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“Look, there’s nothing wrong with playing hard to get sometimes,” Ashido proclaimed, jutting her flagon out for emphasis before taking another hearty swig.
Asui tipped her head to the side, a thoughtful finger at the corner of her mouth. “Don’t you think that’s a little cruel? I mean, you’re not being entirely honest.”
“I’m just hanging out with my girls!” Ashido protested, sticking her lip out in an exaggerated pout. “It gives him the chance to do something to pursue me. And then I show him I’m still into him, and then we do it all again.”
Katsuki tuned into their conversation, trying not to look like he was too interested. It wasn’t really on Kirishima’s behalf, either; the talk of romance just so happened to pique his interest a little. It was a mystery to him why he was always getting roped into what would otherwise be a girls-only event, but these get-togethers were a nice change from the way the guys always pushed his buttons.
“You’re being deceptive on purpose,” Asui said. “How is that good for establishing a relationship?”
“‘Cause he gets to show that he’s committed to all this,” she gestured down her body, “not just ‘cause it’s convenient. Did you know that asking somebody to give you something actually makes them like you more?”
Katsuki couldn't piece together how that was supposed to relate. Ashido’s argument wasn’t exactly compelling, and she was totally wasted at the moment, but it did give him pause. He’d been doing the same song and dance with Izuku for so long. Clearly, he needed to be doing something differently.
“What do you get out of it?” Katsuki asked, examining the rim of his glass like he wasn’t eager for the answer.
“What do I get? Well, when he finally catches up after the chase, I get exactly what I wanted in the first place.” She winked, then slammed her mug down onto the table. “Him!”
Katsuki found himself blinking slowly, unprepared for how her choice of words cut right through to everything he was hoping for. Fortunately, she was immediately sucked back into debating the ethics of the whole cat-and-mouse charade with Asui.
He was showing enough interest, right? Izuku was a little oblivious, but he wasn’t that dense. It felt like Katsuki was always the one making a move, pushing things along, but it never felt as good as the times when Izuku approached him instead. Hell, he didn’t even want Izuku to know when he was bending over backwards for him. All Might was well aware that he was still pissed at the old man for spilling the beans about his hand in creating the hero suit, and Izuku didn’t even know the half of it. That project didn’t count. It was never meant that way.
But the daily homemade bentos he always showed up with during Izuku’s break? The outings he frequently planned for them together, and sometimes with friends? Those were his way of showing interest.
Maybe the problem was that they spent too much time together, and Izuku was taking him for granted. It was kind of weird, if he was being honest. None of their friends spent as much time together as they did… could it be unhealthy? Maybe he needed to tone things down on his end, to upset that balance. Nothing would change if nothing changed. Katsuki had already done plenty to change their relationship, to work on himself, and he would do more if he needed to.
“Bakugou,” Asui said, “What do you think?” He had been half-following the conversation. Rotating his wrist until there was a whirlpool in his booze, he took a sip.
“Sometimes you gotta shake things up.”
When he woke Sunday morning, he was hangover-free and ready to commit to a new regimen in his life. Sunday became a day of research, from articles penned by psychologists to advice columns and everything in between. Maybe it was just bias getting to him, but he took special interest in the success stories, people who had been married for decades after posing a little bit of a challenge or acting hot and cold to reel their partners in more firmly.
If he was going to do this right, he needed a plan. It would be hard for him, since he really liked spending time with Izuku, but this was a necessary evil. Katsuki knew he’d need to hold himself accountable, and the best way to do that was to promise someone else that he’d be there. Best he could tell, a week ought to be enough to make Izuku miss him and take some more initiative. If he was interested, that is.
By the time Katsuki was done, he was booked up until Saturday for every lunch and evening, aside from Wednesday night. That night would be a good time to reflect by himself and assess if Izuku was receptive or even already putting in more effort. Now that everything was in place, Operation: Play Hard to Get was officially in motion. He pulled his phone out to send the message that would kick things off.
I can’t bring lunch this week, make sure you don’t eat crap.
Izuku’s reply came maybe ten minutes later as he was settling into bed, mentally taking stock of how he could repurpose the groceries he’d bought so they didn't go to waste while he was eating out all week. He took a deep breath and did what he had to do.
Swiping the notification away, he set his alarm and went to bed.
In the morning, there was another message from Izuku. He read it to make sure it was nothing urgent, fear spiking momentarily at the idea of not knowing what was going on with Izuku at all. What if something happened?
Is everything okay?
“Just peachy,” he huffed to himself, once again swiping the notification away with a twitch in his eye. It was okay, Izuku was fine, and no one was dying.
Monday meant that it was time to work, and on his way to the agency, the challenge intensified. His music was overridden by Izuku’s ringtone. It wasn't like he couldn’t pick up his call in the car, but he wasn’t supposed to. It’d been less than twelve hours since he last texted the guy; he needed to hold out. Sending it straight to voicemail wasn’t an option, because then he’d know for sure that Katsuki was ignoring him and wasn’t just busy, so he waited until the classic All Might anime opening faded away…
And started right back up again after a minute. Izuku was calling him back to back? Anxiety kneaded at his chest, pressure intensifying. There was no way that nerd had managed to get himself into serious trouble, right? The odds were slim, but they weren't zero.
He pulled over. Listened to the first voicemail. More inquiries about whether he was okay, a question of why he couldn’t make it to lunch, and if Izuku could come to him…
That was promising. That was different. A shiver went through him. It felt like the plan was working already. Now he just needed to stick with it. Soon, Izuku would be taking his turn tracking Katsuki down on his lunch break. Satisfied that all was well, he shifted into drive.
Work was a piece of cake for him. Nothing brought him into close contact with civilians or the press, so there was no one to shove a camera in his face and piss him off. More pings on his phone from Izuku came through periodically throughout his shift. He skimmed them just to make sure nothing was wrong, but he couldn’t read them all, or an odd guilt would start to gnaw at him. He usually responded to texts as he noticed them, and there was something weird about waiting on purpose. It felt wrong, but he was under no obligation to text back right away.
Katsuki didn't actually have lunch plans that day, but as soon as his shift ended, he met up with Kirishima for dinner. They talked shop, shot the breeze, and then Kirishima’s phone rang. The screen lit up, the name ‘Midoriya’ easily recognizable to Katsuki, even upside-down and across the table.
“Oh, it’s Midoriya.” Duh. “I should get this, he doesn’t call that often. Hey, what’s up, Midoriya? Uh-huh. Yeah, he’s with me right now, actually. Uh, yeah, he’s okay—ah. Is that it? Okay. Are you—” he pulled the phone from his ear and checked the screen. “Oh, he hung up.”
Katsuki was practically vibrating in his seat. Why the fuck hadn’t Kirishima put him on speaker?
Katsuki waited a beat for Kirishima to stop staring at his phone in confusion, leg bouncing impatiently. “What did he say?”
Kirishima shook his head, placing his phone back down on the table. “Just asked if I’d seen you today, if you were okay. He sounded worried—said he’s been calling and texting you all day, man. You didn’t see anything?”
Shit. He hadn’t been expecting to be put on the spot at all. He hadn't even thought up a convincing lie to tell Izuku, beyond an ‘I was busy’ at the end of this week.
“Uh… um…” he stammered, scrambling to come up with something plausible. Fuck, he never lied, not so blatantly.
"I'm not glued to my phone. What? Is that suddenly a crime? Must've left it on silent."
“Right,” Kirishima said, one brow lifting skeptically up toward his hairline. “Well, you should probably text him at least. He’d probably feel better if he heard back from you.”
“You just told him I’m fine,” Katsuki groused. “It’s fine.”
That night, he tossed and turned until nearly midnight. Guilt gnawed at him, insisting that the whole situation was all wrong. He hadn't expected that he'd need to lie to anyone; hell, that was why he'd booked up all his free time, so 'I'm busy' would be the truth! But he had to stay strong. He’d been diligent, done his research, and it was way too soon to give up now. Playing hard to get was only tough because he wasn’t used to it, but like any routine or exercise, he would improve if he stayed focused, remained disciplined, and practiced the proper form over and over. He could get better at this too.
Even if it sucked the entire time.
Come Tuesday, he continued to valiantly ignore his phone, though the number of unread messages had quickly reached the double digits. At Izuku’s current rate, it was possible that number would triple within the next two days. Katsuki consulted the timeline he’d put together, noting that he was permitted to appease Izuku with a single text this evening. He had plans to grab lunch with Hakamada-san. It was unlikely that he would need to field any intrusive phone calls from Izuku.
Patrol was uneventful, and when he arrived at the restaurant Hakamada was already waiting at a table for him. As always, he enveloped Katsuki in a tight hug, while Katsuki complained and told him the fabric of his shirt was scratching his face, secretly basking in the affection as he returned it.
“You’ve been in better spirits,” Hakamada said, settling in at the table, “your approval ratings are up.”
“Like I give a da—like I care,” Katsuki replied. He tried to be on his best behavior with Hakamada to show the older man that his mentoring hadn’t totally been ignored. Truth be told, he had gotten a great deal out of his time at the Genius Office, even if it hadn’t always been what he wanted to hear.
“Approval ratings don’t mean anything,” Katsuki continued, “these people change their minds more than you change clothes before a date with Kamihara-senpai.” Hakamada valiantly attempted to stifle a chuckle, but Katsuki didn't bother to try and hide the smug grin that spread across his own face.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the reason you’re smiling more,” Hakamada said. “A certain green-haired hero has been playing chase with you again?”
Katsuki sighed—not dreamily—a soft smile replacing his cocky smirk. “It’s good to have him back.”
“I’m surprised you were free for lunch. I’ve been trying to take you out and catch up for weeks now,” Hakamada said, feigning interest in the menu but clearly watching for his answer more closely. Katsuki knew damn well the nosy bastard had the thing memorized and was much more hungry for gossip. “We haven’t gotten together since the day Shinya returned from the States, and, well, I admit I was worried about you.”
That… had been a pretty miserable day. Not as bad as it could have been, since he had been happy that Kamihara-senpai was back, but he hadn’t completely been able to shake the dejected feeling still lingering from the night before.
“Things are better,” Katsuki said, because they were. Anything was better than Izuku being sidelined. “Izuku’s just on his own for lunch today. I’m… trying something different with him.”
Looking down from where he towered over Katsuki, Hakamada quirked an eyebrow, sipping his water and dissecting Katsuki with a knowing look. Katsuki tried not to squirm.
“Different how?” Hakamada pried, taking another nonchalant sip. Katsuki knew better than to lie to his mentor. He simply knew him too well and knew too much of his business.
“Playing hard to get.”
The sound of coughing and sputtering drew the attention of some nearby patrons as Hakamada choked on his water and started hacking up his one remaining lung. He reached for a napkin to cover his mouth.
“Well,” he finally replied, clearing his throat. “That’s… that's not what I’d expect from you.”
Katsuki crossed his arms. “Am I not allowed to shake things up?”
“You have told him how you feel, haven’t you?” Hakamada asked, his voice gone exceedingly gentle.
Katsuki tried not to bristle.
“No,” he admitted, meeting his mentor’s gaze. “And I know what you’re gonna say, but you don’t know him like I do. He probably hasn’t even considered if he’s interested in me or not. Never takes himself into account, ever. No matter how obvious I’m being. If I just up and confess… I don't want him to be influenced by my feelings. I want to know that he got there on his own, that it's real.”
“I won’t argue that you don’t know him well, but I think you can give him more credit than that. Besides, he spends a lot of time with you,” Hakamada said. “More than he does with his other friends. Why don’t you think that means anything?”
“Because we’ve known each other the longest, and it’s always me making plans,” Katsuki groused, putting an elbow on the table and resting his cheek on his fist.
“Maybe he’d make more of an effort to plan if he knew you felt that way. It’s also possible that he thinks you like to be in control of your outings,” Hakamada suggested, as if Katsuki hadn't already considered that, which of course he had. “Why not just be direct with him?”
“I hate meeting up with you,” Katsuki muttered. Always the voice of reason. “I’m not trying to change everything, or ruin our friendship and make things weird. I just wanna… test the waters. See how much he’s willing to do. Or if he just doesn’t care.”
“Katsuki.” His voice was stern now. “In the very fabric of his being, there isn’t a single thread that doesn't hold affection for you.”
“Alright, where’s the frea—the waiter,” he stuttered, trying to calm his rising blush. “I’m starving.”
Hakamada excused himself to use the restroom after they ordered, and Katsuki let his eyes wander around the restaurant. The patio was open, full on a nice day like today, and as his gaze drifted a flash of green caught his attention.
No way.
He froze, wondering if he was seeing things, but even after he blinked, the image remained clear. Izuku was seated outside, in the middle of eating his own lunch.
It was a weird coincidence, but he had taken Izuku here pretty often. This was his usual spot on Izuku’s days off, when he wasn’t bringing him lunch in the middle of school. Izuku turned and looked directly at him, green eyes going wide as they met Katsuki’s. Immediately, Izuku placed several bills on his table and took off.
Okay, that was weirder, but before Katsuki could think about it, Hakamada returned to their table. Katsuki decided to keep Izuku’s appearance to himself, not wanting his mentor to suggest he go chase Izuku down and confess his feelings or something sappy like that.
That evening, by the time Katsuki finally sent his one permitted text to Izuku, the number of messages he’d ignored had reached well into the dozens. Izuku suggested they meet up that night, but thankfully, Katsuki already had plans.
I can’t. Have tickets to the ballet with Neito tonight.
Immediately, his phone was dinging with an influx of messages. He silenced them, then picked out a slightly more formal outfit to attend the performance.
By Wednesday, Katsuki realized that he may have been going through nerd withdrawals, which only lent credence to his theory that perhaps he had been spending an unhealthy amount of time with Izuku. He missed him. Missed him in a way he hadn’t since he was six years old, and no one else wanted to go see All Might 2: Lost in New York with him. It burned him up, knowing that despite how he was ignoring Izuku, he never would have turned down the opportunity. Instead, all the other boys wanted to go watch some new hero in her first movie. He didn’t understand the appeal then, and he still didn’t now.
Katsuki kept reaching for his phone to text Izuku a picture, to complain about something, to ask him what he wanted for lunch tomorrow, if he could bring cake from the bakery by his place because Katsuki was craving it. It was just a habit.
But he wasn’t making lunch for him tomorrow, and there would be no strawberry cake this week.
He was so frustrated when he got home that he decided to immediately go out again, leaving his phone behind to rid himself of the temptation. The bar would be the perfect place to drown his sorrows. Katsuki wasn’t much of a drinker—Ashido was always calling him a lightweight—so by his estimate, he’d be calling a cab before seven and then heading home to cook dinner and binge a shoujo romance for the remainder of the night.
All the salarymen were in the bar after five as well, and he made casual conversation with a few corporate normies who didn’t seem to realize he was a pro hero, let alone the guy who saved the nation a little less than a decade ago. He was about ready to call it a night when the suit of a salaryman attached to a familiar mop of green hair sidled up next to him.
“Hi, Kacchan!” he said brightly. How was everything about Izuku so bright? His eyes, his smile, his voice; all of it so bright that it made Katsuki's head ache (or maybe that was the alcohol?). It wasn't fair. Here he was, miserable and alone in a bar with a bunch of people who didn’t know him, pining after his stupid ass but sticking to the plan, and he had the gall to just waltz in and remind Katsuki that his sulking over the Izuku-strike was entirely self-imposed, and could easily end whenever he wanted it to.
“Ugh, go home, Izuku,” he slurred, pushing on his shoulder. “You’re not s’posed to be here.”
Izuku frowned, grabbing his arm to steady him. “I know, I’ve just been worried about you.”
“How the hell did you find me?” he asked, glancing around at their surroundings. One of the guys he’d been talking to had slipped away, while the others stared uncomfortably at the pair.
“Um, well, someone posted a photo of you in the Dynamight subchannel on HeroChasers, and I recognized where you were—”
“So you thought you could just show up and—and what?” He’d gone a few days without seeing the guy in the hope that he'd start pining over him, but at this rate, he was probably just stalking him out of concern that Katsuki needed an intervention. This wasn’t part of the plan. He felt like he’d been caught—Izuku wasn't supposed to see him like this.
“Why are you drinking alone?” Izuku asked, questions following rapid-fire, “Or are you with someone? Who is it?”
“We—we need space, Izuku,” Katsuki said, trying to tug his arm out of Izuku’s grip. Damn it, this was so bad. He had to get out of here, to retreat, even when everything in him wanted to just give in and give up on the whole plan. How fucked up was it that he didn’t even really care that Izuku had followed him here uninvited?
“This is crazy,” he said instead, hoping he sounded convincing, despite how his words came out somewhat slurred. “Just go home.”
“What? Why—”
“Is this guy bothering you?” a deep, assertive voice addressed Katsuki, coming up between them. It was one of the bouncers, a bulky woman with a dark gaze that landed pointedly on the hand Izuku still had around Katsuki’s arm. The man who’d disappeared earlier was watching from several paces away. He must have gone to get her.
“Please call me a cab,” Katsuki told her, finally tugging his arm out of Izuku’s relaxed grip. He was wasted, he didn’t have a phone, and there was no way he’d take public transit now. Apparently, he was more recognizable than he thought, given how Izuku found him. He didn’t look back as he headed to the bouncer’s podium, her steps following after him and blocking Izuku’s lingering gaze.
Twenty minutes later, he was back home and at a loss for what to do. It was still too early to sleep, which had become his preferred method of passing the time now that he was trying to keep his distance from Izuku. He didn’t miss him when he was unconscious. At least, not yet.
He fumbled his way into his sleepwear, his muddled brain trying to come up with an idea of how to pass the time alone, which just made him think about why he had to pass the time alone, which made something uncomfortable squeeze his chest… and then a knock sounded at the door. A quick glance through the peephole showed him it was exactly who he was absolutely not just thinking about.
He took a deep breath, ready to assure Izuku that he was fine, that he’d clearly made it home, and also that he needed some alone time. Opening the door, the words turned to ash on his tongue as he got a better look at Izuku.
He was a wreck.
His face was red and blotchy as tears spilled down his cheeks. His hands were fisted in the front of his suit jacket, wrinkling it horribly. Katsuki's heart stuttered in his chest, aching with the sudden need to do something, anything to bring back Izuku's stupid, too-bright smile.
“H–hi, Kacchan,” he began, fidgeting nervously.
“Hey, Izuku.” Katsuki spoke it almost as a question, feeling numb and at a loss as he watched Izuku smooth down the front of his jacket with shaking hands, grimacing as he tried to pull his cheeks up into a grin.
“I don’t need to come in, I–I just need to apologize for earlier. I'm sorry, Kacchan. I'm sorry for behaving that way. I don't know why I'm like this.” Steadily, his voice grew louder, tears spilling faster. “I don't know why I feel like you're mine. It scares me, so I know it scares you too.”
His desperation only became clearer as he went on, “But what scared me even more was the feeling that you… that you might be pushing me away again.”
For a moment, he could have sworn his heart was giving out again. He went lightheaded, suddenly feeling cold all over as he used his grip on the doorknob to keep himself steady. Was that… was that what Izuku was thinking? That he was pushing him away? This entire time—what had he been doing to him—how had this all gone so wrong?
“No… no.” He took his hand off the doorknob, which proved to be a mistake as he lurched, unsteady on his feet. He was so much more wasted than he planned to be. His eyes stung, tears rising to match the ones still bubbling out of Izuku’s clear green eyes. “That’s not what I was doing. I’m not like that anymore.”
Izuku moved forward to catch Katsuki’s arm as he stumbled, breath coming quicker and tears crashing over. He wasn’t one to panic, but at that moment, he was overwhelmed by fear, his heart racing, head going dizzy. What was he supposed to say, now? He couldn’t lie to Izuku, not when he’d been feeling that way. A way that Katsuki had promised himself to never let Izuku feel again: like he was disposable, useless. No, he had to come clean. So what if it was embarrassing as hell? It was what he deserved for playing with Izuku’s feelings like that, even though it was never his intention. It was all he could manage just to eke out a whisper.
“I was just–just playing hard to get.”
“What?” Izuku’s expression was unreadable aside from the obvious confusion, bringing another hand up to Katsuki’s other elbow as he swayed on his feet.
“I’m not scared that you feel like I'm yours,” he confessed, grabbing hold of the front of Izuku’s jacket as he pitched forward, refusing to meet his eyes while all the messy truths spilled out of him, tears dripping onto Izuku's white shirt. Izuku needed to understand that he had it all wrong, that Katsuki wasn’t pushing him away because he was too close. He was pushing him away because he wanted to be closer. “It's the opposite! All I want is for you to actually be interested in me.”
Oh, fuck. That–that wasn’t what he had meant to say. That was too honest. How was he going to explain that!? Panicking, he raised his gaze to Izuku’s face just in time to see him mouthing the word.
“Inter… rested…?”
“Fuck,” Katsuki whispered, reeling backwards as he hastily released Izuku’s coat. It was clear he had no idea what Katsuki meant, but he’d figure it out in a second, and then he’d be screwed. “I fucked this all up.”
“No…” Izuku trailed after him into the apartment as Katsuki staggered away, stumbling towards the sofa and leaning over to brace his shaking hands against the back, trying to get his erratic breaths under control. For fuck’s sake, this could not have gone worse. When the nerd put two and two together, he was going to be pissed that Katsuki was playing stupid games with their hard-won friendship. “Kacchan, no.”
“I knew this was a bad idea,” he muttered. Fuck, why did he have to go and try and stir the pot? ‘No.’ Izuku said no. He knew, and he was rejecting him. “Damn it. Damn it!”
The front door clicked shut as Izuku followed him in.
“I–I meant–I meant no…” Izuku stuttered. Katsuki turned around to face him, bracing his hands on the back of the furniture.
“I heard you the first time!” Why did everything with Izuku always have to be so damn humiliating? Before he could get his bearings, Izuku closed the distance, hands coming up to grasp his biceps. He stood, still unsteady but wanting to meet Izuku head-on. Whatever it was Izuku was trying to say, he’d face it like a man.
“I meant. No.” Izuku stuttered again, then squeezed his eyes shut. The grip he had on Katsuki’s arms went painfully tight for a moment, relaxing again as Izuku met his gaze with a look of fierce determination. “I’m interested. Kacchan, I’m interested.”
His legs turned to jelly.
“Woah!” Izuku hauled him up, holding him tight and pushing him, so he was sitting on the back of the sofa. Katsuki wound his arms around Izuku’s shoulders, steadying himself and pulling the other man into a hug. “Okay, maybe now’s not a good time.”
“Izuku, are you serious?” he asked, hiding his face in the crook of Izuku’s neck. It was short-lived, as Izuku pulled away to meet his eyes again. He scanned Katsuki’s face, brushing a thumb over where his tears had trailed earlier.
“I don’t want things to start like this,” Izuku said, cupping his face gently. “I’ll help you to bed.”
“Sure,” Katsuki agreed, still feeling like his heart was trying to pound its way free of his rib cage. What the fuck was happening?
“But tomorrow, I’m going to pick you up. F–for a date. Okay?”
Oh. He was serious. He was serious?
“Yeah…” Katsuki trailed off, finding himself breathless. “That’s okay.”
“And when I bring you home, I’m going to kiss you goodnight.” Katsuki’s cheeks went bright enough to match his eyes, so he covered his face with both hands and nodded instead. Izuku looped an arm around his waist and guided him to his bedroom, pulling back the covers for him so he could clamber in. When he was settled against the pillow, Izuku brushed a careful hand over his forehead, pushing his hair back and staring at the skin he revealed with something like reverence.
“Is it okay if I…” Katsuki nodded, fixing his eyes on Izuku and watching the entire time as he leaned in and pressed his dry lips carefully to Katsuki’s forehead. They were a little chapped, and he made a mental note to bring his chapstick along on their date and force it on Izuku. What was an indirect kiss between… whatever they were now, after all? With that, Izuku showed himself out.
It was so early, but he’d best sleep it off and start fresh tomorrow. He sent Izuku a text telling him to send a message when he got home. In the meantime, he cancelled his plans for tomorrow, clearing his schedule for whatever it was Izuku would plan. Izuku was going to plan for once. The thought alone had him so giddy that he kicked his feet under the covers and giggled maniacally. The last time he’d felt this untethered, he had declared he was ‘Kacchan’ for the whole world to hear. Yeah, he was definitely less sober than he thought.
Before long his phone pinged, and Izuku told him to sleep well. Except that was a fucking problem, because he was too excited and it was too early, even for him. He thought about tomorrow, and eventually he spilled himself over the edge of his bed and wobbled his way across his room to destroy his closet putting together different outfits. Laying out options from 'casual' to 'stupidly fancy,' he wanted to have his bases covered.
The thought crossed his mind that he should wear something that Izuku would like, but he didn’t have a fucking clue what the nerd found attractive on him. He’d have to start paying closer attention. Was he a boobs or butt guy? That would inform a few choices… best to highlight both, then. It would give him a clue for future dates.
Less than an hour later, he was feeling more prepared for the following day and finally crawled back into bed. He needed his beauty sleep if he wanted to look good for their date. The thought of finally having their first date and the nerves that came with it kept him up until it was closer to his usual bedtime, and then sleep finally took him until morning.
He was making himself breakfast before his shift when a knock sounded at the door. Still waking up, he yawned and ambled toward it, wearing a loose pair of sweatpants and an oversized black t-shirt that he preferred to sleep in. So much so that the collar was stretched and wrinkled, the fabric beyond abused, and something his mother would have thrown out if she saw he still insisted on wearing it.
Expecting a package, or maybe an elderly neighbor asking to borrow some ingredients, he was instead met with the sight of Izuku, bright-eyed and grinning at him. Something about his appearance was different enough that Katsuki was momentarily stunned, and it wasn’t just the bouquet of flowers he was holding.
“Good morning, Kacchan.” His voice was hushed and affectionate, better suited for waking up in bed beside each other rather than a greeting at the front door. It was enough to spur him into action, pulling Izuku into the genkan and shutting the door behind him. This close, he could see that Izuku’s suit and tie were pristinely ironed, and his curls looked soft and glossy, like he’d gotten someone who actually knew what they were doing with textured hair to style it.
“I can’t stay,” Izuku said. “I have to get to class. But I wanted to see you again before tonight and bring you these.” He offered the flowers to Katsuki, who took them into his hands with the same care one might use with a loaded gun. When nothing further was said, Katsuki came to the realization that he hadn’t said a damn thing so far, too stunned by gesture after gesture of affection from Izuku. Had it really been this easy?
“Good morning,” he finally managed. He was almost breathless, tears welling in his eyes as the sweet smell of the orange roses became apparent, assuring him that this was no dream. “They’re beautiful.”
And they were. It was a simple, traditional arrangement of baby’s breath and a dozen roses, but Katsuki appreciated the classics. Come to think of it, it was no wonder that he enjoyed timeless standards when it came to romance. Had he really never stopped to think about his own preferences for romance and dating before? And yet, Izuku had managed to find exactly the right answer.
“I’m so glad you like them!” He looked relieved, as if he had actually doubted that the gesture would be appreciated. “Here, these are the details about our dinner reservation for tonight. Dress formally, maybe that burgundy waistcoat you have? It really emphasizes your—erm.”
He coughed dramatically, like he was choking, but continued rambling before Katsuki could get a word in, “I’ll be here at six. I was thinking you’d like to drive us there, but if you’re not up for it, I’ll call us a ride.”
“That’s fine,” he said, taking the card from Izuku with a feeling of awe even before seeing the name of the restaurant. Izuku was well aware that he preferred to drive them places, but it was nice to be offered an alternative. Having all this thoughtfulness directed his way was making him feel a little more sentimental than he’d anticipated. After finding the time of the reservation and the address, his eyebrows attempted to ascend off his forehead entirely when he finally noted the name of the restaurant.
“Matsukawa?” he whispered, looking up just in time to see Izuku’s easy grin tilt a little at the edges into something a bit more smug and self-satisfied. “How did you even get a same-day reservation? They’re invitation only. No, never mind. I don’t want to know. Izuku, this place is way too expensive, I can’t ask you to—”
“You didn’t ask me to,” he corrected, somewhat sternly. No mistaking it, that was his sensei voice. “I wanted to. Just think of it as a perk of saving the world. If I’m being honest, treating you to a night out is something that’s been long overdue.”
“That's the problem. When you say it like that, it feels like you’re trying to make something up to me,” Katsuki replied, carefully reading Izuku’s expression. He didn’t falter, merely reaching for the handle to let himself out.
“The truth is, I’ve thought about what you’d like on a date for a really, really long time,” Izuku said, pulling the door open. “So I’m happy about this too.”
And for some reason, that had never occurred to Katsuki. The idea that his own happiness would also be Izuku’s happiness. He’d thought it would be selfish to ask for what he wanted, so he’d tried to play tricks to get it instead. Yet here Izuku was, willingly offering both his time and attention. Treating the admission that he wanted to please Katsuki like a shameful confession of something he’d desperately been hiding.
“I’ll bring you lunch,” he blurted, stepping into the doorframe.
“Yeah?” Izuku perked up like an excitable puppy.
“Don’t be late to class,” he warned, closing the door and then leaning his back against it. He felt a vibration run through it, like Izuku was mirroring him on the other side, then promptly buried his face into the flowers to contain the high-pitched squeal that was slowly building in his chest and threatening to ruin his tough-guy image. When he heard Izuku’s footsteps retreat, he shakily exhaled.
With the flowers at home in a vase, he went back to food prep, making lunch for two like he’d long grown accustomed to.
The restaurant was in Akasaka, making it a little less than a two-hour trip from UA. Katsuki’s place was only about thirty minutes away, since he’d found an apartment in the city rather than commuting to his agency in Roppongi from Mustafu. Izuku would have a few hours after school to make himself presentable, which was also more than enough time to get himself into trouble.
It was nothing short of a miracle that he actually found Izuku on his doorstep ten minutes earlier than he’d promised, not a hair out of place. Unlike earlier, he was fidgeting nervously, hesitant in the doorway.
“Hi. Are you ready?” he asked, swallowing heavily as his stare lingered over Katsuki’s chest and trailed down to his waist.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” Katsuki answered, a dangerous smile on his lips as he canted one hip to the side and moved to rest a hand on it. Izuku’s eyes tracked the movement. “I wore the burgundy.”
“It looks great. You look great. Um. I have the directions on my phone.”
“I know where it is.”
They caught up on each other's week on the ride there, Katsuki bravely taking a hand off the wheel for once and resting it on the center console. His heart felt like it was trying to escape his chest after Izuku hesitantly took it, and Katsuki squeezed back fiercely: a warning not to withdraw it. The entire evening wasn’t much different from any other night they’d dined out together, but Katsuki noticed the most difference in the transitions.
The first surprise had come when Izuku made a mad dash around the car in order to take his hand and help him out. He’d kept Katsuki’s palm in his all the way to the restaurant, only dropping it to open the door for him. After they were shown to their table, Izuku helped him out of his jacket, even pushing his chair in for him. Each little act kept managing to catch Katsuki off guard, so it wasn't until after Izuku was seated across from him, grinning brightly, that Katsuki finally managed a small, "Thank you."
The meal itself was excellent. Kaiseki was something he appreciated the principles of, and knew he’d enjoy immensely, but he’d never had any desire to go by himself. Food—particularly a special meal like this—was an experience he liked to share. Eating meals with others was important, and had grown increasingly so for him in high school. When he’d been benched and unable to exert himself after the war, one of the things he found himself gravitating toward was getting dinner on the table for everyone, and who he could conscript to help him in the kitchen that evening. It let him be close to others without the pressure of conversation, just showing his care through cuisine.
It was already understood that this was Izuku’s treat, so he didn’t fight him for the check or offer to split it. The owner had personally come to tell them the meal was free, but Izuku insisted on paying, saying that they could cover it next time—he was here on a first date and wanted to do things properly.
A first date. The words rang in his head as Izuku bowed profusely and offered his card insistently. When the bill was settled, they left with another reservation for two weeks out and a promise that next time the staff would be feeding the heroes that saved the nation for free. Katsuki hoped that it would at least be their third date by then.
“I think that was the best soup I’ve ever had in my entire life,” Izuku gushed, once again taking Katsuki’s hand in his after ushering him through the door. Was Izuku actually kind of a gentleman? He’d expected a lot more fumbling and apologies as he took the initiative this evening, but if the art of courting was a performance, this felt like something he’d already rehearsed until he knew it by heart. What was it he said yesterday?
I’ve thought about what you’d like on a date for a really, really long time.
Katsuki wondered if that was somehow an understatement.
“Soup is stupid,” he groused. Okay, maybe soup was a culinary weakness of his, but this was just motivation to make a soup for Izuku that would make him forget all about tonight’s suimono. It was just soup, how hard could it be?
“I bet Kacchan’s favorite was dessert.” He flushed, a little embarrassed that after experiencing a masterpiece of sensation through his taste buds for several hours over a dozen courses, the sweets were his favorite part.
“You don’t know me,” Katsuki huffed, as clear an admission as any. Izuku smiled fondly at him in return, clearly pleased with his deduction, and they continued their trip back to his apartment. It was somewhere between clicking his seatbelt and turning onto his street that he slipped into a kind of anticipatory solemnity. They listened to the quiet J-Pop playing over his radio in silence until the engine was off, and then Izuku walked him to his door with an air of heaviness.
“I… don't really want this night to end,” Izuku confessed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he averted his gaze.
“Don’t be dramatic, I’m going to see you for lunch tomorrow.” Despite his words, Katsuki couldn't agree more. Everything had gone so perfectly; it felt like a shame for it to be over, for them to have to part ways and break the spell that they’d woven together in the course of a single night. He was the happiest he’d been in a long time. Izuku had been so attentive to him, devoted even. Would he be able to recapture this same feeling another night, after another date, or was this something special that he’d only ever experience right now?
“Right,” Izuku agreed, though Katsuki could tell he didn’t believe it any more than he did. “It’s just… I want this feeling to last forever. I know that's silly—that I have to leave—but I can’t help wanting to hold onto this as long as I can.”
“I had a good time,” Katsuki told him, offering a bit of honesty in turn. Neither of them knew what tomorrow might bring, so he privately resolved to live in the moment. To appreciate all the sweetness of their time together, and put aside the sorrow that would inevitably come from parting ways.
“I guess this is where I say good night.” Izuku spoke like he was referring to some sort of script. Knowing him, it was entirely possible.
“Good night, Izuku.”
“Good night, Kacchan. Uh… can I still—?”
In lieu of answering, Katsuki stepped forward and pressed his lips to Izuku’s, eyes fluttering shut the moment he felt the gasp of Izuku’s breath. Izuku shuddered against him and then brought a hand up to his cheek, tilting his face just a little to seal the press of their mouths that much more perfectly, thumb brushing over the line of scarring across his cheek so delicately that it was hardly more pressure than the wind from a butterfly’s wings.
This was more than he ever thought a kiss could be, a sudden wobble going through his knees that left him clinging to the lapels of Izuku’s suit jacket as he leaned forward for balance, one foot kicking up off the ground unconsciously as Izuku’s other arm wrapped around the small of his back to steady him. Was he lightheaded, or was it just because his eyes were closed that he felt so off-balance? His pulse was roaring, and fireworks danced over the back of his eyelids as he swooned into Izuku’s embrace before regretfully pulling away.
He needed to see the look on Izuku’s face, to see if he was as deeply affected as Katsuki had been. His foot found the ground again, eyes blinking back open to dazedly take in the equally stunned expression Izuku was making, the green of his iris grown dark even in the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway. Katsuki cleared his throat and forced his grip to relax, realizing he had fisted Izuku’s beautifully pressed suit hard enough to wrinkle it horribly. After making a halfhearted attempt to pat over the fabric and smooth it back out (there was no way that had helped, not even a little) he took a step back.
“Text me when you get home,” he demanded, as always. Izuku nodded, and that seemed to help shake off his disorientation.
“I will.” Izuku stepped away, the movement slow and reluctant. Gradually gaining momentum, he headed down the hall, seemingly unable to resist looking back once to call, “See you tomorrow!”
Katsuki waved as he went, deciding right then and there that after the next date, he’d invite Izuku to come inside.