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Katsuki blinked and found himself outside, with no memory of how he had gotten there.
His vision was fuzzy. He blinked again, harder this time; and realized his eyes felt numb and there was a strange buzz beneath his brain, making him lightheaded. Looking around, Katsuki took in his surroundings. The greenery around him was certainly familiar: the trees, the shrubs, the paved paths winding through the earth. It looked like the grounds just outside of Heights Alliance, washed in the pale yellow of morning. Birds chirped their songs, bright and distant, and the air felt cool and clean. The sky was orange. It was peaceful, nice. So nice. He had no recollection of how he ended up here.
Katsuki continued staring for a long moment, mildly fascinated. Huh. He was usually more perceptive than this. He noticed things, normally. Right? That seemed right. This was all pretty weird.
He considered that he might be dreaming; but then Katsuki felt something vaguely cold pooling beneath his feet, and looked down. He appeared to be standing, although none of his weight registered, not in his soles nor his heels. His socks were soaked through, darkened by the dew and dirt from the grass beneath him. It felt so real. Where were his shoes anyway?
With drooping eyes, he slowly trailed his gaze upwards, following the strange, disconnected feeling of his own body. One of his arms rested in a sling. Bandages peeked out from the collar and sleeves of his soft sleep shirt. A slight breeze came, rustling the leaves around him and brushing over his skin, soothing the bone-deep soreness of his body that he didn’t realize was there until that exact moment.
He was recovering, that’s right. Recovering from a battle that had taken so much out of him, wrecked his body so completely. His meds made him loopy and forgetful. Time slipped strangely when he was on them, and apparently so did common sense.
He wandered outside, because of …. something. What was it again? Katsuki frowned faintly and looked around. The plants reflected green, green, green around him. His eyes magnetized to it. Green. Something in his foggy mind gave a tiny, sleepy spark. Green, Green. Green eyes, watery and worried. Green hair, messy and soft. There was something there. Someone? It was important, so important. He could almost reach it, the thought laying patiently just past his fingertips. If he just thought a little harder, maybe he could touch it.
Suddenly, footsteps approached quickly from behind him. Hurried and determined, kind and brave, striking the soft sediment below. Catching up to him, always catching up to him. Katsuki, even with his head swimming, knew who they belonged to instantly. He exhaled in breathy relief.
Izuku, Izuku, Izuku.
He appeared suddenly within his swimming vision, out of breath and disheveled. Katsuki’s heart did a little relay race in his chest.
“Kacchan! Oh my god, Kacchan, there you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you! Are you okay?! Are you—Are you hurt?!”
Katsuki blinked, slowly processing. Before he could even think about responding, Izuku was already reaching for him. In his detached, foggy state, Katsuki vaguely registered scarred hands brushing over his face, grabbing at the heart monitor strapped to his wrist, skimming anxiously along his sides and shamelessly lifting his shirt to check the bandages underneath. Izuku’s mouth kept moving all the while, words spilling out at what felt like many miles and miles and miles per hour.
“I was worried sick, Kacchan! We’ve all been looking for you for, like, half an hour! What were you thinking, just wandering outside by yourself without telling anyone?! How long have you even been out here? The doctors said you’re not supposed to be on your feet for that long, and—oh my god, your feet!”
Izuku squeaked in distress and looked down with horror at Katsuki’s drenched, dirt-streaked socks. He straightened abruptly, on high alert, and curled an arm protectively around Katsuki’s shoulders, steering him towards a fallen log nearby and guiding him to sit. Katsuki followed the order without protest, slumping down and watching almost deliciously as Izuku kneeled and peeled the ruined socks from his feet. He used the hem of his pajama shirt to pat his feet dry and turned them carefully, checking each one thoroughly for scrapes or swelling. The smoothness of his movements hid the tension in his muscles, the intensity of his focus. His brows were tight, face flushed from the run. And beneath the obvious worry in his expression, Katsuki slowly realized that Izuku looked pretty pissed off too.
“Okay, okay, you’ve got a few little scrapes and splinters, but nothing serious. We’ll have to clean them properly when we get inside because you really can’t afford an infection right now, not with your immune system still so—God, Kacchan, seriously!? You scared the hell out of me! What were you thinking, going off on your own like that? I woke up and you were just gone!”
The concern in Izuku’s voice was enormous, startling Katsuki into a slightly higher state of awareness. He looked down at Izuku, and now that he was closer, a little more present, Katsuki noticed many things. Izuku’s bloodshot eyes were ringed with dark circles, hair windswept and unbrushed. His pajamas were still rumpled from sleep, having clearly rushed out in a crazed panic the moment he woke up, assuming something had gone terribly wrong in their separation. Something flared painfully in Katsuki’s chest.
A deep frown pulled at the corners of his mouth unconsciously. His vision blurred slightly. Shit. Since when was he so damn sensitive? Fuck, this sucked. His lower lip trembled once before he clamped down on it, beating it back with a goddamn stick - because this did not need to happen. Not here, not now, not ever.
Izuku gasped. “Oh no, Kacchan…”
His eyes widened in realization, anger dissipating immediately. “Oh, no no no. No, I'm sorry. I’m sorry, so sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice at you.”
Izuku reached up and cupped his cheek—apologetic, and reassuring. Katsuki sighed in relief, feeling his hardened calluses scrape against his jawline. In every place their skin met one another, warmth blossomed like spring flowers. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, but it did. It was Izuku, after all.
“Sorry, sorry. I know.” Izuku said softly. “I know you’re not really…” He made a vague little circle beside Katsuki’s head. “…all there right now. The medication’s got you all loopy and confused. I just got scared, that’s all. I’m sorry, Kacchan. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I’m not mad at you.”
Katsuki nodded in understanding, albeit clumsily. Izuku gave his cheek one last gentle stroke before pulling his hand away and sitting down on the ground. Katsuki bit back a sigh, and stared at the top of Izuku's green head, watching with fascination as he tugged off his red sneakers and socks. Up close, Izuku’s bare feet looked almost unreal: heels callused white over pink, perfect tendons flickering beneath the skin like heartstrings. It was deeply unfair, Katsuki felt, with over a decade's worth of frustration. Izuku always managed to make himself seem so much more perfect than real life should ever have allowed.
He felt Izuku slide his blessedly dry socks over Katsuki's feet, before guiding them carefully into his red sneakers. Katsuki felt the warmth of the fabric, still heated by Izuku's soles just moments earlier. They fit perfectly around his feet. They'd always been the same shoe size, even when they were small.
“You should've woken me up, though,” Izuku said quietly as he fussed with the laces. “You can't be walking around by yourself just yet. If you needed some fresh air, or wanted to go someplace, I would’ve gone with you. You don't have to ask permission or anything, I just need to know where you are. That…that you’re safe.”
Izuku’s voice was thick with utmost sincerity, and something about it suddenly brought Katsuki back to his earliest memories. Izuku’s soft footsteps striking the dirt, trailing devotedly behind him as Katsuki forged ahead into the forest. He’d spent years pissed off by the sound, hating to hear how brave those footsteps had become through the years. But now, with his mind wholly matured and pleasantly addled by medication, Katsuki suddenly remembered it had been the very thing he’d been searching for when he had wandered aimlessly outside. Because, even deep in the most senseless parts of him: he’d always known Izuku would follow.
“W’nted to walk with’you…” Katsuki blurted, coming out terribly mumbled and understated and nowhere near capturing the sincerity behind it. But Izuku studied his expression, thoughtful, and nodded in understanding. He understood; always did, always will.
Izuku stood at once—strong, and brave, and kind— and smiled. Izuku’s stupid, toothy smile. It was the same one he’d had as a kid, only now he’d grown into it properly, wearing it with a matured confidence that declared with absolute certainty: everything would be alright. A true hero’s smile.
“We’ll take the long way back to the dorms,” Izuku offered, holding out a hand. “We’re not that far away, anyway. Let’s enjoy the morning together for a few minutes longer, but after that, you have to stay put indoors and rest. Is that okay?”
Okay? It was more than okay. Izuku’s friendly hand remained open in Katsuki’s line of sight, tantalizingly close. It was a reassurance, a declaration, and a promise all at once, the very thing Katsuki spent most of his life spitting on, running from, hating—And it’s everything he had ever wanted.
As right as a compass pointing north, freed at last from a lifetime of regretful denials, Katsuki raised his arm and took Izuku’s hand—the hand that had saved his life, the hand that had saved the world—in his. Katsuki savored it: how far they had come, how close their bodies were. Katsuki’s stiff fingertips grazed the tapestry of old scars on his palm, until his fingers finally curled tight around Izuku’s hand. Izuku squeezed back, generously lending his strength as he helped Katsuki stand up.
Their hands stayed interlinked as they made their trek back to the dorms in comfortable silence. His feet felt warmer now, cushioned by Izuku’s shoes; beside him, Izuku walked barefoot without complaint. During their walk, Izuku’s head pivoted from side to side, scanning the great beyond and glancing back over his shoulder every so often, and then repeating the same slow sweep. Like a sentry, keeping watch for potential threats. He’s keeping Katsuki safe.
Just a year ago, this moment alone would’ve sparked a massive argument—Katsuki would never have accepted Izuku’s protection, assuming it meant Izuku thought him weak, incapable of fending for himself. These days, however, it was a different story. Katsuki knew better. Now, he simply let himself have it: his hand in Izuku’s on a quiet morning. Fingertips brushing in the cold plane of the spring air.
And it felt like—finally.
-
Of course, their peace was disrupted before long.
“Holy shit, Bakugo, we’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Kirishima shouted the second they rounded the corner, nearly barreling straight into them.
The next second, his classmates crowded around him from all sides. Katsuki’s head spun from all the stimulation.
“Blasty!” Mina called from beside him. “You had us worried sick!”
Iida stepped forward, chopping one hand through the air. “We’re under strict orders not to let you move around unnecessarily, Bakugo! Next time you need something, please alert one of us. There is absolutely no reason for you to be unsupervised when you're still recovering.”
“You're back,” Shoto said simply. “I'm glad. We've been searching for you all morning. I checked the washing machine three times.”
“What?!” Kaminari squeaked, whipping toward him. “I—What the hell—Why would you think he’d be in the washing machine?!”
“I don’t know. I always hid in there when I was a kid.”
"...Christ,” Sero breathed, pinching his nose.
Katsuki exhaled sharply, the exchange in front of him the funniest fucking thing he had ever heard. Oh god, if Katsuki wasn’t already destined for hell, he sure was now. A giggle escaped him, and oh no. What the actual hell was happening to him?
He giggled, and then continued giggling, unable to stop, which was concerning. He was not a man who giggled. Sure, if he was amused, he grinned or grumbled or teased - at most, perhaps a manly chuckle - but he didn’t giggle. Right? Katsuki doubled over, one hand clutching at his stomach as air escaped him in strange, breathless bursts. Below him, the floor was doing something weird; rolling gently from side to side like he was standing on the deck of a ship.
When Katsuki looked up again, the entire class was staring at him with something akin to horror in their eyes. Like he had just grown a second head or something.
Sero was watching him with a careful expression. “Um…You good, man?”
What a stupid-ass question. Fucking duh. He was the best.
“Mhmmmmm.” Katsuki grumbled instead, holding up a lazy thumbs-up before his arm flopped back down immediately.
“Yeah, Kacchan’s um… really out of it today.” Izuku’s fingers tightened protectively around his hand. “He’s okay though. I think he just wanted to go for a walk, though he didn’t make it very far. There are a few minor injuries on his feet that we need to treat, silly guy forgot to put on his shoes.” Izuku exhaled in quiet laughter and bumped his shoulder affectionately against Katsuki’s. Their forearms faintly brushed, and the small wisps of Izuku’s hair tickled against Katsuki’s skin. Goosebumps rose along his body.
Through the next few minutes, Katsuki vaguely remembered someone easing his shoes off, one after the other, while Izuku excused himself and stepped outside to hose off his feet. Gentle hands guided him further indoors, toward the couch. His head lolled all the way back against the cushion. Above him, the ceiling spun and rippled in mesmerizing waves.
Beside him, he felt a few of his classmates taking up various positions around the couch. Touching his leg, holding his hand. Just being there: warm, comforting presences at his side. Something poked and prodded at his feet. Katsuki startled and looked down to find Kirishima sitting on the floor, a first-aid kit open at his side as he carefully dabbed an alcohol wipe against one of the small cuts on Katsuki’s foot.
Kirishima glanced up, meeting his eyes. “Sorry, man. Does that hurt?”
“...Nah,” Katsuki breathed. He rolled his head in a slow circle. Woahhh, he was spinning with the earth. “Can't feel shit right now…”
“Oh, man.” Sero said from somewhere nearby. “Dude, you’re gone.”
Katsuki scowled. “No I’m not. I’m right here.”
Kaminari snickered obnoxiously. “You’re totally high, aren’t you?”
“I’m… what?”
“High.”
Katsuki blinked slowly. “Uh….Hi?”
The couch shook as Sero and Denki instantly lost it, doubling over and laughing so hard they slapped each other. Katsuki didn't understand what was so fucking funny. He scowled and sank farther into the couch, head falling sideways until it landed against someone's shoulder. A familiar hand wrapped around his arm to steady him.
“Hi there, Blasty,” Mina said from beside him, her pink hair tickling his face. “Aww, you’re so cute like this!” She reached over and gently booped him on the nose.
“Ima kill all o’ you,” Katsuki slurred.
“You won’t, Blasty! I know you secretly love us!” Mina chirped.
“Whateverrrrrrr.”
To his extreme displeasure, the group around him erupted into a chorus of delighted awwws. They took turns booping his nose, ruffling his hair, patting his head. He heard someone pull out their phone and snap a picture. Katsuki's face twitched, and he tried to lift a hand, which made it valiantly about halfway up before falling back into his lap.
“...Fuckin’ cheaters,” he mumbled.
“Look at him,” Kaminari said, wheezing as he leaned against the back of the couch. “He’s so cooked.”
Katsuki had no idea what he meant, but he was pretty sure he was being insulted. “M’ not food.” He grumbled.
Mina burst out laughing. “Oh man, you got him good, Kaminari!”
“Got me what?” Katsuki was confused again.
Kirishima chuckled. “Nothing, man.”
“Why’re ya laughin’, then?”
“Because you’re funny right now.”
Kirishima patted his ankle affectionately before applying the last of the bandages, then finally joined them on the couch. Katsuki squinted in what he hoped was his general direction, willing Kirishima to understand the death threat in his expression. His vision was still blurry, the world reduced to vague shapes and splashes of color. He couldn’t tell where one person ended and another began.
Mina studied him worriedly from beside him. Her voice softened. “You keep squinting, Blasty. Are you feeling okay? Can you see us?” She slowly waved a hand in front of his face. “How many fingers?”
Katsuki stared at her hand, just a few inches away. “Five.”
Mina nodded, then paused abruptly. A mischievous smile spread across her face. “Wrong.”
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. It was five. Clear as day. “There…. are…. five.” he repeated, with great effort. He lost feeling in his tongue.
“I’m holding up four, you silly man!”
Katsuki glared at her hand harder, head throbbing with the effort. Damn it, were they messing with him, or was he really that fucked up?
“...Y’re holdin’ up five.”
“Four.”
“Five!”
Kirishima glanced over at her hand. “She’s holding up four, man.”
Katsuki slapped her hand away with all the strength he could muster. “Fuck you guys.”
“There he is,” Sero said happily, poking him.
Kirishima laughed, clapping a hand against Katsuki’s shoulder. “See? He’s fine.”
“Huh? Who’s fine?” Katsuki asked.
His question was infuriatingly ignored.
Mina shifted around in front of him, wearing an expression Katsuki immediately recognized as suspicious. Up to no good, as usual. “Okay then, Blasty. Another important question. What were you doing outside with Midoriya?”
“Just walkin’.”
“Why?”
“Wanted to.” Katsuki frowned. “Why’d ya ask?”
“Because... well.” Mina gestured vaguely between them, ticking a list off on her fingers. “Midoriya’s been taking care of you all tender and gentle these past few weeks, and he has this whole mother-hen complex thing going on with you, and now this morning, y’know, I see you’re walking in holding hands and you wearing his shoes...so, I guess what I’m trying to ask is—actually, no, I’m not really asking, because at this point it’s pretty freaking obvious—-you guys are totally dating, aren’t you?” She squeaked in delight.
Kirishima elbowed her, gesturing toward Katsuki. “C’mon, man. Don’t take advantage of him when he’s like this. That’s so not manly.”
“Well, in Ashido’s defense, I think it’s a pretty fair topic of conversation!” Kaminari defended. “I talk about my crushes with you guys all the time!”
“No, you don't,” Sero said.
“No I don’t.” Kaminari agreed without missing a beat. “But that’s besides the point! I feel like we have a right as his closest friends to ask a pretty normal question! And if he doesn’t want to answer, then he doesn't have to! So uh, is it true? Are you and Midoriya uh—” His eyebrows bounced twice with disgusting implication. “—getting it on?”
Kirishima slapped a brutal hand against Denki’s shoulder. “Don’t say it like that, dude.” Although, he also turned toward Katsuki with a curious look.
Oh.
Oh, Right. That was his cue to respond. They were asking if he and Izuku were…. dating?
Hmm. Hmmmm. Hmmmmmmmm.
Honestly, Katsuki wasn’t too sure himself. He couldn’t really remember. He wracked what little was left of his brain, filtering through the fog. Not because he gave a shit about answering their question honestly - he just wanted to know for himself.
Were he and Izuku dating?
He thought harder, searching his throbbing head. Flashes came, colorful and strong. Izuku, Izuku, Izuku. Closing his eyes, he could see Izuku gripping his bottom lip, muttering calculations. He could see Izuku, beat up and broken, sprinting towards him and shouting his name. He could see the clash of their bodies: dodges and counters, interspersed with sharing jabs and playful taunts. He could see Izuku wrapped in a blanket, messy hair falling on his forehead, chuckling at something he had said. He could see himself laying on the floor, a hole in his chest and Izuku’s anguished screams in the air, not thinking about dying, thinking Izuku was awake, thinking Izuku was the most alive person he had ever known. He could see Izuku eyes, bright and stunning, and a morning spent with a scarred hand wrapped in his that could never, Katsuki realized, be even close to enough.
“Hey!”
Katsuki startled instantly out of his thoughts. He knew that hey anywhere.
“Stop it! C’mon, guys, I can see it in your faces. Don’t go teasing Kacchan when he’s clearly not feeling well!”
Izuku approached from behind, rounding the couch. He shot the group around him a furious look. Katsuki tilted his head sideways, gazing at the vein bulging in the middle of Izuku’s forehead with a vague sort of wonder.
“Woah woah, lay off a bit dude!” Kaminari attempted, raising both hands in surrender. “We were just joking around! We didn’t mean anything by it, swear!”
“Yeah!” Mina joined in. “Loosen up a little, Midoriya! He’s so out of it, it’s not like he’s gonna remember any of this by tomorrow anyway!”
“He’s severely injured." Oh shit, Izuku was pissed. “Our first priority is making sure he’s healthy and comfortable and I really don’t think making fun of him when he’s not in the right mind is helping with that! And just because he might not remember it tomorrow doesn’t make it okay to take advantage of the fact that he’s clearly not himself right now and you should all learn to be more considerate of him especially after everything he’s been through and he should be allowed to have a bad day without everyone turning it into a joke and—”
“St’p talking about me like’m not here” Katsuki slurred, intervening before Izuku decided to murder his friends. “Relax ‘zuku.” M’ fine. Great. Plus Ulta or whatev’r.”
“Oh, you are so not Plus Ultra right now, Kacchan.” Izuku sighed, then turned his attention back to the others. “I’ll table this discussion for now, but we are going to have words, you guys.”
Katsuki thought he heard Kaminari mutter something along the lines of Oh shit, Midoriya’s actually gonna kill us, just as Izuku stepped closer. The others immediately shifted to make room, and Izuku lowered himself onto the couch beside him, taking Katsuki from Mina’s side and wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a way that felt strangely possessive. Still, Katsuki hummed, leaning into him eagerly. He pressed his numb face against the hard bone of Izuku’s shoulder, trying to will some sensation back into it.
Sero raised an eyebrow at Izuku, motioning down at Katsuki with a jerk of his head. “Jesus, how much did you give him? He’s not usually this…” He made a vague swirling gesture beside his own head. “Y’know.”
Poor Izuku looked like he might burst a blood vessel. “I—hey! He was moaning in pain in the middle of the night and looked like he was really struggling, so I gave him a second dose of his pain medication a little after three in the morning!” Izuku winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I seriously underestimated how strong the side effects would be...”
“How much is each dose?” Katsuki shifted his head toward the new voice. Yaoyorozu—wait, what the fuck? Since when had she gotten here?
“10 milligrams."
Yaoyorozu paused thoughtfully for a moment, lips turning up at the corners. “That’s a whole lot of Oxycodone. No wonder he’s so happy.”
“I guess I should've given him a half-dosage or something else instead…” Izuku turned to him, looking deeply regretful. “I’m sorry, Kacchan.”
Katsuki didn’t see what the problem was here. He felt great. One dosage was good. Two was clearly better. Izuku had done him a service, but he looked rather alarmed. He tightened his arms around Katsuki, voice anxious as he turned back to Yaoyorozu.
“That’s not….gonna hurt him, is it?”
“No, no. The dosage itself isn’t inherently dangerous. He’s probably going to crash though.”
Katsuki blinked dazedly up at Izuku. Izuku, who was looking at him with wide, concerned eyes. “Your face is frowning,” Katsuki observed, eyelids drooping heavily.
Sero snorted. “I kinda want what he’s having.”
Izuku shot him a stern look over Katsuki's head before turning back to him, rubbing his back affectionately. “You should try to sleep it off now, Kacchan. It’s all right.”
Izuku shooed the others off the couch, making room before helping Katsuki lie down. Izuku adjusted his arm sling carefully, then crouched to inspect the bandages Kirishima had wrapped around his feet, checking them thoroughly before finally nodding in satisfaction. He slipped a pillow beneath Katsuki’s head and draped a warm blanket over him, resting a hand briefly against his shoulder before pulling away.
Katsuki closed his eyes and sighed in contentment, relaxed. He didn’t decide to drift off just yet, though. Instead, he chose to feign sleep, sneakily tuning in on Izuku whisper-shouting at his friends from a spot he’d clearly assumed was out of Katsuki’s earshot; a lecture so comedically long-winded and scathing, that Katsuki wouldn’t dare sleep through it all. Something about respect, consideration of Kacchan’s condition, promises to apologize to Kacchan when he was better, and so on, and so forth. Blah, blah, blah. He’d stopped listening to the words after a while, letting them become a sort of white noise. Still, listening to the literal incarnate of human compassion march off to war for Katsuki made him feel unspeakably loved, though like hell he’d ever admit that out loud.
He waited for Izuku to run out of steam, then opened his eyes slightly, remembering something somewhat important.
“Izuku?”
Strong fingers instantly carded through his hair. “Yes, Kacchan?”
“You... You’re not...” Katsuki blinked slowly a few times as he gathered his thoughts together. Izuku already looked extremely worried.
“You’re... not ’lowed to kill Kaminari. Or Ashido. Or Sero.” Katsuki paused, thinking hard. “Actually, don’ kill... any of ’em,” he whispered, like a secret.
Izuku burst into a gentle laugh. He threw the back of one hand melodramatically against his forehead, staggering back as though Katsuki had just delivered a devastating blow.
“Oh, darn. There go my evening plans!” he lamented with exaggerated disappointment. “Oh well. I guess I have no choice but to listen to Kacchan.” Izuku’s green eyes twinkled in the dim light of the room and he gazed down at Katsuki with a fondness that, even doped up and half asleep, made his breath catch.
Katsuki smiled lazily up at him, laughing quietly, blinks getting longer and longer until finally, opening his eyes seemed like a chore. One he wasn’t at all interested in doing. That was okay too, Katsuki thought as he drifted.
He knew he was safe here, surrounded by Izuku and his friends. With these losers he called home or whatever.
-
That was, until Katsuki’s eyes fluttered open to a hand resting against his forehead.
"Oh! Sorry Kacchan, I was just checking your temperature. I didn’t mean to wake you. You can go back to sleep.”
Fingers brushed tenderly through his hair, then stroked along his cheek. So nice, so right. His eyes slipped shut again, the darkness tugging at the edges of his consciousness, and he felt himself slip off slightly before something stopped him. He’d been meaning to ask Izuku something. He remembered that much, suddenly and with startling certainty. Something important. Katsuki willed himself back toward consciousness, fighting against the heavy pull of sleep. The darkness was determined to swallow him again, but try as it might, Katsuki found a way to victory as usual. He focused on the feeling of Izuku’s rough fingertips against his skin and grabbed tight onto it; his own personal anchor that tethered him to the mortal world. Slowly, he stopped dissolving. His name was Kacchan Bakugo. He opened his eyes and looked at Izuku Midoriya.
Izuku’s face was only inches from his own, cheeks soft and flushed, eyes warm with fondness. Despite the floaty sensation still lingering throughout his body, Katsuki felt utterly grounded. He was fully awake. He just knew, innately, he wasn’t dreaming, he was safe. He was simply here, with Izuku; he was wherever Izuku’s green eyes found him.
Katsuki found himself staring at him for a very long beat, which seemed a little stupid considering he’d seen Izuku about a billion times before. Huh. This was certainly new. The peace he’d felt moments ago suddenly fell short. Something felt off, and Katsuki looked around. They appeared to be lying in bed together. In Katsuki’s room. In Katsuki’s bed. When had they moved? He glanced down and realized his arm sling had been removed, and he was wearing an entirely different set of pajamas beneath the covers too.
What the fuck? Had Izuku changed him? More importantly, why the hell were they lying in the same bed together? When the hell had they gone from their we-can-have-a-normal-conversation-without-trying-to-strangle-each-other phase to casually sharing a bed? Why was Izuku acting like this was the most normal thing in the world?
And more importantly, why, despite all of that, did it feel so damn good, so right?
His thoughts infuriatingly snagged, at a loss, and suddenly the room seemed much smaller than it had a minute ago. Sensing Katsuki’s increasing confusion, concern replaced Izuku’s relaxed smile. “Kacchan, are you—”
Before he could finish, Katsuki startled and shot upright, sitting up.
“Are we dating?!” Katsuki blurted in panic. His horror only grew when he realized he genuinely had no idea. He couldn’t remember. Damn it, how fucked up was he? The medication had clearly only worn off slightly while he slept. He was still so confused and lightheaded, but the blind happiness that accompanied it earlier was gone.
“What the fuck? What’s going on here?” Katsuki asked again, eyes darting everywhere. Izuku started to sit up too, looking increasingly anxious. Fuck, Izuku was wearing his damn hoodie. None of this made sense. His head pounded, his breathing growing harder and faster. He honestly couldn't say why he was panicking this much.
“Hey, hey, breathe. You’re okay.” Izuku started, softly. He reached an easy arm around him, drawing him closer and guiding Katsuki’s head to rest lightly against the swell of his shoulder. “Deep and slow breaths, Kacchan. Deep and slow,” he repeated, soothing him with a slow rub between his shoulder blades.
Katsuki’s breaths slowed, calming, though the buzz of uncertainty lingered beneath his skin. He felt Izuku start to lay them back down towards the bed, lowering the angle of their bodies, leaning further into Katsuki’s space. He pillowed his cheek into the spikes of Katsuki’s hair, and Katsuki breathed in the smell of salt and citrus permeating from his neck.
“What...” Katsuki began again. He felt high and dumb and embarrassed and confused, and a dozen other things. Panic was beginning to creep in, and with his inhibitions already lowered by the number of drugs currently running through his system, his mouth started moving before he could stop it. “What are we actually doing here, Izuku? Ashido asked if we were dating earlier, and I couldn’t fucking remember. I’m fucking freaked out right now. My head feels weird. Just answer me, Izuku, I need to know. You and me... are we... are we dating?”
He felt Izuku pull back to look at him, studying his face closely, concerned. They were close—close enough that he could see Izuku’s eyes darting this way and that, the way his mouth twitched slightly. He was caught between lying and telling the truth: Katsuki watched the battle play out across his face and waited, bracing himself for the worst.
“Um...” Izuku finally started. “I’m... I’m not entirely sure, myself, either.”
He bit his lip for a moment, gnawing at the skin there. “I mean…I think so, yeah.” he added quietly.
“You think so?!”
Izuku looked incredibly nervous all of a sudden, mouth sputtering. “I—Well, we did kiss that one time, and I’ve been taking care of you a lot, and we’ve touching eachother much more casually than before and I’ve basically been sleeping in your bed every night to keep an eye on you, but we haven’t really had a chance to actually talk about it or...or define anything.” His words began coming faster and faster. “And that’s understandable! You’ve been in and out of the hospital and you’re still pretty heavily medicated most of the time so I didn’t think it was exactly the right time to bring up something like that so—so, please don’t worry about it right now, Kacchan! It’s not urgent, or anything! We can talk about it properly when you’re fully recovered! Right now, your main focus should be resting and recovering, okay?”
“What. the. fuck?” Katsuki blinked. Once, twice. His mouth fell open, gaping. “We kissed? And you’ve been sleeping here every—really?”
“Y-yeah.” Izuku looked concerned. “You don’t remember any of it? Jeez, those meds are no joke.” He reached forward and cupped his hands over the back of Katsuki’s head, as though he could will some higher brain function back into it. “I’m sorry, Kacchan. That must’ve been really confusing, waking up with me in your bed.”
He suddenly hesitated, looking self-conscious as he slowly pulled his hand away. “Do…do you want me to leave?”
“No!” Katsuki responded with what he hoped wasn’t a pathetic amount of eagerness. God, this was all so confusing. He pulled Izuku's shirt closer to him stubbornly and leaned forward, breathing into the cotton there. “Damn it, I’m all fucked up in the head. I hate this,” he mumbled into his shirt.
“I know, I’m sorry. It'll come out of your system soon enough." Izuku reassured. "I'll stay with you until then."
Izuku tugged him even closer, tucking him to rest his head on his shoulder. Katsuki followed pathetically, pressing his irritatingly numb face hard into the firm curve of Izuku’s neck. More space removed, and still not even close to enough. He didn’t think there could ever be enough. If Katsuki had it his way, he would fully absorb Izuku into himself, inch by inch by inch; every strip of skin and hardened muscle and dark freckle. Katsuki wanted to consume Izuku in the same way he’d so easily been consumed by Izuku. Maybe then, he would feel a little bit less fragile and scared about all of this.
“C-can we talk about it now?” Katsuki shakily asked against Izuku’s shoulder.
Izuku hesitated. “Maybe… maybe when you’re in a better state of mind. There’s no rush, Kacchan. We can come back to it when you’re fully recovered–”
“I’m not going to be recovered for a while, Izuku!” Katsuki insisted, frustrated. “I just—I don’t know! I feel like if we don’t deal with this now, we’re gonna keep putting it off, and I don’t know what’ll happen if we leave this alone again. We’re fucking terrible at this, remember? Cause our idea of conflict resolution has always been to leave shit alone and pray we spontaneously develop some kind of fucking amnesia along the way, and I don’t wanna mess this up again because…I—” Katsuki paused, taking in a strangled breath. “I really fucking like you, nerd.”
Katsuki’s eyes squeezed shut, unable to stand his own admission. Izuku went completely still. For a moment, Katsuki cursed himself, thinking he'd misread something, or said the wrong thing, but then Izuku laughed, exhaling in breathy relief.
Katsuki opened his eyes to see Izuku pulled back enough to cup his face between his hands, meeting his eyes with a look so open and earnest, Katsuki wanted to look away. But he chose to hold Izuku’s gaze, meeting him where he was, despite the discomfort.
“…I really fucking like you too, Kacchan.” Izuku whispered with a small, sincere smile, and Katsuki swore he felt flowers blooming under his ribs.
“I’m actually glad you brought this up.” Izuku swiped his thumb, tracing the scar along Katsuki’s cheek. “I guess I was too scared to do it myself. I’m sorry, Kacchan. I just didn’t want to rush you or stress you out, you’ve already got so much going on right now, and maybe I was also worried you might’ve changed your mind or that I misunderstood or somehow made it all up in my head, and I didn’t want to mess this all up either, because I really… really want us to be together. So, so badly, Kacchan.” He gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “Do…do you want that, too?”
“Fucking obviously.” Katsuki rolled his eyes, and then very resolutely told himself to act his age when Izuku went all pink in the cheeks at it.
Izuku ducked his head with a stupidly pleased smile. “Okay, then, it’s settled. Kacchan is officially mineeee,” he singsonged teasingly, rocking his head from side to side with delight.
Oh. Well that was easy. This was suspiciously simple. Where was the catch?
“Wait so what. That’s it? It’s that damn easy?”
“Not everything has to be a fight, Kacchan.”
He had a point. Katsuki conceded with a small nod, then simply leaned forward and allowed himself to be held in Izuku’s embrace, peaceful and silent for a moment. He enjoyed their togetherness—or whatever the hell this was—-until curiosity nagged at him again. Katsuki pulled back slightly.
“So, who confessed first? How’d we end up kissing?”
Izuku blinked at him. “You really don’t remember a thing, do you?”
“Nah, not a damn clue.”
“It’s okay, I'm sure it’ll come back to you. But, um… to answer your question…that’s actually up for debate, I think.”
Izuku straightened a little, serious and thoughtful as he set up the scene. "It was in the hospital, just shortly after you woke up. You brought up the topic. Said, hey, why the hell aren’t we dating yet? I said, Kacchan, you’ve got a hole in your chest and are living on tubes and machines for the foreseeable. You said, that's a stupid-ass reason for us not to be dating. I said, no, Kacchan, that's actually the most rational reason for us to not to be dating. Then you said, since when have you ever cared about being rational, and I said, Okay that’s fair, and then I leaned in and kissed you. I swear you were more lucid then, I wasn’t taking advantage of you or anything."
“I see.” Katsuki murmured, considering. "So I confessed first."
"No—" Izuku shook his head with offense, before catching himself. He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Alright, fine. Sure, while you're doped up, you can be the one who confessed first. But I’m gonna take it back as soon as you’re feeling better, because I really think I’m the one who technically confessed first.”
“That’s bullshit. I beat you to it, nerd.”
“Oh come on, Kacchan! You were just throwing around hypotheticals, I was the one who did all the heavy lifting!”
Katsuki shushed him, pressing a finger to his lips. “Shut up. I thought you said not everything had to be a fight.”
“You certainly make it hard.” Izuku mumbled from behind Katsuki’s finger and fondly rolled his eyes, though there was no bite behind it whatsoever. Katsuki’s hand lingered on his mouth, his fingertip brushing lightly over the soft skin there almost absentmindedly. Izuku went quiet, his eyes flicking down to Katsuki’s mouth before quickly returning to his eyes. Katsuki swallowed.
“Wanna help jog my memory?”
“Ummmmm, Uhhhhh I don’t know…” Izuku stammered. “You’re still pretty spaced out right now so I don't want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you plus your immune system is still compromised and well, y’know—” he gestured vaguely toward his own mouth, “—there are germs involved so I really don’t want to take any risks right now and—
“Izuku.”
“Okay, fine. But just a peck.”
Izuku leaned in slowly, giving Katsuki plenty of time to change his mind, but he didn't. Katsuki lay perfectly still, watching Izuku's face with wonder as he drew closer and closer.
Eventually, their lips brushed, and Katsuki drew in a relieved breath. The kiss was brief and gentle, barely more than a soft press; and yet, the most enormous and contradicting thing Katsuki had ever experienced. He felt weak, like his body was melting straight into Izuku’s. He felt sturdy, like his once damaged heart could beat strong again. It felt wrong, layered over a lifetime of regrets and it felt right, like none of it seemed to matter anymore. It felt normal, and it felt totally insane. It made so much sense, and yet none at all.
Eventually Izuku pulled away, noticeably flushed. “So, um…how was that?”
The greatest thing Katsuki had ever done. “Half-assed.” He said instead. “Try again.”
Katsuki leaned in again eagerly, but Izuku laughed lightly and kindly stopped him, cupping his cheek. “When you’re better, Kacchan.”
And, as if in apology, he impressed a few kisses against Katsuki’s temple and downwards, drawing his mouth in a comet's swirl over the apple of his cheek. “Just a little bit longer, okay? Then we can kiss for real.”
Katsuki certainly couldn’t argue with that. They settled back down, continuing to mutter and talk and tease lazily, their arms loosely thrown over each other as their eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Katsuki heard Izuku’s heartbeat beneath his cheek, strong and steady; grateful that he could finally call it his now.
“This feels so right, Kacchan. Even through the worst of it, I always knew we’d find our way back to each other. Like it’s fate, or we’re soulmates, or something,” Izuku murmured, probably half-asleep.
Katsuki scoffed. Even now, even after everything he’d seen, Izuku still lived in child-like wonder and optimism; head crowded with heroes and miracles and naive fantasies. Katsuki disagreed. No, they were not soulmates. This was not fate, or some divine intervention, and it was most certainly not chance, either. Katsuki knew with an unshakeable certainty, that they willed this into existence, together. Izuku’s hand had stubbornly reached for Katsuki, through misunderstandings, through violence, through death itself; and Katsuki spitefully knit the thread of fate himself until it spelled Izuku’s name. He loved Izuku by choice, intentionally, and of his own free will. He loved Izuku with every bit of conscience he was born with.
But that was far too much for Katsuki’s foggy brain to express, so he settled for muttering “You’re an idiot,” before reaching up to give Izuku’s hair a playful tug.
"Your idiot, yeah."
“Still an idiot.”
“But you like me.”
“Nah, I changed my mind.”
“No you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.”
"I know, Kacchan."
"I think I’m gonna sleep a little more."
"Go on, Kacchan, as long as you need." Izuku promised, "You rest up. I'll be here, the whole time."
Warm, relaxed, and wrapped in Izuku’s safe embrace, Katsuki closed his eyes and dutifully obeyed the order.