Work Text:
Once school started at UA, Katsuki and Dr. Arino changed the routine to sessions once every other week. Part of Katsuki was glad to not have the appointments as often, but a smaller, quieter part of him feared…
He shook the thought away before it could fully form, picking at the uniform’s sleeves, wanting to get rid of all the pills of fiber from the new material, his hands remarkably dry. They were always drier when he met up with Arino, lately. He wasn’t nervous or worried about some dumb extra or his hag of a mother, or some other fucked up reason that usually kept him on edge at all times.
The doctor was quiet, as he usually was at the beginning of sessions. It wasn’t anything new, but Katsuki saw the eyes flickering down ever so slightly, and he consciously rubbed the creases that still hadn’t fucking gone away. The muzzle had been too damned tight.
Dr. Arino cleared his throat, dipping his head further to look only at the notepad on his lap. “I managed to follow the first-year Sports Festival,” he said conversationally. “Are congratulations in order?”
“It was a cheap win,” Katsuki muttered, rubbing his jaw roughly. “Damned fucker couldn’t even fight me for real.”
“Which one are we talking about here?”
Katsuki waved a hand vaguely. “The weird half-and-half kid. Todoroki. Couldn’t even fight me like Uraraka! At least she had the fucking guts to make me sweat!” More than usual, anyway. She put up a real fight and Katsuki knew if he hadn’t found the upper hand in the end, she would have actually beaten him. Not that he’d ever speak it into reality.
“Is that what you had been shouting about near the end of that match?” Arino questioned, continuing when Katsuki cocked his head slightly. “The audio cut to commentary of the match but you have a powerful voice. I thought I could hear you yelling about something. But then… the ceremony took place soon after.”
Eyes returned to his cheeks, the damned creases not going away. Katsuki actually growled as he roughly rubbed his cheeks, as he had been every few minutes when he wasn’t picking at his uniform for invisible imperfections.
After the ceremony, getting his ill-gotten gold, after the muzzle was finally fucking removed, Katsuki had been a little surprised his cheeks had been bleeding from how tight the damned thing had been around his head. It had been a day since the festival and they hadn’t gone away.
“Are you okay?” The words floated to the surface as if Katsuki had been underwater. His eyes snapped back to Arino, who was now frowning lightly - more like the corners of his lips were ever so slightly downturned - his expression openly concerned without looking pitying or disgusted. Katsuki had never seen pity on the man’s face, something his mother openly held for him when he returned from the Sports Festival the day before.
“I’m fine,” he snapped without thinking, bringing his legs up to his chest. His hands began to feel warm and wet.
“Katsuki.” Arino said, his tone disapproving.
“Fuck. Sorry. I know, I know. I don’t want to fucking talk about it.” His hands gave a couple pops.
Arino nodded and sat back. It was like he always knew when to push and when to release when it came to Katsuki, something he was grateful for. Since the time he had pushed Katsuki to talk about Deku and his suicide, the man had gotten real good at telling when he could push and when it wasn’t the right time.
“So what do you want to talk about today?” Arino asked, picking up his pen.