Archive of Our Own

When Katsuki heard the scream from the other end of their apartment, he expected to find the nerd lying in a pool of his own blood. Last he’d checked, Izuku had been filling out reports on his bed and answering emails, papers sprawled messily about the crumpled bedding. 

The subsequent squeals that followed the initial bloody murder, however, were a relieving sign of life. 

“Kacchan, get in here!” Izuku yells from behind the closed door. With a sigh, Katsuki throws the sudsy sponge down into the sink, dishes abandoned, and makes his way swiftly to Izuku’s bedroom.  

“Hurry! Look at this,” Izuku whips the laptop screen around to face Katsuki, pointing madly at the subject line of an open email. Katsuki squints as he bends to read the small text.

“Don’t have my contacts in,” he grumbles to Izuku, who finally grew too impatient to wait. 

“It’s WIRED! They want us to do a Google Autocomplete interview together,” Izuku beams. Katsuki studies his excited face for a moment, his features blurred with his poor eyesight, trying to understand what the fuck he was on about. 

“The fuck is a wires?” Katsuki stands upright, clicking his tongue as the water on his hands drips down uncomfortably to his forearms.  

“WIRED, Kacchan. You know, that company that does those interviews with the peely sticky board things where the person answers common Google searches that their fans make, or I guess just regular people too,” Izuku rambles, “they want us to go on together since we’re a duo and all. Isn’t this exciting, Kacchan?” 

“Tch, whatever,” Katsuki wipes his hands on his sweatpants. 

“Hey!” Izuku frowns, “All the big heroes have done these kinds of things. This means a lot for publicity stuff, Kacchan!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Katsuki’s mouth curves into a small smirk, “I bet your nerd ass has been waiting for this ever since we signed our first hero contracts, huh?” 

Izuku mumbles something along the lines of So what if I have while trying to hide his flush. 

“When’s this shit happening anyway?” Katsuki asks, trying to read further down the email, but to no avail without his prescription lenses. 

“Ummm,” Izuku turns the computer back to face him and scrolls down past the introductory information. “They want to have us on next week!” he shrills, practically bouncing in his criss-crossed position on the bed. 

“Talk about short notice,” Katsuki remarks, “what moron on their management team thinks it’s a good idea to be emailing this late?” 

“Give them a break, Kacchan, it might be a new intern or something like that. We sure remember what that was like…” Izuku smiles to himself. “At least this is a cool way to interact with the public a little more, right?” 

Interact with the public? Katsuki rolls his eyes. They didn’t need stupid publicity stunts to boost their public approval. He and Izuku had soared up the hero rankings ever since they signed on as partners nearly two years ago. Despite some initial public reluctance, their chemistry during battle made it clear to anyone that they would do nothing but succeed. And within only six months of their official collaboration, they proudly snagged the number twelve spot in the rankings.   

“Alright, fine,” Katsuki succumbs to that stupid sunshine grin, which only grew wider at his acceptance. “Put it in the calendar then.” 

“Already done!” Izuku laughs and begins to tend to his paperwork from their latest mission again. 

Katsuki lingers for a minute, watching how Izuku’s brows knot and his teeth come out to gnaw on his bottom lip like he always did when he was focused. He turns to the open doorway, ready to return to the mess he’d made from cooking dinner. 

“Kacchan?” Izuku says from behind him, and Katsuki spins slowly on his heels.

“Thanks for agreeing to all of this. I know how much you hate interviews,” Izuku gives him a wobbly smile, and just then, with that smile, Katsuki was reminded all over again why he’d given in to this shit in the first place. 

“Yeah, whatever, nerd,” He shakes his head, fondness creeping out despite his efforts to mask it. “Only doin’ it ‘cause I know they’d never let you on by yourself. You’d just put everyone to sleep with your twenty-minute nerd-outs every time you got a new ques-” Izuku hauls a pillow squarely at Katsuki’s chest with maximum force. 

Katsuki stumbles briefly before tossing it back weakly, “You’re mad because I’m right, Deku.” he smirks and shuts the door behind him just before another pillow comes hurdling toward his back. 

✧✦✧

In the span of two days, somehow, his whole friend group had figured out that he and Izuku had been invited onto that stupid channel. Or was it a show? Katsuki wasn’t exactly sure. 

“Dude, you guys are so lucky,” Eijiro sighs at their weekly drinks outing. Apparently, he’d heard the news from Mina, who was told by Round Face, who was no doubt subjected to the story from Izuku himself.

“I’ve always wanted to go on that channel. They always ask the best questions,” Denki adds, swallowing a generous swig of beer. 

“Do you guys remember when they made Endeavor and All Might do theirs together? God, that was a shit show,” Sero snorts. 

“Yeah, but I’d bet that our sweet problem duo will probably cause more uproar than they did, though,” Denki laughs. “I don’t think I’ve seen you and Midoriya have a single conversation without taking a jab at each other.”

“Oi, stop calling us the fucking ‘problem duo’, dunce face. And we do have normal conversations, thank you very fucking much,” Katsuki remarks, frustrated. He hadn’t realized that this interview shit was actually this big of a deal. He’d just assumed Izuku was being a sap when he’d thanked him for agreeing; that it was just a regular thing, and Izuku was nerding out about it just like he did about everything. 

“All I’m saying is it’s a great chance to climb up the ranks if you tell the fans what they want to know,” Denki sighs, hands moving up into an ‘I surrender’ gesture.

“Tch, whatever,” Katsuki crosses his arms and leans back into the wooden booth, carefully avoiding touching any surface with his hands. The table was fucking disgusting, sticky with the remnants of spilt beer, as was the rest of the joint. 

But Katsuki and his group had picked this place to celebrate on the night of their hero debuts seven years ago, and they never even thought of going anywhere else.

Their usual server, Ayumi, makes her way over to check up on them, already carrying another round without having to ask for their orders. 

“Hey girl!” Mina exclaims, and Ayumi smiles as she juggles the bottles, carefully swapping the fresh drinks for the empty glasses. 

“How were your shifts?” 

They let out a collective grunt, and she simply nods. 

“Bakubro has some exciting news, though,” Eijiro smirks, but his smile drops at Katsuki’s snarl. 

“Shut up, shitty hair,” he growled out, feeling embarrassed for some reason. 

“Do tell,” Ayumi turns to Katsuki suggestively, waiting for an explanation. 

“If you’re so excited for me, you might as well tell her yourselves, you bastards,” he exhales.

“He and Midoriya, well, Pro Hero Deku to you, are doing one of those ‘Google Asks’ interviews with WIRED in a couple of days. The idiot doesn’t even care about it, though,” Denki explains, friendly jealousy in his tone. 

“Oh my gosh, I love those videos,” Ayumi beams at Katsuki. “You’re not excited?” 

“No,” he answered shortly, “the nerd’s ecstatic about it though, so here we are.” 

“Well, it’s sweet that you’re doing this for him then.” Something about the way she said it, doing it for Izuku, made Katsuki want to get up and leave the bar. 

“Yeah,” Mina giggles, “Midoriya kind of gets whatever he wants, and Bakugou just grumbles to pretend he doesn’t care about him.” That earns her a smack over the head from the back of Katsuki’s hand. 

“I’m out, losers,” Katsuki stands, groaning at his stiff muscles, and grabs his jacket from its place on the coat hanger. His friends roar in protest, but really, they should be making their way home too. All of their shifts happen to line up nowadays, starting anywhere from 4:30 to 7:00 for the luckier few, and God knows they all need the sleep.

“Continue to wallow in your jealousy of my amazing Google shit or whatever, losers,” Katsuki lifts a hand in farewell, and despite their disappointment, the group wishes him a good night. 

The cool evening air somewhat soothes Katsuki’s tipsy flush as he ambles out of the bar. One of the only other good parts about their bar was that it was only a seven-minute walk from Katsuki and Izuku’s apartment. Katsuki often finds himself using the walk to sober up on nights when he really gets drunk. But on nights like tonight, Katsuki soaks up the time observing the street life around him. An old, stout woman is closing up the small donburi diner that he and Izuku frequent together after their daytime shifts. His stomach grumbles, reminding him that his lunch break got cut short by a hostage situation just outside Tokyo earlier that day. 

“Suzuki-san,” he calls from a few yards away, and she lifts her head with a warm smile. 

“Katsuki-chan,” she greets him, “I thought I told you to call me Obaa-chan, or at least Miyoko.” 

“It feels wrong, Suzuki-san,” he dipped into a small bow. The smell of the day’s cooking wafted from the propped door, and Katsuki’s stomach betrays him again with a loud gurgle. 

She simply shakes her head, “You’re hungry, my boy. Come, come, I’ve still got some extra Katsudon if you’d like.” 

Izuku’s favorite, Katsuki thinks, letting Suzuki lead him into the small restaurant. “I’ll take that home to De-Izuku,” he says without thought. 

“Of course you will, my boy. Always looking out for each other, you two,” she says, packing the Katsudon and an extra meal into a plastic bag. “You don’t see that very often anymore, Katsuki-chan. Make sure you hold onto that boy tight. He’s special,” she continues, sliding the bag over the counter for Katsuki to take. 

“Yeah, something like that,” he says awkwardly, just as he always does when she speaks about them. He isn’t exactly sure if she fully understands the complexity of their past, not knowing how much he and Izuku have separately revealed with their two different perspectives; not knowing if anyone, for that matter, would understand their relationship unless they had come to know them for a long while.

Katsuki makes sure that she locks up okay, staying by her side until they eventually part at the corner of the sidewalk. 

“You’re alright to cross by yourself?” Katsuki asks, like always. 

“Such a gentleman, you sweet boy.” 

“Get home safe, Suzuki-san,” Katsuki bids her good night. 

“Miyoko!” she scolds him. Katsuki waits behind with a laugh, balancing on his heels until she disappears safely into the night. 

✧✦✧

“M’home, nerd,” Katsuki stumbles into their apartment, cursing as he trips over Izuku’s discarded boots. He waits for a reply, or any noise at all, but for the second time this week, he questions the status of Izuku’s life. 

He places the food down on the kitchen island and takes off his shoes, Izuku’s voice yelling ‘you’re tracking dirt inside!’ as a reminder in his head. He checks the living room and their office before finally reaching Izuku’s bedroom. 

Cracking the door open slowly, Katsuki’s face softens. Izuku is indeed unconscious, but not in any horrible way that Katsuki could have thought up. His head is lolled to the side in his awkward seated position on the bed. His green mop of hair is splayed across the throw pillows in a sort of angelic way. In a messy way. In front of him, a notebook and pen lay open on his lap, and a video plays from his laptop at a volume just loud enough to hear if Katsuki stands very still. 

Katsuki turns the laptop to see what Izuku has been taking notes on anyway, and proceeds to leave behind everything that he had previously deemed the “nerdiest” thing Izuku has done. Because this? This takes the cake. 

There are over ten tabs open on YouTube, each a different celebrity’s or hero’s stupid fucking WIRED Autocomplete Interview. Picking up the notebook, Katsuki has to stifle his laughter as he reads down Izuku’s in-depth analysis of their responses: how detailed the questions are, what to do when you get an awkward one, etc. 

What breaks him out of his snooping is Izuku’s incoherent mumbling from the pillow. 

“Mmm–chan’s home?”   

“Yeah, I’m home, nerd,” Katsuki rolls his eyes, poking Izuku out of his sleep. “C’mon, I brought you some dinner. I know your incapacitated ass hasn’t eaten in God knows how long,” he keeps poking until Izuku’s face scrunches in annoyance, and he opens his eyes entirely. 

“What’d you get?” Izuku hauls himself from the bed with a whine, padding over to the kitchen behind Katsuki. 

“Your favorite,” Katsuki says plainly, though something inside him waits eagerly for that smile. When he gets it, he’s annoyingly pleased. 

“Thanks, Kacchan,” Izuku says tiredly, leaning his head against his hand as Katsuki heats the dish and serves it to Izuku dutifully. 

Izuku bows quickly with a rushed itadakimasu before shovelling the rice and pork into his mouth, moaning at the familiar taste of home in each bite. 

Katsuki clears his throat, “So,” he begins, “two days until the interview, huh?”

Izuku nods his head quickly, cheeks puffed out with a grain of rice clinging to the corner of his mouth. Cute, Katsuki’s mind produces selfishly.

“ ‘m sho exshided,” Izuku muffles out, and Katsuki really should scold him for speaking with food in his mouth. He doesn’t. 

“Did you know Phantom Thief’s interview got over ten million views?” Izuku asks after swallowing. 

“Nope. You’re the one who’s been taking all the nerd notes, so I don’t have to know shit about any of this Wired crap,” Katsuki grumbles

“Hey!” Izuku’s chopsticks clank on the side of the bowl in his protest, classic pout forming on his face. 

“Kidding, nerd. Shitty Hair and Dunce Face told me all I needed to know, the jealous idiots.” 

“Ei and Denki are jealous? I’m sure they’ll get their own invitations very soon, the way they’re climbing the ranks these days,” Izuku analyzes. Katsuki can practically see the cogs in his brain churning a mile a minute. 

“They tell you anything else about any shit we gotta do before this?” Katsuki asks, popping his own food into the microwave to warm. 

“Just to wear our costumes, come early for makeup-” 

“Makeup? What, they don’t like how I do my eyeliner already?” Katsuki grumbles. 

“Kacchan!” Izuku laughs around another mouthful of food. Katsuki smirks and shakes his head, stabbing at his rice in thought. 

“They won’t ask us anything crazy, right?” Katsuki locks eyes with Izuku. 

“I guess that depends on what the fans think…” Izuku trails off. They fall into silence over the rest of their dinner.   

✧✦✧

On the morning of the interview, Izuku’s first alarm blares through their apartment like the fucking EAS alarm you’d hear right before the apocalypse. Naturally, this means that the only person it manages to wake up is Katsuki. 

“Oi, Deku!” Katsuki yells from across the living room, stumbling over a discarded pair of slippers, “Turn that shit off.” 

Katsuki pounds on the door to Izuku’s room. 

“M’up, I promise,” Izuku groans through the closed door as the apartment falls silent without the blaring noise. Katsuki is about to open the door to actually make sure the nerd is up when the handle flies back from his hand. 

In his sleepy vision, Katsuki sees a flash of orange step out and slink around him. He rubs his eyes. Even without his contacts or glasses, Katsuki knows exactly what he's looking at. Clad in only one piece of clothing, Izuku stumbles around the kitchen for two coffee mugs. He’s wearing Katsuki’s newest merch line: Dynamite Limited Edition Boxer Briefs ™. Katsuki’s throat runs drier than it is already after being asleep for eight hours. Mina had gotten them for the nerd's birthday a few weeks ago as a “gag gift”, but the way she looked at Katsuki as Izuku beamed made it very clear that she had something up her sleeve. 

As Izuku turns on the coffee machine, he arches up to grab the grounds from the top shelf, the swell of his perfect ass practically yelling “yoo-hoo” to the gaped blond. In an act of self-preservation, Katsuki simply turns back to his own bedroom to splash some cold water on his face and get into his hero costume. At least he’s not wearing the fucking panty line.  

When Katsuki emerges from his room, Izuku is gone. His coffee sits next to Katsuki’s full mug, a thick drip dried down the side of the ceramic. 

“You ready?” A voice from behind him calls. Izuku’s voice, obviously. 

“Jesus, nerd. Scared me.” 

“Sorry. We have plenty of time to get to the studio, so I’d figure maybe we could have some breakfast before we leave?” 

“Is this your way of telling me that I should get cooking?” Katsuki laughs, smile growing as Izuku’s face drops in panic.

“Kidding,” He reassures before the nerd can spiral, and pads over to the kitchen to turn the stove on. 

While picking the ingredients for their rolled omelets, Katsuki wonders if Izuku is still wearing those boxers underneath his hero costume. A blush creeps up the back of his neck as he breaks the eggs in the pan. 

They eat with light conversation floating around here and there before Izuku loads the dishwasher and they make their way to Katsuki’s car. 

The drive to the studio is silent too, for the most part. It usually is. Sometimes, like today, Izuku turns on the radio, humming along to the latest pop tune as he gazes outside the window. It’s kind of cute; you let him be your little passenger princess, Mina had said once, her wiggling eyebrows replaying in Katsuki’s head. She was really going to be the fucking death of him. 

When they pull into the studio parking lot, Katsuki notices that Izuku has grown more jittery. Whether it’s nerves or excitement, he can’t exactly tell. 

“You okay, nerd?” Katsuki asks, stealing a glance as he looks behind his shoulder to back into the parking spot. 

“Mhm,” Izuku replies softly, leg still bouncing. 

“We’re gonna fucking kill this WIRED bullshit, Deku,” Katsuki smirks. “Bet their views will skyrocket. They should thank us for bringing in the big bucks for ‘em.” 

“Kacchan!” Izuku blushes. The engine rumbles to a stop and, finally, Izuku is back to his excited self from earlier. He really is too hard on himself most of the time, but Katsuki tries his best to shut that crap down as soon as he sniffs it out. 

Kiyoshi Maeda, the creative director as Izuku had whispered, waves to them from the stoop of the modern building. 

Izuku is practically jumping at Katsuki’s side now, grabbing at his forearm like when they were brats. 

“We are so glad you agreed to come in, Hero Deku and Hero Dynamight,” Maeda says, scanning his security card and leading them through the lobby of the building. 

“While we walk to the studio, I’ll have one of my assistant producers explain how things will go down before we start filming.” 

On cue, a young man with velvet red hair slips into the elevator with them. He’s not exactly sporting traditional office attire, but Katsuki supposes this isn’t a traditional office anyway. 

“Kajiwara Renzo,” the assistant introduces, “but just call me Ren.” 

“Nice to meet you, Ren,” Izuku beams. 

Ren, unbeknownst to the nerd, fucking blushes. Katsuki clocks it immediately, because he knows that feeling. Izuku’s smile feels like cherry blossoms floating down to tickle your cheek on a spring day. And he wants it reserved to himself. Who does this fucking Ren guy think he is?

Lost in thought, Katsuki forgets he actually has to greet the asshole too. He lets out a grunt that might just pass as an acknowledgment as the elevator dings. Finally gets some fresh fucking air.
“So right now I’ll lead you both to your dressing rooms. There, we’ll have our hair and makeup team give you some small touch-ups,” he turns to Izuku, “not that you need them.” 

Katsuki, with the self-restraint of the saint, just inches closer to Izuku. They brush shoulders. 

“Once they’re finished, we’ll have the tech team get you both mic’d up and do our sound testing before we explain the camera systems and roll a few demo shots for you both.” 

Thank the lord that Izuku is as attentive as he is, nodding along and taking mental notes and all, because Katsuki tuned out about thirty seconds ago. 

“I assume you are both pretty familiar with camera work with all your hero interviews. Actually, I especially recall Dynamight here has quite the er… camera presence…” Ren trails off as Katsuki tunes back in, just in time to hear his name being dragged in the dirt. 

“Kacch- Um, Dynamight’s working on his public appearance a bit… All the more reason to be here today!” Izuku speaks for him, which is honestly for the better. If Katsuki has his way, the only thing he’d be saying to the intern would be to make sure he had his affairs in order in the likely chance he got choked out.

“Here’s where we part,” Ren’s heels click together against the linoleum floor. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to just ask me personally. I’ll be around to check on you.”

Izuku smiles at him again. Actually, Katsuki doesn’t think he’s stopped smiling this whole time. He hopes that’s just the excitement of the situation and not that this fake-ass charm Ren is putting on is actually working on the nerd. 

Katsuki nods at Izuku before entering his dressing room.

“Nice to meet you, Dynamight. My name is Niikura Kotone, and I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for today,” a young woman says in a rush. She doesn’t lay on the flattery like Ren had, which is refreshing. 

Katsuki gives her a pressed smile, sitting down onto the stool facing the mirror. He thought he looked fine, thank you very much. Attractive even, according to some of the tabloids Denki would wave in his face. 

The last time anyone had tried to do anything with his hair, it didn’t end well. At least Best Jeanist had the patience for his temper. If things go south with this nice, seemingly innocent cosmetologist, it would do the opposite of what Katsuki needs for his public image. 

Besides, taming his hair was a pretty futile effort. Ever since he was in diapers, the stubborn spikes have always had their way. 

“-known to not exactly cooperate, right?” a voice faded into his conscience, asking him a question. 

“What? Sorry.”

“Your hair. I was just saying I won’t do much besides a bit of sculpting gel since I know your hair doesn’t exactly welcome change.”

“Yeah? How’d you know that, huh?”

“Heh, you definitely don’t remember, but you actually saved me once on your internship with Best Jeanist when you were at U.A.”

Katsuki stares at her face through the mirror, watching her use her quirk–some kind of focused object manipulation power–to float a can into her hand. 

“I crossed the street without looking on the way to school and didn’t see a cyclist coming down the road. You swept me out of the way in time, though you didn’t let me go before yelling at me first.”

Katsuki digs through his memories to try to connect the young woman’s face to a younger version from his past, de-aging her features in an attempt to recognize her.

“Sounds like me,” he shrugs. 

“Yeah, the angrier you got, the more your hair spiked out of place. Then when Jeanist got a hold of you and gave you a scolding, you went full Pomeranian.”

Katsuki whipped his head around at that comment, opening his mouth to protest. 

“The slick down was never your look anyway,” she says, forcibly turning his head back toward the mirror, “so I guess all that trouble from me did you a fashion favor, huh?”

Katsuki actually let out a chuckle at that. Girl’s got spunk. 

“As long as you don’t pull any of that flat bullshit he did, we’re cool.” 

Kotone carefully palms Katsuki’s hair, defining the spikes with a light coat of gel. He admits it actually looks pretty good by the time she’s finished. Jeanist, take some notes.

“Now you don’t really need much makeup; your complexion is actually frustratingly amazing.”

“Damn right,” Katsuki scoffs, though he kicks himself shortly after. He clears his throat, “It’s the quirk,” he backtracks, “The glycerin part I got from my mom is all moisturizing and shit, so it makes me look young or whatever.” 

“Makes sense,” Kotone ponders, “with all that scowling you do, you’d definitely have some frown lines without the extra help by now.” 

Katsuki turns around again to see her just smirking, holding up some concealer and color corrector. 

“Just some light stuff, since your eyebags obviously tell me you don’t get enough sleep.”

“That’s hero work for ya,” Katsuki sighs, “And living with an idiot that sets alarms hours too early.” Katsuki glances over to the wall, picturing Izuku getting his own pampering on the other side. 

She touches up his under-eyes, blending quickly with a sponge before stepping back to admire her work. 

“Ah, I didn’t know you and Deku lived together,” she says all suggestively, connecting the dots between his comment and his wandering gaze easily.  

“Are we done here?” Katsuki asks bluntly, though it’s not exactly a question since he’s already standing up.
“Stubborn,” she laughs under her breath, “I’ll call for tech to get you mic’d and ready.”

✧✦✧

Reunited, Katsuki and Izuku get comfortable on the set, trying not to invade each other's personal space. This proves quite difficult considering this small sofa was definitely made for one.

Katsuki’s mic scratches slightly against his sternum, making him adjust it every few seconds. 

“Dynamight, say something for mic check, please,” A technician calls from somewhere in the room. 

“Can I get my mic tape adjusted over here?” Katsuki says annoyedly. 

“Sounds great there, Dynamight. And, yes, someone please go adjust his tape positioning; he’s been picking at it for the past five minutes, and it’s starting to muffle things on my end.” The technician shouts over the bustle of the set. 

“This is exciting, right Kacchan?” Izuku drums his hands on his lap. 

“Yeah, nerd, s’exciting,” Katsuki grumbles, removing his tank top so an intern can peel the tape off and reposition the tiny microphone. Though he’s frustrated at the long process, Katsuki will admit that he’s actually intrigued by this experience given how much Izuku’s hyped it up. 

“Deku, say something whenever you’re ready,” the technician says over the noise again. 

“I’m excited to be here!” Izuku exclaims genuinely. The room chuckles collectively, as if under a spell. Izuku’s stupid personality can just get people to react like that, Katsuki thinks, smiling too. He’s not immune to it at all. Never has been.  

“We hear you loud and clear, Deku,” The sound room calls back with a thumbs up. 

“And we’re just as excited to have you here,” Maeda, the director, joins in, walking over to the two of them. 

“We’re going to begin rolling in a few minutes; we’ll follow the prepared plan for the introduction, then you’ll get your boards and the show is yours.” 

“Question,” Izuku perks up, “Who is going to get their board first?” 

“We were going to have you start, and once you finish your board, Dynamight would get his and so on,” Maeda explains. “That's okay with you, Dynamight?”

“All good,” Katsuki leans back against the couch. 

The next few minutes are spent making last-minute adjustments to lighting and set positioning. Izuku squeezes Katsuki’s thigh in his jitters, making him jump. 

“We got this, nerd, just have fun,” Katsuki tries to keep his own cool, his mind never straying from how Izuku’s hand is still resting atop his left leg. Then the hand moves, and it’s just them and the loud sounds of production in the air. 

“Rolling in 5,” a voice calls, snapping Katsuki into the moment. 

“Autocomplete: Deku and Dynamight take one. Action!” The clapperboard cracks in front of them, and suddenly it’s real. 

Izuku, as with everything in life, jumps at the cue and begins their introduction. 

“Hi, I’m Deku,” Izuku beams. 

“And I’m Dynamight,” Katsuki tries to match his tone. 

“And this is the Wired: Autocomplete Interview,” they say in unison, chuckling by the end of the sentence. It comes out sloppy, but the look from the producers says endearing more than horrible–let’s run that again. 

“Great guys, that was great.” Maeda smiles, signalling someone to bring something to the two of them. Izuku is handed a cardboard slab, which Katsuki recognizes from some of the videos he’d made him watch. 

“From here until you finish the board, we’ll just do one take and edit everything in post-production,” Maeda explains. 

“Just remember, if there’s anything you really don’t want included, just have us stop, and we’ll pick up where we left off, okay?” 

They both nod, and soon the clapperboard appears again. 

“Autocomplete: Deku and Dynamight take two. Action!”

“Alright, I’m not going to lie, I’ve been thinking about this for like-”

“Every waking hour?” Katsuki interrupts. Izuku glares back at him. For a second, Katsuki thinks he’ll be yelled at by the producers. But everyone behind the camera just seems to be watching with amusement. After all, they were told to be themselves. This was just how they were. 

“Alright, sue me,” Izuku laughs, “Let’s get started then.” He begins peeling back the first strip. 

“‘How… tall is Deku?’ I’m around 170 centimeters, or…” he thinks for a minute, “five foot seven for my American viewers out there.” 

“Alright next,” Izuku moves on, “Who… did Deku first save?” He pauses a beat, looking over at Katsuki. 

“Like the first person I’ve ever saved, ummm, Ka- I mean Dynamight, I guess, when I think about it.”

“What?!” Katsuki protests, outraged. 

“You know, sludge?” 

“Oh shut up, you did not save me, asshole,” Katsuki crosses his arms.    

“Fine, fine. Then I guess Uravity? During the entrance exam for U.A there was this giant robot, and she was stuck underneath, so I punched it with all the force I had and proceeded to bust my arm up entirely,” he laughs. 

“Knocked the hell out of that thing, though,” Katsuki added. 

“Sure did.” Izuku peels the next strip away. “‘How… is Deku so happy?’ Awwwww.”

“You guys are so tame; now look what you’ve done, making him into more of a sap.” Katsuki shakes his head. 

“Dynamight, stop! I learned from someone once that it’s not just about saving people’s lives, but also their hearts, so I try to smile as much as I can! I get sad too sometimes, don’t get me wrong. I just like to spend my time appreciating all the good parts of my life rather than dwelling on the bad, right?” 

Katsuki doesn’t know if the question is directed towards him, or if it’s even a question at all. But he gives Izuku a nod of reassurance anyway. 

“Okay, last one for this board… ‘What… is Deku’s favourite food?’ Katsudon! Dynamight made some for me a few nights ago; it was amazing!”

“I didn’t make you shit. That was Suzuki-san from the corner, you idiot.” 

“Well, you microwaved it for me. That counts?” 

“Just for the record for everyone at home, I’m actually an amazing cook and normally don’t let the nerd survive off takeaway. No disrespect if you’re watching this, Suzuki-san; we love your cooking.” 

 Izuku lets out a hearty laugh, and Katsuki just watches him for a few seconds. 

“Alright, we all know they clicked on this to see my part, so bring it on,” Katsuki smirks. On cue, someone on set hands him his own board. A small bout of nerves hits him square in the chest, but with a breath, they’re gone again. 

“First up… "How… tall is Dynamight?’ Seriously? You guys are so boring. I’m 182 centimeters. Nerd, do your thing.” Katsuki turns to Izuku, who’s working out some mental calculations. 

“Around six feet exactly, Americans!” Izuku blurts a second later. Katsuki very well could’ve done his own calculations, but it's better for the cameras, he thinks. He has to remember he’s here for publicity and looking like an approachable, nice-enough person. 

“Next… ‘Who… was Dynamight’s first kiss?!’ Now we’re talking,” Katsuki chuckles. 

“I’m not going to put them on blast, but I’ll tell you it was a friend at U.A that I’m, unfortunately, still friends with today. You stalkers have enough info on me to narrow down your search. Have fun.” 

“If it makes you guys feel any better, I have no idea who this person is either. He would never tell me, no matter how many times I asked. I’ve since given up,” Izuku pouts, surely sharing the audience’s disappointment.  

“Yeah, yeah. Okay… ‘How… does Dynamight’s quirk work?’ That’s an easy one. My quirk is a combination of my Mom’s glycerin sweat and my old man’s acidic combustible sweat, so basically my sweat is like nitroglycerin and the more I sweat, the stronger my explosions. You’ll mainly see me use my palms, but I can focus the explosion through my entire body when I need to.”

“The hands part is the best, though, since they’re always warm,” Izuku concludes like it’s nothing. 

“What?” 

“Remember when we were kids, and you’d use your quirk to warm our gloves up in the winter? Sometimes, too, when I was sick back then, Dynamight would use his hands like a hot water bottle. It’s his best feature, easily” 

“Back then? Really, nerd? You asked me to do that like three weeks ago when you had that bug. This guy has the worst immune system ever, by the way.” Katsuki throws a thumb to point at Izuku, who swats it away. 

“Right… ‘How… did Dynamight get his name?’ Heh, alright, so pretty much every hero gets to pick their hero name. I didn’t exactly make this an easy process for any of my teachers or classmates for a while, since my name was so long. Originally my name was Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, but since–and even I’ll admit this–it’s a bit impractical for comms and shit, I just shortened it to Dynamight.” 

“Dynamight, you forgot the most important part!” Izuku gasps, half mocking and half genuinely distraught. 

“Oh yeah. It’s spelt like ‘might’ instead of ‘mite’ at the end because of All Might; I’ve always been a massive fan.” 

From there, the interview runs smoothly. They flow into their usual teasing banter, and every time Katsuki manages to glance behind the cameras, everyone seems very pleased with how things are running. They both receive two more boards that ask anything from ‘Where is Deku from?’ to ‘Why does Dynamight yell at everyone?’ (Yes, that one hurt) And that seems like the end of it. 

Izuku tosses away the last sticky strip of paper, and they look to the producers for the next steps. They didn’t exactly rehearse an outro, but since they can cut at any time, Katsuki figures it can just be added in once they sort out the details. 

What the director says next, however, screams trouble. 

 “Since we rarely do these interviews in pairs, we came up with something a little bit different for you two. Think of it as a thank you for agreeing to come onto the channel,” Maeda smiles at him. There’s something in his eyes that Katsuki really hates. The snickers around the room don’t reassure him, either. 

“Really, something just for us?” Izuku is all oblivious and giddy about this, but Katsuki is still uneasy. 

“You’ve both had your own individual boards, but how about we look at some Google searches about you both?” The director claps his hands together, handing them both a bigger board to hold between them. There are six questions, all of which feel like a threat. 

“Thank you for doing this, guys!” Izuku smiles at the crew, who cheer and give reinforcements back to them. 

Before he can protest, Katsuki watches as the cameramen reassume position and that stupid clapperboard comes into view once more. 

“Autocomplete: Deku and Dynamight take three. Action!” With a loud crack, they had no choice but to get on with it. It can’t be that bad, can it? 

“So this is a bit of a surprise for both of us, right, Dynamight?” Izuku smiles. Katsuki just grunts out a response, slightly nervous but interested too. 

“Let’s get on with it, shall we?” Izuku tears at the first one. 

“‘How… Did Deku and Dynamight become partners?’ Aww, this is a sweet one. Care to explain, Dynamight?”

“Heh, sure,” Katsuki’s lip turns into a smile, “We’ve been chasin’ after each other our whole lives or whatever, so it was kind of the natural progression of our careers.”

“Natural progression? Please, Dynamight,” Izuku scoffs, “What really happened was that he declined any other offers to partner up and waited until I finally said yes after three years of asking.” 

“Well, when you put it like that,” Katsuki rubs the back of his neck, willing the embarrassment on his face to die down. 

“Alright,” he clears his throat, “I’ll do the next one. ‘Why does… Dynamight look at Deku like that?’”

Katsuki takes a beat to make sure that he’s reading that right. Izuku looks confused too, until someone calls across the set, “We’ve actually got a visual to go with that one.”

Within a few seconds, an enlarged photo from a crime scene was handed to the two of them. In the picture, seemingly taken by a fan and uploaded online, Izuku has a young girl on his hip, comforting her with that million-dollar smile. The girl giggles; Katsuki can almost hear it through the photo, and her smile matches his. 

And Katsuki? God, this must be some sort of prank, because there Katsuki is in the corner, looking absolutely smitten with Izuku. He remembers that day very well, actually, especially the way his stomach flipped at the sight of Izuku being so amazing with the kids even after the exhausting rescue mission.   

In the photo, Katsuki has that soft smile on his face that most people never see, just watching the other man from a distance. 

“Oh, I remember that day,” Izuku grins fondly at the photo, either not recognizing or just completely ignoring Katsuki’s current crisis. “Mori Imiri- her name was; she was sweet. Hi Mori-chan, if you’re watching!” 

Katsuki truly does his best to will away the blush on his face, but his efforts are hopeless. This might just be the worst moment of his entire career. Maybe of his entire life, and he’s literally been kidnapped, died, and come back to life again.

Izuku’s rambling has stopped, and the room has fallen almost silent. After all, the original question still hangs in the air around them. Why do you look at him like that, Katsuki? Maybe because you’re proud of your friend, your lifelong partner? Or, and this is just a long shot, you’re head over heels, can’t-fall-asleep-at-night in love with him?  

Just as he is about to open his mouth and fumble through a terrible lie, Izuku speaks first. 

“Dynamight looks pretty dazed to me; that was a long fight for both of us.”

Katsuki just looks past the camera and at the set crew. Everyone is literally on the edge of their seats waiting for him to just say something. Whoever set this shit up, probably some horny intern, was dead to him. 

“Yep. Next one, Deku,” Katsuki says in one breath, passing the board to Izuku and tossing the photo aside, hopefully to another dimension. 

“‘Do… Dynamight and Deku live together?’ Haha, yes, we do. Obviously we can’t really talk much about that for safety reasons, but we've pretty much lived near each other our whole lives. It would feel weird not to.” 

Katsuki smiles at that. Most times he is content with the way that their relationship has just been them falling in and out of place with each other. Unfortunately, that has meant that up until now, nothing that he’s wanted, really wanted, has happened. That’s not something up to fate. He has to force the piece into the right place, and god knows he’s horrible at that sappy bullshit.  

“Dynamight does all the cooking really, and also the cleaning when I think about it. I guess I’m just good company haha. He’s like the perfect housewife, and I’m like the husband that just tinkers around all day at work then falls asleep on the couch to old All Might movies.”

This might be the second time Katsuki dies and comes back to life. There is no way that he was just called a housewife. And, absolutely no way in hell, did Izuku just call himself Katsuki’s husband? Oh, two can play at that game. Izuku has no idea what he’s doing to Katsuki right now, but it’s getting much harder for him to sit still and just take this crap. So, he won’t.   

“Husband, huh?” Katsuki tries to hide the embarrassment-arousal mixture shooting through his body with a suggestive brow raise in Izuku’s direction. They lock eyes, and finally, it’s Izuku who’s flushing red. Katsuki watches as the pink hue creeps down and disappears into his hero suit. Who knows where it stops, his perverted mind whispers to him.  

“N-not like that, K-Dynamight.” Izuku purses his lips, eyes fluttering just slightly under the studio lighting, “I guess you just take care of me well…” he trails off. Oh, now he’s done for. Katsuki Bakugou has died for the third time in his life, and somehow, he just keeps coming back. 

“Next,” Katsuki says slowly, using the lull in tension to calm his breathing and adjust in his seat, “‘Does… Dynamight have a crush on Deku?’” Call him Sparky, because he has short-circuited for the third time today. And here, he draws the line. He drops the board and stands up off the couch. 

“We’re cutting that one out,” he asserts firmly, pacing slightly before sitting back down. Izuku frowns at him, watching as the blond calms himself.  

“Kacchan, why can’t you just-” 

“No, Izuku, I-” Katsuki pauses, watching Izuku’s face scrunch in confusion at his given name. 

“Just, fuck, we’ll do another one; I don’t want to do that one, okay?” 

“Okay,” Izuku concedes. 

“Let us know when you’re ready to roll again; we’ll edit that one out if you could just cover it back up with the tape.” 

Izuku carefully lines it back over the tape, fingers fumbling slightly as he ponders Katsuki’s reaction. 

“Ready?” Izuku leans into the other. 

“Yeah.” Katsuki’s shoulders are tense with their proximity. But the slight pressure from Izuku’s side is also just what he needs to collect himself again and relax his body. Just three more. 

Izuku gives a nod to the camera, and with a snap, the cameras roll again. 

“Okay,” Izuku takes the initiative, “‘When… did Deku and Dynamight go to school together?’ Hah, this is also another complicated one.” 

Katsuki is just grateful to the Autocomplete Gods, if they’re out there, that this one is tame enough to give him time to breathe. 

“Yeah, we’ve been in school together since nursery and stuff, but if you’re talking about U.A, then we graduated together in ’17,” Katsuki explains, Izuku just watching him talk for a while. 

“Two more… ‘What… do Dynamight and Deku do in their free time?’ Well, we don’t get much free time,” Katsuki chuckles to himself, “I don’t know, Deku, what do we do?”

“Well, we rarely get a day off together, but when we do we either just rot on the couch or go out to eat,” Izuku tries to come up with something else, but he falls silent. 

“Hey, you’re making us sound like losers, Deku. Last time we were off duty together we went to a cat cafe for lunch; that was fun.”

“Oh yeah!” Izuku perks back up at that, “That was awesome. There’s this place called Nekorobi where you can read comics and just sit with a bunch of cats. We had lunch and then stayed for like hours after. Kacchan fell asleep with two cats on him, one up here,” Izuku pats Izuku’s pecs, “and then one,” Izuku pauses to think, and gestures down the Katsuki’s lap, thankfully not petting there too, “down here. It was so cute.”

“Yeah, that was nice for sure; I could do that every day.” Katsuki wants to tell Izuku that he’d let Kacchan slip instead of using their hero names like they’d been instructed, but nobody in the room seemed to mind. He doesn’t either. It’s not the first time he’s slipped up with that. Like if Katsuki doesn’t respond right away over comms, Izuku will revert back to the childhood name in a panic. 

“Alright, last one. ‘Are… Deku and Dynamight dating?'". They both just stare at each other for a moment. Katsuki really tries to get anything out of Izuku’s gaze, to see what he’s thinking, how he’s reacting to this. He feels like the world’s biggest idiot to get so worked up about these questions, whereas Izuku just seems to take it all and just bury it away, like it doesn’t matter. 

“Umm, you guys really like these questions,” Izuku exhales awkwardly. “I guess with hero work and everything neither of us have time for dating or relationships, right?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki says lamely. “We’re… not dating, everyone.” Saying it out loud feels like a sucker punch to the gut. It’s better than hearing it from Izuku, but he’s already seen enough. He’s clearly uncomfortable with it all; he can’t even outright say “No, we’d never date” because it must just be that weird to him. Fuck. 

Izuku’s usually peppy spirit jolts Katsuki back to reality just long enough to finish their quick outro, drifting lazily through the “thank you for having us” and “we hope you enjoyed” until, finally, it’s all over.

There’s a hum around them that Katsuki hadn’t paid any mind to before, a white noise only distinguishable in the kind of awkward silence they’re surrounded by right now. 

“Amazing guys, that’s a wrap,” someone shouts, soon followed by whoops and applause from the room. Of all people, Ren emerges from the background.  

Katsuki literally cannot hold back his scowl. Of all the times he’s practically died today, now would be the only time he’d welcome it with open arms. 

“Great job out there, you two,” he says, but he doesn’t even look in Katsuki’s direction. 

“I’ll take you back to your dressing rooms where you can get situated before you leave.” 

Katsuki just feels like he’s going through the motions, following behind Izuku and Ren as they chat about some unimportant bullshit. Katsuki just slips into the dressing room as soon as he’s close enough to reach the doorknob. 

He can still hear their muffled voices outside the room, chatting up a storm. Izuku giggles at something, and Katsuki’s heart actually skips a beat. That happens sometimes after the war, and it always freaks him out a little. But he’s never felt it in a way like this. Ren’s deep laughter follows Izuku’s, and the conversation lulls to the point where Katsuki can’t make out anything else. He sits in the silence of the dressing room, prying the mic off his chest with a long exhale. 

✧✦✧

Izuku doesn’t hum on the way home. Each time Katsuki glances over, he’s just gazing out the window silently, barely moving. 

“What were you and Ren talking about?” 

“What?” Izuku finally turns to face him, cheek red and smooshed from the glass.

“Outside the dressing rooms. I heard you both, fuckin’ loud as shit.” 

“Oh. Just about like the recording session and stuff. He wanted my number in case he needed any follow-up stuff before they post the video.” 

“Bastard,” Katsuki huffs. 

“What, Kacchan?” He sounds annoyed. 

 “Shit, Deku, he doesn’t want it for some bullshit follow-up. He wants to get in your pants for Christ's sake.” 

“What?!” Izuku whips his head to stare at Katsuki. He can feel his gaze burning the side of his head. 

“Whatever, It’s your life. Just thought you said you didn’t have time for dating as a hero...” 

“Dating? Kacchan-” Izuku is sitting up fully now. Katsuki grips the steering wheel. 

“Yeah, you know, phone number, date, sex–hey, you can’t bring him over to our place, just FYI.” Katsuki rambles, emphasizing the fact that they fucking live together. God, if Katsuki had to witness that asshole in their apartment, he would no longer be allowed to be a hero.

“I didn’t give him the stupid number!” 

“...What?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t give it to him. I said if he wanted to follow up, he could just email the agency.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yes, Kacchan. Oh.” They both fall silent for a minute, just the noise of the tires as Katsuki turns into the complex’s underground garage. 

“Well, I mean it would’ve been fine but-” 

Izuku lets out a laugh. “It would have been fine, Kacchan? You just freaked the hell out about it!” 

“Yeah, but it’s your life. I was just surprised, or…” 

“Or… what? What is so wrong about some guy asking for my number?” They carry the argument from the parking garage all the way up to their apartment. 

“Nothing! There’s nothing wrong with it, I was just saying that it caught me off guard.” Katsuki parks and opens his door to get out. Selfishly, he doesn’t bother to see if Izuku is following behind him. The stomping is a quick tell that, yes, he is. 

“Well, actually,” Katsuki hits the button on the elevator, “It didn’t catch me off guard at all.” 

Izuku is still very angry, but he’s fallen silent. That is never a good sign, but through his own rage, Katsuki doesn’t register it. 

“I mean, he was flirting with you in front of his own boss, for crying out loud. It was clear that day that he had a fanboy crush on you.”

The ride up to the elevator is short, and the dig rings through the air when they arrive at their floor.   

“Well that’s rich coming from you, talking about crushes…” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Katsuki shakes his head in confusion, fumbling for his keys as they round the corner. 

“Well, you couldn’t even fucking answer when you were asked if you had a crush on me.” 

Katsuki finds the right key, pushing into their apartment and kicking his shoes off. 

“You could’ve just said no, you know, you didn’t have to stop the whole fucking thing-” 

“No, I couldn’t have just said no, Izuku.” There it is again. The name just comes out, catching them both off guard. 

“Why, Kacchan, are you just disgusted by even the idea that someone would like me like that?” 

“FUCK,” Katsuki snaps, and Izuku just huffs out angrily with each breath, chest rising and falling violently. 

“I couldn’t answer that bullshit of a question because I don’t have a crush on you-” 

“So you could’ve just said-” 

“-I’m fucking in love with you. But it’s not a very good idea to tell your best friend that you’ve been in love with him for your entire life on camera for some stupid YouTube bullshit, is it?”

This is Katsuki’s worst nightmare. That look in Izuku’s eyes, barely distinguishable between repulsion and confusion, is like a dagger. He wants to vomit, to jump out the window and go on the run because that was the stupidest thing he’s ever said.

“You’re,” Izuku begins, “You’re in love with me?”

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki cracks then and there, “I tried, I-” It all begins to bubble up. Every moment spent pining, every glance he thought nobody noticed, every moment Izuku spent talking to someone else sending him into spiralling jealousy. 

“I have to go, I can’t-” 

“Katsuki.” He’s ruined everything; now they’re back to square nothing, and it’s all his fault. He never should’ve fucking agreed to all this crap; he knew it wasn’t a good idea. 

Tears finally break past the well of his eyes. He hasn’t cried like this since that day in the hospital, when he thought Izuku would never chase him again. Maybe that’s why they flow so easily down his cheeks, following the drag path from each one before.

“Please don’t, I-” Then, as if it couldn’t hurt any more, Katsuki feels Izuku’s weight envelop him all at once. A sob wrenches from his chest because this feels like the last time he’ll have him. With shaking arms, Katsuki lifts to wrap around Izuku’s back. He wants to hold him there forever, to never let go and to pull Izuku down with him, wherever he’s going. 

  Each heaving breath feels like everything is ending again. It feels like lying in the dirt and listening for help, hearing Izuku scream for him. It feels like never getting to tell him everything, like thinking this is it. It feels like this is it. 

Yet when everything is ending, he knows Izuku is there. He feels him. His ragged breath next to his ear. His calloused hands around Katsuki’s shaking shoulders. His lips brushing feather-light over his forehead. His lips ghosting over the tear marks down his face. His lips pressing over his nose, barely there. But there. Katsuki feels them; they’re there. 

His eyes flutter open. Izuku is close, forehead pressed lightly against his own. Katsuki doesn’t move an inch. He can feel the warmth of Izuku’s breath mix with his own between them. He shuts his eyes, just as he feels those lips again, pressing softly against his own. 

This is a nice goodbye, is all he can think as Izuku pulls away. 

“I love you too, Kacchan.” 

And suddenly, it’s not goodbye anymore. Katsuki’s eyes open, and it’s green, and freckles, and everything he’s always wanted. It’s not goodbye; he doesn’t think it will ever be. It’s new, though. 

With a pathetic noise, Katsuki tilts against Izuku to capture him in another kiss, savouring the taste. They move like syrup, like they have all the time in the world. Katsuki hopes they do. Izuku slots his lips against Katsuki’s again and again, each press of soft flesh catalogued into Katsuki’s mind forever. 

He hasn’t stopped crying, he realizes. But then he pulls back and sees that it’s Izuku’s tears he feels against his skin, not his own. 

“I don’t understand how this happened.” Katsuki tries to fathom the past five minutes, but nothing makes sense at all. Everything he’d believed was wrong. And God, it had never felt so good to be wrong in his entire life. 

“Like everything else,” Izuku states, slow and sure, “we danced around each other for as long as the universe allowed until it either fell down or fell into place.” 

“Mmm. We got lucky again, then. Only a matter of time before something falls down”

“Well, it’s only 12:43. There’s still time.” 

“Time for lots of couch dwelling, once we get out of this crap.” Katsuki begins to disassemble his hero costume. 

“Yeah, back to pyjamas I think.” Izuku chucks off the top portion of his outfit. 

“By pyjamas you mean my merch boxers?” Katsuki gives him a sloppy smile. 

“I knew you liked me in those,” Izuku shuffles toward the laundry room to hang his suit. “You coming?” he calls out, though he doesn’t turn around. 

“Right behind you, nerd.”