Work Text:
Izuku isn’t late, but he’s also not not late. This is to say— Katsuki finished patrol early and has been scowling at God for the last fifteen minutes, getting gawked at by passersby. He’s waiting in the shade outside their lunch spot, painstakingly found after much trial and error. It needed to be between UA and his patrol route, and also somewhere where the owners and staff wouldn’t be weird as fuck about Dynamight and Deku dropping by.
The last place had the servers acting like paparazzi, and Izuku was so annoyed about getting mobbed on his lunch break that he didn’t even stop Katsuki from threatening to blow up their kitchen. That video didn’t go over well on Twitter, or with his PR lady. He checks his watch and resists the urge to tap his foot. In two minutes, Izuku will be late, and Katsuki almost hopes he is so he has a real reason to be mad.
No such luck. With four seconds to spare, his stupid boyfriend bounds up, curls bouncing, and Katsuki tries pathetically to hold on to his anger as he receives a kiss on the cheek and a breathless: “Sorry to keep you waiting, Kacchan. Bokuto-san had a quirk mishap and then I missed the early train and then, oh—”
Izuku isn’t wearing his usual work suit, but athletic clothes— basketball shorts with a Dynamight shirt and a Froppy bucket hat. He looks completely ridiculous. Somewhere between a toddler and a frat boy, heavily muscled and stupidly earnest. Katsuki wishes he could squeeze him until he explodes. “Wait,” Katsuki says, brain catching up to the mess of words he’s just heard. “How’d you know I was waiting?”
“Oh, um—” Izuku has this small, tiny, miniscule tell when he’s lying, which is that he begins to resemble a nervous rabbit— eyes darting around, hands jittering, freckles warming until he turns into a strawberry. “You just look kinda mad.”
Because he’s a goddamn saint, Katsuki doesn’t press on it until they’re tucked into the back corner of the restaurant, and the food is on the way. He has, by now, heard all about Bokuto’s hairy (literally) incident.
“Nerd,” he says, threading his fingers through Izuku’s on the table and fighting a grin. Izuku happily holds his hand and props his chin up with the other, smiling beatifically. Consider his earlier shitty mood officially cancelled. “D’you have media notifications on for me?”
“No—Kacchan—why would you even say—” Izuku squawks, and tries to pull his hand away. Katsuki sits back to watch him flail and lets his grin out, thrilled. God, he loves this little freak.
Izuku’s phone pings and he freezes, full deer-in-headlights mode. “That’s my groupchat. With Shouto and Ochaco.”
“Right,” he says, dry. “What are they saying?”
Ah, the nervous rabbit again. “Um—just. About the p-plans this weekend.”
“This weekend?”
“Yes?”
“Aren’t we visiting Auntie?”
“Uh, um—” This dumbass. Really, Katsuki’s being merciful when he swipes the phone from the table. Letting Izuku cling to his lies is painful for everyone involved. The phone is captured, Izuku lunges, but his arms are too short. Ha.
Google Alert – “Dynamight”
Hero News Network: Pro Hero Dynamight spotted on the corner of…
dailydynamight just shared a post
dynarrazzi just shared a post
H! News just shared a post
uravityofficial: stop sending me these fan edits of Iida I work with CHILDREN
uravityofficial: and no u still can’t send any of Bakugou
heroshouto: do you think I’d look good in a beret
Well, that’s enough of that. He doesn’t wanna think about the damn beret or Glasses. The fan edits, though… Katsuki passes the phone back to his tomato boyfriend and tries not to look too smug. Izuku glares. The Froppy bow coming out of his head kinda undoes the heat of it.
“It’s for safety reasons! You suck at texting—”
“Hey—"
“— and how am I supposed to know if something happens?”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. “You’re my emergency contact, dumbass. You’re gonna know as soon as anything happens.”
“HNN works faster than the hospital,” says Izuku, still sulking but tone sharp. The flap of his hate jiggles as he crosses his arms in protest.
Okay—that… that’s true, actually. But also does not explain @dailydynamight. But whatever. Katsuki’s over pretending he’s not attracted to all the weird shit Izuku does. “Answer’s no, by the way.”
Izuku’s nose scrunches. “What?”
“IcyHot’s damn text.”
“Oh,” says Izuku, relaxing now that he’s no longer on trial for being a chronic fanboy. Then he grimaces. “I know. He’d look terrible. But he’s having a hat thing right now and actually the beret might be the least bad option.”
Katsuki hums consideringly. He actually kinda enjoys the idea of that idiot in a beret. Maybe his fans would realize what a goddamn idiot he was.
Izuku clears his throat, effectively cutting him out of his inane musing.
“How was patrol, by the way? Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’re sitting.”
As if Katsuki could have any such delusions. Izuku never misses a thing when it comes to him. Katsuki shifts from his uncomfortable position into another, slightly worse, uncomfortable position. He scrubs a hand over his face, probably messing up his eyeliner further, then pushes his hair more out of his face with his mask and sighs. Izuku watches him, chin in hand.
“S’fine. Dipshit had a crab quirk. Ei got him, but not before he slammed me through a wall.”
Izuku’s already nodding, and Katsuki feels fondness flip his stomach as he watches the calculations run through his boyfriend’s brain. Trying to see if there was a way out of it. But there wasn’t. He’s on decoy duty when paired with a tank like Kirishima, and the asshole got a lucky hit. Nothin’ new, but a bit much for a Wednesday morning.
The food arrives, and they dig in. Both of them have a short lunch break and if Izuku has any hope of getting back to school on time, they’ll have to eat fast. Izuku does. In fact, he eats so fast, that Katsuki begins to have a sneaking suspicion that he skipped breakfast. Again.
“Have you eaten today?”
Izuku slurps a noodle up and flashes him a guilty smile. “I’m eating right now, Kacchan.”
Ughhhh. Izuku’s grown out of a lot of bullshit, but not his fifteen year old self’s preferred diet. He glowers at him, and Izuku pretends not to see.
After they pay, Katsuki finds himself ambling alongside Izuku to the train station, delaying their separation. He slings his arm around his shoulders, and Izuku reaches up to pat his wrist. He can’t help how pathetic he’s become, not that he tries so hard to stop it. He keeps an eye out for any incidents that’ll send him back into work mode, and follows Izuku’s story about Momo’s recent research breakthrough. Something something about amino acids. A teenager gawks at them and snaps a picture, and Katsuki’s eye twitches.
“Will you come give the kids a demo sometime?”
Ugh, not this again. He’s not gonna sit through a communications lecture again. Fool him once.
“Aizawa already asked,” he grumps. “I’m not a fuckin’ classroom dummy.”
“Huh?” Izuku’s head swivels to look up at him, confused. Then, his expression clears. “Wha—No, Kacchan. I’m talking about a practical demo. I want someone to teach them aerial maneuvering, and you’re the best at it.” Okay, so he preens a little. “Anyway, Aizawa and I have different classes. You know that.”
Izuku’s happy expression is dropping into a frown now, as if he’s actually convinced Katsuki doesn’t pay any attention. As if that’s ever been true, but he knows that there was a long time for which Izuku didn’t know about the kind of attention Katsuki paid him. Atonement this, atonement that— sure, Katsuki is going to spend a lifetime keeping frowns off Izuku’s face, but it’s no chore. It’s all selfish, in the end. He’s going to be as horrible or as devoted as he needs to be, just to stay by his side. This, too, isn’t something he’ll let Izuku win in. He releases the arm around his shoulders and rubs down his back, over his spine, feeling the divots under his fingers.
“I know. Thought you were asking me for the old man, ‘s all. I’ll do it— lemme just check the schedule.”
Izuku brightens like a plant turned to sunlight. “Really?”
“Sure, sensei. Whatever you want.”
“Ugh, Kacchan, don’t.” He reddens, and Katsuki grins. “You don’t have to check, though. I can get Kiyoko-san to call the agency and set it up officially.”
Before Katsuki can reply, something explodes. They both straighten, alert. Katsuki instinctively tightens his grip on Izuku’s shoulder before realizing it’s not close enough to be a danger, but it’s still loud— too loud.
He pulls on his mask. His lunch break isn’t officially over, and yet— duty calls. Katsuki gives himself three seconds to kiss Izuku, hard and firm, and say: “Do it. And text me when you get to UA.” A pause. “Tell Tsukauchi I’ll need backup.”
Izuku is already pulling out his phone and waving. “ByeIloveyoubecareful!!”
Katsuki’s blood is already thrumming with adrenaline. He pushes off into the air and towards what’s now become screaming. And if he shows off a little, big deal. Not like it’s a risk— apparently, he’s the best at aerial maneuvering. That’s what the experts are saying.
*
His ribs burn like a bitch and he might have inhaled a city block’s worth of dust, but the sight of Izuku’s ruffled mop and delighted eyes on the couch have him sagging his shoulders in relief anyway. He drops his shit in the entryway and ignores the pleading eyes to barricade himself into the bathroom. If he gets dirt on the living room rug, he’s gotta clean it, and he doesn’t have the energy for anything except burning his skin off in the shower right now.
Katsuki almost groans as the hot water hits his back, and starts on the arduous task of scrubbing god-knows-what out of his hair. Tsukauchi had sent in Kamui Woods and Pinky, and it was a fuckin’ relief that he knew how to do his job right, because Dynamight was quite possibly the worst match up for a villain with some sorta demolition quirk. The first crash had been a building coming down, and there’s only so much rubble he can explode before it starts being more of a problem than a solution. He was playing search-and-rescue until backup showed, and then Kamui Woods was on rescue, and Mina handled the falling rubble so he could actually capture the guy.
He emerges from the shower half-asleep but determined to make it to the couch. He doesn’t bother with a shirt, grabbing the tub of ointment and flopping bodily on to Izuku.
“Mmf, Kwaaaacchan,” laughs Izuku, as his weight buries him. Izuku shimmies up the couch so Katsuki arranged more comfortably on him, pulling his weight up so he can wrap his arms under his armpits and squeeze. A kiss is pressed into his hair. Katsuki’s entire spine decompresses and god, his life is so fucking amazing.
“Long day?”
Katsuki grunts in reply and turns his head to the TV, cheek on Izuku’s warm chest and arms around his back. He’d been watching some documentary when Katsuki walked in, but must’ve switched it during the shower, ‘cuz the screen is now lit up with footage of Mina skating in on acid to dissolve concrete that Katsuki had been holding up to pull a civilian out of.
It’s muted, but he can imagine what the anchors are saying: bad match up, bad attitude, bad rescue quirk. But sometimes the best way to save a civilian was to scare the shit out of them, okay? He’s so bone-tired that he can’t even sustain irritation at their shitty reporting, and the feeling of Izuku’s calloused hands digging into the muscles of his back lure him into a half-asleep state.
He doesn’t exactly fall asleep, but he must not stay awake either, because the next thing he knows he’s jostling Izuku’s pile of grading from where it’s perched on his head.
“Sorry,” Izuku whispers. “You looked so tired that I didn’t wanna wake you, but I have to get these tests done by tomorrow. I only have one more.”
“It’s fine,” he says through a yawn. Because it is. It’s all, always fine. But he does stretch one arm to move the pile to the coffee table and the other to hand Izuku the ointment in a wordless ask. Izuku takes it, and looks down at him fondly.
“Kacchan can just ask if he wants help,” he teases, unscrewing it.
“That was me asking,” Katsuki grumps, and buries his face in Izuku’s sweatshirt as deft fingers over his bruise in the ointment. It’s probably already yellowing, but at least he’ll be able to sleep tonight.
“What’d Claws say about the lesson?”
The agency scheduler, with nails so long it was honest-to-God disturbing, hadn’t said anything to Katsuki about Izuku calling yet, but knowing him…
“Huh?” His fingers pause for a second and Katsuki makes a displeased sound. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, it’s on the calendar for next week. We can talk about it later.”
“What’s there to talk about? I’m gonna come in and do some flips for the brats, rights?”
He feels Izuku rumble a laugh under him, and squeezes his waist tighter for it. “Sure, Kacchan. I’m just warning you right now that it’s a joint training, so Shinsou’s gonna be there too.”
Katsuki groans theatrically. Apparently, the purple-haired freak wasn’t satisfied with copying Eraserhead’s outfit and vibe, he had to steal the man’s career, too.
“Oh shut up, you like him.”
“He’s the biggest creep that school’s ever seen.”
Izuku hums but doesn’t reply, like he knows Katsuki is full of shit. And okay, he doesn’t like Shinsou, but yeah, he doesn’t mind him. It’s fun to wind him up, so.
“Well, there was that general studies kid.”
“Oh my god, your stalker.”
“Our stalker.”
They’ve migrated into bed, teeth brushed and cozy against the clean sheets, when Izuku says:
“Thanks for getting lunch with me today.”
Katsuki blinks open a sleepy eye, barely able to make out Izuku’s stupid shape in the darkness. He’s getting thanked. For a lunch date with the love of his life. Too damn tired for this, his fingers find open flesh and pinch.
“OW! Ow, Kacchan— stop!”
He knows Izuku is pouting, even in the darkness. “The hell are you thanking me for.”
The relaxed atmosphere in their bedroom is now tainted with his boyfriend’s anxious energy, as he tries not to squirm. “Just for spending time with me! I know it’s hard with your job!”
“You have a job too, dumbass.”
“I know, but…”
Izuku got like this sometimes. Weird and insecure. As if being Pro Heroes meant everyone had to slow down and make sacrifices for him. It used to piss Katsuki off to no end, that Izuku thought he was a chore he was tickin’ off the list, as if Katsuki hadn’t been finding excuses to be around him for years. Now, he has some more patience for it, and a little more ease when taking a deep breath and letting his commitment shine through. Through hell and their jumbled schedules, or whatever.
“I’d actually hafta kill someone if I did a double without seeing you in the middle.”
It’s not entirely true, because sometimes he has to do all sorts of bullshit and be away from Izuku for days, if not weeks, but it’s how he feels. He wants to be with him all the time. And it works, because he hears the smile in Izuku’s voice.
“’kay, Kacchan.”
*
Shouto does, actually, remember when he walked up to Midoriya Izuku and declared that he wasn’t at UA to make friends. He remembers how serious he was being, too. But, well, apologies to that angsty kid, because the very same Midoriya Izuku presently has Shouto’s feet in his lap and is carefully applying nail polish on his toes. It isn’t an easy task— Izuku’s fine motor control had never quite recovered from breaking his fingers over and over and over again, but he’s trying, tongue stuck out in concentration. The brush wobbles.
Shouto feels unexpectedly emotional thinking about how one of the finger-breaking incidents was against, or rather, for him. Must be the soju. Luckily, he’s saved from his thoughts by a very wet tongue landing on his cheek.
“Why, Tsu-chan, why.”
She shrugs. “Fly, kero.”
He does not believe her. Drunk Tsuyu is and always will be an agent of chaos.
Ochaco and Izuku giggle together at the look on his face, whatever it is. They’re all at his apartment, the Class A-ers who could make it, in varying levels of intoxication. They seem to have devolved into different camps— the nail polish group, the video game squad, the need-more-alcohol heathens. There is one, very obvious, absence.
“Hey. Where’s Bakugou?”
Izuku perks at the mention and smears nail polish down Shouto’s pinky toe. He makes an exaggerated disappointed face, because come on, and Izuku winces, starting to wipe at it.
“He’s coming off a shift,” Izuku explains, licking his thumb to scrub more firmly at Shouto’s toe. It’s gross, but Shouto can’t help letting him do it. They all really let Izuku get away with anything. “He said he’s gonna shower and come over.”
“Thank god,” says Ochaco, wrinkling her nose.
“Hey! Kacchan’s sweat smells very nice—”
A long-suffering sigh. “Deku-kun—”
“It does! Nitroglycerin smells sweet, okay, it’s not just my—”
“Izuku,” says Ochaco firmly, “I don’t care what it smells like. He’s literally the sweatiest man in the world. I can be glad he’s showering.”
Izuku pouts, deflating. Behind them, Mina crows with victory to a moping Sero. Must be Mario Kart. Something clicks in Shouto’s brain through the alcohol-induced haze. “Wait, wasn’t he supposed to have a graveyard shift tonight?”
Katsuki has the worst shifts out of all of them. Some of this was his tendency to take every extra shift that appeared, which Izuku couldn’t understand because he lacked a very particular tidbit of information that Shouto happened to know.
But some of it was this: Bakugou Katsuki was more patient these days, and also more terrifying. Izuku might’ve domesticated the guy, but there was little a villain could dread in this world more than a tell-tale crackle bang at 4 AM in the morning. Shouto knows, because he has access to those reports, that Dynamight just being on patrol is enough to deter major crime. So Hawks sticks him where deterrence is needed most. Hence, graveyard shifts.
“Yeah,” says Izuku distractedly, craning his neck to see a commotion by the door. There’s something going between Kaminari and a very loud pizza delivery guy. “But he’s coming to help me teach tomorrow, so he managed to switch— Kacchan!”
Shouto turns too, to see Katsuki stroll in, stack of pizza boxes in one hand. The other arm is occupied with holding one Kaminari in a headlock as he goes ow ow ow ow. His hair is still wet from the shower and he’s in sweats, but you’d think it was a three-piece suit the way Izuku swoons.
“Pizza delivery, dipshits.”
Very quickly, everything is abandoned to focus on the pizza. They’re crowded on the floor around the coffee table like they’re still kids in a dorm, eating over napkins and talking with their mouths full. Kirishima groans at first contact.
“Fuuuuck this i’ suhhh goof.”
“Ugh, eat with your mouth closed, bastard. No one wants to see that.”
Kirishima swallows and grins, all sharp teeth and genuine smiles. “Thanks for bringing pizza, Kats. You’re so nice to us.”
Katsuki scowls fiercely and flips him off, which Shouto knows is code for you’re welcome. “You’re pathetic. What was the plan for dinner, huh?! More beer?”
Kaminari hiccups a probably while Izuku coos and pinches Katsuki’s cheek. His scowl deepens, but Shouto meets his eyes and smirks, because anyone else would’ve had their hand bitten off by now. Even worse, his ears are pink.
“Shut up,” he barks.
“Didn’t say a word.” Shouto puts out his hands in a placating gesture. “How was patrol?”
He gets a grimace and a shrug. Katsuki takes a swig from Izuku’s beer bottle before replying. “Fine. Couple of B-listers.” He flexes his palm and the scars glint in the lamplight. “Hard to even break a fuckin’ sweat.”
He wants to say Katsuki is all bark and no bite, arrogance without anything to back it, but he can’t, actually, since he’s had the pleasure of teaming up with him more than once. Shouto has some healthy self-esteem, he’s good and he knows it, but Katsuki did operate with a level of finesse that was difficult to replicate.
Eyeing the arm curled possessively around Izuku’s shoulders, he remembers when they were about to lose a perp in the chaos of dust, smoke and evacuations, and Katsuki, snarling with frustration, closed one eye, lined up his arm, and took an AP shot. It flew true, straight through the shattered glass and groaning concrete of two plunging buildings, hitting the villain in the sternum and knocking him out cold. If he figured out how to stop yelling at civilians and pull his punches, he might even be a real threat to Shouto in the rankings, but— oh well. He tunes back in to the argument happening in front of him.
“You’re fucking high if you think Dark Might’s quirk had anything on—”
Mina laughs and pinches her fingers to say a little bit. Katsuki throws a pillow at her, and she tosses it back, except that it misses and hits Izuku in the side of the head, instead. He coughs a little to dislodge the beer it sent down the wrong pipe and is already waving it off, but Mina squeals and starts running after taking in the blooming threat on Katsuki’s face.
“Oh, you’ll need to run faster than that, fuck face.”
It’s so weird to think that they’ve always been like this. But now, for the sake of everyone’s peace, Izuku can tug Katsuki back down with a kiss and he’ll give up, willingly but grumbling.
All bark, some bite. Even just last week, Dynamight, hair whipping in the wind, asked him wanna see who can get to the bottom first? while they were killing time downtown, waiting for something to catch fire or explode. Shouto’s mouth was still forming a what the— when Katsuki started taking a running leap off the high rise.
Still, he caught on fast, skating down the side on his ice, propelled by a small — residential area, ok? — amount of fire. There was a second he thought he might win, but when he touched the sidewalk, Katsuki was brushing non-existent dust off his pants, probably just to be an asshole.
Izuku could have probably beaten him, and wasn’t that the whole thing?
*
Katsuki isn’t hungover, but he’d probably be more well-rested if he wasn’t so susceptible to Izuku’s big doe eyes and it’ll be fun, Kacchan! He walks into the UA waiting area, trying to kill his mood before Izuku sees him, and promptly stops dead.
“Nope,” he says, turning back around. It’s more instinct than anything else. “No way, definitely fuckin’ not.”
Monoma Neito smiles smugly at him from his seat, full clock get-up on display as he crosses one leg over another and leans forward. “I was wondering who else they brought in. Hitoshi said it was someone we went to school with, which doesn’t narrow it down to anyone in even the Top 50, but I should’ve known it’d be the biggest bitch of them all. Midoriya’s really only got one trick, huh??”
Katsuki prays for patience. Or he doesn’t, cuz he’s got Monoma pinned to a wall without even knowing how it happened. His large forearm flexes against Monoma’s chest and he knows the look on his face can’t be pretty, but the world’s worst asshole just laughs in his face.
“Kacchan!”
Katsuki closes his eyes and groans at Izuku’s chastising voice, letting Monoma down. Thing is, he doesn’t even hate Monoma anymore. After the war, they’d reached a sort of equilibrium but now and then, Monoma really lets his gift of pissing everyone off shine bright.
Shinsou slinks in behind Deku, and offers a two-finger salute. “You done attacking my guest, Bakugou?”
“Any chance the training exercise could be me beating the shit out of your guest?”
“No.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to be.”
He makes a show of dusting off his hands and shoving them in his pockets, for some reason feeling right back in his school boy delinquent mode, being difficult just for the sake of it. Shinsou rolls his already-sunken eyes and leaves, capture weapon now dragging leering Monoma along behind him, who looks seconds away from starting up again.
Izuku’s got his lips pursed together in a way that looks disappointed, but Katsuki’s not one of his little students, and knows what it looks like when he’s trying not to laugh.
Sure enough, he sidles up for a hug.
“Kacchan,” he murmurs, eyes sparking with amusement. “Were you defending my honor?”
“No. ‘s not my fault I see red every time he opens his fat mouth.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“What?”
“Noooothing.”
Izuku leads him to Ground Gamma saying this way and it’s not far!! as if Katsuki didn’t attend the same school as him for three years and some change. He doesn’t say anything about it, though, partly because Deku looks so pleased to be officially guiding him through the school and partly because the nerd doesn’t stop talking long enough for him to interject. By the time they get there, he’s heard about every student Izuku has, their quirk, their strengths, their weaknesses, their favorite Lunch Rush meal, you name it. Never mind that he’s heard it all before.
“Okay,” says Deku, clapping once for attention and beaming at Japan’s future heroes as they walk in. Shinsou’s already there with his class.
Twenty-plus eyes snap to them immediately.
“Holy fuck, is that Dynamight?”
One kid with spiky orange hair crosses his arms and scoffs, loudly: “You guys got Phantom Thief and we have Dynamight? I know I said we were gonna crush you but I didn’t realize it was gonna be so easy.”
Katsuki would smirk in satisfaction, except that the kid reminds him unpleasantly of Monoma, and he finds himself scowling. “Oi—”
“Tanaka,” cuts in Izuku firmly. “Remember what I said?”
The brat crosses his arms and looks away from Class 1-B, kicking dirt with his foot. “Yes, Deku-sensei.”
Deku nods and hugs his clipboard to his chest. Katsuki doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to be doing right now, so he crosses his arms and waits. He sees a girl in the front wince and realizes he might not be the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on, and he looks like he’s stanced up for a fight. He lowers his arms and puts on a neutral expression.
Shinsou walks over with Monoma, who’s trying to catch Katsuki’s eye, probably to rile him up again, so he keeps his eyes on the brats.
“Okay,” says Shinsou, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else. This cannot be his main pedagogical strategy. “We’re dividing you up into two groups. Those with aerial, speed, or strength-based quirks are with Deku and Dynamight, and the rest of you are with me and Phantom Thief.”
The classes obediently reshuffle into new groups, and Izuku leads theirs to the side of the platform. There are about eighteen kids in front of them, all watching Deku with the same amount of attention Katsuki is. He smiles sunnily at his class, his scar stretching the way it always does when he smiles, and Katsuki feels a tight grip of affection, watching him in his element.
“The goal for today is to improve your agility and reflexes while you’re moving. A lot of hero work isn’t about strategy— it’s about being able to respond to an evolving situation. Kacchan’s the best I know at—”
There’s muttering in the ranks. “Kacchan? KACCHAN?”
“We’re talking about Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, right??”
This time Katsuki does smirk, as he watches Izuku’s blush crawl up his neck. To his credit, he ignores the interruption and keeps going.
“—the best I know at aerial maneuvering and thinking on the spot. Actually, I learned how to use my quirk by watching him and Gran Torino, so you’re all very lucky—”
Oh, so now we’re admitting it? Katsuki coughs, because Deku’s rambling and everyone’s gonna zone out if he doesn’t get to the point, fast.
“Right. So today we’re going to play a game called Catch-a-K—Catch-a-Dynamight.”
Oh my god.
“The rules are simple. Dynamight will pick a spot to start in, and then you’ll all try to tag him. You can work together or individually, but the goal is to ‘catch’ him. You have thirty minutes.”
A hand goes up. “Um- Deku-sensei?”
It’s the timid girl who winced earlier. Her costume has a large lightning bolt on the front that glitters as she shifts leg to leg.
“Yes! Kumomori?”
She looks nervous to ask, like she’s worried it’s a dumb question. “Are we all… going at the same time?”
Izuku nods, smiling gently. “Good question— yes, you’ll all be trying to catch Dynamight together.”
“Oh,” she says, shoulders lowering and nervousness melting a little. “Okay.”
Katsuki can see other kids start to relax. And he gets it, he really does— strength in numbers. A buncha brats, thirty minutes, one of them is bound to land a lucky hit. In their dreams, maybe. He grins and lets a few harmless explosions pop from his hands.
“You brats ready or you need a minute to say your prayers?”
“We’ve got this,” one of them crows, and their Deku-sensei just smiles enigmatically. Katsuki thinks he sees him wink at him, but it might just been a trick of the sunlight.
“Good luck!”
“Me, or your shitty brats?”
“Kacchan.”
*
Izuku believes in his students. He thinks they’re going to make the best heroes, someday. But, for now… he’s not surprised by how things are going.
Twenty four minutes in, Kacchan is doing what Kacchan does best: showing off. Teeth bared in a feral grin, he’s dodging attacks that have only gotten more desperate as the minutes have ticked by, looking like he can swing from poles and hop off buildings all day. Ground Gamma is filled with smoke from his explosions, and Izuku wonders if his students even know where their target is.
Two of them are already down for the count and have been dragged off the grounds by a mean little robot. One’s quirk overuse and one with a nasty bloody nose— Kacchan had to dive to save him when he fell backward off a beam, depositing him safely on the ground, but he was so flustered that he tripped and banged his nose.
Deku… gets it. The summer costume is tough. And stringing him to the end of his professionalism.
The seconds tick by. There are three minutes left and he can see the students flagging. Some of them are just standing, hands on knees, trying to catch their breath for their next move. Izuku frowns. Honestly, he didn’t really expect them to catch Kacchan, but he was hoping for a little more strategizing, a little more teamwork. But, he reasons, they thought it’d be easy. They weren’t prepared.
But then Izuku sees Yoshida, Itou, and Kimura are off to a side, whispering to each other. Kimura gestures aggressively in Kacchan’s direction and shakes her head, obviously disagreeing with the other two. He has, admittedly, a soft spot for Kimura— not that he’s playing favorites. She was loud, brash, and confident in a way that reminded him a little bit of Kacchan, a little bit of Mina. And it looked like she was bullying the two boys into submission.
“ISHIKAWA! COME HERE!”
Izuku smiles, pleased. That’s good.
Two minutes. Kacchan is still evading, although Izuku saw him notice the trio and ignore them. They are— along with Ishikawa— no longer in view. He shifts his weight from one leg to another and rubs at his jaw, waiting.
With thirty seconds to spare, a rumbling starts. All around Kacchan, buildings begin to vibrate. That must be Itou. He looks around, frowns, and pushes higher into the air to avoid them. Izuku thinks he might have figured out what their plan is, and he’s proven right, when a jet of water comes gushing out of the ground. Kacchan, in motion and preoccupied with the now falling pipes, doesn’t see it before it drenches him. Ah, Ishikawa’s river quirk.
“MOTHERF—”
His explosions sputter and his altitude dips. Fifteen seconds. Yoshida pops out and Izuku winces and covers his ears right as the high-pitched screeching starts. Audio quirks in combat were such a pain for the general public.
Kacchan dips further, apparently struggling to keep his explosions going between the moisture and the noise. With ten seconds left, Izuku spots the blur that is Kimura bouncing off surfaces, heading straight for Kacchan. She’s fast. Maybe as fast as Izuku was, at that age.
Five seconds. She’s right behind Kacchan, arm outstretched to tag him, when Kacchan cackles, twisting mid-air to face her.
Izuku sighs as one of his favorite students gets an explosion straight in the face and the timer goes off.
She’s fast, but Kacchan has only gotten faster with time.
He has to work hard to keep a neutral expression as Kacchan walks onto the platform, flushed with exertion and that stupid air of arrogance he never grew out of. He pushes up his eye mask, displacing his sweaty hair and making it look even more ridiculous, all stuck up at weird angles. His students trail behind, sullen and exhausted.
“Good job, everyone! Drink some water and then we’ll debrief.”
Kacchan walks right up to him, suggestion for water ignored, and ruffles his hair. “Any tips for me, Deku-sensei?”
Izuku rolls his eyes and bats at Kacchan’s hands, trying to get them out of his hair before one of the students see, but uh— too late.
“Sensei, are you two, um, friends?”
It’s Mori, looking curiously between them with her big eyes. Izuku does his best to keep his voice flat. “Ah— hah, yes! Dynamight and I went to school together.”
Kacchan looks like he wants to say something but mercifully, he doesn’t. He presses his lips together, which does nothing to dull his smirk, and watches—completely unhelpful. But it actually ends up not mattering, because Kimura crosses her arms.
“Seriously?” She looks at Mori incredulously, although she looks pretty undignified with her burnt hair and soot-covered face. Mori looks back at her blankly.
“Leave her alone, Kimura— not everyone believes the tabloids...”
“Um,” says Izuku, but no one listens to him. Kacchan starts laughing openly.
“It’s not from the tabloids, look at them! They’re clearly together!”
“OKAY!” Izuku really, really needs to reassert control before Shinsou comes back and starts asking him what he’s been telling his students. His face must be flaming. “Let’s start with debrief, shall we?”
The kids are still muttering aggressively to each other, clearly litigating the nuances of Izuku’s love life between themselves, and don’t listen even a little bit. He sees Shinsou and Monoma approaching with their students— ah, fuck.
“Oi, you brats, LISTEN UP,” Kacchan barks, and they finally fall silent, blinking at him like little baby owls. Kacchan claps him on the back. “There ya go.”
“Ah… thank you Dynamight.” By the time Shinsou strolls up, Izuku’s in the swing of his feedback. “Sayo, make sure you time your jumps better— you need to make sure you’re in the right position a little before you think you need to be. Hibara, don’t use the flames if you don’t need to, you’ll just lose energy.”
He compliments Ishikawa’s quirk use and Kimura’s idea to get in close— “And remember, you need teamwork to win. You all might have caught Dynamight—” Kacchan snorts, Izuku ignores him. “— if you worked together like Kimura, Ishikawa, Yoshida, and Itou.”
“You two keeping it PG over here?”
Kacchan snarls, turning to Monoma— probably ready to swing—and falters when he realizes its Shinsou, using the voice modulator.
“What would you know about PG, you freak?”
Shinsou gives Kacchan a full grin, which is somehow much scarier than his usual dead-eyed, blank glare, and Kacchan huffs, amused despite himself.
“That loser manage to teach your brats anything useful, or just how to steal everyone else’s moves?”
“He did actually show off some of yours, Bakugou, you really should be careful who you let touch you—”
“I’m gonna kill him for fuckin’ real this time.”
“Kacchan, Shinsou, please.” Izuku rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs. The br—students, students are back to whispering conspiratorially. This is why you don’t work with your friends, kids. And, um, more-than-friends.
*
>Will u be home for dinner
>catching train now kacchan be there soon!!
>k
>glad u came today the kids learned so much
>And?
>and??
Katsuki stares at Izuku’s most recent text and bites the inside of his cheek, wondering whether the cost of his pride is worth it. He sighs, starting to type. The answer is always the same when it comes to this idiot.
>What did u think, stupid
> 0:)
>Nvm
> does kacchan want my feedback :)
>Stop with the faces
> do u
>…
>Yes
>kacchan sugoi!!!
>can’t believe they thought they could catch u
>silly
>but I will when I get home ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
>What did I say about the faces
>ur smiling (♡-_-♡)
Katsuki is. Caught out, he does the mature thing, and throws his phone across the room.
*
Izuku gets home, and Kacchan is sitting on one of their bar stools, idly scrolling on his phone. On the counter are two covered bowls, and he can tell from the humidity in their apartment that the food is fresh and Kacchan has just finished cooking.
“Hi,” he calls, dropping his keys and books.
Katsuki doesn’t reply, but Izuku knows his presence has been noted. He decides to invade Kacchan’s personal space, coming in close to stand between his knees, taking no small satisfaction in how the phone gets put down immediately and Kacchan blinks at him like a sleepy cat. Even after all these years, being the object of Kacchan’s attention is not a privilege Izuku takes lightly. He finds himself smiling with the thought.
“Hi baby,” says Kacchan, leaning in to kiss him. Izuku winds his arms around his neck and toys with the apron strap there. The red apron says MANLY MEN COOK, a gift from Eijirou, obviously. Izuku hums as Katsuki’s hands come to rest on his waist, and then breaks away to rest his forehead against his boyfriend’s.
“Hi,” he says, breathless. Kacchan’s face cracks in a small, crooked smile, and Izuku’s heart melts a little. He feels, always, like a high schooler. Like the confused kid trying not to pass out when Kacchan held his face and cleaned his bloody nose, hoping and doubting and praying that it meant something. He still sometimes can’t believe he gets to have this.
“You said that already.”
“I know,” says Izuku, dreamily. “I’m just happy to see you.”
Katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move away. In fact, he moves closer, biting Izuku’s cheek and then kissing it.
“You’re so dramatic.” He pauses and drops another kiss on Izuku’s face. “Rest of the day go okay?”
Izuku moves to detangle completely but Kacchan makes a disgruntled noise, so he gives up and stays close—big sacrifice. The food can wait a little longer. “Yeah. Thanks for coming, again. They loved it. I know it was kind of a chore for you.”
“Wasn’t a chore.”
Izuku makes a disbelieving face. He knows Kacchan is a secret sap, and wants to take care of him, but he also knows that entertaining a bunch of kids for a morning isn’t exactly his idea of a good time. He’d rather be at work, being a hero. Or barring that, resting— something he never gets enough time to do.
“It wasn’t,” sighs Katsuki, and brushes a hand through Izuku’s hair. Izuku leans in to his palm as Kacchan tucks a curl behind his ear tenderly. “I just like being around you.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
“’sides,” says Kacchan, now standing to separate and pulling the food over. He deposits a bowl in front of Izuku, and while Izuku is distracted by the steaming bowl of delicious-looking noodles and, honestly, his boyfriend’s delicious-looking arms, Katsuki pinches his hip and grins. “You look hot when you’re explaining how good I am.”
Izuku steams as hot as the noodles. “Kacchan!”