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There was no sound except for the wind pushing against the walls of the cabin, but Kouta still found it too loud to close his eyes and sleep. Or maybe it was too quiet, actually, and he couldn’t make himself believe that he was actually safe now. He was training to be a hero, sure, but being in combat was nothing like his expectations. It had been long enough, now, he could admit, that he had dulled the memories of the disastrous training camp where he had met Izuku into something closer to a bad dream than a traumatic memory, and he hadn’t known what it would do to his body to go abruptly from danger to safety.
But he was safe. He knew that—or at least, he trusted Izuku and Katsuki, and they certainly looked like they believed they were safe, now. He could think of no other reason for them both to strip off to their undergarments, even if they were wet and hypothermia was a danger. When you were a Pro, you weighed risks. They wouldn’t take off Izuku’s suit or Katsuki’s gauntlets and outer uniform if they thought they were about to be attacked.
Although they certainly still looked alert, so… maybe it was about confidence. Maybe it was that Katsuki and Izuku knew that they were dangerous even without their uniforms and extra support gear to help them. He certainly believed that, at this point.
You’re safe, Kouta told himself firmly. They won’t let anything happen to you.
That much he could be certain of. Because they hadn’t meant to end up here, Deku and Dynamight and Kouta and two classmates in a cabin in the middle of a snowstorm who even knew where, but they had figured it out. There had been a villain capable of teleportation that had decided to target Dynamight when he was helping Deku chaperone volunteer work outside of the school grounds—although to be honest, Kouta wasn’t sure what they were expecting. Did they honestly expect Dynamight to be less lethal than usual when he was protecting a group of kids? He had been hindered only when they aimed for the group of them instead of targeting him directly, and each time Kouta had been close enough to see the fire in his eyes and it calmed his fears. Dynamight wouldn’t let anything happen to them. He would die first.
Apparently, the villains had figured that out, too, and the four of them had been swept away onto a mountainside God only knew how far from the city so that they could use the cold to slow him down. But Deku had jumped through with them, too, naturally, and it was over within a matter of minutes. Deku was always a fierce protector, but there was something off about him this time when Kouta stared at him, looking at them through the snow, an unfamiliar fury on his face.
He hadn’t figured out what it was, yet; it certainly hadn’t left him even after they found the cabin with a few blankets that they threw at Kouta and his classmates, and his classmates had fallen asleep and Kouta had started to attempt. He was still moving around the perimeter of the cabin, casting glances at Katsuki every few seconds.
Maybe Kouta should have admitted he was still awake, but he kept his mouth shut and breathing steady instead. Something was going to happen, his instincts told him that much, but he couldn’t begin to guess what it was.
Katsuki sighed, leaning against a kitchen island in the center of the cabin with his arms crossed. He was wearing a tank top over his pants, and he had taken off his soaked boots so that he was barefoot and his gauntlets so he was unarmored, but he didn’t look any less intimidating without them. He was muscular. “Izuku.”
“Kacchan,” Izuku returned, clipped, and kept walking and looking all over the perimeter. He opened a storage door, saw nothing inside, closed it, and kept moving. He was also in an undershirt and leggings and barefoot, but he looked even less dangerous without them than Katsuki did. He was much leaner, but the way he moved was eerily predatory.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Katsuki said, voice low because he thought all of them were asleep, and jerked his head. “They’re gone.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You scanned with the suit yourself. Nothing for a mile in any direction. They left.”
“And they could come back,” Izuku retorted, but he did give up his pacing to come face him. His head moved up and down, looking him over, and then he went back to his suitcase and pulled out a small bag. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, you’re hurt.” He stalked back over to him, bag in hand. “Sit down.”
Katsuki scoffed. “I’m fine, idiot, it’s a scratch—”
Izuku kicked him in the shin, and Katsuki’s entire body shuddered as it almost buckled. Kouta jumped as he bit out a low and furious, “Motherfucker—”
Izuku crowded closer to him, so they were almost nose to nose, and hissed, “Sit. Down.”
A moment of tense silence. Kouta held his breath and wondered if Katsuki was going to blow him up with his lightly crackling palms, if he was going to have to cover his classmates' heads as they brought the house down on them.
They were professionals, though, so the crackling stopped as abruptly as it had started. Both of them stared in silence, neither willing to back down.
Katsuki pulled himself up onto the counter and sat on the edge, leaning back on his hands, and sighed. “You get mean when you’re worried.”
“You already knew that,” Izuku said mildly, but he sounded kind of apologetic. “And I wouldn’t have to be if you would let me take care of you without turning it into a fight.”
Kouta knew Katsuki was going to scoff before he did. You didn’t have to know him very well to know the words take care of you would get his back up.
But Izuku didn’t comment on it. He just opened the small bag that had to be a first aid kit and held out his hand, and Katsuki laid his arm on it so he could see. It was impossible to see from Kouta’s angle if there was any injury there, but from the way Izuku immediately set to dabbing at it there must have been something. A scratch, maybe, but Izuku was the type of person to treat any small injury as the worst offense. He started cleaning it, and then prodding at it, and then patching it up with a bandage that rustled loudly in the quiet.
When he was finished, Katsuki held up his hand again, and Izuku took a step closer, so close that Kouta caught his breath and felt like he should slam his eyes shut. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t look away as Katsuki held Izuku’s face in his hands and turned his head so he could see it more clearly. He prodded at his forehead, and even from this distance Kouta could hear him hiss.
The hand retreated, and Katsuki sighed. “Idiot. That’s worse than mine and you know it.”
“I—” Izuku started to argue with him, and then gave up just as quickly and handed the bag over. His shoulders slumped, and he leaned into Katsuki so he could see better in the low light. “I didn’t notice it.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
“I’m being honest. I didn’t.”
“I’m not arguing with you. I’m agreeing.”
Izuku sighed.
Katsuki took gauze out and began to press at the edge of his forehead, cleaning it. Izuku let his hand fall and rest on Katsuki’s knee, which was the moment that Kouta realized how closely they were standing. He was standing between Katsuki’s legs.
His face felt hot, and he dropped his eyes so he wasn’t staring at them so obviously. The way they moved without saying any of the commands out loud, the comfort level between them even when they were so underdressed it felt like being naked… he wasn’t sure if it was romantic or not, but it was definitely intimate.
“I’m going to add a helmet to your uniform,” Katsuki muttered.
Izuku scoffed. “I’ll wear one if you do.”
“Fucker.” A pause. “Can’t wear one. I asked.”
“You asked?” Izuku asked, surprised. “When?”
A moment of silence. Kouta visualized Katsuki giving him a disbelieving look, something they could read without saying it out loud. They knew each other that well.
“Ah.” Izuku paused again. “Your hearing tests were…”
“Not great,” he admitted. “But not bad enough to interfere yet. But the echo would make it worse.”
Another pause. Kouta tried to picture Dynamight—bright, vivacious, all jagged edges—with hearing aids and found it brought a pain in his heart. Would it make him quieter, or louder? Hopefully louder. He didn’t dislike this quiet Katsuki, exactly, but it was oddly less reassuring than loud and angry and brimming with explosions.
And while he was still reeling with that, Katsuki whispered, “And yours?”
“…Not great, either.”
Katsuki laughed, but it sounded forced. “Is it because—”
“No,” Izuku cut him off, firm. “And even if it was, I wouldn’t change it. You know that.”
Katsuki sighed. “You’re crazy.”
Izuku laughed, too. “Yeah.” He sighed. Kouta could picture the look on his face: studying, fond, absolutely resolute. “It’s not because of you, though. It’s from my head injury during the war.”
The scar on his face. Kouta had grown used to seeing it, but for some reason, it had never occurred to him that it went all the way into his head. That it had done more than just leave a scar.
“So is it still your right side that’s worse?” Katsuki asked. Still. He had already known, of course.
“Always.” Izuku sighed. “So, you know, if you get hearing aids, I’ll get them with you.”
Somehow, Kouta thought that even if they weren’t necessary, Izuku would be getting them with him anyways. That was the kind of friend he was, once he had chosen someone.
Movement. Kouta risked a glance back up and found that Izuku had moved away from Katsuki, leaving him sitting on the counter, to check if their gear was dry. He didn’t look satisfied, because he dropped Katsuki’s jacket immediately and turned around to root through the closet again.
Katsuki sighed heavily. “I don’t need a blanket, Izuku.”
“You’re shivering,” Izuku shot back. He closed the door a little too loudly, cringing at himself, and sighed to pace the other direction. “What kind of cabin in the mountains only has three blankets and nothing to start a fire?”
“You want to start a fire?” Katsuki asked, and now he sounded bewildered. “Why the fuck—”
“Because we’re in a snowstorm. Obviously we need a fire, Kacchan.” His voice was getting tenser. “And you’re shivering, and your skin feels too cold—”
“You’re limping,” Katsuki interrupted, and his voice had dropped into something closer to Izuku’s hiss right before he made himself be listened to. “Get back over here.”
Silence. Izuku glared back at him. There was still an unfamiliar sharpness to his face that made Kouta tense to run for cover.
He walked back towards Katsuki, silent, and instead of letting Katsuki look at him like he had asked, he immediately pulled up his shirt to look at the side of it.
Kouta dropped his eyes again, face hot. Did they just not have personal space? He knew that they were comfortable with each other, everyone knew that from the looks they gave each other in battle and how soft Izuku’s face got when someone asked him how Dynamight was doing, but he hadn’t seen it quite this clearly before.
Katsuki groaned. “Izuku—”
“You should have told me you were bleeding,” he interrupted, and his voice was tight and angry. “Kacchan, we agreed—”
“Dammit, Izuku, just—”
A flurry of movement. When Kouta risked glancing up, Katsuki was holding Izuku’s hand so he couldn’t keep prodding at his side and they were glaring at each other. They had been bickering before, off and on, but for the first time it felt truly tense.
After a long moment, Izuku sighed, and his head dropped onto Katsuki’s shoulder. One of them was shivering, or shaking, but he didn’t know which one.
“I’m fine.” Katsuki scoffed. “I mean, I complain a lot, but I can do it. You know that. I still patrol in bad weather.”
“But not as much.” Izuku’s voice was soft, and strained, like he was holding up the weight of the world again. “And everyone knows that. That’s why they brought you here to try to hurt you.”
“And they didn’t.” Katsuki kicked the side of his leg gently. “Because I have a crazy partner who would dive through an unknown portal after me. They should have known that.”
Izuku laughed dryly. “Except that they did.”
Kouta’s pulse jumped. He knew from the way Katsuki’s shoulders tensed that his had, too.
“Wanna explain?”
Izuku sighed again, more heavily, not lifting his head from Katsuki’s shoulder. “I recognized them. The portal villain was new, obviously, but he was associated with a group of people that I arrested a few months ago. And that one that was attacking you with a sword hand is one that got away from a sting operation I helped with last month, too.”
Katsuki was silent.
Izuku laughed again, a little sharper. “They knew who you were. There was a reason they went for you when we were both out there.”
“You don’t know that—”
“Kacchan,” Izuku interrupted, and he sounded exhausted. “The portal villain isn’t like Kurogiri; he can only teleport to one place at a time. Someplace prechosen. He chose here before they attacked.”
So it was planned. Kouta fought down a shudder. Villains were expected—that was why heroes existed in the first place, after all—but that was usually about personal gain. Robbery, or attention, or status. Revenge was unusual. It never ended well for either side.
And if they were trying to bring Dynamight to somewhere he wouldn’t be able to generate any new sweat to use his quirk… they likely meant to kill him.
Katsuki sighed, and he wrapped an arm around Izuku so they were pressed even closer together. It felt less like comfort than it was about warmth, like Izuku had complained about, but maybe that was calculated into the movement. It still looked too intimate, from the outside, even though neither of them looked bothered by it.
“I’m fine,” Katsuki said. “You know that. I knew I would be, because I knew you were right behind me. Haven’t been able to go fucking anywhere without you running after me for my entire life, why would you start now?”
Izuku choked out another laugh, shaking his head into his shoulder. “But I almost didn’t make it before it closed.”
“But you did.” Katsuki sighed again, and now he sounded like he was growing annoyed. “Look, I don’t blame you for being freaked out—”
“I’m not freaked out,” Izuku snapped, voice cracking like he was holding back tears, “I’m furious. I’m sick and tired of knowing that every time someone wants to hurt me, they target you.”
Another tense silence. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, and the only movement was Izuku’s hand finding Katsuki’s and rubbing over it. Likely for warmth more than comfort. Katsuki would have protested if it was about comfort—maybe. He at least would have said that before tonight.
Now, Kouta could admit that he hadn’t known either of them as well as he thought he had. He thought, knowing them since he was six, that he was privy to things no one else knew, but now he knew that when the two of them were together and thought they weren’t being watched, it was entirely different. Maybe no one else knew what he knew, now, from eavesdropping.
He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“Remember when someone tried breaking into UA last year?” Katsuki asked at last.
“Yes. Why?”
“…That was one of my villains.”
A tense silence.
“What?” Izuku whispered.
“That was someone I put away,” Katsuki said, and Kouta could tell from the tenseness that his teeth were gritted, that he was still furious about it. “He got off on a technicality, and the next fucking day he was caught breaching UA’s perimeter. You think that’s a coincidence?”
“…You never told me that.”
“How the fuck was I supposed to phrase that? ‘Hey, sorry, turns out someone came to try to kill you and your class because he was too cowardly to fight me instead but still wanted revenge?’”
Izuku sighed. “They caught him, though.”
“They did. But… you know…”
Next time. Kouta’s skin prickled. It felt like there was something watching him again, even though he knew that was impossible and he was safe. Maybe that was just what foreboding felt like.
“My students were with you for this, too,” Izuku muttered. “That was on purpose. I saw the sword villain using them to land hits on you. We were lucky none of them had paralyzing quirks.”
“I would have figured something out if they did,” Katsuki retorted, but it sounded strangely hollow.
Izuku sighed. “I... might not be able to do both teaching and hero work, then.”
It was like a stab in his heart. Kouta bit down on a gasp, blinking back his furious indignation. No, he wanted to object, we don’t care if there’s a little more danger, we don’t want another teacher, we want you. That wasn’t his choice, when it came down to it. He knew that.
(And even though he had been a teacher first, looking at them now, Kouta knew which one he would give up if he had to choose.)
“…I could stop visiting your class,” Katsuki said quietly. “If you thought that would help.”
“It won’t,” Izuku said, and his voice was steady. “And I’m not going to stop patrolling with you, either, so don’t even suggest it.”
Katsuki sighed. “Like I said. You’ve never left me alone a day in our fucking lives. I couldn’t get rid of you if I wanted to.”
Izuku laughed, his body shaking with it before he fell silent and still again. They were still pressed into a pseudo-hug, Izuku standing between Katsuki’s legs, hands joined together on one side of them. For the first time, Kouta realized that it was for comfort instead of warmth. It was Izuku’s left ear that was pressed to Katsuki’s neck—so he could listen to his heartbeat. It was done so casually, with no fuss from Katsuki, that he could envision it happening over and over. Dozens of times, or hundreds. Something left over from the war, most likely. Kouta could still remember hearing about the damage done to him during his fight, and he barely knew him at the time, but he still felt so sad and angry at the thought, thinking of that loud and annoying and confident boy lying dead on the ground.
For Izuku, he knew—and now saw, for the first time, and really understood—it had been like his heart was carved out of his chest. He could not have survived if he didn’t come back. That was where this fear came from.
“We’ll deal with it,” Katsuki said, and he actually did sound confident for the first time. “And either way, your brats are going to be just fine. We’ll both make sure of it.”
Izuku sighed. “I understand Aizawa-sensei more and more every day. Thought I was having a heart attack when I heard your explosions and knew something was happening to them.”
“Not a scratch on any of them, just like I promised you.”
Izuku laughed. “Of course not. You’re incredible as always, Kacchan.”
“Damn right.” Katsuki nudged him sharply. “Now come on. You get my side, and then we’re swapping so I can check your leg. Don’t want them to see any blood when the sun comes up.”
Izuku moved away from him easily, going back to the bag, and then brought back some gauze and started to clean it. They were silent, now, finally, and it felt comfortable enough to be mistaken for peace.
It would happen again. Kouta knew that. Izuku and Katsuki knew that. It wasn't a matter of if, but of when. As long as Deku and Dynamight's bond was so strong, there would be people trying to take advantage of it. They already had, in fact, even though he had been too young to understand it at the time.
Maybe the answer was to give up being a hero, maybe it was to give up teaching... but he knew the most obvious answer was unfathomable to both of them. It would destroy a structure they had both built themselves upon.
Kouta closed his eyes, trying to go to sleep. It wasn't fear that kept him up anymore; it was the truth that he had just seen for himself, that he would never be able to get rid of.