Archive of Our Own

Katsuki got sick.

And when the workaholic Great Explosion God Dynamight thought he was sick, that meant he couldn't even drag himself out of bed anymore. He might be on the verge of death, even.

So when he called in sick that morning, his assistant entered a state of extreme panic and frantically checked on him on the phone. By several questions. That kid’s shrieks forced him to use his last ounce of strength to yell "Shut up!" before collapsing onto the bed and drifting into sleep.

He woke up to the sound of hurried footsteps approaching his room. A hero's reflexes urged him to spring to his feet, but his sick body wouldn't allow him to react that quickly. So by the time he managed to sit up, the bedroom door had already been flung open. His body tensed and relaxed almost simultaneously when he saw the intruder.

“Kacchan!”

Midoriya Izuku stood in the doorway with disheveled clothes, looking devastatingly concerned. Ruby eyes flickered across his face, examining his suit, and noticed the lone sock halfway slipped off his right foot.

Katsuki flopped back into the mattress and groaned, “Why are you here?”

“Because you’re sick, Kacchan.” Izuku answered as if it were obvious and walked to the bed. “Whoa, your voice is hoarse!”

“No, I mean, how do you know I’m sick. Besides, today is—”

“When my student called me crying because she didn’t know where your house is, and I quote ‘Dynamight is dying and his last words are shut up!’, my heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach.” He placed his hand on the blonde’s forehead to check his temperature. Katsuki sighed at the coolness of the scarred hand. “Luckily, you’re not dead, and your condition doesn't seem that serious.”

“Your student was doing a very bad job as my assistant.” He managed to attempt a criticism before coughing loudly.

“Not if she was the only sidekick you have.” Izuku withdrew his hand and giggled. “Besides, she is doing a great job under a difficult boss like you, Kacchan.” He pulled out his phone and started typing. “I’m texting her, do you have anything you want to say?”

He exhaustedly put his arm over his eyes. “There’s a report about that quirk accident yesterday that’s on my desk. Tell her to submit it to the Commission. Then, an interrogation took place at the police station regarding the criminal arrested two days earlier. And a few resumes that arrived this week, screen them first. And—”

“Okay, that’s enough. You’re exhausting her and yourself. Take a good rest today. I’ll take care of you.” He pocketed his phone.

“You don’t have to do that. Today you are—”

“Is there anything left in your refrigerator?” Izuku cut his line and walked out of the room, headed to the kitchen. He moved around like he lived here; Katsuki could hear the soft rustle of plastic bags and the clink of dishes. After about five minutes, the rustling stopped, and footsteps returned to the bedroom. Izuku walked over, his shirt rolled up above his elbows, while his suit jacket and tie had been removed sometime earlier. Katsuki felt guilty when he instinctively gulped. Oh, and his sock was removed

Izuku ran his hand through his curly hair and asked.

“Did you eat anything today?”

Katsuki averted his eyes and looked at the ceiling. “Yeah.”

“What?”

“…coffee.”

“Oh my god, Kacchan! No one drinks coffee before breakfast! You’re gonna have a stomachache!”

“I’m fucking fine! Not at the moment, but every other day!”

“Your health checkup results this year showed me otherwise! You have a serious stomach problem!”

“I’m—What? Is it done already? Wait, why did you get it?” He turned to the green-haired.

At Katsuki’s raised eyebrow, Izuku tilted his head. “It was sent to school. You asked me to receive your delivery, didn’t you? Since you went abroad all the time for your missions.”

“Ah.” Katsuki remembered and looked back at the ceiling. Then, after a second, he whipped his head back to Izuku. “Wait, you opened it? My personal mail?”

“Ah.” Izuku looked as if get caught red-handed, and scratched the back of his head. “Haha, uhm—I-I was worried?”

Seeing his scowl deepen, Izuku’s head bowed dejectedly. “...Sorry. But the worrying part is true. You’ve been working like crazy for the last year. We barely had time to go out, or do missions or even patrols together.”

Katsuki turned silent. So Izuku noticed. It was true. He had been throwing himself into work, taking any chance to spend all his free time. Because if he let himself rest for one moment, his mind would wander to Izuku—

“I miss you.” Izuku blurted out.

Katsuki’s eyes widened as he observed the way Izuku hid his hands behind his back, his foot shifted lightly on the floor, and a tiny hint of blush peeked from underneath his freckles.

“We are best friends, aren’t we? But recently it’s been hard to feel like it. I feel like—feel like you’re avoiding me. Did I do something?”

“...No.”

“You just hesitated.”

“I said no, damn it!”

“But—” The green eyes brimming with tears. Katsuki hated how fast he folded.

“Izuku, look.” He sat up and leaned against the headboard. “It wasn’t your fault, alright? I—I’m trying to build a different career path for myself, but I don’t want to talk too much about it right now since nothing’s certain yet. I’m so-sorry if it made you feel distant from me, but I can’t help it. We all have our own lives.”

“Really? I-I didn’t know…”

How could you know? This was all a lie. Well, half of it. “Because I didn’t tell you, idiot.”

Izuku pursed his lips, then hesitantly muttered. “But we—we are best friends. You can always tell me everything.”

Not this. “I’ll tell you when things get better. Now I want to sleep. You can go home now.”

“Ah, okay.” Izuku seemed guilty when he realized he had bothered a sick person. “Sleep tight, Kacchan.”

The worried green eyes glanced at him one last time before disappearing behind the wooden door. Footsteps and then the sound of the front door closing. Katsuki collapsed back onto the mattress wearily.

It was annoying. Katsuki thought about that green mop of hair and those doe eyes that are overly concerned. It was annoying. His whole body ached, and his migraine had been getting worse and worse. It was annoying. The apartment was drowned in silence after Izuku was gone, as Katsuki was lying miserably on his bed. All alone.

The thick blanket made him sweat profusely, but he knew he shouldn't take it off if he wanted to recover quickly. So he pulled the blanket up to half his face, leaving only his eyes exposed, and looked towards the door. Only when he saw the blurry doorway did he realize tears were prickling at his eyelids. He hastily wiped them away with the blanket and closed his eyes, tried to sleep, but the sharp pains in his heart wanted the opposite.

He wanted peace of mind, while that heart wanted Izuku.

It wanted Izuku to take care of him. It wanted Izuku to cook him a warm bowl of congee. It wanted Izuku to spoon-feed him. It wanted Izuku to lull him to sleep. It wanted Izuku to put a cold towel on his forehead. He wanted Izuku to stay with him.

He—

He wanted—

“Izuku…” He called past the lump clogging his throat.

“Yes, Kacchan?” A familiar voice suddenly came from behind the door, which startled Katsuki.

“Wh-What the fuck!? Izuku, is that you?” Katsuki cracked his eyes open and sprang up.

Walking into the room was none other than Izuku, whom he had thought had already gone home, holding two huge grocery bags. Seeing Katsuki had sat all the way up with a flabbergasted expression, he dropped the bags and walked over to the bed.

“What’s wrong? Kacchan, you’re so pale. You need to lie down.” He pushed Katsuki to the mattress.

“No, I—You. The hell are you still doing here? Don’t you have to—” Katsuki lowered his head onto the pillow dazedly.

“Don’t concern yourself with anything anymore. You just need to rest.” He palmed Katsuki’s forehead to check the temperature before turning to grab the grocery bags and walking out of the room. Not even a minute later, he returned carrying a small basin of water and a towel draped over his shoulder. He stepped carefully to avoid splashing any of it, his eyes fixed on the floor in front of him so he wouldn’t slip or trip, and because of that, he failed to notice the intense gaze fixed on him. When he reached the head of the bedside, he placed the basin on the floor and looked up at the blonde with a smile.

The green-haired squatted down and dipped the towel into the water. He wrung it out carefully before kneeling beside the bed. 

The towel was cool when it touched Katsuki’s forehead. Not too cold. Just enough to ease some of the ache pounding behind his eyes. Katsuki jumped at the contact.

“What are you doing?” He grabbed Izuku’s wrist.

“Uhm…I’ll help wipe your face. You’ll feel better if you cool down a little.”

Katsuki stared at him for a second. But in that instant, a chaotic battle raged inside him to decide whether or not to let Izuku wipe his face. He certainly would enjoy it, but wouldn't it be strange to have Izuku do it to him? Such an intimate act? He shouldn't take advantage of Izuku like that. But then again, he was sick, wasn’t he? He was so weak he couldn't even move. So, wouldn't it make perfect sense to let Izuku take care of him?

After convincing himself, he slowly released Izuku’s hand and huffed exaggeratedly.

“Whatever,” Katsuki muttered.

Izuku smiled sweetly. “Okay.”

The scarred hand moved carefully, wiping away sweat from his temples and neck with gentle hands. Katsuki exhaled slowly as the towel moved across his cheeks, damp skin cooling pleasantly in the overheated apartment. He watched Izuku through half-lidded eyes. Soft curls of dark green hair framed his chubby, childlike face, even though he was a almost thirty years old teacher. The strands fell in loose, natural waves that fluttered lightly whenever he moved. Wide eyes—bright, impossibly green turned concentration, brows furrowed slightly like this was the most important mission he’d ever been assigned. His lips pressed together in worry.

When he wiped the cloth past the red eyes, Izuku was taken aback a bit.

“Kacchan, why are you not closing your eyes?”

“Why do I have to do that?”

“Hehe, do you like looking at my face that much?” Izuku giggled as he dipped the towel in water.

“What if I said yes?”

“Ah—What has this cruel fever done to my mighty friend? He’s turning sappy.”

Katsuki couldn’t even crack a smile. Izuku took it as a sign that the blond was too tired to say anything more and brought the wrung towel back to his face, then moved lower to his throat, his shoulder, then his chest—

Katsuki grabbed Izuku’s wrist at the same time Izuku touched the blanket.

“Wa—”

“Kacchan, why is this spot wet?” He lifted the damp spot and examined it. Katsuki immediately realized what that was.

“That—”

“Did you blow your nose into here?” He brought the wet part of the blanket to Katsuki’s face. The red eyes went wide.

“The fuck? No! I’m not five!” Katsuki pushed Izuku’s wrist away.

“Then what is this?”

Katsuki pursed his lips and averted his eyes. He clearly couldn't say he cried, but he also couldn't say he blew his nose because he didn't!

“Sweat.”

“You really thought I’d believe that?”

He sniffed. “Because it’s true.”

Izuku pulled a tissue from the pack on the bedside table and held it out in front of him.

Katsuki looked at it. “What?” Then he glanced up at the serious-looking face.

“Blow your nose.” 

“Wha—I’m not a child!” He pushed his hand away.

“C’mon, Kacchan,” he said gently, giving the tissue a tiny encouraging shake. “Blow your nose for me.”

Katsuki felt genuine horror crawl up his spine. “Absolutely not. Give me that.”

Izuku withdrew his hand before Katsuki could snatch the tissue. “No, Kacchan. You’ve lost your independent privilege when you blow your nose into the blanket.”

“Damn it, I said I didn’t do it!” He recoiled when Izuku was trying to help him sit up.

“The tissue isn’t your enemy, Kacchan.” Katsuki was sure he was hallucinating, because why did this bastard’s voice sound so much like when he was cooing the kids? Katsuki grabbed the blanket and used it to cover him again, and retreated to the other side of the bed. He wanted Izuku to take care of him, not put him in a humiliating ritual!

“Fuck off!” His eyes alertly followed the green figure stepping to his side until the green-haired crouched beside the bed, still holding the tissue out patiently.

“C’mon, just one big blow, okay?” Izuku’s hand gently grasped the blanket, but decisively pulled it away from Katsuki, revealing a tank top and shorts clinging to his sweat-drenched body. Izuku placed his hand on the sheet.

“Aw, you’re all wet. Drenched the sheet too. I'll change it for you later.”

What the fuck.

Katsuki’s brain completely short-circuited. He knew the other probably didn't mean anything, but what the fuck is that way of talking? He felt his down there twitching.

Izuku seized the opportunity while the other man was stunned and grabbed both of his wrists, pulling him to sit up, and quickly pressed the tissue to his nose. Katsuki huffed into it unpleasantly.

“I’m gonna kill you when I stop dying.”

“Okay,” Izuku said easily. “But first—” He nudged one nostril shut. “C’mon. Big breath in…”

And when Katsuki finally blew his nose with all the dignity of an angry housecat being bathed, Izuku smiled as if he’d just accomplished something monumental.

“There we go,” Izuku said softly. “The other side too. Good job. See? Easy.”

Katsuki suddenly felt he’d be better off dead.

“Happy now?”

“Almost.” He threw the tissue into the basket near the bed.

“What?”

Izuku beamed before returning with the towel. “Shall we continue?”

Katsuki panicked. “Still?”

“Of course. Your whole body. Since you can’t shower.” He approached the blonde slowly, unaware that the scene was practically a horror film in front of the red eyes.

“Wait—stop. Stop, I said stop! Izuku!” Katsuki used all his strength to grab his arms and push him back. “Liste—Wait, damn it why are you so fucking strong?”

“Because you’re sick, Kacchan! That’s why you need this!” Izuku leaned his whole body forward, trembling from the effort.

“Fuck—” Katsuki’s voice cracked as exhaustion finally caught up to him and he stopped resisting, causing both of them to collapse onto the mattress.

“Wah—!” Izuku fell on top of Katsuki, his face crashing directly into Katsuki’s chest. Katsuki instinctively wrapped one arm around Izuku’s waist to steady him while bracing himself with the other. The bed bounced under the impact. Izuku barely managed to stop himself from putting his full weight down, his arms shaking as they braced on either side of Katsuki. His curls immediately fell forward, soft green strands brushing against Katsuki’s neck.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Izuku was practically lying on him so that Katsuki could feel every uneven breath against his skin. The fever already had Katsuki overheated, but this was different—heat curling low in his stomach, spreading up his neck, settling embarrassingly behind his ears. Katsuki felt his own heartbeat thudding painfully hard against his ribs. Izuku smelled faintly like soap and tea leaves. Katsuki’s breath turned rough.

One of Izuku’s hands shifted slightly, fingertips accidentally brushing Katsuki’s elbow propping against the mattress. Then Izuku pushed himself up and awkwardly smiled. “Sorry. You must’ve been startled. Your heart is pounding like crazy.”

Realizing the blond wasn’t reacting, Izuku looked up and met red eyes staring at him, clearly in a transfixed daze. His pupils were dilated so much that there was nothing but a slim ring of crimson on the outside.

Izuku’s breath hitched. Green eyes trembled slightly before unconsciously darting to Katsuki’s mouth, a flush crawling over his cheeks. Katsuki’s hold tightened at that, making Izuku startle and jerk upright, only to get caught again in Katsuki’s grip.

“Ah, Kacchan. Can you…let me go?”

Only then did Katsuki seem to realize what he was doing, and he loosened his hold immediately. Izuku muttered an apology as he climbed out of the bed.

An awkward silence fell over the room. Izuku stood there rubbing the back of his neck, while Katsuki slowly pushed himself upright. He ran his hand over his face and groaned.

“Give me that. I can do that myself.”

“...Okay. Sorry.”

Katsuki felt a little guilty for being so rude to Izuku when all he wanted was to help, but he couldn’t say anything when Izuku handed him the towel. What could he even say? That I can’t let you touch me intimately like that cause I’d have a boner immediately and it’d be visible as fuck and you’d see it and call me a fucking creep and then cut all ties with me and I die alone?

So he shut his mouth and lowered his eyes, hoping that Izuku could sense the apology aura radiating from him as he took off his top. He glanced at the green-haired and noticed he was—holding the bed sheet?

“What are you doing?”

“Changing the bed sheet?”

“Just toss it in the bathroom. I’ll wash it later.”

“No? I’ll wash it for you.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Katsuki grasped the sheet and pulled it to his side.

“It’s no big deal.” Izuku pulled back.

“Izuku.”

“Kacchan.”

Their eyes blazing as they glared at each other, while playing tug-of-war with the sheet. Under their pulling force, the bedsheet stretched taut. Katsuki, fueled entirely by the will to defend his own dignity, suddenly had an idea and gave one final determined pull—

Then abruptly let go.

Izuku’s entire body flew backward with a startled noise as all the resistance vanished at once. The bedsheet came with him like a losing flag. Izuku stumbled two steps before crashing directly onto the floor with a loud THUMP.

Katsuki stared down at him while Izuku stared up at the ceiling, tangled aggressively in the sheet; one curl was sticking straight upward.

“I hate you, Kacchan.”

“You deserved it.”

Izuku sighed dramatically before untangling himself from the sheet. Katsuki gathered it off the floor and smirked. “You should’ve seen your face.”

Izuku looked deeply betrayed.

“You want to kill me just because I want to wash your sheet? What are you, fifteen?”

“You looked stupid flying through the air.”

“That’s not an answer!”

Katsuki laughed, immediately regretting it when coughing attacked him mid-laugh. He folded forward miserably, still grinning like an asshole while Izuku scrambled upright in concern.

“Kacchan—”

“I’m fine,” Katsuki rasped, waving him off.

“Fine. Fine! I won’t wash it.”

“Good.”

“But I’m at least putting it in the bathroom so you can do it later. You stay here, clean yourself up.” Izuku pointed at him.

Katsuki was about to argue back, yet seeing Izuku wearing such a serious pout made him weak, so he only shrugged and sat back on the bed, wiping himself while Izuku dragged the sheets out. He took the chance to clean his lower half and change into a fresh pair of shorts. That did feel better. He then rinsed the towel once before continuing with his torso.

He observed himself as the towel ran across him. He knew exactly what he looked like. Strong shoulders. Narrow waist. Muscle carved hard from years of training and combat. He also knew people looked at him. It was not hard to see fans online thirsting over his photos or extras staring too long at his arms when he wore sleeveless hero costumes. People liked looking at him.

And Izuku—

“Have you done, Kacchan?” Izuku burst in. “Oh, why don't you change into long-sleeved clothes instead of wearing shorts?”

Katsuki looked down, and looked up at the green-haired. “How the fuck do you know I’m changed? This pair looks exactly the same as the last one.”

“How do I know…” Izuku rested a finger against his chin, tilting his head as if deep in thought. “I just know?”

Katsuki had a faint idea of why he knew that. “Weirdo.”

Izuku naturally stepped to Katsuki’s closet and opened it, searching for a minute before digging out a pack from the bottom of the closet. It was wrapped in a clear plastic bag, so Katsuki could see the pattern of the thing inside and immediately knew what it was.

“I’m not fucking wearing that.” He made a disgusted face.

“Oh c’mon Kacchan.” Izuku unwrapped the pack. “It’s your merch!”

He shook out the pajamas. It was an official piece of merchandise from Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight’s collection that he’d received from the manufacturer. Basically, it was a jumpsuit modeled after his hero costume, complete with the same patterns, hood, and even came with two plush grenade gauntlets (which he’d given Izuku).

“That thing is stupid!”

“It’s cute!”

“Yeah, that’s why it’s stupid!”

“You approved the design.”

“I was threatened.”

“Who could possibly manage to threaten the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, I wonder.”

(When the idea for the collection was proposed, Katsuki was still in the earning-money-to-build-Izuku's-suit mode, so it's safe to say he was essentially threatening himself.)

Izuku pulled the hood of the jumpsuit over his head and held out the “ears” attached to it. “Look, the little ears on the hood are so cute.”

Katsuki looked genuinely offended. “Those are not. Ears. They're explosions.” He threw the towel at Izuku, but he dodged it with a grin. He waved the two pieces of fabric, then puffed out his chest and straightened his back, and started to lower his voice.

“Die, you scum villain! For Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight has come!”

Katsuki looked away immediately. Izuku kept his stance and followed him with the pajamas. Katsuki turned the other direction and covered the lower half of his face with a hand. His shoulders shook lightly and he turned his face up as a grunt escaped him.

“Staph.”

“Huh?”

“I said stop!” With a hand still clinging to his own face, Katsuki turned to Izuku and hissed. Izuku got startled yet couldn’t hide his grin.

“Aw, Kacchan, do I look so disgusting in this outfit that you’re going to vomit? Then you should wear it yourself, or I'll be dancing in front of you forever!”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, staring at a swaying Izuku. The red color in his pupils seemed to spread along the lines in his white part. Finally, he snatched the jumpsuit from Izuku and turned away, hurriedly put it on. He then wiped his face excessively with the sleeves before turning back to Izuku, his face contorted with discomfort.

“Happy?”

“Not yet. I just saw your back is still sweaty.” Izuku offered. “Let me help you.”

“Izuku, we literally just fought over this.” Normally, he could do it himself, but right now he was too lethargic, and his flexibility had decreased significantly. He huffed an exhausted breath.

“Kacchan, I won’t kill you.” You will. “This will be quick, I promise.” I wish it won’t.

Huge green eyes beamed at him with a hint of begging. Katsuki unconsciously swallowed.

Sure, what’s the harm? Maybe he's just overthinking things. They sparred all the time and his body was fine. Just one minute with his back surely wouldn’t kill him, right?

He reluctantly nodded. Izuku happily picked the towel up.

Katsuki took off the upper part of the jumpsuit and sat on the edge of the bed, grumbling under his breath while Izuku soaked the towel again in water.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You’re smiling stupidly.”

“No, I’m not.”

With a silly grin, Izuku climbed to the bed and kneeled behind the blond. Katsuki stiffened, waiting for the contact.

Nothing.

Katsuki could feel a set of eyes digging through his back.

Just like the old days, when Izuku’d also stare at him across the U.A. locker room. Huge sparkling eyes wouldn’t move an inch when Katsuki took off his uniform and put on his suit and vice versa. Teenager Katsuki’s heart would flutter, thinking his crush was peeking at him just like he did when the other person wasn’t aware. So one time, he took all of his courage and looked back.

Izuku didn’t startle as he thought.

Instead, the nerd just snapped out of the daze and smiled shyly at him, followed by praise.

“Kacchan, your body looks amazing!”

The towel pressed gently against Katsuki’s shoulders before Izuku continued in a much smaller voice.

“You’re really built.”

“I know.”

Katsuki could feel his back getting hotter under Izuku’s hand. He could never get used to it. 

Slow movements across his shoulders and down to the center of his back. Gentle enough that it made something uncomfortable twist low in Katsuki’s stomach.

“It’s just— your back muscles are really defined,” he admitted. “Like, especially around your shoulders? You train all the time and your quirk needs a lot of upper-body conditioning. And your scars healed really well, too, which is good, and your posture changed since high school, which is also good. You used to carry tension, but now your stance is more balanced and—”

Katsuki let Izuku trail off. Not that he enjoyed this rambling session, but the nerd’s endless analysis was distracting himself from the fact that Katsuki was shivering under his hands like a fucking virgin (which he is). He instinctively closed his legs.

It felt as though every nerve in his body had abandoned its proper place and gathered in his back. Otherwise, why had that area become so unbearably sensitive? Izuku's right hand hadn't even touched his bare skin yet—it was only resting against the towel draped over his back. And yet, wherever his hand moved, the flesh beneath seemed to twitch in response. In contrast, Izuku's left hand was braced against his shoulder for support, leaving that spot oddly numb, as though all sensation had fled from it.

“Kacchan?” Katsuki jumped at the sound of his nickname. “You’ve been weirdly quiet.”

“I—” Katsuki swallowed. “I’ve been dozing off.”

“Whoa, you’re that tired?”

“Yeah. Tired of your bullshit documentary. Are you done?”

“Ah, I’m done.”

He stopped wiping and climbed off the bed. Katsuki sneaked a relieved sigh.

“Sorry.” Izuku walked over to the basin and put the towel in. “I was just appreciating it, respectfully.”

And Izuku—

Izuku admired him the same way he admired every hero he looked up to, like the hero nerd he was. Not like someone he wanted. He would always notice the smallest details about Katsuki, like his eyebags today being darker than yesterday, his quirk shooting out different sparks than usual, or being able to tell the difference between his two identical pairs of pants. But it’d never be the affection in Katsuki’s eyes, the excitement in the tiny sparks on his hands whenever they patrolled together, and the way he hid his crotch from Izuku as of now.

Because Izuku had never viewed him through that lens. Bakugou Katsuki could be everything: his childhood friend, his hero, his bully, his classmate, his symbol of victory, his best friend, his hero, but never a romantic partner.

The same thought that used to sit unpleasantly heavy in high school Katsuki’s chest returned to present Katsuki as he watched Izuku carry the basin away. He put on the top part of the jumpsuit and zipped it up.

The cool sensation on his skin and the ache in his heart cleared his mind, leaving his body less weary than before. When Izuku came back, he should tell him to go home; the nerd had a schedule for the night anyway. It was noon already.

He plopped onto the bed. Now that his head no longer throbbed with pain, he could finally focus on the faint sounds drifting through the apartment.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Izuku must be washing the towels.

He closed his eyes and hummed a song. Before he reached the chorus, the water stopped running. Then came the click of a switch. After that, footsteps moved away, so he must be heading for the door.

Was he leaving already?

No, there was the rustling of plastic bags. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen. He was probably trying to help his sick friend by putting the groceries away in the refrigerator. Okay, so the next thing would definitely be the sound of the refrigerator door opening.

Instead, there was the sound of running water again, followed by more rustling. He couldn't figure out what Izuku was doing.

Then a beep sounded, signaling that the electric stove had been switched on.

Huh?

He cleared his throat, intending to call Izuku, but no matter how much he coughed, his voice remained hoarse. After thinking for a moment, he stood up and headed to the kitchen.

He pushed the sliding door open. Immediately, the smell hit him. Rice and ginger. On the stove, a pot was steaming, the bubbling sounds inside mingling with the clacking of a knife on a cutting board. Izuku was cutting scallions.

Hearing the sound, the green-haired turned around.

“Kacchan! Why aren’t you in bed?” He wiped his hands on the towel hanging by the wall, then hurried over to the blond, who was standing dazed in the doorway. Pressing a palm to his forehead, he let out a relieved sigh. “Ah, your forehead isn't as hot anymore. Are you thirsty?”

Katsuki felt a little lost in those round green eyes looking up at him.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Yeah, I figured. I forgot to leave any water in your room, but I thought you'd be asleep, so I was going to bring this in along with a glass of water once I finished this.”

Katsuki followed Izuku to the dining table, sat down and received the cup of water. It wasn't until the first drop of water touched his tongue that he realized he was truly thirsty.

“Thanks. What are you doing?” He handed Izuku the cup and asked.

“As you can see, I’m making congee.”

“I fucking know that. I mean, what are you still doing here? Don’t you need to come home and get ready for tonight?” His voice broke at the end and he coughed so hard his chest tightened. Izuku gently stroked his back.

“I told you not to worry. Besides, aren't you feeling a little better? This morning, you looked like a sick cat, but now you're walking around normally. You'll be completely recovered by the end of today, I’m sure.”

“I’ll let you slide with that comparison just because you’ve been helpful today.” Katsuki grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

The green-haired chuckled. “You could’ve said ‘thank you for taking care of me today’.”

Katsuki let out an annoyed huff and watched Izuku return to the kitchen counter. Wooden spoon in hand, he stirred the pot as steam curled around his face. All the while, he hummed quietly to himself.

Katsuki rested his chin on his hand and let his eyes drift shut.

The kitchen was quiet, but not silent. Never silent with Izuku. A continuous stream of thoughts spilling out naturally as Izuku worked. Something about cooking temperatures, then nutrition, then somehow drifted into a completely unrelated topic halfway through.

The gentle bubbling of congee thickening inside the pot mixed with the rhythmic scrape of a wooden spoon moving along the bottom, steady and careful, because that was how Izuku is. Katsuki could even see the nerd’s over-concentrated face and chuckled to himself. A small laugh interrupted Izuku’s rambling when he realized the blond had gotten distracted. The topic changed again, followed by a chain of sounds. 

Light footsteps crossed from one side of the kitchen to the other. Cabinet doors opening, then closing. A drawer sliding out with a familiar wooden rattle. Metal lightly clinking against metal as utensils were sorted through and selected. Another few steps. The sound of water running briefly from the sink.

And through his closed eyelids, Katsuki found himself over-focusing on the sounds around him without really following it. As it should be, because none of these sounds should have felt special. The sound of a stove bubbling, a spoon scraping against a pot, or a special person making food in his kitchen while carrying on a one-sided conversation could have been an everyday thing in his life.

A tightness settled in his chest.

Yet he couldn’t help but remember every word Izuku said, every sound Izuku made, because this was a one-day thing, and after this, he’d be back to his real daily life: alone, spending every sleepless night gnawing on the memory of this day.

Katsuki opened his eyes as he heard the sound of ceramic touching the countertop. Izuku scraped the chopped scallions from the cutting board into the pot of congee, gave it a few more stirs, and then turned off the heat. Each spoonful of congee was scooped into the only large porcelain bowl in Katsuki's house.

A steaming bowl of scallion congee was placed in front of Katsuki.

“Ta-da! One bowl of cold-curing congee, specially made for you.” Izuku handed him a spoon and happily sat down.

“...Thanks.” Katsuki wasn't really in the mood to eat, but it was something Izuku had made himself. He had no intention of wasting it. He scooped up the first spoonful of congee, blew on it, and put it into his mouth under Izuku’s expectant gaze.

A warmth spread through his chest.

“It’s okay. A bit bland.”

“That's how it has to be, because when you’re sick, you shouldn't eat too much salt. I've wanted to bring this up for a while. I know you like strong flavors, but you should cut back on the salt a little. Do you know that eating too much salt may impair the immune system’s ability to fight bacterial infections, according to this study—”

And the nerd was off to his own land again. His profile looked softer in the warm kitchen light than it did in the intense flashes of the cameras. Pro Hero Deku was not good at interviews at all, even after all these years. He’d become stiff and unnatural in front of the camera, like a robot, his speech stumbling like that of a child learning to talk. Unlike when he’s with Kacchan, he could babble out all his thoughts without a worry.

Katsuki listened in silence, swallowing one spoonful after another, not entirely sure what he was actually swallowing when his attention was fixed on Izuku's pink lips, unconsciously pouting whenever the nerd got too absorbed in whatever he was doing.

After the speech ended, Izuku finally noticed the person sitting next to him.

“Kacchan, you’re eating too slowly. There's still more than half a bowl left. If you don't eat it quickly, the congee will get cold.”

“I'm eating as fast as I can right now.” Katsuki emotionlessly swallowed another spoonful of congee. “Besides, it’s still hot as fuck.”

Izuku hovered a hand over the bowl. “Not hot enough, actually.” He pulled it back and folded his arms, looking at Katsuki impatiently. “You have to eat the congee while it's still hot to fight the cold in your body.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yes, it does. My mom said it all the time—Ah!” Izuku clasped his hands as if remembered something.

“What?”

“Let me spoon-feed you! Like when I—Woah Kacchan! Are you okay?”

Katsuki coughed his lungs out when the food went down the wrong pipe. Izuku hurriedly patted his back. 

“You damn—” Katsuki was still trying to recover from his coughing fit when Izuku handed him a glass of water. “What the fuck?!”

“I’m just saying that I can feed you…”

“I heard! What kind of weird shit went through your head, seriously. Don’t treat me like a kid!”

“Sorry, just a habit…But you should look at yourself right now.”

Noticing Izuku was trying to hide a smile, Katsuki calmed himself down from the embarrassment and took a look at himself. The hat on the jumpsuit had fallen onto his head when he bent over, making him look, uhm, childlike.

His face turned red immediately.

“Fuck you!” He angrily snatched the hat down.

“Oh no, what are you doing!” Izuku tried to stop him.

“Shut up!” He swatted his hands away. Izuku giggled as he grabbed the spoon and picked the bowl up. “Here, let me make it up to you.”

Katsuki huffed frustratedly. “And if I don’t want it?”

“Then we’re gonna fight again. And we’ve fought enough today.”

Izuku scooped up some congee and held the spoon out to the scowling blond.

“Kacchan.”

“Ugh.”

Finally, Katsuki leaned forward and took the bite with all the bitterness his already exhausted body could muster.

“See, was that so bad?”

“Yes.”

“You’re overreacting. Here, another one.”

Katsuki obediently opened his mouth and received the spoonful of congee.

“Hot.”

“Ah, sorry.”

Izuku blew gently on the next spoon before offering it to him. Katsuki took another bite. And another. And another.

“You wanna put the hat back on?”

“Fuck you.”

“I don’t know why being treated like a kid makes you this offended.”

“It’s because you treated me like your brats.”

“Sometimes, taking a break and being pampered like a child isn't that bad of a thing.”

“Then don’t treat me like your kids.”

“Or like my dad?”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“Then who do you want me to treat you like?”

Katsuki went silent at that. He stared at Izuku for a moment longer before finally opening his mouth for the next bite. The bowl gradually emptied with the soft clink of the spoon against the ceramic.

By the time the bowl was empty, Izuku looked satisfied, while Katsuki looked utterly dejected. Izuku took it as a sign that the blond was tired and hurriedly urged him to go to bed and not worry about the dishes. Having no strength left to argue, Katsuki reluctantly obeyed and trudged back to his room.

He collapsed onto the bed and put an arm across his forehead. Suddenly, the lights were too bright, making his eyes sting. He moved his arm to cover them.

Of course stupid Katsuki would fantasize about it. Treat me like your partner. Like your spouse. Like your husband. Of course stupid Izuku wouldn’t bring that option up, because it had never existed for Katsuki.

Fucking stupid.

The chaotic thoughts in his head couldn't compete with his overwhelming exhaustion. Katsuki drifted off somewhere between one blink and the next. The last thing he remembered was the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen. 

In between his fitful sleeps, he vaguely felt something covering him and tucked carefully around him. He shifted in annoyance. A hand brushed briefly through his hair and was gone before he could make sense of it. He drifted into a shallow dream, and when he awoke by coolness on his face, he could no longer remember it.

Something damp touched his forehead. Or this was also a dream. He was too tired to know anything. His eyelids felt heavy, dragging his mind down with them. The pressure shifted slowly across flushed skin. From his temple to his cheeks, then his neck. Izuku’s hands were also careful like this. He unconsciously frowned as he recalled that moment of extreme tension. Another touch. Fingers brushing stray hair away from his eyes, then light pressure applied between his eyebrows. He muttered irritably.

Cool skin pressed against his forehead, and he leaned toward it instinctively. Yet it's gone as quickly as it came.

The darkness no longer seemed as bright as it had before, and at last, he sank into genuine slumber.

When Katsuki startled awake from a dream that slipped from his grasp the moment he opened his eyes, he found himself drenched in sweat. Consciousness returned to him after a few seconds, and he looked around. Nothing, since darkness enveloped the room. Someone had turned off the light when he was asleep. Someone…

He squeezed his aching temples. It seemed like Izuku had appeared in his dream just now. Where was he? Had he come home yet?

He easily sat up and got out of bed, fumbling in the dark to find the way out of his room. Why was there a chair beside his bed out of nowhere?!

He walked towards the kitchen. Izuku was not there. The bathroom wasn’t closed. Izuku was not there. The living room was silent. Izuku must not be there. But he still entered to check.

Izuku was indeed not in the living room, but through the sliding glass doors, Katsuki could see the legs underneath the bedsheet fluttering on the balcony. When he slid the door open, a gentle breeze brushed across his face. He lifted the sheet out of the way. The first thing that caught his eye was the sky. The sunset painted everything warm, even the cool color of Izuku’s hair. The light caught in his curls, turning the swaying dark green strands copper at the edges.

Hearing the sound, Izuku turned back.

“Kacchan, you're up already?”

He reached out to Katsuki’s forehead and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. Your fever's finally gone down.” His hand wandered on Katsuki’s face, as if to make sure.

“I told you not to do it.”

“Huh?”

“My sheet.”

“Ah—Well, I got bored watching you sleeping so—”

“You fucking watched me sleep?”

“Why are you saying it like I did some creepy things? I looked after you!”

Izuku crossed his arms and pouted, while Katsuki ran a hand down his face. Of course, it was not a dream. His face heated up for no reason.

“No—I didn’t mean to complain. I-I was just—”

Izuku raised an eyebrow.

“...Sorry. Thank you for looking after me. And for washing my sheet.”

Izuku beamed. “Good boy.” And patted his head. “There are a few more things I want to go over with you.”

He walked to the kitchen with a completely baffled blond following.

Izuku opened the refrigerator door with the seriousness of a hero briefing a rookie before a dangerous mission. Katsuki guessed so because he had never mentored an intern before. Except for that know-it-all receptionist at his agency.

Inside, nearly every shelf had been occupied by containers.

"The congee is here," Izuku explained, pointing to one container. "I made enough for tomorrow, too. If your throat still hurts, eat this first."

He tapped some small ones. "Soup and stews." And big ones. “Katsudon and curry. But only when you're completely recovered, okay?”

A dish right on top of them. “And this has ingredients I prepared in advance.”

He bent down to pull out the bottom container. “Here's some fruit. I've already cut it into bite-sized pieces for you.”

Even the shelves in the refrigerator door were piled high with eggs and bottles. “I've squeezed some orange juice. Remember to drink it!”

Katsuki stared.

"...Is this food stockpiled for an apocalypse?"

“Kacchan, I know it looks like a lot, but—”

“Looks like?”

"Okay, maybe a little excessive." Izuku rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m just worried!” The refrigerator’s door slammed shut with a quick thud. “I know you hate depending on others, but I can't stand the thought of you having to suffer by yourself.”

The apartment glowed softly in the orange sunlight, shadows stretching quietly across the walls. The sun was getting ready to head home.

“Kacchan?”

“Hm?”

“Still dizzy?”

“Not really.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t.”

“Hope so. You look better than you did this morning. But you still need to take care of yourself, okay?”

“Uhm.”

“Don't push yourself too hard. Get plenty of rest, and make sure you're eating proper meals.”

“...”

“Kacchan.”

“I heard.”

“Hmmm—”

Izuku cupped Katsuki’s face and lifted it. Those deep crimson eyes slipped away from his scrutinizing gaze.

“Do you understand?”

“...Yes.”

“Then remembered to follow it.”

Izuku lowered his hands from his face and turned to the table. He grabbed his coat and went around the apartment one last time, checking everything as if he were preparing to leave for a long trip. Katsuki just wordlessly followed him.

Eventually, Izuku stood by the front door, ran his lecture one more time as he put his shoes on. Then he stepped forward and reached his hand up. His knuckles briefly touched Katsuki's face one last time.

“What a relief. You gave me quite a scare this morning.”

“You didn’t need to anyway.”

“I absolutely need to.” Izuku smiled and turned to open the door. “What would I do without you?”

His wrist was suddenly grabbed, making him stop in his tracks. Izuku confusedly looked back at Katsuki.

“Kacchan?” He tilted his head, trying to see past the blond bangs. “Is there something else you wanted to say?”

After a long silence from Katsuki, Izuku was about to ask more questions when he felt the grip on his wrist gradually loosen. A hoarse voice broke the silence.

“Happy anniversary.” Katsuki finally let his hand fall to his side. Looking down at Izuku, his eyes were as still and flat as a windless lake. “Send Och—your wife, my regards.”

Izuku was a little surprised. “Ah, th-thank you. Come visit again when you have some free time. The kids miss their uncle Kacchan a lot.”

He stepped into the hallway, turned back once to wave. Then the door clicked shut.

Katsuki exhaled slowly and headed toward the couch. Three steps later, the exhaustion hit him. The fever that had seemed to subside returned once more with a vengeance.

But that was alright. Katsuki knew it would pass eventually.

Living off the remnants Izuku had left behind, he would survive somehow.