Katsuki sighs. They’re almost thirty and Izuku Midoriya has been in the forefront of his brain from age three onward, and he can’t keep living like this.

Izuku’s always understood him. He has to trust that he'll understand this, too.

“You know how fuckin’ frustrating it was for me, asking you to be selfish – because you’ve always, always been selfish with me, and all of a sudden you've forgotten how to be – and instead you turn around and date every other person on this goddamn planet, never once looking in my direction?”

Izuku’s eyes grow wide.

“…That was about me being your sidekick,” Izuku says uncertainly. 

“It was about being my partner,” Katsuki corrects. “About being together. It means now exactly what it meant then. I want you. I’m asking you to want me back.”

Izuku just stares at him. Wide eyed, brows furrowed, mouth askew, he looks more like he just saw Katsuki punch a baby in front of him. 

Which, as far as Katsuki knows, is not the way someone should be reacting to a confession. 

“…I. I don’t know what to say.”

Katsuki swallows.

“… Then don’t say anything.”

It washes over him, then. Just like it did in that car almost two years ago. Worse, now, because there’s no way to misconstrue what Katsuki is saying, no matter how hard Izuku tries. Its more than just a job rejection. It’s a rejection of the way he feels. Its a rejection of their dream. A rejection of them. 

And that shit fucking stings.

Still, it feels better than having to bottle everything up. He gave it a shot, got turned down, and life goes on. 

“Kacch – “ Izuku starts, tone apologetic, and Katsuki doesn’t have it in him right now to hear the placation. Its too soon. Too raw.

“I’ve said my piece. Let’s just eat.”

He picks up the menu, refusing to meet Izuku’s eyes. He doesn’t fully expect the other to go with it, but he orders, too. They don’t say a single word to each other throughout the meal. They split the check. They both get up. They both stand outside the door.

He’ll walk towards his car. Izuku will walk towards the train station. Maybe he’ll turn around, say ‘See ya,’ and this time it really will be goodbye.

This time, Katsuki won’t chase him.

He thinks he’s done chasing.

“I’ll drive you home,” Katsuki’s mouth offers before his brain interjects.

He expects the other to reject the offer instantly.

Instead, he looks up at Katsuki with a too-gentle smile, and nods.

“Thanks, Kacchan.”

Its not a long drive – definitely not long enough for Katsuki, but what can he do? He parks, unlocks the passenger dor and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Izuku does nothing to show that he’s remotely interested in getting out of car, just sits there, messing with his fucked up fingers in his lap.

“You’re home,” Katsuki urges.

Izuku looks up at him, almost panicked, and shoots him a wobbly smile.

“Do you want to come up? For tea?”

Katsuki blinks. 

“…You’re gonna give me the wrong idea here, Izuku.”

His cheeks go so pink it makes Katsuki’s heart tremble.

God. How many times has he seen that reaction to everyone other than him?  

And, because Katsuki a sucker for self-sabotage, he shrugs.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

And so they do.

He sits on Izuku’s ratty couch, glancing around at all the changes he’s made since the last time he was there. Its been a while, but outside some new chairs and a poster or two, the nerd’s remained a nerd, through and through.

His eyes fix on the All Might trading card, fixed in a frame and hanging front and center in the living room. His fingers trace the outline of the one he’s got attached to his keys in his pocket.

Katsuki is always going to be a part of Izuku’s life and vice versa. No one can take that away from him.

“Hope you’re okay with sencha,” Izuku says, carrying over a small pot and two cups.

He’d probably be okay with a cup of steaming hot shit if it meant he got to sit on Izuku’s couch for a few more minutes, but that’s not a thought he’s going to share.

The couch dips as Izuku sits, reaching over with the teapot, careful not to touch Katsuki when he pours his cup.

He slurps on it loudly, eyebrows furrowed, eyes moving as if he’s thinking real hard. Probably is. Its horrifically silent in the room, but Katsuki doesn’t mind. He’s always been good at waiting.

He sets his cup down, turns towards Katsuki with this determined, battle ready look on his face, and Katsuki has to hold himself back from smiling.

Nerd. 

“Kacchan… you… you get why this is really hard for me to believe, right? You’ve never shown interest in anyone – “

“I’ve shown interest in you,” Katsuki interrupts.

Izuku glares at him with that cute chipmunk face and Katsuki’s stupid heart goes all soft. Not fair that Rody got to pinch those stupid cheeks. He should have gotten at least one chance. Fucker.

“…You know what I mean. “ He sighs, readjusting himself on the couch so he’s facing Katsuki more head-on.

“You’re… one of the most important people in my life, Kacchan. I can’t… I can’t imagine my life without you in it. And when we started spending time together… When you would teach at my class, or when you’d give me rides, or when we’d patrol together… Its more than I could have ever dreamed of, you know? I would rather keep that than try… that… and lose you completely. I couldn’t stand it.”

“…you're half-assing it again,” Katsuki mumbles into his teacup.

“Huh?”

Katsuki sets his cup down and levels Izuku with an unimpressed look.

Well. Nothing left to lose. 

If they're being honest, then Katsuki's gonna tell him exactly what's been on his mind these past ten years. 

“Since you lost One for All, you haven’t committed to a single damn thing,” Katsuki says. “You want to teach? You’re doing hero shit on the side. You want to be a hero? Well, you can’t quit teaching, now can you? You want to fall in love? Better try every person, hoping they have enough qualities to keep you happy, so you can avoid changing things with the person you actually want.”

Katsuki points a thumb to himself and leans in, keeping his eyes locked with those intense, turbulent greens. 

“What happened to the Izuku I knew, huh? You used to want shit. You used to want shit so bad no one could stop you from running head-first towards it. Remember? I fuckin’ tried. But ever since you lost One for All, you’ve been a fuckin’ coward. You've stopped actually trying. Oh, boo-hoo. You wanted something with all your heart and you gave it everything and you still fucking lost it. Guess what that makes you? A human fucking person.”

“Kacchan – “

“I’m not done, ‘Zuku. I'm the same way. Your fuckboy was right, okay? I wanted to be number 1, gave it my all, trained and fought and wrecked myself over and over again to get to that spot. And yeah, I debuted as number 4, and you know what happened then?"

Wide eyed, Izuku shakes his head. 

"...I realized I did not give a shit anymore. That the past however-many years of my life chasing that dream didn’t mean anything. Because the dream isn’t worth it if you aren’t there with me.”

“Kacch – “ Izuku’s voice shakes, big green eyes filling up with big, crocodile tears, but Katsuki is far from done, and the nerd is going to have to listen.

"You half-assing your way through life is affecting more than just you, damn it! I've built my life around you and you're just, what, scared? I'm the one who should be scared. I'm the one who's actually trying here!" 

A flash of anger in Izuku's expression makes katsuki's pulse sing. He hopes he sobs and screams and punches him in the face. At least he'd be doing something. 

“Wake up, Izuku! Wake the fuck back up! Stop living in the dream world, wake up, and walk beside me! You love me, don’t you?! Then love me!”

Katsuki is suddenly flat on his back, head hitting the armrest, a notably nerdy weight pushing all the air out of his lungs and even more notably sencha-flavored lips tentatively brush over his.

Oh.

Katsuki is being kissed.

Fuck yeah.

As soon as he puts two and two together, he gets with the program – wraps his arms around the nerd, presses their bodies together, presses their mouths together in unashamed, sloppy, disgusting inexperience. He can’t complain – not when Izuku’s tongue sends lightning across his lip, not when he feels the other buck urgently as he rubs against him, and definitely not when he feels the nerd smile into the kiss like he just can’t help himself.

“Do you ever shut up?” Izuku asks, a question that would be much more biting if he wasn’t on top of him, hazy-eyed and pink-cheeked and hard as hell.

“Nope,” Katsuki grins, clicking his tongue as the nerd smacks him half-heartedly.

“Tell me you love me,” Katsuki says, because in that moment, he knows its true.

Its what Kirishima had been telling him.

No one confessed to Izuku - because everyone, except Izuku and Katsuki, already knew the truth.

There's no point in trying to win his heart. 

Its been Katsuki's from the beginning. 

Izuku groans, hiding his face in Katsuki’s chest, but not like he minds. He feels the words vibrating through his sternum. He feels them etch themselves on his very heart.

“…Yeah. I do love you, Kacchan. Always have.”

Katsuki kisses the top of his head, pretty sure he’s about to start doing something very, very embarrassing. Like sobbing. Or getting down on one knee. 

May be a little early for that, but Katsuki's a planner. They'll get there. 

“I love you too. Now stop half-assing your life and join my agency.”

Izuku pulls back, eyebrows raised, mouth agape in true offence.

“I'm not half-assing my life! And I’m not joining your agency! I’m opening my own!”

Katsuki grins as he pulls his nerd a little closer.

There's that spark. 

He's gonna make damn sure nothing puts it out again. 

“That’s what I like to hear.”

A few months later, standing up on that podium, watching Hero Deku, the first Quirkless Hero, snatch the #4 spot and jump ahead of him, grinning and waving and holding back tears in the spotlight, Katsuki can’t help but thank his big fat mouth.

From the way Izuku looks at his direction, hungry, wild, and full of want, he thinks his big fat mouth is going to be thanked plenty soon enough.