Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Come the fuck on, already!" Katsuki groans, elbowing Shoto in the side, "It's just one extra kicking practice. How many times have I had to suck it up and hang around and wait for you, of all fucking people?"

"Never," Shoto says, shutting his locker with what Katsuki thinks is undue force. "Once. Maybe."

Katsuki scoffs. 

"You're a fucking liar," he grunts. "You're deluded and you're a liar! It's your fault I play rugby in the first place, dumbass."

"It really isn’t," Shoto says curtly, shaking his head. "I told you that you could hang around the arts magazine office with me. I gave you the poetry submissions to sort through. It is not my fault you went off and tried out for the rugby team."

"I was bored," Katsuki points out, still scowling. "The arts magazine is fucking boring."

"So is rugby," Shoto says, which is a goddamn lie. Rugby is fucking awesome, and that surprised no one more so than Katsuki. 

"Shit, I'm going to be late," Katsuki says gruffly after he checks the time on his cell, before setting off down the hallway. "Meet me by the lockers after, fucker."

"Do you really need extra kicking practice?" Shoto asks, dumping his books in his bag and trying to fix the zipper. "You don't do enough of that normally, you have to stay even later?"

Katsuki expertly avoids walking backwards into the door as he swivels on his heel and turns back to his unfazed friend. 

"It takes work being the best!" he barks back at Shoto, and the few remaining people in the hallway put their arms in the air and cheer. 

For reasons that Katsuki can't exactly explain, their school doesn't play football, or even basketball, so everyone loves the rugby team. He's been the first string flyhalf since the end of his first year, and now everyone knows his name and wants to high-five him in the hallway. 

Katsuki thinks it’s deserved; it’s what he gets for being the fucking best. 

"Awesome," Shoto calls after him, tone dry. "Yeah, you're going to take us all the way to state. Go sports."

Katsuki waves his fist in the air back at him, letting his middle finger pop up before he turns the corner and is out of sight. A large smirk sits on his lips the whole way out to the field. 

He's pretty sure that Shoto's never going to get over Katsuki being one of the most popular kids in school.

—

“Katsuki! I am outside! Waiting for you!” Shoto yells in monotone from outside the locker room. He repeats the chant a few more times before Katsuki finally emerges, gritting his teeth in annoyance. 

"What took you so long?" Shoto asks. 

His face is characteristically stoic but Katsuki knows by now that Shoto has a low boredom threshold when it comes to rugby. 

"You could come in and talk to me there, you know," Katsuki snaps, shrugging and pulling his bag over his head. "You don't have to fucking stand out here and yell through the door like a pissy old man!"

"Not a chance so long as Toya’s in there," Shoto says flippantly. "Did you learn anything life-affecting today?"

"My kicking average is getting better," Katsuki grunts, slouching comfortably as they walk off at a lazy pace. "And I got in some pretty good tackles, too."

"Awesome," Shoto says. "That is really big news. Did you get a special prize?"

"Screw you, you’re the one who asked, asshole!" Katsuki bites back at him, elbowing him and rooting around in his pockets for the spicy candy he only lets himself indulge in after a good workout. "Oi, want some?"

Shoto grabs a handful and then takes his time choosing which one he wants to eat first. In the end, he sticks the whole handful in his mouth, just like always.

Katsuki waits until Shoto's chewing before he asks, "You coming to the game this Friday?"

Shoto raises both eyebrows a fraction, and tries to chew faster.

"I'll take that as a yes," Katsuki says, before Shoto's had a chance to speak.

"Dammit," Shoto says, coughing.

"You’ll sit front and center," Katsuki tells him threateningly as they head down the steps and out into the parking lot. Only third years can drive to school, so Katsuki and Shoto ride their bikes in. "So are you coming over to do homework, or what?"

"Of course. Why else would I have waited for you all this time?"

"Because you like me, like some kind of loser ," Katsuki says with a cocky, triumphant smirk. "And because I let you play my PS5 after we're done with Calculus and you’re a fucking freeloader.” 

—

"No, you have to remind me again why I'm even friends with you, and this time give a good reason," Shoto says, later on. He's sprawled across Katsuki's bed with his math homework spread out in front of him. "You're so weird."

Katsuki concentrates on his world history textbook and curls his toes into the carpet. 

"So fucking what if I like things neat," he says. "It's easier when you know where everything is!"

"Hmm," Shoto says, shaking his head. "They have a disorder for people like you. OCD."

"Being organized does not make me have OCD," Katsuki says, turning the page in his textbook and not looking up. "And having a clean room is not a fucking bad thing."

"Yeah," Shoto says, absent-mindedly, standing up and stretching. "Whatever."

Katsuki leans over just enough to shove at Shoto's knee with his elbow; Shoto tumbles down onto the bed and catches the heel of his hand on his homework, scrunching the pages. 

"Dick," he says. He rolls over and shoves Katsuki in the shoulder. "Hey, can I use your computer? To check my student email. My phone’s dead."

"Waiting for anything in particular?" Katsuki asks with a shit-eating grin. 

"No," Shoto says, quickly, and doesn't look up. "I'm waiting for advice from our English teacher. He was going to email me this thing. It's okay. I'll check when I get home."

"You're such a shitty liar," Katsuki sneers at him, shutting his book with a thump and clambering on to the bed closer to Shoto. He elbows him sharply, and Shoto elbows back. "You staying for dinner, or what? The old man is going to make pasta. Old lady says she's forgetting what you look like.”

"Oh. Uh, sure," Shoto says, after a beat. "I'll have to call my dad and tell him. But even if he says no, I’ll stay.”

Katsuki shuffles up the bed a little more until his back hits the wall, right next to Shoto this time. 

“Dad’s just–” Shoto pauses after cutting himself off, “a hot-headed prick. But that’s nothing new. It’s just Toya loves stoking the fire in him, and things are… louder than normal.”

Katsuki tries to steer clear of Toya, and for the most part it’s not difficult to do; they’re team mates but the circles they run in could not be more different, and distant. 

Katsuki bumps his elbow against Shoto’s. 

“Whatever. After next year, we’ll be the ones getting the hell out of here. We’ll go to whichever school offers me the best rugby scholarship and never have to think about our crazy fucking families ever again.” 

Shoto wears a small smile as he gazes down at his knees, before swiftly turning a pleased smirk up at Katsuki. 

“That’s sweet. Are we gonna have a white picket fence, too? Two and a half kids?”

“Fuck you,” Katsuki smacks Shoto over the head harshly. “See if I’m ever fucking nice to you ever again! Fuck .”

“Aw. You’re embarrassed.”

“No I’m fucking not.”

“Must be because you like me,” Shoto says, and he’s finally smiling again, a shine returning to his expression that is always missing when he talks about his family. “Like some kind of loser .”

“You’re the loser,” Katsuki says, and he reaches over to grab his PS5 remote. “And I’ll prove it by kicking your ass at Cold War, again .”

—

Shoto had joined the school arts magazine approximately three minutes into their first year, and had proceeded to devote ninety percent of his time to the magazine ever since. The other ten percent he divided equally between Katsuki and sleeping; although sometimes Katsuki thought that he deserved a higher percentage of Shoto's attention, particularly as the school arts magazine was the most under-subscribed publication on campus - including the annual janitorial review - but at this point, Katsuki’s emotional intelligence had thankfully developed enough for him to remind himself of the ridiculous amount of time he devotes to playing rugby, and decides not to complain too much.

The hag still complains every time Katsuki comes home with a bag full of muddy rugby shirts and shorts, or when he comes home from practice with a black eye while covered in bruises and scrapes. Katsuki just rolls his eyes and yells at her that she shouldn't have sent him to some weird-ass private school if she hadn't wanted him to play some weird-ass private school sport. At least it wasn't croquet or lacrosse.

"Imagine that, hag," Katsuki says, "if you had to tell people that I was your son, the fucking croquet player."

"That would be embarrassing," his mom says, half-seriously. "I'd have to pretend we weren't related. There's not any chance you want to switch to croquet, is there?"

"You think you’re so fucking funny," Katsuki hisses, squinting his eyes at her.

"No, really, Katsuki, it's okay." His mom is sorting out the laundry in front of the washing machine. "If you want to switch to croquet, I'd cope. Shoto could be my son instead. That's okay with you, Shoto, right?"

Shoto's leaning against the doorjamb, picking at the skin by his thumbnail, entirely unaffected by the bickering. 

 "Fine by me," he says. "Katsuki, looks like you're out of a job."

"Tch, as if I fucking care. You have no idea what she’s really like. She's batshit crazy when you're not around."

"Brat," his mom says, smacking him in the legs with one of his dirty hoodies. Katsuki rolls his eyes and moves out of the way. "Stop telling Shoto lies. He won't want to come around any more and we don't see him enough as it is."

Shoto just grins. "I'm over here every night," he says. "How can you not see me enough?"

Katsuki's mom stands up and passes Katsuki a basket full of wet laundry. 

“You can hang these out," she says to Katsuki. "I'm going to go and make Shoto a snack, see if we can't persuade him to come over here more often and relieve me of your company, Katsuki."

"Fucking hag," Katsuki barks at her.

"Laundry, kiddo." His mom presses a kiss to his temple and then slides her arm around Shoto's shoulders. "Are you sure you won't rethink that adoption thing, Shoto?”

—

"So," Shoto says, after they're done with dinner and Katsuki is pulling out the controllers for his Xbox. "You mentioned that I could check my email."

"Sure," Katsuki says, easily. "So long as you don't mind me reading the emails from your creepy psychotic stalker over your shoulder."

"She is not a creepy psychotic stalker," Shoto says, "and anyway. I don't care about those emails. I told you. I'm waiting for something from my Calculus teacher."

"Thought it was your English teacher," Katsuki quips with a smirk.

"Shut up," Shoto says. "You're gonna let me check or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Katsuki waves a hand. "But only when you admit you're only checking to see if your stalker's sent you an email or not."

"Fine," Shoto says, kicking Katsuki in the shin. "Fine, okay, I just want to see if there’s a new message. Okay?"

"Aww," Katsuki says around an arrogant smirk. "It's cute that you're so attached."

"I am not attached, I am just interested. That's all."

"It could totally be a guy," Katsuki reminds him. "Fuck, what if you're being stalked by a guy. That's kinda gay."

"Gender is a flimsy barrier when it comes to matters of the heart," Shoto says loftily.

Katsuki snorts despite himself and jabs Shoto in the thigh. "You're such a fucking idiot."

"Yeah, well," Shoto says. "I hang around with you, so."

Katsuki insists on pulling up a chair so he can sit beside him as soon as Shoto logs into his email. 

Shoto eyes him carefully. "You don't actually have to watch what I'm doing, you know."

"I do," Katsuki says, seriously. "I just need to be sure your emails aren't coming from creepy pensioners or Ms. Ito from the school office."

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," Shoto mumbles, a petulant frown pulling at his ordinarily impassive features. 

"God, hurry the fuck up and see if you've got any pervy emails from stalkers! Come on."

Shoto grinds his teeth and logs on to his email.

Shoto's been getting these weird emails since the middle of their first year, ever since he took over being the editor of the arts magazine and opened up the centerfold as a place for kids to submit their photos in the hope of being published. It's never exactly been popular, mostly because the arts magazine has a readership of pretty much Shoto and - by gunpoint - Katsuki, but Shoto slogs on regardless. Katsuki thinks it's kind of hilarious, Shoto's dedication to this magazine that precisely no one reads. 

The weird emails started coming a few weeks into their second semester, always the same email address but never signed. They always contain a few photo attachments, taken on campus or around the school buildings. And one of them always, always has Shoto in the shot somewhere, whether it's his school bag or the back of his head in the hallway or him waiting for Katsuki by the rugby pitch and half-assedly reading a textbook.

Shoto and Katsuki have spent over a year not being able to figure out who it is who takes the pictures and emails them to Shoto. The photography centerfold has belonged exclusively to the elusive emailer ever since the first time they sent their photos in, when Shoto had sat down beside Katsuki and said, "Hey. Katsuki. Look at these. Someone finally made a submission."

It had been Katsuki who noticed Shoto first; the corner of their table in the cafeteria, the back of Shoto's head and the strap of his school bag lying across the bench.

Shoto's eyes had widened.

He'd still put the photos on the centerfold, though, that issue and every issue since.

“Did she attach pictures of the bodies of the last people she stalked and kidnapped?"

"Shut up," Shoto murmurs, and hovers over the email in his inbox a few seconds longer than strictly necessary, probably just to annoy Katsuki.

Katsuki grunts in agitation and shoves him in the side and moves to grab the laptop. 

"Hey," Shoto says, pulling the computer away. "Screw you, this is my creepy stalker email. Get your own."

"It's like an episode of CSI happening right in front of me," Katsuki derides as he wrestles his friend for his laptop. "I'll get to be in all of the flashback scenes. They’ll interview me after they find your body in the woods."

"Remember not to speak ill of the dead," Shoto tells him, and finally manages to open the email. His eyes immediately widen when he does, which is saying a lot for Shoto when it comes to facial expression. Just as quickly, he angles the screen away enough so that Katsuki can’t see what he’s reading. 

"What the fuck is it?! Is it photos of you in the communal showers or what? Let me see," Katsuki says, shoving Shoto in the side, "I can't fucking see, you fucker!"

"Get off! And, fuck, Katsuki, there's a message."

"Fuck off, no there isn’t.”

"I can hear you two swearing up a goddamn storm, you know," Katsuki's mom calls, from across the hall.

"How does she do that?" Shoto says under his breath.

"Fucking echolocation, like the old bat she is," Katsuki mutters, quietly. "She could probably hear dog whistles, it’s insane."

"Katsuki!" his mom yells.

"Fine, stop nagging already!" Katsuki shouts back. "Fuck. You can have her, you know. I'll sell her cheaply."

"I am not for sale, brat," his mom calls back. "But I will swap you for a cup of coffee and a back massage."

"What about me, Mrs. Bakugou?" Shoto shouts back.

“Oh for you? You’re priceless, Shoto,” she says with a coo. "Now keep the swearing down, boys. I don't know who fucking raised you but it’s not becoming of young men your age, got it?"

Katsuki rolls his eyes and leans over so he's got a better view of the computer screen. 

"What's it say?" he asks, elbowing Shoto out of the way.

"It says, 'Fuck off Katsuki.'"

"Does not," Katsuki says, scowling. 

"Fine. Look at this."

There’s more than a few attachments to look at, and the body of the email says I really like your smile and It's okay, I hate tater tots too, alongside a photo of Shoto poking his lunch in the school cafeteria in a desultory manner. He’s sitting at the table he and Katsuki always sit at, and appears entirely unaware of his surroundings, immersed in his disappointment. 

"My creepy psychotic stalker likes my smile,” Shoto says. 

"And watched you eat tater tots," Katsuki grunts. "Where the hell was I, anyway? Why am I never in these pictures, I’m right fucking next to you most of the damn time!"

"Katsuki," Shoto says, carefully. "Shut up about yourself, and pay attention to the fact that my creepy stalker likes my smile."

Katsuki just rolls his eyes. "She - or he - has been stalking you and taking your photo every two weeks for a year. Of course they’re fucking obsessed with you. Which part of that aren't you getting?"

Shoto shrugs his shoulders, appearing blank. 

"I dunno."

"Jesus," Katsuki says, "you are such a giant ass loser. I can't even express how much of a loser you are."

"Shut up. Should I write something back?"

"Yeah, stop fucking stalking me, you freak would be a start."

"Katsuki!"

"Hag, I’m trying to save candy cane’s life!"

"Really," Shoto says. "What am I going to write?"

"What about, Who are you? It's just a thought."

Shoto nods slowly and carefully types out who are you? before he presses send.

—

Shoto sends him a text at ass-o-clock in the morning the next day that says You are coming to see a play with me tonight, like some kind of sociopath.

Katsuki has his first scowl of the day as he reads it and groans. He types fuck u and sends it straight back. After a moment, he relents and sends what play n when?

His phone beeps a minute later. Scenes from musicals @7:30pm. I’m outside of your home. We are going in early.

Katsuki hits the call button on the phone and buries his face in the pillows again. 

"What the fuck time is it?" Katsuki asks, gruffly, when Shoto picks up.

"Dunno," Shoto says. "Maybe six? Almost. Get up, get in the shower, put some clothes on and let’s go to school, Katsuki."

"Why are we fucking friends," Katsuki seethes, crawling out of bed. "I hate everything about you."

"That’s not true. You like it when it’s poetry submission day at the magazine and I give you all the entries to sort through and you make fun of them all individually."

"Just fucking come inside," Katsuki says, yawning. "Dad's probably making coffee, you can go tell him when he's screwing it up."

—

In the magazine office, Katsuki drops his bag down on the floor and sits on the edge of the desk while Shoto starts setting up his desk 

"What the fuck are we even doing here?" Katsuki asks. "I could be finishing up my morning run right now. I'm holding this against you forever, you know."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Shoto pokes the screen dubiously. "I want to get a head start on the next issue. For some reason or another the other arts magazine members haven’t been showing up as much. Not sure why."

Katsuki takes a very deep breath in order to bite back, because no one fucking cares about this stupid magazine. Katsuki’s proud of the progress he’s made. He holds the snarky remark back with a figurative pat on the back. 

"Oi, and what the fuck are you dragging me along to tonight, anyway?” he says instead. “Scenes from the Musicals? What the hell is that?"

Shoto shrugs and refuses to meet Katsuki's eye. This is a bad sign; Katsuki is fairly sure that whatever it is they're going to see tonight will be both miserable and horrible to listen to. Katsuki has seen far too many badly done plays, musicals, revues, skits, evenings of musical serenades, first year recorder club shows and drama club productions since Shoto joined the arts magazine and took it upon himself to write reviews of all artistic endeavors on campus. 

Katsuki's been to pretty much every production the school has put on since he started there; he's spent more evenings than he can count grimacing at off-key notes and composing Shoto's obituary in his head. 

Shoto takes it all pretty seriously, though, and he has a clipboard and a notebook and one of those weird pens with a light at the end so he can see to write when the auditorium lights go down. Katsuki mostly just sits there and falls asleep if it’s boring, which is always. 

"It's scenes from musicals, Katsuki. It's not rocket science. The clue's in the title."

Katsuki kicks Shoto in the leg. "Why do I let you drag me along to all these shitty shows? Most of them make me want to gouge my own eyes out. Or your eyes out." 

Not all of them, he mentally amends, mind drifting to the kid from his history class who’s in most of the shows and is actually pretty good. The kid always smiles when he’s on stage, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. If nothing else, Katsuki can respect the dedication it must take to do something that fucking stupid and look happy about it. 

"Some of them are alright," Shoto tells him, pulling open his backpack and dragging out his notebook and his arts magazine folder. It's comically large and full of printed out articles, because Shoto is an old man and prints out everything instead of just pulling it up on his phone when he needs to.

"You remember the time the drama club put on The Caucasian Chalk Circle, right?"

Shoto winces.

"Yeah," Katsuki says, "you better fucking remember."

The time the drama club put on Bertolt Brecht's The Caucasian Chalk Circle is probably etched onto Katsuki's brain for the rest of his life. Shoto's review would have been legendary, if anyone actually ever read the arts magazine. Katsuki thinks that's what stopped him from getting suspended, in the end.

But Katsuki still hasn't forgiven Shoto for making him sit through it in the first place.

"Can you go grab us some coffees from the cafe down the block?" Shoto asks, expression serious, changing the subject. "I'll pay."

"No way," Katsuki snarls. "You're not dragging me into school this early and then not telling me if your stalker's replied or not."

Shoto glares, but he opens the email up on the desktop anyway.

"Can you get female serial killers?" Katsuki asks, while the page loads. The school computers are pretty good, apart from the piece of shit ones they let Shoto have for the arts magazine.

"Shut up," Shoto says. "It's not like that. They're always very kind. I really think they're just shy."

"Or psychopathic," Katsuki suggests. "But at least they like your smile, huh?"

Shoto punches him in the arm.

"Is there a message?" Katsuki asks, peering over Shoto's shoulder. "Does it say, I've loved you forever, Shoto Todoroki, much love, the hairy janitor with the creepy beard, come run away with me to the woods where we can make sweet love and nobody can hear you scream?"

"Dude," Shoto says, his eyes wide, "That’s really messed up."

"Yeah, no shit," Katsuki retorts. "You're the one getting all hot and bothered over some stalker with a camera."

"I'm not getting hot and bothered about anyone! And they're not a stalker. They're just shy."

"Shy, like freaky," Katsuki says. "Shy, like we don't even know if it's a girl or a guy. Whatever, give me your fucking money, I'm gonna go get coffee."

"And muffins," Shoto says. "Get me one of those blueberry ones with the frosting on top."

"It’s a fucking cupcake," Katsuki spits, holding his hand out while Shoto looks in his bag for his wallet, "and one day you will be struck down for even wanting one."

"Sure," Shoto says, distracted as he scans the email carefully. "And there isn't a message in the email this time. Just a photo of the school’s coffee bar."

"Maybe they're a caffeine-freak like you," Katsuki says, ducking out of the way of Shoto's kick. "I'll keep my eye out while I'm waiting in line. If I see anyone stroking a framed photo of you, I'll be sure to point them in your direction."

Shoto just throws his pen at Katsuki's head.

—

"This is the most miserable I've ever been," Katsuki confides, fifteen minutes into the first half of Scenes from the Musicals.

Shoto - leaning over his clipboard and scribbling furiously - shushes him. There are approximately twenty three people in the audience, all of them parents, and all of them are at least five rows of chairs in front of them. Katsuki thinks he could probably start to shout and it wouldn't make too much of a difference.

On the stage in front of them, a freshman with red hair and too much blush is singing The Sun'll Come Out, Tomorrow. Luckily the pianist is either deaf or has a great deal of respect for the audience; the piano accompaniment is almost loud enough to drown out most of the technical errors, although the failure of the singer to stay in tune for more than three bars at a time is still obvious.

"Oh, thank fuck for that," Katsuki says once the intermission rolls around and the curtain drops on a particularly terrible version of You Can't Get a Man With a Gun. "Can we get the fuck out of here now?"

"No, we cannot," Shoto says without inflection. "If you're going to make me come to your stupid rugby games then we're staying for the whole of this stupid play."

"Musical," Katsuki points out, with despair.

"Did I mention you didn't have to audition to get a slot on stage tonight? You just signed up, and voila," Shoto says, "instant time on the stage."

"Sociopaths," Katsuki says. "All of ‘em. Whoever decided that is fucked up."

"That," Shoto says, "that and other things."

Katsuki sinks lower in his chair and wishes for death. Or ear plugs.

Shoto keeps poking him in the leg with the end of his stupid light-up pen, so Katsuki starts wishing for his death instead, until the lights go down and the piano starts up again.

Then Katsuki blinks and sits up a little straighter in his chair, then sinks down lower in case Shoto notices and starts wondering why Katsuki has a sudden attack of the jitters. The singer on stage is the only reason Katsuki hasn't fallen asleep in every single one of the shows he's come to see with Shoto over the past couple of years. The singer's a second year, like them, and he sits in front of Katsuki during his last period history class. 

His name is Midoriya Izuku and he's been in pretty much every production he could fit in the rehearsal time for. He was even in that terrible production of The Caucasian Chalk Circle.

It isn't like Katsuki's ever really spoken to him, or anything. He doesn't even know Izuku. He just - well. He likes to see him on stage. Izuku's good at dancing and he's good at acting and he's even kinda okay at singing. He always looks like he's having fun and sometimes Katsuki feels like Izuku's smiling directly at him, although he knows that's just a trick of the light. Everyone knows that you can't pick out individual faces from the stage.

But Katsuki likes to think that Izuku's smiling at him, a full smile, a genuine one that makes his eyes go bright. He smiles back, sometimes, but only because he knows that Izuku can't see him.

Katsuki's kind of smiling now, even though this whole show is lame and even Izuku singing Luck be a Lady isn't enough to raise Scenes from the Musicals out of the bottom two productions he's ever seen in his whole entire life. He knows that Izuku can't see him, but Katsuki maybe kind of wants Izuku to know that someone out in the audience is enjoying listening to him sing.

Not that Katsuki is, or anything.

Still, he ends up being the best part of the entire night. 

—

Katsuki fucking loves game days.

From the moment they bike into the parking lot, Shoto trailing behind because he's a loser, there are people everywhere. Katsuki always gets high-fived a lot in the hallways, mostly by people he doesn't know all that well, but on game days he gets high-fived all day long. There's a line of kids by the bike racks, just waiting for him, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. 

"Oh my god," Shoto mutters. "It's like you're their king."

"I am their king," Katsuki says, smugly. "Isn't it amazing?"

"Oh yeah," Shoto nods. "It's the best thing ever. I wish I were you."

Katsuki has no less than three different spirit boxes inside of his locker. 

"Aren't our combinations supposed to be private?" Shoto says, with one eyebrow raised. He's got his arms folded and he's leaning back against a short girl’s locker. She doesn't look too pleased about it, but Shoto's better at being oblivious than most people. 

"They are," Katsuki tells him. "But the school office gives them out to anyone with a spirit box."

"I feel a whole lot more secure now," Shoto agrees. "They've covered all possible security eventualities with that fearsome dedication to our privacy."

"Shut up," Katsuki says, and kicks him. He opens the box and starts pulling out treats. "You want one?"

"No way."

"Scared of cheerleaders?" Katsuki mocks him. He opens the second box. This one smells pretty amazing, and there's a good luck card pinned to the top. It sparkles, which is kinda cool, but they've spelled his name wrong, which isn't. 

"Are those- are those snickerdoodles?" Shoto asks, hooking his chin over Katsuki's shoulder briefly.

"Yeah," Katsuki says, taking a bite. "It's a shame that you hate the rugby team so much, I was going to share. Too fucking late now."

Shoto’s eyes narrow dangerously into thin slits as he glares back at his friend. 

"Give me a snickerdoodle, Katsuki."

"Nah," Katsuki says, stuffing the box back in his locker and shutting the door. "Not until you say how much you love the rugby team."

Shoto folds his arms. "I'm going to see your stupid game, aren't I?"

"Magic word, fucker."

"Please."

"Not that one," Katsuki says, with a condescending sigh. "The other one. The one that starts with: ‘I love rugby.’"

Shoto grinds his teeth. "I want the biggest one."

"Fine, whatever."

"I love rugby," Shoto narrows his eyes, grabs a snickerdoodle and takes a step back, all in one fluid movement. "But I hate you."

"Good enough," Katsuki grunts lazily, and hands over the box. "I was gonna give them all to you anyway. It's just funnier to make you beg."

"I am revoking the title of Best Friend, henceforth," Shoto says.

"Like to see you fucking try," Katsuki says, with a smirk. "Hurry up, you're going to be late for class, dumbass."

So is Katsuki, but no one ever gives him a late slip.

- 

On game days, they finish classes early and hold a pep rally in the school gym. Shoto has been known to calmly, and thoroughly, complain about how pep rallies disregard student education and result in students graduating without achieving their academic potential. His argument is more detailed and nuanced than that, but Katsuki always tunes out after the first couple of minutes. He acts so serious with his steely glare and his inflection goes all passionate about the stupidest shit. It makes Katsuki laugh, even if he sort of agrees. He’d never admit that to Shoto, though. 

Still, Katsuki ends up standing at the side of the gym, scanning the bleachers to see if he can pick Shoto out. He's usually sitting up top alone or with his other arts magazine members and zoning out, only throwing his arms in the air when it looks like one of the teachers is going to come over and talk to him about showing school spirit. Katsuki spots him just before the principal calls his name, and he catches Shoto's eye and grins before he jogs out into the middle of the gym as the student body cheers.

Pep rallies are never going to stop freaking him out, he thinks. It's one thing having people high five him in the hallways and clap him on the back in the cafeteria, it's another to have everyone cheering his name when he's not even out on the field, actually playing.

It feels pretty damn good, though.

He lets himself embrace the feeling of being adored a few seconds longer before he scans the bleachers again. It’s a sea of faces he sees every game day, but his eyes don’t stop skimming the crowd until he spots him.

Izuku’s sitting in a corner, palms flat on his knees as he leans forward. Next to him sit two girls, one with short brown hair and pink cheeks and the other wears a floppy beanie that vaguely resembles a frog. The two girls chat happily beside him while Izuku’s eyes remain trained on the gym floor. Trained on Katsuki and his teammates. 

Katsuki doesn’t always find Izuku in the crowd during pep rallies. It’s not like he looks for him intentionally; he doesn’t even fucking know the kid. Why would he look for him? Shut up. The freckled boy exists only on the peripheries of Katsuki’s vision, but somehow, he stays there. A tiny green fleck that catches his eye every so often, until Katsuki reminds himself to look away. 

Katsuki straightens up and looks straight ahead of himself, away from all of the faces watching him. He just has to keep looking forward. 

—

There aren't exactly a lot of schools that play rugby, so their competition is mostly made up of other private schools who bus in from way across the state.

It's kind of a big deal. Because the flyhalf is the most important position on the team, Katsuki has to go out with the coach and the principal to go meet the other team when they pull into the parking lot, him and the team captain and whoever was the most valuable player last time they played. Mostly it means hanging out in the parking lot trying to make conversation with the principal and his gym teacher. Usually Shoto comes out and leans on Katsuki's bike and points and snickers at him, but today he's nowhere to be seen.

Katsuki sends him a covert text. where are you. you’re normally here to laugh at me by now.

His phone vibrates in his pocket a minute later.  

Got detention for being late this morning. I am blaming you. You owe me.

Katsuki hides his laugh in his sleeve. no way, he texts back, thats fuckn funny.

Dreaming up ways to make you pay , Shoto texts.

shaking in my fuckin boots, Katsuki presses send and almost before he's sliding his phone into his pocket, he's pulling it back out again. you’re still comin 2 see me play right?

There's a pause, then his phone buzzes. Yes. Front and center.

Katsuki breathes and pulls all of his focus to his coach's game plan.

—

The teams are pretty evenly matched. Their flyhalf is a tall, straight-backed third year named Sato who shakes hands with Katsuki and then tells him in an undertone, "We're going to take you down."

Katsuki just rolls his eyes, bored, and says, "Yeah, I'd like to see you fucking try."

Sato just laughs, claps Katsuki on the back and says, "We'll see you on the field, Bakugou."

Katsuki likes Sato; they've been playing against each other since Katsuki's first year. He's a more precise kick than Katsuki, focused and long-limbed. He's fast, but Katsuki's quicker. Katsuki's kicking percentages are higher because he kicks more. They're both strong, but Katsuki's center of gravity is lower.

Katsuki rolls his shoulders and turns back to Eijirou, their captain, who is crowding the team around him and hyping them all up. Katsuki cheers with the rest of them, adrenaline spiking and a feral grin splitting across his face. 

He can’t wait to fucking win. 

—

The game is rough and furious and dirty. By halftime, Eijirou’s sporting a black eye and a split eyebrow, hurriedly taped together by the coach and the school nurse fifteen minutes into the game. Katsuki's muddy and covered in grass stains; the score is six-all, two drop-kicks from him and two from Sato. 

They've lost a couple of line-outs; Coach is going to ream the forwards for their fumbles. The scrums are good and the backs are running well, but there's something missing. Katsuki's already running through their plays, through the other team's weaknesses. Tokoyami is a good scrum-half, and he's quick but Sato doesn't protect him enough. 

If he can just intercept then— Katsuki takes a deep breath, and reaches for one of the water bottles as the coach outlines the strategy for the second half.

—

They're ten minutes into the second half when Eijirou breaks away and manages a run most of the way down the pitch. The other team are hot on his heels and Eijirou makes a quick pass to where Katsuki's waiting. It all seems too easy, like time's moving in slow motion. He makes the catch, and he can see Sato out of the corner of his eye, making a run to tackle Katsuki down and out of play. He finds an extra burst of speed from somewhere and Sato’s left catching Katsuki's shin with his fingertips, going down and leaving Katsuki with a clear run to the try line. 

He knows there are other players running after him, he can hear the screams of the crowd and his team shouting. He throws himself down over the try line, making the try by a clear margin. And then he feels his knee twist as he lands.

The crowd erupts, and the screams are deafening.

But Katsuki, Katsuki can't get up. Pain lightning-sparks its way up from his knee down to his ankle and up to his thigh. He bites down on his lip until he can taste blood, and he rolls on to his side, the pain leaving him breathless. 

The crowd slowly falls silent and then the coach is pushing through his teammates and kneeling beside him, and someone's calling for an ambulance.

Katsuki doesn't remember much after that.

—

The E.R. is really busy because it's a Friday night. Even though it's early, there are still people throwing up into cardboard bowls and if Katsuki wasn't trying to concentrate on not throwing up from the pain himself, he'd be really grossed out. His mom is with him, holding his hand, and Shoto's out in the waiting room because he refuses to go home. Katsuki's dad's gone to pick up some things from the house, knowing they will be here all night. Katsuki wishes he were here. He wants his dad.

The pain is stupid; he can't think of anything outside of the nauseating throb all over. He's thrown up twice already, his mom smoothing his hair away from his forehead and holding his hand even when he shakes it off every time. He's had x-rays, but every movement of the trolley down the hallway meant that pain ricocheted up and down his leg until he was breathless from trying not to cry. They'd given him painkillers, but he hadn't been able to keep them down and they'd been forced to put a line in instead, so now he's got a needle taped into the back of his hand.

His dad's back by the time he's returned from his MRI scan. "They think it's ligament damage," his mom tells his dad in an undertone.

Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think of anything other than the pain.

—

Shoto's still there a few hours later, Katsuki can see his slow pacing in the waiting room and hear him politely refusing to go home every time the doors at the end of the hallway open. When Katsuki finally persuades them to let him in to see him, Shoto just rolls his eyes and sighs at him across the bed and takes Katsuki's mom's seat while she goes down to the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee.

They've strapped his knee up - it's tight and it hurts. He's got it elevated on some sort of foam block underneath the sheets. His clothes are still covered in mud from the rugby game and he doesn’t want to even think about what he might smell like.

"How bad is it?" Shoto asks. He's touching at the sheets with the tips of his fingers.

"Bad," Katsuki admits through his teeth, letting out a long breath.

"Okay," Shoto says softly, and he grabs Katsuki’s fist. "You can, you know. Squeeze if you need to."

Katsuki holds on tight and tries not to cry.

—

They let him go home two hours later, the doctor passing his dad a bag of pain meds as he signs all the paperwork. His mom takes the crutches they're going to make Katsuki use. There's an information sheet, too, but Katsuki doesn't want to read it just yet. He's asked about rugby, and he knows the answer. 

A month off, bare minimum, and probably rehab. The nausea grows tenfold.

One of the nurses wheels him out to his dad's car, and Shoto walks beside the wheelchair.  They have to help him up and out of the chair and into his dad's car. He's breathless with the pain because he can't get in without bending his knee, not even with help. He leans back in his seat and Shoto climbs in behind him and puts his hand on Katsuki's shoulder, squeezing.

His mom comes round to the side of the car and kisses his forehead, helping him put on his seatbelt.

Every moment of the journey home hurts.

—

He doesn't sleep well.

He can't get comfortable, and he hates sleeping on his back and the covers are too heavy on his leg. His dad makes him a nest of pillows so he's half sitting up; his dad's taken two from his and Katsuki's mom's bed, too. It's uncomfortable and it hurts and he wakes up every time his knee brushes against the sheets or he tries to turn over in his sleep.

He wakes up when the painkillers wear off, and he needs to go to the bathroom. He's not used to managing the crutches and he can't move without it hurting; he gets to the bathroom just in time but he can't stand up without the crutches and it's the middle of the night and he's desperate. He kind of half wets himself and he can't help it, he just cries. He's burning red with embarrassment and fury when his mom comes to find him.

She's brisk and kind and Katsuki hates every moment of it. He leans against the side of the bath while his mom goes downstairs to get a chair from the dining room - she leaves it right by the toilet so he's got something to hold onto in the future. She waits outside while he shrugs out of his pajama pants and into a clean pair, and then she helps him back into his room.

She stays up with him while he waits for the painkiller to kick in, and she's the last thing he remembers before he falls asleep.

—

He's going back to school on Thursday, and it's like an exercise in military maneuvers just to arrange to get him there. He can't walk and he can't take his bike, and even though Katsuki's pretty sure the school would waive their rule of only letting third years drive to school for their star flyhalf, Shoto hasn't got a car and Katsuki can't face having anyone else see him struggle in and out of the front seat.

In the end, his mom arranges to drive him, which is possibly the least cool thing that's ever happened to him. The only saving grace is the fact that she calls the principal and arranges for him to arrive late so that he misses the crowds in the hallways when he's just getting used to negotiating the crutches. What's not so good is the realization they won't let Shoto come in late with him.

"Believe it or not, Katsuki," she says, "I didn't actually expect them to let Shoto miss out on his education just because the two of you are co-dependent."

"But I'm the flyhalf," Katsuki snaps. "Did you say that? You should call them back and tell them."

"Oh, you did not just say that," his mom seethes at him, eyes thin. "Shoto will be completely fine by himself, Katsuki. As will you. You've got an appointment with the guidance counselor first thing, anyway."

"What the hell, hag?! No way!"

"Yes way," his mom says. "She'll talk to you about what you can do instead of rugby to make up your P.E. credit."

Katsuki slams his head on the kitchen table. 

"Tell me you're kidding," he begs her, but his voice is muffled, pressed up against the table top.

"No, Katsuki," his mom says. "You remember, right? When I'm kidding I put on my clown hat and dance around the kitchen."

Katsuki groans.

"Yeah, yeah," his mom says, leaning over and ruffling his hair. "I know. I miss the clown hat too."

—

There's a huge sign hanging over the staircase in the main entrance of the school that says, WELCOME BACK, KATSUKI.

"You were out for three days, Katsuki," his mom says in an undertone. "Are those black drapes?”

"Are you going anytime soon?" Katsuki asks her loudly. "Because I'm here. At school. You can fucking leave now!"

"And I'm your mom, I know, I get it," his mom sighs. "You used to love me, you know. I remember you crying when we left you at kindergarten. You just wanted to come home."

"Shut up, that never happened."

"I'm walking you to your locker, and then to the guidance counselor, and then I will consider my duty to be discharged. Then I will go off and weep inconsolably over your defection."

Katsuki groans. "You don't have to come with me to my locker, you know. I can manage by myself."

"Sure you can," his mom agrees. "But I can't, so come on. Hop to it."

"That's not fucking funny," Katsuki snaps, "you can't make fun of my crutches. I’m injured from being the flyhalf. You're supposed to be mourning, like everyone else.”

"Oh, you're cute." She ruffles his hair. "Come on, peg-leg."

—

"Do I have to do this?" Katsuki asks through gritted teeth once he's finally sitting down inside the guidance counselor's office and his mom's gone. He throws his crutches up against the wall beside him and they clatter noisily upon impact. "Because this is stupid."

"I imagine if you want to graduate, then this meeting's a pretty good idea, yes."

Katsuki groans. His guidance counselor drives him crazy. She hates rugby and Katsuki's pretty sure she's doing this just to annoy him.

"I'm going to spell it out for you, and I'll use short words," she says, tapping her pen against the desk. "You need seven P.E. credits to graduate, and you can't play rugby for the next two months. No rugby means no P.E. credit. Which means you need to find something to replace it, and all the other sport options are out of the question. Are you following this, Mr. Bakugou? Or do I need to slow it down?"

Katsuki grudgingly shakes his head.

"Which leaves us with- well. I've had to speak to the principal about this, but he's okayed it - the choice of home economics or drama."

Katsuki blinks. A blanket of snow has been thrown over his brain.

 "What?" he grits out. "No way. No.”

She narrows her eyes. "Home economics is a health and safety risk, because of your crutches," she goes on. "Cooking is definitely out of the question. Which leaves drama. There's a lot of set painting and other things you can do without moving around."

"Hell no," Katsuki says loudly. "No way am I doing that. Can't I join the arts magazine or something?" He's never, ever telling Shoto he said that. "There's got to be something else."

"I imagine you see enough of Mr. Todoroki without joining him in editing the arts magazine, Mr. Bakugou. Not to mention that that is an extra-curricular." She sighs, and drops her pen down onto the desk next to her stapler. "I'll try using even smaller words this time. Either you pick drama, or you pick coming back to summer school for P.E.. The choice is yours."

"Summer school?!" Katsuki barks. "I'm the flyhalf."

"And don't think I don't know it," she rolls her eyes. "Time's ticking by, Mr. Bakugou. Drama, or summer school. And you might want to take into consideration the fact we don't let kids - even if they're the flyhalf - who are short on P.E. credits take advanced classes in their third year."

Katsuki sinks down lower in his chair and crosses his arms stubbornly. No way is he joining the drama department. No fucking way.

—

He's joining the drama department.

Chapter Text

Katsuki waits for Shoto in the library. It's quiet because it's only first period, so it's easy enough for him to manhandle his crutches and his stupid strained medial collateral ligament into one of the seats by the stacks. He passes the time till the end of class sending text after text to Shoto. It ends up being a rant about why his guidance counselor is out to ruin his life and how much he hates his crutches, but spread over eleven text messages, typed entirely in caps and with no punctuation.

Katsuki checks the clock. It's only a few minutes till the end of class. He's bored, and frustrated, and he needs to tackle something.

Shoto's early, for once. He's also beaming, which is only marginally more worrying. 

"Teacher let me out early because I said I had to come and help you," he says in a loud monotone, ignoring the librarians’ frustrated shushing from behind the counter. "That's ten whole minutes less history. You want to injure yourself more often?"

"Shoto," the librarian hisses.

"Sorry," Shoto says, sounding entirely unrepentant. He drops his bag on the table next to Katsuki. "What’s up, peg-leg?"

"Fuck you," Katsuki says. The moment his doctor says he can put pressure on his knee again, Katsuki burns the crutches.

"You okay?" Shoto asks, after a moment. 

"I’m fucking fine," Katsuki snaps. "It’s just. I can't play rugby and I've got to paint scenery instead. How the fuck can I get a P.E. credit painting scenery?"

"Maybe you just have to paint really energetically or something," Shoto says. He pulls up a chair and elbows Katsuki kind of gently. "It'll get better, you know. The pain will ease out and in a few months, you’ll be able to start playing rugby again. It’ll all be okay, Katsuki."

Katsuki grunts absently. He hates being coddled but it’s kind of exactly what he needs to hear right now, so he lets Shoto say embarrassing shit. 

Shoto tips out some skittles on his palm and doesn't complain once when Katsuki picks all the green ones out first. 

-

One thing Katsuki can say he learned from this experience that is actually sort of illuminating is that his high school is really crappy for kids on crutches. 

There's an elevator, but it's way down the other end of the building and all the doors between the calculus classroom and there are the pull kind, and that just involves a lot of ungainly hopping on Katsuki's part, and a lot of unexpected pain as he jars his knee against the doorframe. He's swearing at himself and red-faced by the time he gets to the elevator, and he just leans against the wall and bites the inside of his cheek.

Drama classes are held in the drama studio at the end of the hallway; Katsuki's left staring at the heavy, weighted pull-doors to the studio he's supposed to be able to open while not falling on his ass and hurting himself all over again. He's pretty sure that opening a door hadn't always seemed like an insurmountable task. He hates his knee.

"Um," says a voice behind him. "Are you okay?"

"What the hell do you think," Katsuki snaps, meanly, without turning around. "I'm just using crutches for the fun of it! You should try it sometime!"

"Right," the kid says, and then he leans past Katsuki and opens the door. "I just meant - well. It looked like you were having some trouble. Sorry."

Katsuki feels bad, because the kid is Izuku Midoriya, the guy from his last period history class and all the stupid plays and musicals that Shoto's ever dragged him to and the face that stands out in the sea of hundreds of people during pep rallies. 

Katsuki would feel worse, only his knee hurts and he's stuck making up his P.E. credit in stupid drama class instead of outside on the rugby pitch with the rest of the team.

He says whatever under his breath and carefully makes his way inside, Izuku following him in.

—

Drama class is the worst thing Katsuki's ever had to sit through, hands down. 

All of the chairs are in a circle and Ms. Saito has everyone sit down and make all these stupid sounds to warm u,p and then get up and pretend to be a tree, and then a cereal box. Katsuki just rolls his eyes and stays sitting down. He wants to text Shoto, because Shoto would have a lot of questions, but he's left his bag by the wall and Ms. Saito is already frowning at him for not participating.

Izuku's in the middle of the room, laying down on his side with his tongue hanging out dramatically. The girl with pink cheeks giggles beside him, trying to muffle it into her elbow. 

"I'm a box of cereal that was tipped over, Ms. S, and my cereal guts are all over the floor," he says earnestly, when Ms. Saito questions his prone body. 

"You're a very special student, Izuku," Ms. Saito tells him, shaking her head and moving over to where the next kid is pretending to bubble up like oatmeal in the microwave. "Very good, Ochako -"

Katsuki's not sure, but he thinks that maybe Izuku just winked at him.

—

It doesn't get any better after the warm up's over. The class is working on a theater in education project, and are creating plays to take to some of the local elementary schools. There's a lot of noise and kids rushing about and dropping scripts covered in notes all over the floor. Katsuki figures that Izuku's probably gotten a pretty good part, because he always does, from what Katsuki's seen of him. He's one of the only kids not looking over a script; he's in the corner by the piano with a couple of people Katsuki recognises from the hallways. One of them is playing casually and Izuku's kind of singing along, but not loud enough that Katsuki can hear. He doesn't really know any of the other kids in the class.

Ms. Saito comes to sit by him. "I understand from your guidance counselor that you're here to help with the stage management for Hairspray?"

Katsuki just shrugs and slouches further down into his seat, hands stuffed in his pockets. All he knows is that he's here to get a P.E. credit by painting really energetically. 

"Hmm," she says. "Rehearsals are after school, but we're still reading through at the moment."

Katsuki can't hide his horror at the idea of staying after school to help with the school musical instead of playing rugby.

"The set design and painting is due to start next week," she goes on, "that and the other stage management stuff. But you should be able to make up your credit by just painting during this period."

Katsuki can't hide his sigh of relief.

Ms. Saito raises an eyebrow. "Your enthusiasm is overwhelming," she says. "I imagine you'd really like to be our prompt for the remainder of this week. Thanks for offering." 

She passes him a script, dog-eared and covered in alterations. 

"They're supposed to be losing the scripts today. Fat chance," she says loudly. "Scripts down, please," and she claps, right by Katsuki's ear.

—

Katsuki is part way through a list of all the ways he could kill himself with his crutches so that he never has to sit through another day as excruciating as this, when Izuku sits down beside him.

"Hi!" Izuku says, and he sticks his hand out. "I'm Izuku Midoriya. I think we're in the same history class."

Katsuki nods, slowly. He knows that Izuku's in his history class. Katsuki sits at the back of the room and stares at the back of Izuku's head at the end of every day.

"Are we?" he says, deciding to sound bored. Izuku's big, green head is always in the way of the whiteboard, it's annoying. And he never sits still, Katsuki spends half his time craning to see what their teacher's writing is on the board.

"Yeah," Izuku says, awkwardly. "Class 2-A?"

"Oh," Katsuki says, shrugging. His knee hurts and he wants to be out on the rugby pitch. If he cranes his neck he can see the corner of the bleachers out of the drama studio windows. "I guess."

"Yeah," Izuku goes on. "Um, you must really be missing rugby, huh?"

Katsuki rolls his eyes, his scowl deepening. 

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," he snaps. 

He looks at his watch. He'd been cutting down the painkillers over the past couple of days, but it was his first day back and he was tired and it hurt and crutches fucking sucked. He couldn't have another pain pill for another half hour. He tried flexing his knee a bit, trying to get it more comfortable, but the chairs in the drama studio were worn and everything ached.

"But at least you get to come here, though, right?" Izuku says, for some reason still talking. "That's pretty cool, that you get to take drama instead! Just think of all the other lame stuff they could have made you do."

"What's lamer than fucking drama?" Katsuki hisses with as much venom in his voice as he can muster. He wants to go home, this is all a huge waste of his time.

"Oh," Izuku says, quietly, after a long moment. "Right."

"Is this class over yet, or what?" Katsuki says. He bites his lip. He feels like he might throw up from the pain sparking up and down his leg. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do.

"Almost," Izuku says. "Hey, are you okay? You look kind of pale."

"Fine," Katsuki says shortly, hissing in a breath.

"Um," Izuku considers him, biting his lip nervously as he glances around them. "I don’t believe you."

"Just piss off!" 

Katsuki feels nauseated. He wants to put his head down and close his eyes. He wants a pain pill. He doesn't want anyone else to see him like this, especially not this damn nerd. 

"Do you want to go to the nurse?" 

"And how the fuck am I supposed to get there?"

Katsuki swears that every single person in the whole fucking school is stupid apart from him.

"I could help you," Izuku offers, already moving to stand up. "If you'd like."

"Class isn't even over yet.”

Izuku shrugs with a small, encouraging smile. 

"That's okay. I'll tell Ms. S we're going. She trusts me!"

"Okay, whatever," Katsuki says, finally. "As long as I get the hell out of here.” 

—

“Fucking– stop moving like that, nerd! I can walk faster than a fucking toddler, got it?! Don’t look down on me!”

“I’m not, I promise! I just don’t want your foot to hit anything. It’ll hurt all the way up to your knee.”

“Tch,” Katsuki scoffs derisively, arm slung over the other boys’ shoulder as he waddles forward. “What do you know about ligament damage, huh,” he grumbles, mostly just to be a dick.

“Well,” Izuku says, and carefully gets them down a measly five steps of stairs as slowly as possible. “I’ve torn more than a few myself.”

“The fuck? How?”

“I’ve been dancing since I was really little. Torn ligaments are kinda just par for the course, I guess, with classical training.”

He throws Katsuki an awkward little grin, obviously uncomfortable and struggling to handle both of their weights. His mess of curly green hair is getting all tangled up in the back. He doesn’t complain once, though. 

“Every injury is different, though. I suppose I shouldn’t compare mine and yours,” Izuku kinda mumbles, and then he just keeps mumbling, and Katsuki tunes him out for a while. 

“Hey,” and Katsuki doesn’t have a damn clue why he’s asking, he really must be on the verge of passing out from pain or something because his mouth runs before he can stop it, “Why the fuck are you helping me?”

Izuku is silent for a long moment. His eyes crease up a little as a million thoughts seem to rush his mind.

“I’ll tell you, if you answer my question first,” Izuku says tentatively, and Katsuki thinks that’s awfully bold for a nerd. He grunts in agreement though, curious despite himself, and waits for Izuku to continue.

“Why have you gone to every single school play, musical, and production for the past two years if you dislike drama so much?”

It must be the pain that causes Katsuki’s entire face to flush red, that makes him hyper aware of just how sweaty he is from the palms of his hands to the small of his back to the nape of his neck. He feels the flush everywhere.

“What— are you stalking me, nerd?! Huh?!” he shouts indignantly because he can’t think of any other reaction. 

Some small part of his brain is telling him, he noticed you the way you noticed him, he was smiling at you, you stand out in a sea of faces to him, too—

“No! Of course not! I j-just– I mean, when someone shows up to every single show, you just kinda notice? And it’s pretty rare for us to sell out or have a full house, so the familiar faces stick. Sorry if that’s… weird. I don’t know why I asked.”

Izuku’s face closes up a little, and he lifts his head as he keeps them trudging along. It’s silent for a long time before Katsuki is able to speak around the mind-numbing pain and humiliation he’s stewing in.

Through gritted teeth, he grunts, “Shoto Todoroki. He’s why I’ve been to all of your fucking shows. He goes to review them and forces me to go with him.”

“Oh. Right,” Izuku hums. “I figured it might be because of Shoto. He’s your best friend, right?”

“I guess.”

Izuku smiles again, a small one this time. 

“He writes really good reviews in the arts magazine. Ms. Saito is a subscriber and always reads them aloud to us. Um, well most of them. He really doesn’t pull his punches, huh,” Izuku mumbles off a little, and Katsuki barely fights back a laugh. “Oh, but Shoto gave me a shoutout once! Said I was the only bearable part of our Cacausion Chalk Circle production.”

Izuku gives an honest laugh, as if Katsuki hasn’t been screaming at him nonstop for the past fifteen minutes. It makes Katsuki’s chest feel a little tight.

“Yeah, well. If it’s coming from Shoto then you know he means it,” Katsuki grumbles. He takes in a huge breath before he adds, “and he was right. You were the only bearable part of that shitshow.”

Izuku stumbles a little, seemingly over nothing, and Katsuki snaps at him for it until he regains his balance. 

“S-Sorry! Um, my sneakers slipped me up. Sorry.”

“What the fuck ever. Are we almost there?! This is taking too fucking long!”

“Just a little more. We had to go the long way to avoid too many stairs. Almost there, Katsuki.”

It’s the first time the nerd has said his name, atleast to his face, and the sound of it is a little bit jarring. Oddly unexpected, though he’s not sure why.

It takes approximately too fucking long for them to arrive, but eventually they make it to the nurse office. And it’s only when Katsuki is finally laying down in a bed and able to close his eyes, elevate his leg, and relax that he realizes Izuku never answered his question.

—

Shoto turns up four and a half minutes after Katsuki sends him a text from the nurse's office.

"What on earth have you been doing?" he asks, barging in past the nurse without knocking.

Katsuki's lying on the bed with his knee propped up. He's got one of those really horrible cardboard vomit bowl things, but now he's lying down and he's been given another pill he's kind of hopeful he won't have to actually use it.

"Nothing," he says, groaning, and throws an arm over his face. 

"Yeah, right," Shoto says. "I'm calling your mom."

"Mr. Todoroki," the nurse says, patiently. "We'll start with how you can't actually walk in here without knocking, and then we'll move on to the part where calling Mr. Bakugou’s mom is my job and not yours."

"Nobody's calling that crazy woman!" Katsuki says.

“It's that drama class, isn't it?" Shoto asks. "I knew that was a bad idea."

"It wasn't the drama class," Katsuki says, rolling his eyes. "It was my stupid fucking knee."

"And the stupid pain pills," Izuku pipes up.

Shoto whirls around.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, with genuine confusion on his face. 

"Oh! I helped Katsuki–"

"Boys," the nurse says, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. "Outside, now. Katsuki doesn't need the two of you in the peanut gallery in order to feel better. Let your friend rest."

"I'm calling your mom," Shoto says as the nurse ushers him out.

"Bye Katsuki!" Izuku says. "Hope you feel better soon."

"Whatever," Katsuki manages, and then once the door is closed, he buries his face in the pillow and pretends today never happened.

—

Shoto comes back forty-five minutes later with a tray from the cafeteria. 

"That weird kid tried to get you lunch," he tells Katsuki, ignoring the nurse and sitting down next to Katsuki and biting into an apple.

"Fucking weird," Katsuki says, and thinks about how Izuku had opened all the doors for him between the drama studio and the nurse's office, and how he'd carried Katsuki's back pack and walked really slowly so that Katsuki didn't have to rush.

"I brought you tater tots," Shoto says. "I got you a Snickers, too, but I ate that along the way. It was a long walk."

"Gee," Katsuki says flatly. "Thanks."

"And your mom says you're probably not going to die and she'll pick you up after school."

"Amazing," the nurse says, dryly, from her desk. "That's pretty much what I told her."

“Oh, and the pep squad decorated your locker. I stopped to take pictures with my phone."

"Shit. No they didn’t.”

"It's mostly pink," Shoto says, nodding. "But the sticker tape is silver and glittery."

Katsuki groans, and covers his eyes with his hands.

—

Katsuki feels better after the meds have kicked in. He stays in the nurse's office until the end of his lunch period, and then Shoto helps him waddle to English class.

Shoto mostly helps by walking directly in front of Katsuki and saying loudly, "Move, injured flyhalf coming through," over and over until everyone gets out of the way.

Katsuki's fairly sure that once he no longer needs to use his crutches to get around anymore, he's going to beat Shoto to death with them.

"I hate you," he hisses, once they get to the classroom and he hobbles his way over to his desk. 

"No you don't," Shoto tells him, following him over. "You completely appreciate my unwavering dedication to your safety and well-being."

"You ate my Snickers," Katsuki says, and jabs Shoto with his crutch as he tries to sit down.

"I'm pretty sure that violates about thirty seven school rules," Shoto points out, uselessly tapping his foot and getting in Katsuki's way. "Assault with a deadly weapon. I could report you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." 

There's an invitation on Katsuki's desk when he looks down; it's on a thick cardstock with black edging. In bold, sharpied letters it says, Katsuki's Welcome Back Party, Friday, 9:00pm, Be there or be square! and an address underneath.

"Be there or be square?" Shoto asks, carefully.

"My school fucking loves me," Katsuki says. "They throw me parties. You don't throw me parties."

"You've been out of school for three days. What do you want, a parade?"

Katsuki blinks. "I wouldn't say no."

Shoto leans over and flicks him in the forehead. "You," he says, "are an idiot."

—

Katsuki's last period history class is secretly his favorite part of school apart from playing rugby and hanging out with Shoto. The teacher explains things really well and Katsuki finds himself actually listening instead of just wishing he was someplace else.

He's early, because Ms. Kayama let Shoto and Katsuki leave super-early from their English class, and he's all by himself in the classroom, waiting for everyone else to come join him. He texts Shoto to pass the time and asks if he’s coming to his house after school. 

Shoto texts back, Yes. I’m fully equipped to kick your ass at COD. 

Katsuki grins, because Shoto is fucking weird, and sinks down in his chair as the classroom door opens. It's Izuku, the kid from his drama class, and he drops his stuff in his chair at the front and then waves awkwardly at Katsuki.

"Hey," Izuku says with a smile, and Katsuki rolls his eyes because this kid is so lame.

"Hey," Katsuki says, and promptly knocks all his history notes all over the floor. 

"Shit," he hisses, and then he jars his knee trying to twist in his seat and pick up his stuff.

"Stop!" Izuku says, quickly, "before you hurt yourself. I'll get it."

Izuku kneels down and picks up all of Katsuki's papers, and tidies them up into a neat little stack before putting them on Katsuki's desk. Now that he’s no longer limping in agony, Katsuki gets a better look at the scruffy red sneakers he wears, and Izuku's name is picked out in black sharpie across the side. 

"Cool shoes," Katsuki says, because they're the lamest shoes Katsuki's ever seen in his entire life. He finds that saying the opposite of what he’s thinking is usually the easiest and quickest way to get through social interactions.

"What, really?" Izuku grins, and sits back on his heels. "You think so? Mom was really mad at me for writing on them but I kind of like it! Plus, you know, no one wants to steal them anymore."

Katsuki blinks.

"Someone stole your shoes?" 

"Only a couple of times." Izuku shrugs. "Not anymore, though. I handled it. You like the stars?"

Katsuki hadn't noticed the stars. Izuku's drawn orange and green stars all around the heel. He says nothing in reply because no, your shoes are ugly would be the wrong thing to say, and those are the only words he can summon. 

"They're throwing you a party," Izuku says as he stands up, kind of wistfully.

Katsuki glances down at his desk; he'd accidentally gotten his invite out to his welcome back party as well as his history notes. 

"Well," he says. "Duh." 

I am the flyhalf, he wants to say, but he doesn't, because he kind of thinks Izuku already knows that. He doesn't know what else to say to the weird kid, his social battery has never lasted long, and all he can think about is the fact that this guy helped him stumble all the way across campus at a glacial speed and didn’t complain once.

"Um," Katsuki says. "Do you like parties?" 

Do you like parties? Katsuki considers banging his head on the desk in front of him, just to see if it makes any difference. Even Shoto would think of something better to say than that, and Shoto was a stupid idiot who Katsuki hated, just because he was pretty sure this was all his fault.

"Sure I do," Izuku says, and Katsuki thinks he's looking a little pink, which is stupid. Everything's stupid. Katsuki wants to go home.

"I don't think I've seen you at any before," Katsuki says, before he's had a moment to engage his brain to mouth function. Not that he's been looking. He hasn't been looking or anything.

"Um," Izuku says, and lets out a flutter of nervous laughter. "No. I've kind of got a lot going on. I'm pretty busy outside of school. But I go to tons of parties. I'm like a party king!"

"Uh-huh," Katsuki says, and he's eyeing the door and willing it to open, and for someone else to come in and make this horrible, awkward moment go away. Shoto is going to laugh at him so much for this. Shoto is going to write this date in one of his stupid binders and he's going to remember it every single year for the rest of forever and Katsuki is never, ever going to forget how awful this day has been. 

He’s never allowing Shoto to make him signs, because Shoto will make him a sign that says 'DO YOU LIKE PARTIES?' in big, pink letters and Katsuki's going to remember the time he embarrassed himself so much he wanted to sink through the classroom floor.

"But maybe I'll go to this one," Izuku says, hurriedly. "That's okay, right? That I might see you there?"

"What?" Katsuki says, distracted. The door's opening, thank fuck, someone else is coming in. "Yeah, whatever."

"Awesome," Izuku says, beaming. "Neat. Cool, I'll see you tomorrow then!"

"Yeah," Katsuki echoes, "neat."

He sends a text to Shoto that says, kill me now. please.

Shoto sends him one back that says Hahahahaha. No. 

Katsuki needs a new best friend.

—

"Has anyone ever tried to steal your shoes?" Katsuki asks him, later, as they lounge in his living room playing Mario Kart.

Shoto blinks, and then flicks him in the forehead. "You're so weird," he says. "No one has ever tried to steal my shoes. Who would do that?"

"Whatever, nevermind," Katsuki mutters, and thinks about Izuku.

—

"You were out for three days, Katsuki, how on earth does that mean you get a welcome back party?" 

It’s finally Friday, and Katsuki's mom isn't as cool about Katsuki going to his party as he wants her to be.

"That's what I said," Shoto points out, nodding.

Katsuki elbows him, because Shoto is decidedly not helping.

"I am their king," Katsuki says. "It’s what the people want.”

His mom's eyebrows raise, and Katsuki decides that probably wasn't the most helpful thing to say, either.

"Three days, Katsuki."

"They're doing their bit for school spirit," Katsuki says.

"You're still on crutches.”

"We won't stay long.”

"You most definitely will not," she says, tugging at the faulty clasp on her purse. "Because I'm coming to pick you boys up at ten thirty."

"What."

"That's the deal," she says. "I'll drop you off, and then I'll come pick you up. And don't drink anything you haven't opened yourself, because those painkillers are strong and I won't have you drinking unspecified quantities of alcohol and doing yourself even more damage-"

"Hag-"

"- Shoto will find you a seat when you get there and then you will sit in it like the king you think you are, and then I will come back and pick you up, and if you are not outside waiting for me, then I will come inside and find you myself, you see if I don't."

"I did something really fucked up in a past life, didn't I?" 

Shoto claps him on the back. 

"Your mom's coming to pick you up from a party," he says, with a tiny shit-eating grin. "That's really cool."

"She's picking you up too, dumbass!”

"She's still here. And, surprisingly enough, not deaf or stupid, either. Do you boys want to go to this party or not?"

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "Yes," he says, and he tries not to think about turning up to his own party with his mom in tow.

—

"Lamest party ever," Shoto says, as he helps Katsuki up the pathway. Katsuki's mom is still parked up by the curb, and Katsuki resolutely stands still until she rolls her eyes and drives off.

"It is not," Katsuki hisses. "It's in honor of me, how can it be lame?"

Shoto points at the banner above the front door. They've spelled Katsuki's name wrong.

"Huh," Katsuki says, thinking, "maybe I should send out a memo or something."

Shoto blinks at him incredulously for a moment.

"Come the fuck on, the hag made you promise you'd find me a seat and provide me with unopened cans of coke." He grins wickedly. "This is kinda cool, actually, it's like you're my slave for the evening."

Shoto narrows his eyes, barges into the house and yells, "Look out, flyhalf coming through, everyone out of the way!"

Katsuki hates him.

"Oh," someone says, as about six people try to clap Katsuki on the back simultaneously. "Shoto, you came!"

"Out of the way, please," Shoto says, curtly. "Flyhalf coming through. Injured flyhalf coming through."

"Totally fucking shot down, dude," someone else yells, cackling. 

Shoto's eyes narrow and he catches Katsuki's elbow and frog-hobble-marches him across the room to the couch, narrowing his eyes even more until the girls sitting there stand up and leave room for Katsuki to sit down. Katsuki's immediately surrounded by people trying to sit next to him and clap him on the back and ask him if he's going to be okay. Suddenly he's glad his mom is coming back in a couple of hours, because Katsuki only ever likes parties if he can sneak out the back with Shoto and hang out.

Shoto comes back with an unopened can of coke, and he barges past all of the cheerleaders crowding and cooing at Katsuki and sits down on the arm of the couch, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes at anyone who looks like they might get too close to Katsuki's knee.

Katsuki's kind of secretly glad because his knee hurts and he's tired, and because cheerleaders make him feel exhausted at the best of times.

He bumps his elbow against Shoto's and waits until Shoto bumps back.

—

Katsuki thinks he sees Izuku over by the door into the hallway for a moment, but he can't be sure. There are too many cheerleaders in the way, dressed in their orange and green uniforms, but there's a flash of green that looks a little like him. Katsuki scowls, because this whole thing is stupid, and it isn't even as if he invited Izuku to come to this stupid party, but it isn't like he'd say no to hanging out with him. He might even say yes, who fucking knows. 

He blinks, and Izuku's gone, and the moment is over. 

He tells himself he's not disappointed.

—

"Pumpkin time, Cinderella," Shoto says, later.

Katsuki tugs his phone out of his pocket. Ten twenty-five. His mom will be outside in a couple of minutes, and Katsuki doesn't think for one minute that she won't follow through on her threat to come in and get him. He sighs, and struggles to his feet. He can't exactly high-five when he's lumbered with his crutches, but his team-mates aren't exactly renowned for being smart at the best of times, let alone after they're half way down a keg. 

He ends up trying to high-five them with the handle of his crutch, which makes him look like a total tool. He's just glad that everyone's too drunk to notice. 

When he gets to the door, Shoto elbows him and says, "I'm going to pee. I'll be out in a minute."

"Fine," Katsuki says, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. Don't think she won't come in and get you if you take too long."

"Fine, fine," Shoto tells him, and pushes past the third years on the stairs.

Katsuki hobbles outside and stops short when he realizes there's someone sitting on the curb.

It's Izuku.

Katsuki takes a deep breath and carefully makes his way down the path to the sidewalk. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," Izuku kinda squeaks, scrambling to his feet and brushing off his jeans. "Crap, should you be standing up? Do you want a seat? I could go get you a seat."

"I didn't see you inside," Katsuki grumbles. "And I'm fine." 

There's a handy wall across the front of the yard, and Katsuki perches on top of it, awkwardly, holding his crutches in one hand.

Izuku shrugs. 

"I was kind of busy," he says. "You know, people to see."

"Yeah," Katsuki says. He nods. "Parties, huh?" He blinks, because he is officially the lamest person on the planet and he’s not sure when that happened.

"Uh huh," Izuku says, and scuffs his toe against the sidewalk. "Hey, drama class was pretty fun today, right?" 

Drama class was not fun today. Izuku's clearly deranged. Katsuki raises his eyebrow. 

"I've never pretended to be a strawberry being baked into a pie before," he admits, finally, because Izuku looks kind of excited.

"You didn't today, either," Izuku points out with a grin. Katsuki refuses to participate in Ms. Saito’s stupid warm-up exercises and he will continue to refuse even when he's off the crutches and fully able to pretend to be jello or a tree or a daisy or a dolphin. It's stupid and he's not doing it, not ever. 

"You did, though," Katsuki says.

Izuku smiles and does his impression again, and then Katsuki laughs, his real laugh, because Izuku's kind of funny.

"You're stupid," Katsuki says instead, still laughing.

"Yep," Izuku says, and he shrugs like that’s okay. “But wow, if you had been in class last month when–”

“Hey!” a voice shouts, too loud and brash to be a friendly hello. “It’s Deku!”

Katsuki turns in the direction of the voice, eyebrows furrowed.

Deku…?

Izuku goes very still, very quickly. The bright smile slips off his face immediately as they watch a tall guy, definitely a second year, Katsuki’s seen him around these parties before, swagger over to them. 

“Hey, yeah, it is you! Thought so,” the guy gestures at Izuku and laughs, like it’s the funniest shit ever. It pisses Katsuki off immediately.

“The fuck you want, loser?” Katsuki snaps at him and he surprises himself with how quickly he’s become this pissed. 

Likewise, the guy appears similarly surprised and backs off a little, his palms up defensively. 

“Damn, sorry, man, I didn’t know it was like that,” he says, words slurred and a little fearful. “Glad you’re okay, bro.”

He stumbles off, heading towards a group of other drunk dipshits standing in a circle by the front porch. Katsuki scoffs. 

“Idiots,” he says, and looks over at Izuku. “What the hell was that guy talking about?”

Izuku blinks back at Katsuki, once, twice, before his jaw goes slack in awe.

“You don’t remember,” Izuku mumbles slowly, and before he breaks off on another mumbling soliloquy Katsuki jolts him out of it. 

“Oi, nerd! What don’t I fucking remember, huh?”

“The day you called me Deku,” Izuku says, meeting Katsuki’s eyes evenly. For one, long second Izuku suddenly appears absolutely fearless. It passes when he glances away. “At the beginning of first year, in geometry? The teacher had you hand out everyone’s exams. You called my name but read it wrong and said Deku instead.” Izuku smiles faintly. “Everyone laughed. I was already the new kid, so it just kinda became a thing.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki says, eyes widening. “Shit. I did that?”

“It’s okay, really! It’s not your fault, it was a simple mistake, just– some people still bring it up and call me Deku. They’re the weird ones.” Izuku’s smile strengthens to something genuine as he says, “I never blamed you, or anything. It was kinda funny at the time. Just got old, you know?”

No, Katsuki doesn’t know, because Katsuki is the biggest tool in the world. And now he knows it for sure. 

“Sorry,” he forces out, stiffly, awkward. “I never meant for…”

“I know,” Izuku smiles sweetly now, and it’s this smile, this is the one that makes Katsuki feel as wound up and jittery as game day. “You never called me Deku again. I mean. Well, that’s mostly because we’ve never talked before this week, um, but still–”

“What about now?” Katsuki blurts out.

“What do you mean?” 

“What should I call you now? Just Izuku, or what?”

Izuku is visibly taken aback by the question but he recovers quickly. 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Izuku says, softly. After a long pause, he adds, “Um, what do you want me to call you?”

“Whatever,” Katsuki waves a hand, dismissively. “I owe you one. For the Deku thing, so. You can call me whatever you want.”

It’s not a luxury he gives often (or ever) but something compels him to offer it to Izuku. 

“Oh, like my own nickname for you? Hmm,” Izuku taps his chin in thought. After long minutes where it becomes clear to Katsuki that Izuku’s taken the task way too seriously, Izuku’s eyes widen and he breaks out into light laughter, shoulders shaking. 

“What is it?”

“No, just,” Izuku struggles to stop the laughter as he bites his lip. “You’re gonna get mad but… the first thing that popped into my head was Kacchan!”

Katsuki squints his eyes at Izuku, watching him carefully. 

“You making fun of me, nerd?”

“...What? Oh, no! Sorry, I’ll think of something else–”

“Nah,” Katsuki interrupts Izuku quickly. He feels the way his cheeks have gone warm and pink. How fucking embarrassing. “It’s fine. Like I said, I owe you one.”

Izuku stares at him with bright eyes before he grins, a full mega-watt smile. 

“Okay! Thanks, Kacchan!”

“You don’t have to thank me, I don’t mind the stupid nickname,” Katsuki says gruffly, and it’s the most honest he’s felt in a long time; a new type of sincerity that he’s feeling for the first time. “It’s fine, nerd.”

And Izuku appears fucking delighted about that, because he keeps grinning, and when Katsuki pokes him in the side with his crutch, the grin opens up to let out more light laughter. 

He’s giggling, Katsuki thinks to himself, watching him. Like a fucking little kid. Loser. 

Katsuki keeps watching him. 

And then a car pulls up and Katsuki expects it to be his mom, but it isn't. It's a tiny silver car, and when Izuku sees it, he blushes bright red and ducks his head.

Oh , Katsuki thinks. 

"I guess I'll see you at school, then," he says, finally.

"Sure!" Izuku says, still smiling, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets, trailing over to the car and pulling open the door. "Bye, Kacchan!"

"Is that weird kid trying to bring you lunch again?" Shoto asks, coming over as Izuku's car pulls off.

"Yeah," Katsuki says flatly. "And he didn't eat my Snickers bar, so he beats you."

"I needed nourishment," Shoto says. "It was for the greater good."

"Dick," Katsuki says, and tries not to watch as Izuku's car disappears around the corner. "You want to stay over tonight?"

"Sure," Shoto says. "You want to stay up late and eat marshmallows and paint each other's nails?"

"Fuck off," Katsuki says, elbowing Shoto. He pauses for five seconds, before, “And his name's Izuku. Some dumbasses might call him Deku, but. He doesn’t like it, so call him Izuku.”

Shoto nods, watching him. 

"Okay," he says eventually. "Got it."

Katsuki's mom pulls up and beeps her horn. Katsuki rolls his eyes and starts to hobble over.

Chapter Text

Katsuki's faced with the overwhelmingly exciting possibility of painting actual scenery in drama class when he gets back to school on Monday. 

He yawns when Ms. Saito hands him a paint brush, and zones out when she tells him which color goes where. He's pretty sure one shade of brown is kind of like another. Whatever. 

While she's over with the rest of the class telling them to be monkeys or a predatory snake, he slips his phone out of his bag and into the pocket of his hoodie, his earphone wire barely visible sneaking out from under his collar. He listens to music as he paints a tree trunk a pretty horrible shade of brown, and pretends not to watch Izuku pretend to be a creeping vine.

—-

Izuku comes over and grins at him at the end of class, bouncing on his toes in his stupid scruffy red sneakers. 

"Hey, Kacchan!”

"Hey," Katsuki grunts, and tries to think of something—anything—to say. He blinks, and realizes he's forgotten every word in his vocabulary. "Um," he says, "’sup."

Izuku nods, and bites his lip. "So," he says.

"Yeah," Katsuki says, and gestures at the unfinished scenery. 

"Cool," Izuku says, "I'll see you later, then?"

"Sure," Katsuki says, and he waits until Izuku's left the room before he groans from deep within his chest and buries his face in his hands. "Fuck, fuck, fuck ," he says to himself, and it feels like all of the half-painted scenery is laughing at him too.

—

"I need you to punch me right in the face," Katsuki proclaims, once he finally makes it to the cafeteria after class. He sinks down into the chair next to Shoto, and sighs loudly. "Hey," he says, when Shoto doesn't look up. "I’m letting you hit me."

"Awesome," Shoto says, distractedly.

"No," Katsuki says again, slower this time so that Shoto can't miss it. "I'm giving you permission to assault me! I thought you loved it when I did that."

"Yeah," Shoto says, not looking up from his binder. "It's my favorite thing in the world after cold soba."

"Tch," Katsuki clicks his tongue, narrowing his eyes. "Are you an idiot too? Is that it?"

"Shut up," Shoto says, toneless.

"Whatever. Are you going to get me lunch, or what?"

"In a minute," Shoto writes something in his giant, bursting binder, folding a piece of paper in two.

"I’m fucking hungry," Katsuki snaps, kicking Shoto in the thigh.

"Okay, fine," Shoto says, standing up. "You're the most insufferable person I have ever met."

"Says you. And don't eat my Snickers," he yells, as Shoto pushes across the cafeteria and barges into the line right next to the salad bar.

Katsuki looks around the cafeteria for a minute, but being the flyhalf means spending a lot of time nodding at people and waving at cheerleaders and pretending to care about the names of every kid in the place. But Katsuki kind of likes having some time to himself, so he ducks his head and slides Shoto's binder across the table. Shoto's left it open, which can only mean he's okay with Katsuki seeing whatever it is he's doing.

It's a collection of emails, all from Shoto’s stalker, cropped, printed out and laid out on the pages like some conspiracy theory chart. There’s lots of highlighter and red marker and crazed notes in the margins. Katsuki glances over at the line for food; Shoto's too focused on their plates. He glances down at the page, and he notices a new email, a one liner that says, Why won't you tell me who you are? You take really great photos but I want to know why you always take them of me.

He looks down the page; there's a reply and it's from Shoto's creepy internet stalker, and it says, because when you're around you're the only thing that I see.

—

"Last time I get you lunch," Shoto tells him when he comes back, finishing off a chocolate bar and dropping the wrapper down onto the table.

"I'll get someone else to get me lunch. Don't think there wouldn't be a line of kids wanting to do stuff for me. There would."

"Because you're their king, yeah, I know." Shoto rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Now, tell me what to do about that email."

Katsuki lifts a brow and glances down at the binder lying open in front of him as he shamelessly snoops through it. At least his hunch had been right; Shoto wanted him to look at it. 

"Reply and say you want to have their creepy internet babies?"

"Not helping, Katsuki."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "Okay, whatever. Email them back and ask who are you again."

"Like that'd work," Shoto says, shrugging his shoulders. "They won't even tell me if they're a guy or a girl. Not that it matters."

Katsuki carefully slides over his can of tea, and taps at the ring pull with one finger. "It doesn't matter?" he says, without meeting Shoto's eyes.

Shoto shrugs again, and doesn't look up. "Not really," he says.

"So," Katsuki says awkwardly.

"It doesn't matter," Shoto says again, quickly.

"Okay, fuck, whatever.”

"Okay?"

Katsuki shrugs. He's pretty sure Shoto's just told him that he likes girls and guys, but he can't ask him again to be sure. That'd be weird. 

"Yeah," he says anyway. "It's weird, though, right? That you've got a crush on some kid you've only spoken to online?"

"The internet is a totally valid twenty-first century adaptation of established dating rituals," Shoto tells him. "And their photos are great."

"It's just a shame that they look like the hunchback of Notre Dame.”

"You don't know that."

"Well, they might. Be prepared for that possibility, candy cane!”

"Or they might look like a model. Like Suzu Hirose. She's cute."

"You never used to be into models. You only decided she's cute because she's in that movie with Kento Yamazaki and you're fucking in love with him,” Katsuki scoffs at him and steals a carrot from Shoto's plate.

"Am not," Shoto snaps, blushing bright red and tugging his plate over. "I just like his movies."

"And his face," Katsuki sneers, affecting a dreamy tone. "You like his face. And his hair. And his smile, and his -" 

Shoto punches him in the kidney, redder than he’s ever been in his life. 

"Shut up, Katsuki."

"Just because you've got a crush on Kento Yamazaki," Katsuki coughs, narrowing his eyes and rubbing his side. "And his movie girlfriend. No need to get violent. Now about your stalker, or as he’s also known as, the phantom of the opera -"

"That's it," Shoto declares, "I'm getting a new best friend. Right now." He tugs his chair away from Katsuki. "Next person to join the lunch line, they're going to be my new best friend."

"Ponytail is going back for seconds," Katsuki points over to the line, where Momo’s just joined. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to be your best friend. You're kind of stuck with me."

"My life," Shoto laments, and listlessly eats a carrot.

—

Katsuki spends the rest of the week deliberately avoiding pretending to be a duck, a lava lamp, an oak tree returning to the earth from which it came, a tulip falling in love, and an umbrella in the rain. He sits at the back of drama class with his phone on under his hoodie, texting Shoto to tell him what stupid thing Ms. Saito’s trying to make him do now.

Izuku's always pretty interesting to watch though, in a totally fucking lame kind of way. He waves at Katsuki when he tumbles late into class every day—they've shifted his Biology class or whatever, all the way over to the other side of campus, so he always has to run now. He's pink and sweaty when he gets to class, and he tries to catch Katsuki's eye while he does his best impression of a tulip. 

Katsuki doesn't wave back, because that would be stupid, but he kind of nods a bit and folds his arms. Then he sits in the corner of the drama studio painting backdrops and brickwork and trying not to think about what it might be like to hold Izuku's hand, which is his new and terrifying daydream that just won’t go away.

Katsuki is turning into the biggest fucking loser in the whole school and he knows it. He's just in the middle of texting Shoto to tell him the news, when Ms. Saito comes over and taps him on the shoulder.

"Katsuki," she says, quietly, which is when Katsuki knows he's in trouble. 

"Katsuki, I have turned a blind eye to your lack of enthusiasm for my drama class. You also seem to think that I am incapable of spotting a pair of earphones when I see them, which is—frankly—a little demeaning," she clears her throat and looks pointedly at the earphone wire peeking out from under Katsuki's collar, "but the constant texting is one step too far. Do you think I'm stupid?"

Katsuki hates it when teachers ask him really ridiculous questions. 

"Uh, no?" he hazards.

Ms Saito rolls her eyes. "That was rhetorical, Katsuki."

"Sorry, Ms. Saito," Katsuki starts, blandly, "but it's very hard on me, what with being injured and all-"

"Detention," she says, cutting him off. "And because I'm a good person and not cruel enough to make you sit in a classroom with your poor injured knee after school, you can come back here and paint scenery while we rehearse."

"Ms. Saito," Katsuki starts to grit out between his teeth. “You can’t be serious.” 

"Back here at the end of the day, Mr. Bakugou, and if I see you with your phone out again during class then it will be detention for the whole week, do you understand me?"

"But–"

"And I will confiscate it."

Katsuki blinks. Surely no one could be so cruel. He wrinkles his nose as she makes her way back to the rest of the class.

"Bummer," Izuku says with a sympathetic look, sneaking over and standing by a giant piece of scenery that looks like it's going to a can of hairspray.

"Yeah," Katsuki says, nodding, and he hates his life because he can't think of anything else to say. He flicks the paintbrush so that a few drops of paint spray against the wall. "So -"

"Izuku!" Ms. Saito yells, and Izuku rolls his eyes and walks away.

—

"I hate drama," Katsuki says, hitting Shoto repeatedly in the shin with his crutch as Shoto logs in to the arts magazine computer after the end of school. "It's like I'm destined to paint scenery for the rest of my fucking life."

"My stalker has cats," Shoto says, opening up his internet browser. "There are pictures."

Katsuki blinks. "What?"

"They've sent me pictures. And I’m pretty sure they’re a guy."

"Guy cats? What, did you see cat dick? That's fucking sick! Creepy stalker's sending you cat porn!"

"No, I think my stalker’s a guy," Shoto says, rolling his eyes. "And don't think just because you've got a fucked-up knee I won't beat you dead if you hit me one more time with your stupid crutch. He took the pictures in his room and it just looks like a guy’s room. And his cats are normal."

"You gonna show me, or what?" Katsuki says.

"No," Shoto says, decisively. "These are my cat emails. Get your own."

"You’re in love with your creepy stalker, I get it. You ever heard of Stockholm syndrome?"

"You ever heard of shutting the hell up?” Shoto says. "Fine, look. They're pretty cool cats, right?"

There are two pictures attached to Shoto's email; the first one is of a tabby kitten, the second of another cat with its long white legs stretched out towards the camera.

"Tch," Katsuki clicks his tongue. "They're kind of cute." He shrugs a shoulder. "You know, for cats."

"You see it too," Shoto says, entirely serious. "They’re really cute cats.”

Katsuki blinks, and leans away from Shoto. "You are fucking losing it," he says. "I can't be around you anymore."

"Yeah, that's right," Shoto says. "Because you've got detention."

"I've got detention because of you," Katsuki points out, perfectly logically. "So you should come too."

"No," Shoto says and he chucks a piece of balled-up paper at Katsuki's head. "Get out. You're late for energetic scenery painting."

"Dead to me," Katsuki yells at him and hobbles off down the hallway.

—

"You are late, Katsuki," Ms. Saito yells, as soon as he manages to open the stupid heavy-ass doors into the drama studio. "You'd better come back tomorrow as well to see if you can make it here on time for a change."

Katsuki just groans, and heads for the back corner of the studio, where he's left his paintbrush and his soul.

—

This is the first time he's seen any of the rehearsals for the school play he's painting the scenery for. 

They're putting on Hairspray, and it's not like Katsuki's ever seen the film or anything, but it seems kind of okay. He fucking hates musicals, more than normal boring plays, even, but this one seems self aware of its stupidity and Katsuki can live with that. 

Izuku's playing the lead, naturally, and Katsuki finds himself hopping down off his stool and ignoring the spark of pain that runs up and down his knee as he jars it. He rearranges himself so that he's got a better view of the stage—because he wants the paint job to be right, and not because he wants to watch Izuku sing and dance and throw himself around the floor. It's just a coincidence that he can see all of that, and it's just a coincidence that when Izuku sees him and waves, grinning over at him and bouncing up and down, Katsuki gives a tiny smirk back, ducking his head.

—

Izuku comes over when they've finished working on his scene.

"Hey!" he says, grinning. 

He tucks a bit of hair behind his ear and looks so stupidly happy to be here, staring down at Katsuki and communicating in only monosyllabic statements.

"Hey," Katsuki says, and viciously fights back the lame ass smile his face wants to make. It likely results in a pained grimace. 

"Detention must suck," Izuku says, after a moment of standing there and staring.

"Nah," Katsuki says. "It’s whatever. I've had worse."

"Yeah?" Izuku asks, tugging up a stool. His knee bumps Katsuki's thigh as he sits down.

"Yeah, me and Shoto got busted this one time and we ended up spending the whole week in the principal's office after school. It was really fucking boring."

"Really?" Izuku's eyes are wide. "What did you guys do?"

"Um," Katsuki says. Fuck, he and Shoto are lame. "We kind of came in on a Saturday this one time before the arts magazine was due out and we got hungry, so we broke into the home economics labs to use their stove to make ramen."

Izuku blinks. "Ramen?"

"Yeah. It was all we could find ingredients for, so," Katsuki says. "I know, you don’t have to say it, it’s so fucking lame."

"No!" Izuku says quickly, and his eyes are so sweet and earnest, Katsuki feels his face going pink, he’s so stupid , "that's really cool. How'd you get caught?"

"Shoto set the towel on fire. It was only a little fire, you know, and we put it out and everything, but the fire alarm went off."

"Cool," Izuku says, reverently.

"Yeah," Katsuki says, biting his lip and grinning. "It was."

"You're a badass, Kacchan!"

"Shut up," Katsuki says, and he feels warmth drip down inside of him, head to toe. 

—

Katsuki is late to detention again the following day, but it is completely not his fault this time, only Ms. Saito won't listen.

"I don't care," she says, as Katsuki tries to explain. "I don't care if the school fell down and you had to clamber through the rubble to get here, you're late, and we will keep doing this, Katsuki, until you learn. You'll come back tomorrow, and the next day if you don't manage to be on time tomorrow—"

Katsuki groans, loudly, and slumps into his seat. 

—

"You've lost your crutches!" Izuku says, coming over and offering Katsuki a bag of gummy worms after rehearsal's over, and Katsuki's packing up his stuff.

Katsuki shrugs. "One crutch," he says, waving his new, single crutch in the air. "Now it's just like I'm walking with a cane."

"Still," Izuku says, still holding out the gummy worms. "That's kind of cool, right? When did that happen?"

"Just now," Katsuki says. "That's why I was late, I had to go see the doctor. He says I should be able to play rugby again sooner than we thought. ‘m healing extremely well, apparently."

"That's great! You must be so relieved," Izuku says. "You want some candy? I got you a bag."

"You got me candy?" Katsuki blinks.

"Yeah," Izuku says. He ducks his head. "I mean, I had a spare bag, and I figured. I don't know. Do you want it, or not?"

"Sure," Katsuki manages, and his voice cracks. Shoto is going to laugh. He is going to laugh and then he is going to fall over because he's laughing so hard, and then he's going to have to put Katsuki out of his misery and push him in front of a bus.

"So," Izuku says. "How long till you get to play rugby again? You must be missing being, um, whatever it is that you are. Quarterback."

"Flyhalf," Katsuki says. He usually feels like punching the people who call him the quarterback. He doesn't feel the urge with Izuku, which is kind of weird. "I'm the flyhalf."

"Right, uh huh," Izuku says, nodding quickly. "Yeah, the flyhalf! That's what I meant." 

"Have you ever come to see us play?" Katsuki asks, tugging open the bag of gummy worms and stuffing a handful in his mouth.

"No," Izuku admits with a grimace, "but it's not that I didn't want to, or anything. I think rugby looks super cool!"

"You should come to a game when I'm playing again," Katsuki says, because he can’t stop himself. His stupid feelings are out of control. "That'd be cool."

"Oh. Yeah, that would be… really cool, Kacchan. I could make you a sign," Izuku says, smiling shyly. "People do that, right? Make signs?"

Katsuki blinks. Mostly the cheerleaders make signs. Cheerleaders, and girlfriends. 

"Yeah," he grunts, shrugging his shoulders. "People make signs. That'd be cool. You know, if you made a sign." 

He texts Shoto in his head, KILL ME NOW KILL ME NOW KILL ME NOW. Shoto doesn't reply.

"I could learn the rules," Izuku goes on. "So that I'd know what was going on. Then I could cheer in the right places!"

Katsuki swallows. "Yeah. Maybe I could, you know. Teach you or something."

"To play?" Izuku makes a face. "I don't think I'd be any good, but, well, if you’re sure–"

"No, dumbass," Katsuki interrupts. "Like, I'd just tell you the rules. Before you came to see the game. So that you'd know what was going on."

"Right!" Izuku says, nodding enthusiastically. "I'd be a pretty crappy player. People would punch me in the head, I think."

"No they wouldn’t,” Katsuki says, thinking he wouldn't let them. He contemplates punching himself in the head, just briefly. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he tugs it out. It's from Shoto, and it says, I am outside. Hurry up. "Shit. I've got to go," he says.

"Oh, okay," Izuku says, nodding. "Me too. Which way are you going, Kacchan?"

"Parking lot," Katsuki says, and watches as Izuku's face falls.

"Right," Izuku says. "I'm going to the bus stop. I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah," Katsuki says quickly, "but you could also just walk out the front way with me, and then cut through the park, and I could tell you about tries and conversions and stuff."

Izuku smiles and it makes his eyes turn into crescents. Katsuki’s heart thumps just as hard in his chest.

—

"So," Shoto says, as soon as Katsuki steps out of the school doors, "I emailed him and told him all about how I used to want a dog. And he said, yeah, it's cool how we both like pets, which I think is very congenial of him. Because people are mostly dog or cat people and not both, right -" he trails off. "Oh. You've brought -"

"Izuku," Katsuki fills in. "I've been telling him all about rugby."

Shoto rolls his eyes. "Leave the poor kid alone."

"Shut up, he asked," Katsuki retorts. His elbow brushes Izuku's and he definitely doesn't blush.

"Yeah, whatever," Shoto says. "Your dad's over there, and he's been waiting for forever. Where have you been?"

"I'd better go," Izuku says, tugging his backpack onto both shoulders. "Thanks though, for the rugby stuff! I know what I'm going to put on my sign now."

He shoots Katsuki his sweet smile, the one that makes Katsuki’s large intestine slither around his insides like a snake shedding its skin. 

"Yeah," Katsuki says, awkwardly. "See ya."

Shoto stares at Katsuki as Izuku walks away. 

"His sign?"

"So what," Katsuki snaps, "he's making me a sign. Shut the fuck up."

"Oh my god," Shoto says. "Oh my god."

"Shut up," Katsuki hisses. "Shut the fuck up, Shoto."

"This is the funniest thing that's ever happened," Shoto says, face completely void of emotion. "Can I make you a sign too? It'd say, Let's go Peg-Leg, let's go!"

"I'm telling dad you don't need a ride home," Katsuki snaps. "We're just going to leave you here. It looks like rain, don't you think?"

Shoto just beams.

"He's making you a sign. Oh, this is great."

Katsuki narrows his eyes, and smacks Shoto in the shin with his crutch.

—

In drama class the next day, Katsuki maintains that his single crutch is enough to stop him from having to pretend to be a cloud in changing weather conditions. Ms. Saito looks exasperated, but Katsuki's not giving in. This whole thing is stupid and he is not joining in, even if it would mean being closer to Izuku, who is doing his best rain cloud impression and stomping around. Katsuki thinks it is stupidly, ridiculously cute and imagines walking down the hallways holding Izuku's hand. Again.  

Katsuki thinks he’s a lost cause at this point and he slides down in his seat so that no one can see his stupid lame smile. His crutch catches on the chair next to his, though, and he knocks a pile of papers down onto the floor.

"Pick those up, Katsuki," Ms. Saito yells, and Katsuki grumbles under his breath and tries to explain to her that he is injured and has a hurt knee.

The pile of papers are copies of the Hairspray rehearsal schedule.

It's not like Katsuki cares or anything, but he sneaks a copy into his bag anyway. Just because. It might be useful for his scenery painting or something.

—

Izuku's not supposed to be rehearsing after school. Katsuki knows because he checked the schedule and has had to repeatedly tell himself that he doesn't care that Izuku isn't going to be there.

So it's kind of a surprise when he leaves last period history class and Izuku falls into step beside him, offering him a piece of cherry candy.

"It'll turn my tongue pink," Katsuki mumbles, stupidly.

Izuku just sticks out his tongue and laughs. His tongue is all pink and bright and Katsuki's kind of stuck looking at his mouth, and his lips, and finds himself licking his own lips. Finds himself thinking about kissing Izuku and wondering if he'd taste like cherry.

He really fucking wants to find out. 

"That's the fun part," Izuku says, still grinning.

"Sure," Katsuki says, gruffly, and takes a piece. He high-fives a couple of kids and waves back at some cheerleaders and answers some stupid question about the marching band, and thinks about Izuku's mouth and how he's got to spend the next two hours painting stupid scenery without him around to concentrate on.

"So," Izuku says, changing his backpack from one shoulder to the other. "What are you painting today?"

"Uh," Katsuki says. He wants to say some piece of shit scenery for your piece of shit musical but he's pretty sure that Izuku doesn't actually think his production is a piece of shit, so he tries to keep his mouth shut. 

He can't think of anything to say that isn't that. 

"Some scenery, I guess," he manages, after a minute, and in his head he calls himself a tool eleven times in a row. It isn't enough. It's never enough.

"Right," Izuku nods, his curls bouncing with him. "Yeah. Do you want some help?"

Katsuki stops walking, right in the middle of the hallway. Someone stumbles into his crutch and he shoots them a glare. 

"You want to hang out and paint scenery when you've got an afternoon off?"

Izuku shrugs, and bites his lip. "Yeah? I mean. I could go paint somewhere else, if you want? I just thought—"

"No, shut up," Katsuki cuts him off sharply. "I mean. Yeah, you can come paint with me. I guess."

"Okay," Izuku says, and relaxes a little more, shouldering his backpack again. "Cool."

—

"Late again, Bakugou Katsuki?"

Katsuki doesn't even bother trying to explain this one.

—

"So," Izuku says. "A try is when you touch the ball down behind the line?"

"Yep," Katsuki nods, trying to get the lid off the gray paint without jerking and putting too much pressure on his knee. "And after a try the flyhalf gets the chance to convert the try—"

"- which is when you try and kick the ball through the posts, right?"

"Yes. And it's five points for a try and two points for a conversion. And three for a drop goal."

"I knew that!" Izuku points out and grins. "See, I remember from yesterday."

"Good job, nerd," Katsuki says, and he’s helpless to stop the genuine, broad smile that splits his face. 

When he looks at Izuku, he’s already staring back at him in surprise. Izuku realizes he’s been caught and laughs awkwardly, before turning back to his painting. He’s muttering something to himself and Katsuki has problems, like serious psychological issues that he needs to get checked out, because it’s somehow unbearably endearing the way Izuku never shuts the fuck up. 

Katsuki still can't get the lid off the paint. He can't have put the lid back on properly yesterday, because it's dried stiff and painted shut.

"Here," Izuku offers, putting down his brush when he notices Katsuki struggling. "Let me try."

"It's stuck," Katsuki tells him. "But you can try, I guess." 

It's not like Izuku's the flyhalf or anything. He won't be able to get the lid off if Katsuki can't.

Izuku gets the lid off.

"I loosened it for you," Katsuki grunts.

Izuku elbows him. "Shut up," he says, softly smiling. "You want more candy?"

Katsuki rolls his eyes, and holds out his hand.

—

Izuku's shoulder brushes Katsuki's when he stands up on his tip-toes, reaching up to paint the lid of the hairspray can.

He glances at Katsuki after they touch, and Katsuki glances at him, and they both smile stupidly for one long, embarrassing moment before quickly looking away. 

Katsuki bites at his lip, forces his pulse to stop gunning off at unnatural speeds, and tries to paint in a straight line.

He’s not very successful, but something about the moment feels like a win anyway. 

Chapter Text

"Katsuki," Ms. Saito calls him over on a Monday, half way through the after school rehearsal.

Katsuki slides off his stool and puts his paintbrush down. He barely needs his crutch anymore, so he leaves it propped up against the wall with his backpack and walks slowly over to the drama teacher. "Yeah?"

"Katsuki," she says, sighing. "You do know you're not in detention anymore, right?"

"Uh-huh," Katsuki says, and doesn't look at Izuku, who's running through the stricken chicken dance routine on stage and not looking at him, either.

"So you know that you don't actually have to be here."

"Yep," Katsuki nods.

"But... you're here anyway?"

"Looks like it," Katsuki says, folding his arms.

"Right," she says. "That's, well. Good. Carry on." She blinks. "You do realize this doesn't get you out of my drama classes, right?"

"Yeah," Katsuki tries not to roll his eyes. "Awesome."

"I imagine the sentiment is reciprocated," Ms. Saito tells him, sighing. "Go on, back to your painting."

Katsuki sighs, and doesn't look over to where Izuku is still practicing his dance.

—

“Hey, there. Bakugou.”

Katsuki looks up. He’s painting a piece of cardboard cropped into the shape of a car with one hand, his other stuffed into his pocket lazily. 

Normally, the only time someone calls him Bakugou is if they’re either looking for a fight or if they’re a teacher. But when he chances a glance up, he sees the tiny girl with brown hair and pink cheeks that’s always hanging around Izuku during class and pep rallies. 

Maybe a fight isn’t completely off the table here.

“‘sup,” he says, making the split second decision to play nice. If she’s Izuku’s friend, he has to get her on his side. 

“I’m Ochako Uraraka, since I’m sure you don’t actually know my name. I’m Izuku’s best friend,” she says, and yeah, based on her tone a fight is definitely in the realm of possibility here. 

“Yeah, I know. You sit with him at pep rallies,” Katsuki grunts. 

Ochako lifts a brow at that, but continues saying, “So. You and Izuku have been talking a lot lately in class. And outside of class, too, apparently. He told me about the party a few weeks ago.”

Katsuki nods his head dumbly. 

He talks about me to his friends, Katsuki thinks hurriedly. What does that mean? 

“And then he starts talking to me about going to a rugby game the next time you play, asking if I could go with him. He’s planning on making you a sign, Bakugou.”

Her voice keeps going sharp, and Katsuki knows he’s missing something here but he’s not sure what it is.

“Yeah.” Katsuki puts down his paintbrush so he can cross his arms. “I told him he could. Make a sign, I mean.”

“I know you did.” The girl’s eyes go narrow as she leans a little closer to Katsuki. “Bakugou. I’m only going to ask you once. Are you setting him up?”

“What?” Katsuki asks, dumbfounded but starting to get a little pissed off. He doesn’t like being accused of shit. “The fuck do you mean?”

“I mean that when Izuku shows up to your rugby game and starts waving around a sign for you, people are going to–” Ochako cuts herself off, suddenly appearing very upset. She gathers her composure before continuing, “People aren’t going to be nice to him about it. People will laugh at him. And I know that you know that.”

Katsuki gapes at her a little because holy shit, he hadn’t actually thought of that. He spends a moment feeling stupid and small in front of this tiny, fierce girl before he tilts his chin up. 

“If you’re asking if I’m doing all of this to make fun of Izuku, then you’re dead wrong,” he growls. “I have ulterior motives, but that’s not it.”

“I knew it,” Ochako hisses, face turning red with fury. “You’re up to something. I told Izuku that you–”

“That I what? That I’m just the asshole who’s responsible for people calling him Deku? Yeah, I already fucking know, okay. I told him I’m sorry about that, by the way. I was a dickhead at the beginning of first year, but I never meant for that to turn into a thing. If I hear people calling him Deku, I’ll handle it.”

Ochako eyes him wearily, then frowns.

“You said you have ulterior motives. If you’re not making fun of him, then what exactly are you trying to do?”

Katsuki swallows thickly. Shit, he hadn’t meant to admit that. 

“Did you ever fucking think that maybe I want to hang out with him? Fuck, you’re his friend, aren’t you?”

Ochako flushes slightly at that, eyebrows still furrowed together tightly. 

“I know Izuku is amazing, okay? I’ve been with him through a lot of crap. I’ve watched him go through a lot of crap. That’s why I had to come ask you. We have each other's backs,” she finishes, voice softer. After a moment, she adds, “I got bullied really badly last year. Izuku was the only one who would talk to me after people found out I like girls. He was the new kid and didn’t have anyone on his side, yet he still defended me and supported me through it all. It put a target on his back and he didn’t even care , because Izuku is just good. And then after you called him Deku —”

Ochako stops herself again, and this time Katsuki notices that her eyes are cloudy with tears, and Katsuki is also maybe realizing that the impact of his actions goes deeper than he knows. 

“After that, Izuku had his own battles to fight. I’ve watched him get hurt too many times, Bakugou. So I swear to you, if you hurt him or make him cry even once? I will personally make sure your knee never heals enough to play rugby ever again.”

And with that, she spins on her heel and stalks off. She walks over to rejoin Izuku, who had been distracted doing a runthrough with Ms. Saito.  Katsuki watches her go with a strange feeling twisting his gut. 

It's a little like guilt, and a lot like shame. 

—

“Oi, listen up dickheads,” Katsuki yells loudly, barging into the locker room at the end of the day. He ran here all the way from the drama studio, which only spiked his already boiling adrenaline. 

“Katsuki? Wait, bro, are you back already?” Eijirou beams at him, arms already opening up for a welcome back hug. 

“No, shit for brains, I have a few more weeks and rehab still. That’s not why I’m here.” 

Katsuki steels himself. His hands are shaking, which is stupid. It’s so fucking stupid that he even feels this nervous doing something like this. Maybe pink cheeks telling him off was actually the right move; he’s being a goddamn coward. 

And Katsuki is anything but a coward. 

“This is mostly for the second years, but all of you better listen the fuck up,” he barks out. “Izuku Midoriya. Anyone know that name?”

There’s a whole lot of blank, sweaty faces staring back at him. Katsuki sighs. 

“Okay. Deku. Does that name ring any bells?”

“Oh, Deku, yeah I know of him,” one of the other second years says. Katsuki hears a few more mumbles of recognition and sees a handful of guys nod their heads. 

“Okay. Good. Well, from now on he’s fucking off limits, got it? No calling him Deku, no being a dick to him, none of it. If you see people screwing with him, handle it . And his name is Izuku, so fucking call him that. Got it?”

He registers the raw shock on a few of his teammates faces, but Katsuki chooses to focus on the bright smile beaming on Eijirou’s dumb face. 

“You got it, bro! Bullying classmates isn’t manly at all. As team captain, I fully support Katsuki’s request,” Eijirou says, and gives a big thumbs up. 

Katsuki nods at him and tries not to go limp with relief. He glares at the rest of his team until they voice their agreement, bumping Katsuki’s fist with their own individually, which is as good as a blood-pact for these guys. 

There’s only one person standing in the back, leaning against the wall, who remains quiet. When Katsuki squints to get a better look at him, he notices that it’s Toya. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles and pushes past his teammates who are now mostly paying attention to Eijirou as he reminds them of the school’s zero-tolerance policy. 

Toya gives a small, knowing smile as Katsuki approaches him. 

“Don’t worry. I have no interest in this Izuku kid,” Toya says, eyeing Katsuki with interest. He tilts his head as he says, “Never woulda pegged you for the white knight type. I think I’m starting to see why my brother is so attached to you.”

Katsuki watches him. They’ve been on the same team for nearly two years, and not once in that time has Toya ever mentioned Shoto to Katsuki before. Katsuki knows that Toya doesn’t exactly spend a lot of time at the Todoroki household, except to antagonize their father, and figured he just wasn’t interested in his little brother’s life. 

But the strange, decidedly interested look he’s giving Katsuki right now suggests otherwise. 

“Whatever,” Katsuki grunts, standing up straight in front of the taller boy. “Just let me know if you see anyone fucking with Izuku, alright? You third year fuckers are always the ones who start the most shit.”

Toya’s smile broadens as he nods once. 

“Will do, mister flyhalf.”

Katsuki merely grunts at him and walks back over to where most of his team is gathered. 

“Hey, shit for brains,” Katsuki says, tilting his chin up at Eijirou. “Thanks. For having my back.”

Eijirou only grins happily back at him, but Katsuki can see the way he wants to say something and is holding back. 

“What is it?” Katsuki grunts. 

“Nothing,” Eijirou says, shaking his head. He claps a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder, and looks him right in the eyes as he says, “It’s just nice seeing you be the manly guy that I know you are. Don’t be afraid of showing your heart more often. You got a good one!” 

He pats him one more time on the shoulder before letting Katsuki go. Katsuki waves off the rest of his team as he leaves the locker room, fielding questions about his return to the rugby pitch. His mind is a mess. A tiny part of him feels sick with nerves over what he’s just done, while another, larger part of him finally feels at ease. 

—

Katsuki spends a whole week without his crutches before he starts rehab on his knee. The first session is long, and really fucking hard work, and so painful he has to grit his teeth for most of the time he's in with the physiotherapist. 

Katsuki's not afraid of hard work, and he's not afraid of getting hurt, either, or else he wouldn't have lasted five minutes on the rugby pitch. Still, he can't help but feel like he's been caught unaware with the rehab; it hurts so much and he just hadn't expected it. He wants to be out on the field playing rugby, and being stuck in a room with a physiotherapist two afternoons a week and one fucking Saturday morning just isn't going to be the same at all.

It also means that he can't go to Hairspray rehearsals half the time, which is annoying because Katsuki was really getting into that whole scenery painting thing.

"I thought this would have been the best news ever," Shoto says, sounding halfway puzzled when Katsuki tells him how often he's supposed to go. 

He's leaning up against the wall outside the rehab center, waiting for his dad to pick him up, his phone wedged between his shoulder and his chin as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. Shoto's still at school, finishing up the arts magazine, and Katsuki can tell Shoto's concentrating more on the magazine layout than he is on Katsuki's pain and trauma.

"Yeah, well," Katsuki says, and thinks about Izuku. He stretches his leg out, relaxing his knee.

"Okay," Shoto says. "You're acting really weird lately, Katsuki."

"Am not," Katsuki grumbles. "I just like painting, that's all."

"Uh-huh," Shoto says, slowly. "Is this like a cult, is that it? Have you been drinking the Kool-Aid?"

"No fucking Kool-Aid. Maybe I'm just bored."

"Bored enough to help me with poetry submissions?" Shoto asks, hopefully.

"Never that bored," Katsuki tells him. "You should bring over the funny ones later, though."

"Can't," Shoto says, and Katsuki can tell he's beaming, which for Shoto means his eyes are wide and scary looking. "I'm going on a date. We're going to chat online at seven."

"Oh my fucking god," Katsuki scoffs in disbelief. "You're like a made for TV special! You know what happens now, right? The creepy old man who is lying about his age comes and kidnaps you and at the end, when they've dragged your body out of the lake, there's a message on the screen about not giving any personal information out over the internet. It's a life lesson."

"You're a freak," Shoto says, affectionately.

"You won't be saying that when they're dragging your body out of the lake.”

“No lakes, no dead bodies, got it,” Shoto says. Katsuki just knows he’s rolling his eyes. 

“Whatever,” Katsuki says. “So you really like him then? Enough to try dating him? Stalker guy.”

It’s quiet for a long moment, before Shoto says, “Yeah. I like him. That’s cool, right?”

Katsuki frowns. “Of fucking course it’s okay! I mean. Well, it’s not okay, because he’s probably a serial killer, but you know. If you wanna date a guy then that’s fine, dipshit.”

Shoto hums, before saying, “Good. Thanks, Katsuki.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, and ignores the sick little feeling down in his gut that tells him he’s not being honest enough with his best friend. A sick feeling that only grows with the knowledge that Shoto thought for even a second that Katsuki might not be okay with him dating a guy. 

Katsuki likes Izuku and he hasn’t told his best friend yet. 

And now he has to ignore the tiny voice growing from that sick feeling, that dares to ask him,

Why not?

—

"You weren't at rehearsal last night," Izuku says, at the end of drama class. "Not that you have to go or anything! It's okay that you didn’t. I mean–" He tails off.

Katsuki shrugs awkwardly.

"Had a thing. For my knee. Rehab."

"Oh," Izuku says, understanding in his voice as he nods. "That sucks. Not the knee rehab, because I’m sure that's a good thing, but the not-rehearsal thing."

"Rehab’s the fastest way to strengthen back up for rugby," Katsuki tells him. "Hurt like a motherfucker, though. Physiotherapists must be fucking sadists."

"Ah, right, I remember from when I had tendonitis in my hip flexor," Izuku says, wincing. “Sorry. I know all of this must really suck for you, Kacchan.” Then he smiles, elbowing Katsuki. "You want me to go have a word? I've got a pretty mean right hook! Or, you know. I'm pretty good at boxing on the Wii."

"Yeah," Katsuki scoffs. "Because that's the exact same thing."

"I’m stronger than I look." Izuku grins, eyes somewhat mischievous. "But, you know. I've got your back, Kacchan."

Katsuki knows he might be turning pink but he doesn't know how to stop.

 "Idiot," he grumbles.

—

Katsuki tells Ms. Saito that he won't be able to paint scenery on Tuesdays or Thursdays, because of his physiotherapy.

She looks at him for a long moment before she nods. "Alright," she says.

He folds his arms and scowls, because she's watching him with something that might possibly be amusement. 

"Oi, I just like painting!"

"Sure," she says, and to her credit and Katsuki's relief, she doesn't look at the stage once. "It's okay to like, um, painting. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Katsuki says, and tries not to sound withering. "Art is a totally worthy hobby, I know."

"Katsuki–"

He taps his foot. 

"I've got giant hairspray cans to paint, lady!" Katsuki says loudly and suddenly, and Ms. Saito just rolls her eyes. It’s fonder than usual, though. 

"Fine," she says. "Go on."

—

“Toru Hagakure is so fucking annoying," Katsuki seethes, sitting down to lunch later that day with a fire in his eyes. He dumps his books on the table aggressively. 

"Um," Shoto says, before Katsuki cuts him off.

"She does that thing, you know that thing people do when they flick their hair. Like this-" Katsuki flicks his imaginary hair, "and she giggles. Did you get me any fucking lunch?"

Shoto looks pointedly at Katsuki's complete lack of crutches. Katsuki rolls his eyes. 

"Whatever. You hate her too, right?"

"Katsuki, I don't even know who she is. What did she do to piss you off?"

"Oh," Katsuki says. "She's playing Amber in Hairspray. She's a shitty actress. She’s gonna fuck up the whole play. You can write a brutal review about her in the magazine, right?” 

"No," Shoto says, carefully. "I'm pretty sure I won’t. They've got chicken katsu again, if you go join the line quickly they won't run out."

"No," Katsuki says, "they're fine. There's a whole lunch period after this one, dumbass. Anyway, I think she's being this annoying on purpose and if she fucks up the play, you should expose her in the magazine. What do you think?"

"Maybe," Shoto says, as if talking to a small child. "I think it's a possibility."

Katsuki grunts again, still heated. Eventually his stomach rumbles. "The chicken katsu, you said? That’s the good one, right?"

Shoto just nods, but he’s watching Katsuki very closely as he does. 

—

"My physiotherapist says I can start going back to rugby practice," Katsuki says, as soon as Izuku comes over at the end of rehearsal. He waves his cellphone. "She just called."

"Awesome," Izuku says, not meeting Katsuki's eyes. He opens a packet of gummy worms and tips out half into Katsuki's palm. Katsuki has never eaten so much fucking candy in his life, but it seems to be a consistent part of Izuku’s diet, so he figures he’ll just have to learn to live with it. "I guess that means you're going to stop coming to rehearsal, huh?"

Katsuki blinks. "Uh," he says, because he hadn't thought that far ahead. "I guess."

"Right," Izuku says, nodding quickly. 

Katsuki's shoulders droop. 

"Well, fuck," he starts. "I don't think I can do all the tackling yet. I'm pretty sure that's what she said on the phone. Maybe I can come to both, or something. For a while."

"Really?" Izuku's head shoots up, eyes comically large with shock. When Katsuki just nods, the freckled boy grins happily. 

Katsuki shrugs, and kind of grins back. "Whatever," he grunts, and eats a whole handful of gross gummy worms, all in one go.

—

bored of painting, Katsuki texts .

You know you don’t have to be there right? Shoto texts back after a minute.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. On stage, they're practicing the part where Izuku's character gives Toru’s character a ring and a kiss on the cheek. Katsuki scowls and narrows his eyes as menacingly as he can get away with. 

scenery wont paint itself, he texts. im just waiting for you 2 finish up.

Hmmmmmmmmm, Shoto texts.

—

"So," Katsuki says, hanging around the drama studio after rugby practice finishes. "So, they're going to play me on Friday."

Izuku just looks puzzled at his sudden appearance. 

"Um," he says. "Hey?"

Katsuki rolls his eyes, and pushes his damp hair out of his eyes. He's just out of the shower, and he had to rush across campus so he could catch Izuku at the end of rehearsal.

"At the game. On Friday. The rugby game? They're going to let me play a half."

Izuku relaxes into a grin. 

"Kacchan, that’s great news!"

"I know, right?" Katsuki smirks, and yanks his backpack up so it's not falling over his shoulder. "And, like, well. You said a long ass time ago you wanted to see a game, and now there's a game, so—"

Toru Hagakure walks right past them and waves. "Bye, Izuku," she says.

"Uh, bye," Izuku says, and smiles.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Katsuki tells himself, over and over.

"Bye, Katsuki," she says and her voice is higher as she flicks her hair and smiles brightly at him all at the same time. 

"Whatever," Katsuki grunts, rolling his eyes and turning around so that he's facing Izuku. "So. The game. Are you going to come?"

Izuku bounces on the balls of his feet, a smile on his lips. His freckles stand out more right now, though Katsuki’s not sure why. He likes it though. A lot.

"Wouldn’t miss it," Izuku says. "You think I've got time to make you that sign?"

"I guess. I mean, if you get started now, you should have time to make it good."

Izuku beams. His eyes are bright and so, so pretty it makes Katsuki’s chest seize. Like a fucking idiot .

“Well, then I guess I better get started tonight, then,” Izuku says. “Hey, Kacchan, this will be the first sports event I’ve ever watched in person!” 

“You’ve never been to a game before? For any sport?”

“No,” Izuku admits sheepishly, scratching his cheek. “I’ve been to countless dance competitions, though. And my step-dad used to be a professional boxer, so I watch him train at his gym.”

“Your step-dad?” Katsuki asks, carefully. Izuku has never talked about his family before and Katsuki has secretly wondered why. He’s definitely mentioned his own crazy ass mom and dorky dad to Izuku before. He wonders faintly if it’s a situation similar to Shoto’s. The thought makes his stomach sink. “Hm. You’ve never mentioned him before. He has his own gym?”

“Yeah! He’s the best. I met him when we moved back to Musutafu, a few weeks after I started high school.” Izuku grins, clearly remembering something special. “Actually– I’m the one who set him and my mom up together.”

Katsuki’s eyebrows raise to his hairline. Moved back, he mentally notes. So Izuku is originally from Musutafu? 

“Hm,” he takes a few lazy steps closer to Izuku. “You a matchmaker or somethin’, Izuku?”

“No, of course not,” Izuku says, appearing flustered by the idea. “But– well. My mom kinda found out I was meeting with Toshinori in secret and got really mad. Like, the most angry I’ve ever seen her. It was, um, a little bit scary. And so I wanted her to get to know him and see that he wasn’t a bad guy! It didn’t take long for me to realize how flustered she was around him or how dorky he got around her.”

Izuku rolls his eyes, fond and delighted.

“So, I did the classic move and asked them both to meet me for dinner one night, but I didn’t show up, and the two have been together ever since!”

Izuku claps his hands together, looking incredibly pleased with himself. Katsuki can’t help but be impressed as well. However there’s more than a few questions circulating his head now, and he decides to shoot for the one that seems the most loaded. 

“Oi, why were you meeting your step-dad in secret in the first place?”

Izuku shrugs, but Katsuki can see how his body has gone tense. 

“I met him one day when I was wandering downtown looking for a comic book store. His gym is right next door to it, so he spends a lot of time at the store too. We started talking about comics and stuff, and then he asked if I wanted to see him in the ring later with one of his trainees. I said yes and then just sorta kept coming back to his gym whenever I could. I didn’t tell my mom because I knew she wouldn’t want me hanging around a place like that. It was just so fun being in that kind of environment. I love dancing, it’ll always be what makes me happiest. But being in his gym made me feel stronger than I was.” Izuku smiles faintly. “He eventually started to train me, too.”

Katsuki’s eyes widen comically. 

“Wait. So you really know how to box?”

“A little,” Izuku admits. “Mostly we did strength training. It was rougher than the classical training I was used to, so I loved it.”

He likes it rough, Katsuki’s mind supplies with a purr. 

Katsuki doesn’t hesitate to slap himself in the face, right then and there. Hard.

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaims, appearing shocked. “Um, what’s wrong? Are you okay?!”

“Yeah,” Katsuki grunts and prays his face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. He’s going to punch Shoto in the stomach later, just because. “Yeah, sorry, it was a fly or something. Just keep going. Keep talkin’.”

“Oh,” Izuku still looks puzzled but he continues, saying, “um, well, anyway that’s pretty much it. My mom found out about my training when I came home with a black eye one day and was pissed. But ever since her and my step-dad got together, she’s fine with it. She trusts him as much as I do, now.”

Izuku keeps smiling and something in Katsuki feels at ease. Izuku loves his parents. 

And they love him back, he thinks, satisfied. 

“And you called me the badass,” Katsuki drawls, voice teasing. “Sounds like you’re the real rebel here, Izuku.”

Izuku flushes a pretty pink and Katsuki is pretty sure it’s the best he’s ever looked. 

“Not even,” Izuku says with a weak laugh. “But. Thanks, Kacchan.”

Katsuki just hums and bumps his elbow against Izuku’s as they start walking off again. It takes a moment before Izuku bumps him back. 

"Is your dad picking you up again?"

"Nah," Katsuki says, still openly staring at him. "I can ride my bike again. Fucking finally, huh?"

"Finally," Izuku agrees with a smile, bumping their shoulders together, and walks out to the parking lot with Katsuki.

–

"We've entered into a dialogue," Shoto says with a dramatic sigh, sprawling across Katsuki's couch the night before Katsuki's rugby match.

Katsuki blinks. "You talk about cats," he says.

"I know," Shoto says, "isn't it amazing? Kind of insightful, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Katsuki says. "If you're a fucking crazy person. Or one of those people who hoard cats on Hoarders."

"It's like we've moved to the next level."

"Oi," Katsuki says loudly, edging away from Shoto. "Hag," he yells, "Shoto's gone crazy."

Katsuki's mom pokes her head around the living room door. "I'm sure he hasn't," she says. "You haven't gone crazy, have you, Shoto?"

Shoto shakes his head. 

"Katsuki just doesn't understand love, that's all."

"Oh," her eyebrows raise. After a moment, she says, "Of course. Katsuki, you just don't understand love, that's all."

"It's not fucking love," Katsuki snaps, "it's insanity. Shoto's gone crazy. He never used to like cats, right?"

"Uh-huh," Mitsuki says. "Cats. Okay. Um, well, Shoto was always a dog person, I thought."

"I still am," Shoto says, stretching out so his feet hang over the end of the couch. "I just understand what it means to like cats, now, that's all."

There's a long moment where nobody says anything.

"Okay," Mitsuki says. "O-kay. I preferred it when you boys were swearing. You never know what you've got till it's gone."

"Now you've gone crazy too," Katsuki mutters. 

She flicks him with her tea towel. "Maybe it's time you set the table for dinner. Your dad's just finishing up in the kitchen. Do you want food, Shoto, or are you existing purely on a diet of love?"

Shoto scrambles to his feet. "No," he says, "food too."

"Sensible," Mitsuki says, agreeably. "Come on, Katsuki, hop to it."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "You can't make fun of my knee anymore. I am fully recovered, hag."

"Yeah, yeah," she says. "Set the table and shut up, peg-leg."

—

"Game day," Katsuki says wickedly on Friday morning, opening the front door and letting Shoto in for breakfast.

Shoto rolls his eyes. "My favorite," he says, dropping his bike on Katsuki's lawn and pushing past Katsuki to steal some of his dad's coffee. "A whole day of people talking about how awesome you are. It's like all of my dreams have come true."

"Well," Katsuki’s dad says, "at least he's got you to keep him grounded, Shoto."

"Screw that," Katsuki grunts, "I am totally grounded."

"Who's the king?" Shoto throws out suddenly.

"I am," Katsuki says, automatically. "Oh, shut the fuck up."

Shoto and his dad share a smug high-five. 

—

By the time third period rolls around, Katsuki's hand hurts from having high-fived too many people in the hallways.

—

"You're still coming, right?" Katsuki asks, sweat collecting in his palms.

Izuku stops pretending to be a snake curling around a tree trunk, and rolls his eyes. "Of course I am," he sighs. "I said I was, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Katsuki says, lamely, "but-"

"Katsuki," Ms. Saito yells. "Stop distracting Izuku unless you are actually going to do what I ask you, for the first time in forever, and pretend to be a snake."

"So fucking stupid," Katsuki mutters under his breath, scowling. 

"And don't forget that I am not deaf," she tells him, "or, more to the point, stupid."

Katsuki groans, and goes to hide in the corner with the spray paint. When he glances over to look at Izuku, he notices pink cheeks glaring at him. Much to his surprise, she sticks her tongue out at him smugly. 

He openly gawks, before angrily sticking his middle finger up at her in return. Pink cheeks just rolls her eyes and turns back around in her seat.  

—

"Shoto," Katsuki says, fifteen minutes before they're supposed to start playing. His breathing is suddenly fast as he skulks around the back of the locker rooms.

"Stop freaking out," Shoto says, into the phone.

"I'm not fucking freaking out," Katsuki lies. "I'm just—"

"Yeah, yeah," Shoto says. "I know. You’re the flyhalf, this is your destiny or whatever."

"Where are you sitting?" Katsuki asks, straightening his knee brace awkwardly.

"Front and center, with your mom and dad," Shoto says. "Your dad says to stop freaking out, too."

"I'm fine," Katsuki lies.

"Sure you are," Shoto says. There’s some shuffling around, before, "Fuck—sorry Mrs. Bakugou—" in the background, Katsuki can hear his mom saying, you should really call me Mitsuki by now, Shoto!

"What? What happened?"

"Oh my god, that weird kid's made you a sign. Holy crap. He really did it."

"Izuku," Katsuki says, kind of breathlessly. "His name's Izuku."

"Whatever," Shoto says. "Izuku's made you a weird-ass sign."

Katsuki’s mouth does something stupid and he bites his lip. "He did?"

"I think he's made it out of glitter." Shoto says, in awe. "It kind of sparkles."

"It does?"

"It does," Shoto says. "Someone should take a picture."

"Maybe your creepy internet stalker can," Katsuki manages, and tries to attribute the nervous beating in his chest to the upcoming game and not to Izuku and his stupid sign.

"Maybe," Shoto says. "But I'm pretty sure all the kids sitting by him are taking pictures on their phones, so."

"They are?" Katsuki's chest tightens, and this time not in a good way. 

"Yep," Shoto tells him. "You should see it."

"Where's he sitting?" Katsuki demands, peering around the corner to see if his team mates have missed him yet. "What's the sign say?"

" Katsuki Bakugou, I want to have your babies," Shoto says. "No, not really. That was a joke. I can't read it. Bakugou Katsuki something something something. He's sitting by that line thing, the one in the middle."

"The half way line? Fucking great," Katsuki snaps at him. "You've cleared that right up."

"Whatever," Shoto says, "don't you have a rugby game to play? What are you even doing talking to me anyway? Shouldn't you be all manly hugging by now, or something?"

"Yeah, that's just what it's like.”

"I know, I know." Shoto says. There's a pause. "Good luck."

"Don’t need it," Katsuki says, and hangs up feeling more invigorated than ever. 

—

Izuku's sign says Bakugou Katsuki in big, orange letters, and something else underneath that Katsuki's not close enough to read. Izuku's holding it up and grinning, and Katsuki can't help but smirk back, feeling invincible as the whistle blows and he makes the first kick of the game.

—

Katsuki scores a try and converts it, straight off. He just dodges through a hole in their defense, and behind him, his teammates stop the defense from getting any closer to him than they already are. The cheers are stupidly loud as Katsuki hits the ground behind the try line, and he feels amazing.

He plays for the rest of the first half, scoring two drop-goals and making a really important tackle that stops the other team from scoring. Apart from that he spends most of the time running up and down the pitch and shouting at his teammates, directing them along with Eijirou, and it feels great. By the time half-time rolls around, they're up thirteen points to nine, and Katsuki's back.

He goes off the field to cheers, and even when the sports medicine therapist insists on spending twenty minutes poking at his knee before making him get showered and finally letting him out to see the rest of the game, nothing diminishes from the fact that he's the flyhalf again.

It feels amazing.

—

Izuku's hanging around outside the locker rooms at the end of the match, with his sign rolled up under one arm.

"Hey!" he says when Katsuki sees him, and quickly walks over to him. "You were amazing out there, Kacchan! I never knew rugby games went by so quickly! There’s so much action and technique to it!"

Katsuki just rolls his eyes. "How much of it did you actually understand?"

"All of it," Izuku says smugly. "I am a secret rugby nerd."

"Sure you fucking are," Katsuki says, voice rough. He steps closer to Izuku, right in his space. "And you made me a sign."

"Um, I did," Izuku says. His cheeks turn dark, almost red, and his freckles stand out prettily again. "D-Did you see it?"

"Yeah," Katsuki says, blushing. Like the loser he is. "But not up close, though."

"You want to see?" Izuku asks as he goes to pull it out from under his arm, but he still looks unsure. "I could show you."

Katsuki nods, and swallows loudly as Izuku unrolls his sign. It says Bakugou Katsuki in big orange letters, like Katsuki could see from the pitch, and then underneath it says You will win for sure!

He throws his head back and starts to cackle.

Izuku blushes bright red.

"I've never made a sign for a rugby game before!" he protests, voice going squeaky in embarrassment. "I didn't know what it was supposed to say!"

"That," Katsuki says, still laughing. "Just like that."

"Really?" Izuku brightens hesitantly. "Because all these kids were laughing at it, so I figured I'd just got it wrong, but–"

Katsuki takes a moment to remove himself from the situation so he can imagine shoving all those kids off the bleachers. 

When he tunes in again, Izuku's bouncing on the balls of his feet and rolling up his sign again.

"So," Izuku says, clearing his throat. "I heard there's this after-game party."

"What?" Katsuki says, as he spots his mom and Shoto coming over. "Oh, yeah."

"I was thinking," Izuku says, "maybe I could see you there later? Or, you know. Something."

"Yeah," Katsuki says, distractedly, as Shoto elbows him painfully in the kidneys and his mom leans over and hugs him. "Back off, hag," he says, trying to disentangle himself.

"Who's this?" his mom says, rolling her eyes and ruffling Katsuki's hair, because she's been put on this earth to make Katsuki's life more humiliating than it already is.

"Izuku," Katsuki says, awkwardly, ducking away from her and her stupid hair-messing skills. "Hag! Stop touching my fucking hair."

"I'm making it better, and don’t speak so vulgarly in front of this nice boy," she says, licking her thumb and reaching for him.

He ducks away again, and wonders why he hasn't died of embarrassment yet.

"My son is embarrassed by me," she says, as if she's admitting something wonderful. Katsuki narrows his eyes. "It's nice to meet you," she says, leaning over and shaking Izuku by the hand.

“Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Bakugou,” Izuku stammers. He does an awkward little bow after he drops his hand to his side, and then appears to immediately regret that. 

Katsuki is torn between wanting the ground to swallow him up and wanting to yell at his mom for getting to hold Izuku's hand first. 

Holy shit, he thinks to himself. This nerd has turned me into the biggest fucking loser I know.

"You made a sign," Shoto says to Izuku, leaning in closely. 

"Shoto," Katsuki hisses.

"Yeah," Izuku says, uncertainly. "Um, actually, do you want to keep it, Kacchan? I figured—"

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Katsuki thinks. Behind him, Shoto's making a noise that sounds like he's trying to stop himself from choking. Katsuki hates him. 

"Sure," Katsuki says, and it's not that his voice cracks, he just has to clear his throat mid-word. He holds his hand out and snatches the poster out of Izuku's grip. "We have to leave," he says, quickly. "Like, now."

"We don't, do we?" Shoto asks, grinning.

"We do," Katsuki insists. "We have to go right fucking now."

"Oh, okay," Izuku says, awkwardly. "Well. I guess I'll see you later, then?"

"Yep," Katsuki says, pushing Shoto away, "thanks for the sign, nerd."

"You're welcome," Izuku calls after them, and Katsuki swears he can hear the smile in his voice as he does. 

—

"He was nice," Katsuki's mom says, when they get back to the car.

"Fuck," Katsuki groans, as Shoto starts to laugh and laugh. 

—

Katsuki, Shoto and Katsuki's parents go for dinner at the steak house over by the lakeside. Shoto smirks at him the whole time, kicking him under the table with contained glee.

"Shut the fuck up," Katsuki grumbles, half way through his food.

"I didn't say anything," Shoto says, innocently.

"Shoto's got a creepy internet stalker," Katsuki announces, to the restaurant at large. "You should talk to him about his security and well-being on the internet."

"Shoto," Katsuki's dad says, sitting up straight now, "is this true?"

Shoto glares at Katsuki. 

"They're not creepy, and they're not my stalker. We just message online sometimes. It’s harmless."

"I saw this movie once, about this kid who gave his details to some person he met online, and then they had to drag his body out of the lake," Katsuki's mom tells him.

"You see?" Katsuki says. "You see?"

"I see where you get it from," Shoto says, kicking him in the shin. "I'm fine," he tells Mitsuki. "I'm fine, and no one is going to have to drag me out of any lake."

“Well, we’re here for you Shoto. Let us know if you feel unsafe or if they ask anything too personal,” Katsuki’s dad says, still appearing uneasy. 

"I told him to keep where he keeps his money a secret," Katsuki says.

"Suck-up," Shoto hisses.

Katsuki smirks, and tries not to think about Izuku's sign, rolled up safe in the trunk of his mom and dad's car.

—

By the time they get to the party, it's already going strong. Katsuki spies Izuku in the front yard, leaning against the wall by the garage.

"I'm just going to, um—" he says, vaguely pointing in Izuku's direction when Shoto starts heading towards the front door.

Shoto sees where Katsuki's looking, and rolls his eyes. 

"You and me," Shoto says, gesturing a hand between the two of them, "later on we're going to talk about how you've got a big gay crush on that weird kid—"

"Izuku," Katsuki snaps, automatically.

"- a big gay crush on Izuku, and how it is that you haven't actually told me yet."

"I'm telling you now," Katsuki grunts, awkward and pissy and wanting to be anywhere other than this conversation. 

"Hmmm," Shoto says. "This doesn't get you out of talking about it with me later, just so you know. All those weeks you've been hanging out with the drama club and pretending you hated every moment -"

"Stop reveling in how fucking humiliating this is for me," Katsuki snaps, a little desperately.

Shoto’s smile softens, just the slightest. 

"You've got a big gay crush," he says, "and you didn't tell me. You don't get to call the shots here."

"He's not bad," Katsuki says, lamely. “You know. For a fucking nerd.”

"Oh my god," Shoto says, "this is the best day ever. I must have been really, really good in a past life."

"Go away," Katsuki hisses at him. "Go inside and leave me alone."

"Fine," Shoto says, rolling his eyes. "Don't think you're not telling me everything later, anyway."

"Whatever," Katsuki says, and shoves Shoto. "At least my big gay crush isn't fucking Quasimodo."

"You don't know he's ugly," Shoto counters, shoving him back. "He could be amazing-looking."

"Sure," Katsuki says. "Because all really good looking guys hide behind their email address."

"Shut up," Shoto says. "I'm going inside. Go over there and be all gay with your stupid gay crush."

Katsuki tries not to blush as he walks over to do exactly that. 

—

Izuku doesn't notice him until Katsuki's leaning up against the garage wall next to him.

"Hey," Katsuki says gruffly. He lets himself sort of leer over Izuku and hopes to god he doesn’t look like a fucking creep. 

"Hey," Izuku says, grinning up at him. He tucks a curl behind his ear. “I was wondering if you were here yet.”

“Just got here. The old man and old lady wanted to take me out for dinner.”

“Where’s Shoto?” Izuku asks, looking around and behind Katsuki as if he might be hidden somewhere. 

“Inside. Actually, did you wanna–”

“KATSUKIIII!” 

Before Katsuki can even begin to register it, a loud, pink lump descends upon him and lands heavily on his back. Izuku jumps, startled. 

“Fuck! Mina, I told you the next time you jump me like that I’m gonna knock you out on reflex!”

“Oh, you would never hurt a hair on my head,” Mina says, waving a hand at him dismissively. She steps back, though, and runs her hands over her cheer uniform to flatten it out. “Congrats on returning to your throne! How’s it feel, blasty?”

“Fucking great. Can you go now?”

Mina pouts at him, wrapping both of her arms around Katsuki’s arm and clinging to him in exactly the way she knows pisses him off the most. 

“Nooo, I haven’t seen you in so long! What’s going on?! How’s your knee?”

Katsuki sighs. Mina Ashido is one of the only cheerleaders (aside from Momo) that Katsuki finds tolerable. She’s loud and annoying as fuck, but she’s also tough as hell and doesn’t take shit from anyone. Which Katsuki can always appreciate. 

“Knee’s fine. I’m all healed up, otherwise they wouldn’t have let me play, pinky.”

“That’s great!” Mina says, clapping her hands together. She pauses for a moment and then seems to notice Izuku for the first time. Her expression lifts with interest. Izuku stands there dumbly, staring at her hands curled around Katsuki’s bicep with wide eyes.  “Oh! Hey, it’s–”

“Izuku Midoriya!” another voice interrupts, and this time it’s Eijirou. The redhead comes trailing after Mina and stops right behind her, wrapping both arms around her waist comfortably. “Hey, Izuku! Didn’t know you’d be here tonight! How’s it going? Hope this little firecracker wasn’t buggin’ ya!”

“I wasn’t bugging,” Mina whines with a pout. She turns to face her boyfriend and lets him kiss her on the cheek. When she turns back around, she smiles at Izuku’s slightly bewildered expression. “Well, at least I hope I wasn’t. Nice to properly meet ya, Izuku! I didn’t know you and blasty were friends!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you never shut up for more than two seconds,” Katsuki grunts. Eijirou elbows him lightly, and Katsuki elbows him back. “Whatever. Izuku, this is Mina Ashido and her dumbass boyfriend Eijirou Kirishima. He’s my captain. Losers, this is Izuku.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Izuku says, and unlike with Katsuki’s mom, he appears hesitant this time as he eyes the two newcomers. “I-It was a great game tonight, Kirishima.”

“Thanks bro! And please, call me Eijirou,” the redhead tells him easily, and Katsuki feels a new type of appreciation for his captain’s fundamentally kind nature. Izuku looks surprised by the offer, but he hides it well with a smile. 

“Call me Mina!” the pink-haired girl adds, pointing a finger at herself happily. “Hey, we have math class together, right?”

“Oh, yeah, I think so,” Izuku nods quickly, hands wringing together. He shoots Katsuki a quick glance, before looking back at Mina and saying, “You did great tonight, too! You know, with cheering and all. Your tumbles were really clean!”

Mina gasps. She places a freshly manicured hand against her chest like some sort of startled maiden.

“Thank you, Izuku! People never wanna give us our credit, you know? Cheerleading is a sport after all! I’d like to see blasty get thrown up into the air and do the splits!”

Izuku finally cracks a grin and laughs. 

“I’d like to see that too!”

“Oi,” Katsuki grumbles, shoving Izuku in the shoulder weakly. Izuku just laughs at him again, all freckled and sweet. Katsuki stares back and really, really wishes his two idiot friends weren’t here right now. Without really looking away from Izuku, Katsuki says, “Shit for brains and pinky– scram . We were talking. About shit. Important shit.”

Izuku bites his lip and nudges him back.

“No problem, bro! See you both inside!” Eijirou says, sounding thoroughly amused. 

Katsuki hears Mina’s whines of protest as she’s carted off by her boyfriend but he easily ignores the idiot couple. 

“So,” Katsuki says, still shamelessly staring at Izuku. He steps a little closer and notes the way it makes Izuku’s eyes widen. Makes his neck flush a little with color. “Sorry about them. They’re fucking annoying.”

“They were really nice, actually,” Izuku says, and scratches at his neck, where the red blotchiness is most visible. “Um. So, Kiri- uh, Eijirou. He knew my name.”

“Oh,” Katsuki waves a hand. “Yeah. I told him about you, so.”

“You– you told him about me?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki mumbles, and now he feels embarrassed. “Why? Is that a fuckin’ problem?”

“No!” Izuku shakes his head. “Not at all.”

"Good,” Katsuki grunts, and thinks about one day walking down the school hallway holding Izuku's hand. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, just in case he does something stupid. After a moment, he asks, “How come you're not inside?" 

Izuku shrugs. "Oh, you know. I got hot in there, and had to come out for some air."

"Okay," Katsuki says. "You cooled down enough? Wanna go inside?"

Izuku looks kind of unconvinced, but Katsuki's the flyhalf. This party is practically in honor of him, and much as he likes Izuku, he'd kind of like to go inside and get clapped on the back and cheered on and shit.

"Sure," Izuku finally relents. He shoots Katsuki a slightly concerned smile. "Um, yeah."

"Awesome," Katsuki says and elbows him, just because.

—

The place erupts when Katsuki walks in, which is possibly the best thing ever. All the cheerleaders are lining up to kiss his cheek and people are clapping him on the back and high-fiving him and welcoming him back to the team.

"It's like the black drapes have been lifted," Shoto says, leaning over and resting his chin on Katsuki's shoulder. "The light is back in our lives, Katsuki, and it's all down to you. How are we ever going to repay you?"

"Fuck you," Katsuki says, trying to shrug Shoto off.

"No, really," Shoto says. "I'm not sure I have words. Have you seen the pictures of you on the wall in the living room?"

"You’re not fucking serious," Katsuki says.

"I'm kidding," Shoto says. "Except I'm not. They've printed off your yearbook pictures and covered them in good luck messages. You should come see, it's like an art exhibition, but you're the art." He sighs, dramatically. "I wish I was the flyhalf."

Katsuki shoves Shoto in the side. "Fuck off," he says.

"And," Shoto says, wriggling away from him, "you've lost your, um. Whatshisface."

"Izuku," Katsuki says, exasperatedly, "his name's Izuku. And I haven't lost him, he's right here -" Katsuki trails off, and looks around the crowded room. 

"I've lost him," he says.

"It was maybe the line of girls waiting to kiss you," Shoto tells him, "apparently that can put a boy off."

"Like you'd know," Katsuki snaps. "At least Izuku's got a name."

Shoto narrows his eyes. 

"Seriously," he says. "That was kind of dickish."

"Well," Katsuki says uncomfortably, "okay. Whatever."

"You should probably go find him," Shoto tells him after a beat. "I'm just saying."

Katsuki sighs, and rolls his shoulders, pushing through the kids back towards the door into the hallway.

—

He finds Izuku in the kitchen, considering a jug of something that looks like coke and probably isn't.

"Oi. I lost you," Katsuki murmurs awkwardly.

"I went to get a drink," Izuku says, "you think this is coke?"

"Probably not." Katsuki tugs open the fridge and pulls out a can. "This is, though. Sealed, too. Want it?"

"Is that the last one?" Izuku asks, tilting his head in thought, and Katsuki peers in the fridge.

"Looks like it.”

"Hmm. You want to share?" Izuku offers, tapping at the ring pull. He chances a glance up at the blond curiously. “Um, I could pour half in a cup or something?”

Something inside of Katsuki contracts. He doesn’t want soda, he wants an ice cold fucking beer, but the way Izuku is looking at him – like he really sees him – has Katsuki feeling warm all over. 

"Yeah," he says, quietly. "Thanks."

"That's okay," Izuku says. His eyes are bright and forest green and so close to Katsuki’s. “Um, but hey, Kacchan, I was wondering about something.”

Katsuki tilts an eyebrow in question. 

“Shoot.”

“Um. This is going to sound so random, and weird, but I was just wondering– ‘cause it was so sudden, you know, and I’m not sure why else it would have happened but—”

“Spit it out, Izuku. C’mon.”

“Did you say something to your friends about calling me Izuku?” he finally says. He waves his hands around at Katsuki before he elaborates. “A-A few of the guys on your team– they stopped me in the hallway a few days ago. I was worried at first, ‘cause I thought maybe they were looking for a fight–”

“Who was it? What did they do?” Katsuki interrupts, blood thrumming in his ears. 

“Nothing!” Izuku says, shaking his head emphatically. “They didn’t bother me, Kacchan. That’s just it– they told me that if anyone did bother me or called me Deku, to let them know and they would handle it . I asked them why, and they wouldn’t really give me an answer. So I was wondering. You know, if you had anything to do with it.”

Katsuki hums, pleased. It felt nice to know his teammates weren’t just bullshitting him that day in the locker room. 

“Because if you did tell them to do something like that, I just…” Izuku trails off with some strange edge of apprehension in his eyes. “I just wanted to know why.”

“Listen, nerd,” Katsuki begins, and his voice is unintentionally low. Izuku looks up immediately at the dip in his voice, his eyes shining as they watch each other in the shitty kitchen light. 

"Where's the fucking whiskey," someone yells, pushing into the kitchen and bumping into Katsuki's shoulder. "Katsuki, that is a fucking can of Coke. Don't tell me you're not drinking tonight."

"Pain meds," Katsuki lies. "Fuck with my head."

"Dude," the guy says, and Katsuki can't even remember his name. Minato, maybe. Friends with someone on the team. It might even be his house. "That fucking blows."

"You're telling me," Katsuki says. He seems to remember that Minato’s a dick. He can't quite remember why, but the friend by his side was in Katsuki's biology class, first year. Katsuki didn't like him much then, either.

"Hey," the guy says, leaning past Katsuki and poking Izuku in the shoulder, "it's the kid from the drama club. I thought we said you could only stay if you sang us a song?"

"And I told you no," Izuku says, awkward but firm. 

"Hey," Katsuki says, pushing Minato’s arm away. "The fuck?"

"You should sing us a song, Deku," Minato says again. "Come on, you like to sing, right?"

"He doesn't have to fucking sing," Katsuki says, angrily. "Back the fuck off."

"Kacchan," Izuku says quickly, and Katsuki feels his hand gently tug his arm. "It's okay. I already told them–"

"No," Katsuki says, shaking off Izuku’s hand, "seriously. Back off, and leave him alone."

"Come on, we're only teasing," Minato’s friend says. "He's a drama kid. He should entertain us. That’s why he’s here, right? Entertainment?"

“Yeah, let him sing and dance for us a little bit,” Minato says with a smirk. 

"Yeah, how about you fuck off instead," Katsuki says, shoving the asshole away until his back hits the kitchen wall. 

There's a moment where everything kind of rolls, and then there's just - quiet.

"What the fuck, Katsuki?" Minato asks, confused.

"It's pretty simple, jackass. Don't fucking mess with him."

Eijirou is standing in the kitchen doorway, his arms folded. Minato and his asshole friend take one look at Katsuki, and one look at Eijirou, and back off.

"Fine," Minato says. "Whatever."

"You okay?" Eijirou asks, in a low voice, when they've disappeared out into the hallway.

"Yep," Katsuki says tightly. His teeth are grinding together so hard he can hear it in his ears. 

"How about you?" Eijirou asks Izuku, and even Katsuki can see the genuine concern in his eyes. 

"You didn't need to do that," Izuku says seriously. "I had that covered."

Eijirou puts his hands in the air and backs away, shooting Katsuki a look. 

"Come on, nerd, those assholes needed to fucking go," Katsuki says, ignoring Eijirou’s warning look.

“You really didn't need to do that, Kacchan. I don’t just let people push me around anymore, I can take care of myself! When you do stuff like that it just gives them the power trip that they want and then I’m the one who–"

"They were fucking with you!" Katsuki cuts him off, shouting. "Now they won't. What fucking part of that aren’t you getting?!"

“This is what I was trying to tell you before! If you would just listen to me Kacchan–!”

“Oh, because according to you, you had that covered? Yeah fucking right! He put his hands on you! Those pricks are bigger and stronger than you, nerd! Be smart!”

"Right," Izuku says, voice flat. "Great. Thanks. I should go."

"Izuku," Katsuki says, genuinely confused, "what the fuck?"

"It's fine," Izuku says, "Dad’s picking me up anyway."

"No," Katsuki says, roughly, shaking his head quickly. "No, I don't get it. What did I do?"

"Nothing," Izuku says, tiredly. He runs a hand through his mess of hair, before dragging the hand down his face with a sigh. "It's fine, Kacchan. This is just not how I imagined tonight going."

"Izuku—" Katsuki really doesn't have a clue.

Izuku gently hands Katsuki the can of Coke. "You should finish this," he says. "It's the last one. I'll see you on Monday, okay?"

—

"Well," Shoto says. "That went well."

—

Katsuki still doesn't get what he did wrong.

—--

Chapter Text

“Hey, kiddo,” Toshinori says good naturedly, grinning at Izuku as he pulls open the car door and climbs inside. 

“Hey, dad,” Izuku murmurs distractedly and pulls his seatbelt on. 

Just act natural and casual. We’ll be home in less than ten minutes. Keep it together, Izuku.

“Did you wanna stop by anywhere on the way home? Get some burgers? I don’t know if, um, these kinds of parties have food. You must be hungry.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine,” Izuku says. “I ate right after the game.”

It was his school’s interpretation of gross stadium food, which is to say it was dramatically more gross. That didn’t stop Izuku from shoveling the whole chili dog down, though. At the time, he’d been rattled with nerves and decided food was the best distraction as he waited for Katsuki to finish doing whatever it is rugby players do after winning a game. He had assumed it would take awhile, and he’d been right. Still, he stayed and he waited. Shaky with nerves the entire time. 

Idiot, Izuku thinks to himself. What did you think would happen, huh? What did you expect? Stupid, stupid, stupid—

“Uh, well, even if you’re not hungry we could get milkshakes or something, hm? C’mon, we’re already out on a Friday night!”

—You’re a loser and you know it, why would Kacchan think any different—

“Okay, listen. I want to give you your privacy and all, Izuku, but please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, why,” Izuku mumbles from behind his fingers. 

“Well, because you’re sitting there with your head between your knees and your hands over your face. C’mon, kiddo. If something happened, you can tell me. Did you not have a fun time at the party?”

“It’s fine, dad, really,” Izuku insists, popping his head back up. “I had a good time! Um, we won the rugby game, too.”

“Oh, that’s great. Your friend must have been ecstatic!”

“Yup,” Izuku says. 

“Sorry, what’s his name again?”

Izuku frowns, before it clicks, and then he throws a vicious and pointed glare at Toshinori. 

“Very funny, dad,” Izuku says sharply, crossing his arms. 

Toshinori only laughs and laughs. “Sorry,” he says, entirely unapologetic. “Couldn’t help myself. I think your sign came out just perfect. With it’s very large, glittery letters.”

“You stared at it for thirty seconds and then cackled at it!”

“Because it was so good!”

“Well, he said he liked it! So it’s fine,” Izuku says, and then considers for a moment that maybe Katsuki had actually secretly hated it. “Unless he actually secretly hated it. Which is a huge possibility.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Toshinori points out. “If Katsuki is really your friend, he’d appreciate it no matter what.”

And that’s a point Izuku really does not want to dwell on at the moment, so he’s relieved when they pull up the driveway to their house. His dad puts the car in park and Izuku breathes out, relieved. 

“Izuku,” Toshinori begins right as Izuku has his hand on the door. Izuku turns to face him as carefully as he can. 

“Yeah?”

“...You would tell me if something was wrong, right? Like if… kids were bothering you again. You’d tell me? Because I only want you to be happy and enjoy school. That’s all I want for you.”

And Izuku has always been a crybaby, so it’s a surprise to no one in the vehicle when he bites his lip and tears begin to stream down his face. 

“Oh, Izuku,” Toshinori sighs, not unkindly. 

“Sorry,” Izuku stammers as he wipes his face. He shakes his head shamefully. “It’s stupid. I’m being stupid, dad.”

“Izuku, you’re the smartest person I know. Don’t be so hard on yourself, I’m sure we can fix this. Tell me what’s wrong,” Toshinori pleads, and Izuku can hear the fear and worry laced in his words. 

Not wanting to cause his step-dad any ounce of stress, Izuku sniffs back his tears and takes a deep breath before he speaks. 

“I’m… I embarrassed myself,” Izuku says in a small voice. “In front of everyone. And I overreacted and now I probably seem like a psycho and Kacchan won’t want to be around me anymore, he was just trying to look out for me but I…” 

Right outside the window Izuku can see the trees in their front yard lightly dancing with the night breeze. It reminds him of drama class from a few weeks ago. Ms. Saito had asked the class to imitate ‘two forces of nature colliding and interacting with each other.’ After class, Katsuki had complained about the prompt to Izuku for longer than he usually complained about class. 

“What the hell kinda hippy shit is that? Like how can she expect normal high school students to understand what the fuck she’s saying?”

“It’s not that complicated, Kacchan. She just wanted us to imitate a scene of nature! The ocean tide crashing onto the shore of a beach, or a person getting struck by lightning, or–”

“Or the wind blowing through the trees?” Katsuki had said, and when Izuku glanced over at him, Katsuki was staring at him with that same look in his eyes he always has. 

Attentive. Patient. Charmed and amused in a way that made Izuku feel unbearably out of place. 

Really looking at Izuku. 

“You saw me,” Izuku had replied, dumbly. “I mean, obviously! We’re in class together! I just didn’t know you were paying attention. Usually you’re just on your phone.”

Katsuki had rolled his eyes and smirked with that teasing charm of his (that never failed to make Izuku’s insides melt) . 

“I always watch you. See what you come up with. Especially when every prompt that lady gives us is batshit crazy. But, you know.” Then Katsuki shrugged, fronting with the cool and casual air he always used when he was trying to appear uncaring. “You usually come up with a cool interpretation, or whatever. I don’t know. It’s funny watching you guys spaz out sometimes.”

Izuku had merely hummed in response, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He would never allow himself to say too much or assume things. Not with Katsuki. 

It was silent between them for a few more beats, only the sound of their feet on the pavement as they walked out the front doors of the school, before Katsuki spat out, “You were a fucking really good tree today. In class. The prompt made no fucking sense after Ms. Saito said it, but you know, after watching you…” 

Katsuki had clicked his tongue, jutting his chin out to gesture at the line of pine trees skirting the front of the school. Their leaves danced a gentle waltz with the afternoon breeze. 

“It all made sense.”

“Izuku?” 

“Sorry,” Izuku says quietly. He shakes his head and turns to look up at his dad. “I just… I think I want Kacchan to like me so badly that I ended up probably making him hate me. It’s all my fault.”

Toshinori exhales deeply through his nostrils and nods his head sagely in understanding. 

“This boy,” he says carefully. “He means a lot to you, hm?”

“Yeah,” Izuku says, because there’s no point in denying it at this point.

Toshinori watches him and waits for Izuku to say more, and when Izuku only tears up again in answer, he simply leans over and hugs his son. 

“I left the party mad at him,” Izuku sniffs into Toshinori’s collar, swallowing his hiccups. “Or I, I thought I was. I was j-just mad at myself. For being such a loser.”

“You’re not a loser, Izuku,” his step-dad says firmly. 

“I acted like one. At the party,” Izuku manages to say before a new wave of tears washes down his cheeks. “He was trying to defend me and I yelled at him.”

“Defend you?” Toshinori asks, leaning back slightly to look down at his son. “From what?”

“Some kids at the party. They were being jerks. I tried to handle it myself but then Kacchan stepped in. I tried explaining to him that he didn’t need to, but he wouldn’t listen to me! Kacchan almost got in a fight about the whole thing, dad. I feel like an idiot. All that training we did and I can’t even handle things myself.”

“Oh, hush, it has nothing to do with that,” Toshinori says dismissively. “You’re more than capable, Izuku. We both know you can easily out spar many of my students with only half the amount of training. I don’t know how big these guys are but I’m fully confident your physical ability to protect yourself was not the issue here.”

Izuku tilts his head up at his step-dad in bewilderment. “Wha– what the heck do you mean?”

Toshinori gives a light, almost exasperated laugh through his nose. “Your friend Katsuki was being protective of you. That’s all. I don’t believe he was thinking about whether you could fight those guys off yourself. He was probably just focused on how angry he was that they were bothering you. I wouldn’t take it personally, kiddo. If anything, the kid probably cares for you a great deal.”

“Oh,” Izuku says, quietly. 

The silence that follows is punctuated only by the sound of Toshinori quietly tapping on his phone, typing something into his GPS before he keys the engine again. 

“Dad? Where are we going,” Izuku asks. He looks up at his dad in confusion as he puts the car in reverse, backing out of their driveway. 

“We’re getting milkshakes, son. Because that’s what you do when dealing with teenage heartache. Nine out of ten doctors recommend it.”

Izuku rolls his eyes and only semi-reluctantly buckles his seatbelt back on. It’s only a few seconds later that he goes stiff, turning to his dad with wide eyes. 

“What the heck do you mean teenage heartache?!”

Toshinori only laughs.

—----

“What the hell did he do,” Ochako demands to know the second she picks up his call. 

Izuku just sighs. He buries his face further into his pillow. He’s finally comfortable and hidden under a blanket in bed, only a dim bedside light on in his bedroom. Here in the safety of his room everything feels less life or death. He hates to admit it, but the milkshake did help. 

“Ochako, it’s not like that. A lot of stuff happened and most of it was not Kacchan’s fault.”

“Start from the beginning, tell me everything,” Ochako tells him primly. 

Izuku does. He tells her everything about the game and how his sign was well received. By Katsuki, at least. He tells her all about meeting Katsuki’s friends and how nice they were to him and even called him by his full name– which, inevitably, brings up the worst part of the night. 

“I was right in the middle of confronting him about the whole thing, too when those guys came in and ruined everything,” Izuku says. He flips over to lay flat on his back. He stares up at the ceiling fan going round and round. “I just– I hate knowing that he thinks I’m so lame, that he had to tell all of his friends to walk on eggshells around me. He probably just feels guilty about the name thing and I–” Izuku cuts off, emotion choking him up. “I thought we were really friends, you know?” 

“Huh,” Ochako says. 

After nearly a minute of silence, Izuku frowns, looking down at the phone to make sure they weren’t disconnected. 

“Ochako? You there?”

“Yeah, just… oh god. Izuku, I have to tell you something. And I think you might get really mad at me for it.”

“No way,” Izuku says, sitting up quickly. “Ochako you can tell me anything.”

“God dammit,” Ochako says, a clear pout in her voice. She takes in a deep breath, before she says, “The name thing– it’s my fault. Bakugou was just trying to help. I kinda… sorta confronted him in class when you were busy with rehearsals once. I just wanted to see for myself what his intentions were with you!”

“Intentions? Ochako, what are you talking about?”

“I was worried, Izuku! I was… scared for you,” she continues, voice going soft and sad. “You were going to make him a sign and I was scared he was trying to embarrass you on purpose. So I threatened him? Just a little bit. And reminded him that he’s to blame for the awful nickname and to take responsibility for his actions. I guess he actually took it seriously and told his friends to look out for you. It’s my fault, Izuku.”

“Oh,” Izuku murmurs. He digests that new information with a funny feeling stirring in his gut. Hopefully it’s not the milkshake. “Ochako, I’m not mad at you. You were just looking out for me.”

“Yeah but now everything is a mess and you’re fighting with Bakugou because of a huge misunderstanding!”

Izuku bites his lip, desperate to reassure his friend that it’s not her fault. He shakes his head. 

“No, Ochako, I overreacted. I just felt… so embarrassed. I imagined Kacchan going around, telling everyone what a baby I am that needs protection. I don’t want him to think of me that way, you know? But I made things worse by getting so upset. He was just looking out for me… and so were you.”

Izuku sighs, collapsing backwards onto his bed again. Everything sort of falls into place in his head now and while he’s happy to see the bigger picture, he still feels like crap. 

“God. I’m so stupid, Ochako. Why do I always mess things up?”

“That’s not true and you know it, Izuku. Bakugou messed up by not listening to you. He should have let you explain why you were upset instead of talking down to you like that, as if he knows what’s best for you. You’re right: friends are equals.”

“Yeah,” Izuku says softly. His chest is tight with an emotion he can hardly understand. “Ochako. What do you think of Kacchan? Really.”

“I think he’s obnoxious,” Ochako mutters. When Izuku makes a chiding sound, she scoffs. “Okay, fine. He’s not so bad I guess. I mean he seems to really care about you, so. From what you’ve told me he actually seems kind of… cool. I mean he risked getting in a fight with other meatheads for you, Izuku.”

“I know,” Izuku says, hand now clutching at the strange feeling in his chest. He can’t quite catch it, but it helps to feel his heartbeat hammering under his fingers. “I don’t really know what to think. I want him to like me, Ochako. But is it even possible? Won’t he always think I’m too much of a loser?”

“Izuku, it doesn’t seem like he thinks you’re a loser at all,” she says gently. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. But I think he might like you way, way more than you realize.”

A warm flush spreads like a rash all over his face and neck. Izuku shakes his head on instinct, heart drumming. 

“Wh– what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know what I mean,” Ochako says, and oh, great. He can practically hear the way she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Think about it, Izuku. Everything you told me about tonight points to him really caring about you and wanting to spend time with you. More specifically, alone time. I wouldn’t say that unless I meant it.”

Izuku whines, covering his face with a pillow. He rolls around a little before shoving the pillow away with a loud groan of despair. 

“It’s impossible, Ochako! It just is! I mean– look at him!” 

“Yeah, I have! And every time I do, he’s just looking at you, Izuku!”

Izuku screams. He’s not proud of it, but he does.

“What! What do you mean?!”

“He stares at you all the time, Izuku! From his little corner! At first I thought it was weird and menacing but now I think he’s just crushing on you!”

“No! No! It can’t be! There’s no way!”

“Why not?!”

“Because he’s literally the hottest guy at school! And the most popular! Girls are throwing themselves at him everyday, it’s insane!”

“Yeah exactly! And how many of those girls does he seem interested in, hm?! None! He dates none of them because he wants your green freckled ass!”

Izuku screams, a second time. 

“Stop it! You’re gonna get my hopes up and I really, really can’t handle that right now!”

“Oh?” she purrs, finally putting a halt to the yelling and hysterics. “So you want him to have a crush on you, then?”

“Wh–” Izuku cuts himself off with a squawk, thoroughly betrayed by his best friend. “That’s not– I didn’t say that! It’s not like that!”

“Izuku, come on. You’ve basically been crushing on him since year one. You fought tooth and nail for the lead in last year’s main production because you knew he would be there watching the show.”

Izuku blushes all the way down to his knees, which probably classifies as a medical condition. Perhaps he’s dying. That’s the only explanation for the feeling flooding his insides and burning him from the inside out. 

“I did not! I wanted the role! He had nothing to do with it!”

“Oh really? Then why did you check the crowd from the wings every fifteen seconds before the show? And during the show? Because you were looking for your little good luck charm.”

“Ugh! Okay, fine,” Izuku concedes. He’s not sure he can handle more humiliation tonight. “I noticed him coming to the shows and wanted to impress him. Is that so bad?”

“Of course not,” Ochako says with a sigh. “Izuku, there’s nothing wrong with having a crush. Especially when that crush is one hundred percent requited.”

“No,” Izuku shakes his head, defeat and disappointment and maybe even bitterness clouding his mind. “Kacchan is amazing. Like really, really amazing. And everyone loves him. I don’t stand a chance, Ochako. There’s just no way.”

Ochako sighs, irritated but understanding. “Well. Maybe I can’t convince you… but I’m sure Bakugou will.”

Chapter Text

"Hey," Katsuki says, outside the drama studio on Monday morning.

"Oh," Izuku says, voice quiet. There’s a look on his face that Katsuki can’t even begin to decipher. "Hi."

"You left pretty quickly on Friday," Katsuki says, awkwardly.

"Yeah, sorry," Izuku says, and he won’t meet Katsuki’s eyes. "I had to go meet my dad."

"Okay," Katsuki says. "But, you know, if I did something—"

"We should go inside," Izuku says, "because I think we're already late. You don’t want another detention, right?"

"Right," Katsuki says, "Sure."

—

Izuku ducks out of class early.

—

"I thought you had rugby practice today?" Izuku asks as soon as he arrives at rehearsal, gripping his backpack tightly. He looks down at where Katsuki sits on their play’s set. 

"I did," Katsuki says, brandishing a paintbrush uselessly. "I do, I mean. I told coach my knee was hurting."

"Isn't that pretty stupid?" Izuku asks, after a long moment of appearing shocked. "Like, you might not get to play if he doesn't think you're fit?"

Katsuki shrugs, but he has to viscerally stop himself from running out of the drama studio and across campus to the rugby pitch right that second. 

"Doesn't matter," he lies. "Not this once."

Izuku looks bewildered. 

"So… you came to rehearsal instead?"

"Yeah," Katsuki nods. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes. Very much, yes," Izuku says, nodding quickly. "What are you doing here, Kacchan?"

Katsuki shrugs. "Dunno," he says, instead of saying I came to see you, which is totally lame. "I'm sorry about Friday. Shoto says I was kind of a douche."

"Kind of," Izuku says hesitantly. He looks down. Quietly, he adds, "Sorry I’m such a loser."

Katsuki shakes his head, scowling. 

"You're not a fucking loser, Izuku.”

"No," Izuku whispers, to his shoes. "but I am."

Katsuki swallows. "I don't think -" 

“It’s okay, Kacchan. You–” Izuku tails off briefly, and then takes a breath, “You were just trying to look out for me. I’m sorry I got defensive. It’s a sensitive subject for me, but you didn’t know that. But you also should have listened to me.”

“You’re right,” Katsuki says, quickly. “I was all keyed up from those pricks pissing me off, and I wasn’t fucking listening. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Izuku says with a small smile. He watches Katsuki for a long careful moment, but Katsuki doesn’t mind. Staring at Izuku has quickly become one of his favorite pastimes. “... you know, I’ve never had someone do something like that for me before. Thanks, Kacchan.”

Katsuki swallows. He counts to three in his head and then hopes for the best, blood rushing in his ears, as he says,

“Yeah, well, you don’t deserve to be treated like that. You’d have to be a dumbass not to see how fuckin’ special you are.”

Izuku goes still. He stares back at Katsuki, stunned. 

“What?” Izuku says, after a moment. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said. You’re really somethin’ else, Izuku. If other people don’t see that, then it’s their fucking loss.”

Izuku seems to want to disagree but knows he shouldn’t. Katsuki is helpless to stop the way he stands up and steps into his space, drawn to Izuku so magnetically. 

“You’re not a loser,” Katsuki repeats, quieter. He reaches over until he can knock his knuckles into the side of Izuku’s head, so softly. “Says me. And who gives a fuck what anyone else thinks. You don’t need ‘em.”

Izuku’s eyes go shiny, searching Katsuki for something unclear. His gaze jumps all over the blonde’s face, and Katsuki can’t help but wonder just what it is Izuku sees when he looks at him. 

“You’re different than what I’d thought you’d be like,” Izuku mumbles, and then his eyes widen with realization. He stumbles back a little to put distance between them, but Katsuki doesn’t let him, walking back into his space and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“In a good way or a bad way?” Katsuki blurts.

Izuku stops. His eyes are pinched and his freckles stand out again.

“In the best way,” Izuku admits. He reaches up to squeeze Katsuki’s hand beneath his own quickly.

It undoes Katsuki completely, from head to toe. He finds himself grinning triumphantly, and he knows it's embarrassing but for once that’s okay. 

"Izuku!" Ms. Saito yells, and they both jump, startled. "If you've finished!"

"Dammit," Izuku whispers, and squeezes Katsuki’s hand one last time before he lets go and turns around to dart back onto the stage.

—

Katsuki runs out of things to paint and rehearsal still isn't over and no way in hell is he leaving already without a clear resolution to their unfinished conversation. Well, it’s unfinished for him, he’s not sure about Izuku. 

He hides in a seat in the corner, out of view of Ms. Saito, and slides his phone out of his pocket when it buzzes with a text.

Have you kissed and made up yet?

fuck u, Katsuki texts, eloquently.

I am in the parking lot , Shoto texts, Hurry up.

you go, Katsuki texts. Ms. Saito let everyone else go home, and on stage, she's working on the choreography to Ladies' Choice with Izuku. 

im gonna hang around here.

Loser.

says you, Katsuki types. 

Across the theater Izuku drops to his knees and slides across the stage, and Katsuki stifles an actual groan.

—

"What are you still doing here?" Izuku asks, wide-eyed, when he's finally finished up. Pink cheeks is at his side and she watches Katsuki like he’s a live bomb. 

Katsuki grits his teeth and takes a breath. 

"Waiting for you," he punches out, and deliberately doesn't blush, not even when Izuku stops short and stares at him, a smile curving across his face. 

Katsuki maybe flushes a little when pink cheeks snorts at him, before she waves goodbye to Izuku and walks off. She rolls her eyes as she passes by Katsuki but she also shoots him a tiny, stealthy thumbs up. 

Well. That’s new. 

"Really?" Izuku continues, clearly not letting it go. “You’ve been waiting for me this whole time, Kacchan?”

"Yeah, fucking whatever," Katsuki says, and then points at three large bundles of papers on the floor by the stage. "What the hell are those?"

"Flyers for the musical!" Izuku says. "We always have tons printed up but there are still seats free. You'd think kids would want to come and see the school musical, right?"

He looks genuinely perplexed and Katsuki can't find it in himself to point out that coming to see the school musical is absolutely the last thing most of their student body would ever want to do on a free evening. 

"Uh," he says. "Okay."

"I'm going to start handing flyers out tomorrow," Izuku earnestly goes on. "Maybe if I start early, more kids will buy tickets."

"Right," Katsuki says, and feels the tension in his gut spike. He steels himself like he’s heading out to war. "Fuck. Shit. I could help you out, if you want?"

Izuku turns and gapes at him. 

“Help out? Like… with the flyers?”

“Yeah, what the fuck else would I be talking about?!”

Katsuki knows he’s red to his hairline, and he’d appreciate it if Izuku could just take a fucking hint already. 

"You mean it?… seriously, Kacchan?" 

No, Katsuki thinks, this is the most embarrassing thing I've ever done. I will never recover from this. 

"I don’t say shit I don’t mean," he snaps, trying not to picture Shoto's look of horror, and then, inevitably, his subsequent glee. "Tomorrow, right?"

“Yes!” Izuku just beams, his entire face lit up and bright again. He steps closer to Katsuki in his excitement. Katsuki sees his freckles peeking through the stage makeup. 

And the fear that he would never see this smile ever again finally dissipates. 

—

They stand around in the parking lot for a long while afterwards, talking about comics. Neither seems to want to leave and go home, a thought that sits pleasantly in Katsuki’s gut. 

As it turns out, they grew up reading a lot of the same hero comics and it delights Izuku to no end to learn that Katsuki is nerdier than he initially let on. 

“Kacchan, you know what this means, right? We can talk about the new releases together! I’ve been keeping up with Eraserhead the most recently, I’m just getting to the lore about his goggles–”

Izuku seems to harbor some kind of nerd crush on the hero, which would annoy Katsuki otherwise but for now he finds it cute, if only because it means that Izuku spends ten minutes leaning up against the bike racks talking about Eraserhead’s quirk technique while Katsuki nods a lot and stares at Izuku’s mouth. 

Then it turns out that Izuku doesn’t actually own any of the comics, and just checks them out from the library or reads them in bookstores and comic shops. Katsuki finds this unbelievable, especially considering his step-dad works right next to a comic shop. 

“I can just go right next door and read them anytime. Why spend the money, you know?”

“So that you can read them whenever you want, nerd. I own the entire collection of Hawks and Best Jeanist comics, specifically for this reason.”

He’s maybe a secret Best Jeanist obsessive, and maintains the unpopular opinion that his comic series is one of the greatest of all time. Katsuki spends another ten minutes explaining how and why the serialization has some of the best action sequences and creative use of quirks in the entire Hero Universe, when he notices Izuku grinning a lot as he watches him talk. 

"What?" he says, suddenly self conscious. 

"Nothing," Izuku says, laughing. "You're just really cool, that's all."

"Shut up," Katsuki says. "Everything is cool to you, nerd."

Izuku shoves him in the arm with a laugh, which is a very common way of flirting, Katsuki thinks triumphantly. 

"I should go, I guess," Izuku says.

"Why?" Katsuki asks, before he can stop himself. "You have somewhere you need to be?"

"Um," Izuku says, "no. But, don't you have to get home?"

Katsuki shrugs. "I guess," he says. "But you could come over and borrow some of my comics. You know, if you want." 

He can feel himself blushing red. 

"I'd need to call my mom," Izuku says, slowly.

"We could read them in my room, too, if you want," Katsuki adds, if only to torture himself longer.

Izuku nods, swallowing hard. 

"Okay," he says. "Cool."

—

They walk back to Katsuki's place, Katsuki wheeling his bike along beside Izuku. By the time they get home, Katsuki's got a whole list of comic books he wants to lend to Izuku.

—

"Old lady!" Katsuki yells. "Izuku's over."

"Living room," Katsuki's mom yells back. "Bring him in."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "Sorry," he says. "She's kind of weird."

"I can hear you," she calls. "Just because I'm your mom doesn't mean I'm also deaf."

Katsuki groans, and pushes into the living room, waving his hand towards the couch.

"Hag, you remember Izuku, right? Mom, Izuku, Izuku, Mom. There’s my dad’s chair that he always sits in, over there. We're going upstairs."

"Wait!" his mom calls. Katsuki rolls his eyes again, but stops. "Your dad's making burgers. Izuku, would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Mom," Katsuki says, blushing red.

"Shush, Katsuki. I'm asking Izuku, not you."

Izuku darts his eyes over to Katsuki and watches him. "Um," he says, eloquently. "Only if you don’t mind, then—"

"Katsuki doesn't mind," his mom says, briskly. "I'll go tell his dad. He's been making smoothies too, although they're probably pretty strange. He likes to engage his imagination when it comes to the blender. You might want to say no to anything that's got chili oil in it."

"Sorry," Izuku says, softly, after she's left the room.

"It’s fine," Katsuki says, awkwardly. "I don't mind."

—

They eat out on the deck, Izuku and Katsuki and Katsuki's mom and dad. Izuku piles his burger buns with lots of mustard and extra tomatoes. Katsuki watches him as he eats, which he is well aware is creepy as fuck, but he’s only just realized that he’s never actually seen the nerd eat a proper meal before. 

He’s cute, Katsuki decides, watching Izuku take small yet messy bites. Katsuki’s dad is droning on about some new docuseries that Katsuki's never watched, and Katsuki's mom's asking Izuku too many questions.

"Hag," Katsuki says, after she's asked Izuku about what his favorite class is. "Stop asking him really stupid stuff."

"It's not stupid, it's interesting," she says. "Izuku, ignore Katsuki, and finish up telling me about drama class."

"Ms. Saito’s really cool," Izuku smiles, shooting a sidelong glance at Katsuki. "She does these really awesome warm-ups where we all pretend to be clouds and other random stuff, it's a really good way of relaxing into it."

"Hmm," Katsuki's mom says. "Is this the same Ms. Saito who teaches you drama, Katsuki?"

"Maybe," Katsuki says, poking at his burger.

"And, um," she clears her throat, "does Katsuki have to pretend to be a cloud, too?"

"Hag," Katsuki warns.

"He refuses," Izuku says, with a grin. "He sits in the corner and texts Shoto instead."

"He does, does he?"

"It's really stupid," Katsuki says, petulantly, as his mom raises her eyebrows at him. "The lady is insane. She wants us to humiliate ourselves. Probably for her own damn pleasure."

"Hmmm," she says. "If I get called in to see your Guidance Counselor one more time, Katsuki, there will be trouble."

Katsuki rolls his eyes and offers Izuku more fries.

—-

When they finally escape the clutches of his insane parents, Katsuki shows Izuku his room, which is absolutely normal and fine and Katsuki is feeling very zen about it all.

“Nice, Kacchan,” Izuku says, sitting next to Katsuki’s bed and leaning back against his mattress. He holds up the Night Eye comic in his hands. “This one is good! I like it so far.”

Izuku near bed, Katsuki thinks, like a fucking caveman. Izuku in bed? Izuku and I in bed? Fuck. Oh fuck.

He definitely made the right decision placing himself as far away from Izuku as possible. He taps his fingers against his desk in rhythm with his pulse, which is to say he’s mostly just noisily pecking at the tabletop. 

He knows he’s sitting there at his desk and staring at Izuku like a freak but he quite literally feels helpless to do anything else with himself. 

—-

“It’s more comfortable over here,” Katsuki explains a whole fifteen minutes later when he finally works up the nerve to sit next to Izuku on his carpet. He flattens his back against the side of his bed and tries to relax into a normal, human-like posture. 

“Okay,” Izuku says, scratching at his neck and leaving red blotches all over. “Um, which one are you reading, Kacchan?” 

“Dunno,” he mumbles, thumbing between two different comics. “Deciding between Mandalay Mayhem or catching up on Eraserhead, since your nerd ass can’t shut up about it.”

Izuku snorts. “You can’t call me a nerd anymore. Not now that I know your deep dark secret.”

“It’s not a secret,” Katsuki says lazily and stretches out one leg. He keeps his left leg folded in, brushing against Izuku’s thigh. “Shoto found my collection a few years ago and made fun of me, up until he started reading them and got into it for a while. He got bored eventually but he’s not allowed to say shit to me about it now.”

“Oh. Well, what if I told you that I… kept notes. On all of the heroes and their quirks and storylines. And compared and analyzed everything. Would that be too nerdy?”

“That would be the exact amount of nerd I would expect from you, so, no. Not too nerdy.”

Izuku grins, then reaches for his backpack. He pulls out a thick, well tabbed black notebook, and then another one, and when he doesn’t stop after that, Katsuki throws his head back and cackles.

“Okay, yeah. This might be too nerdy.”

“Kacchan! Don’t be mean, you already said it’s fine!”

They flip through his notebooks for a while, Katsuki laughing in his face when they come across a disturbingly detailed line graph tracking quirk development in the Eraserhead comics. 

“You’re obsessed,” Katsuki says, flipping through the notebook, eyeing each page filled with Izuku’s chicken scratch writing. “These are the notes of a serial killer.”

“Stop it,” Izuku whines. “It’s not like he’s a real person. It’s just, you know. Harmless fun!”

Katsuki smirks, enjoying their proximity and Izuku’s flustered face so close to his own. He bumps their shoulders together and then never moves away, their sides flanked together. Their arms and sides line up perfectly, Katsuki thinks. It feels correct to be this close.

Katsuki goes to reach for another notebook he sees peeking out of Izuku’s backpack. The binding looks different from the spiral notebooks he’d been leafing through before, with no noticeable tabs sticking out. 

Just as he goes to pull it out, Izuku springs into action, snatching it out of his fingers before he can get a good look at it. 

“Not that one!” Izuku all but shrieks. “This is personal.”

“Hah? Why?” Katsuki challenges, miffed at being denied access to some part of Izuku. “What, is it a diary?”

“No,” Izuku says. He glances up at Katsuki. “It’s just… I’ve never shown anyone this one before.”

And he really shouldn’t have said that. Because now all that Katsuki can think about is seeing a part of Izuku no one else has seen before. He might be drunk on the feeling of being so close to the other boy and now his greediness grows. 

“Lemme see, nerd!” he says, making grabby hands for it.

“No,” Izuku hides the notebook behind his back, so it's stuck between himself and Katsuki’s bed. “It’s– it’s awkward, Kacchan!”

“What, why? Is it porn?”

“No!” Izuku shouts, and then very pointedly avoids eye contact. “It is not! You think I would carry that around in my backpack at school?!”

“Oh, so you’re sayin’ your stash stays at home, huh?”

Izuku flounders some more, his flush crawling below his collar, but he finally looks up to meet Katsuki’s gaze again so it’s a win. He must see the amused glint in the blonde’s eyes because he huffs out a breath, glaring half heartedly at Katsuki. 

“Stop teasing me.”

“I’m not teasing you. I’m always completely serious with you,” Katsuki says, briefly stunned by the words he lets slip. After a beat, he adds, “I won’t laugh or whatever it is you’re scared of. Promise.”

Izuku watches him intently for a few seconds.

“Okay, fine,” he eventually says. He flings the notebook onto Katsuki’s lap. “Just– seriously, Kacchan. Don’t laugh.”

Katsuk doesn’t know what he’d been expecting, but when he opens the notebook to its first page only to find the defined, sharp eyes of Eraserhead glaring back at him, he pauses. 

“It’s a sketchbook,” Izuku says. “I only really draw when I can’t sleep or if I’m stressed out, so. It’s just for fun.”

Katsuki flips through the notebook. There are sketches lighting up every page, alive and detailed to hell. There’s lots of heroes but there’s also sketches of his day to day environments. Katsuki is no art expert, and it’s clear that Izuku truly never intended for anyone else to see these drawings, but he thinks they’re quite good. 

“Why would I laugh,” Katsuki murmurs. “These are really fucking cool.”

“...Really?”

“Of course. You callin’ me a liar? Hey, I like this one here.”

They sift through the sketchbook together for a while. They take turns flipping pages and when their hands brush occasionally Katsuki questions if he’s in some kind of chaste period drama, because the tease of touch is enough to have his palms sweaty as hell.

Izuku seems to relax and gain some confidence as he explains each sketch and his process in vivo. He smiles brightly when Katsuki compliments his accuracy, or confirms that he wants to keep looking when Izuku asks him if he’s bored. When they reach the mid point of the notebook, a flurry of sketches catches Katsuki’s eye. All across the page are different variations of hands, all familiar looking.

Katsuki glances down at his own hands, and then back at the sketches. He repeats the process two more times before Izuku finally pipes up. 

“S-See this is why I said it was awkward!” 

“Izuku.”

“I mean– I just needed the reference, right, and you have nice hands! Oh, I k-know how that sounds, I just needed practice because hands are the hardest body part for me to sketch, and–”

“Izuk–”

“I know it’s weird! I’m sorry if you’re grossed out, I really never thought you’d ever–”

“Izuku, shut up,” Katsuki says, louder than the nerd’s rambling. And Izuku does shut up, finally, but that’s probably because Katsuki has reached out between them to hold the side of Izuku’s face in his palm.

It’s a gentle, firm touch. When Izuku doesn’t seem immediately repelled, Katsuki relaxes his hold, uncurling his fingers until he is cupping Izuku’s cheek properly. Izuku’s eyes are wide and frozen. There are red, splotchy patches expanding across his neck and face as they watch each other closely.

“Um,” Izuku says.

“You like my hands,” Katsuki says. He meant it as a question but it definitely doesn’t come out that way. 

“I, uh. Huh?”

“You said I have nice hands. You like my hands.”

“Ah… yes. Uh huh.”

Katsuki gradually lets that sink in. He takes his time while he does, lets his eyes flit across Izuku’s face, lets his thumb brush across the warm, red surface of Izuku’s cheek.

“Kacchan,” Izuku finally says. His eyes are so close to Katsuki’s and threaten to swallow his entire face.

“Is this okay?” Katsuki thinks to ask. 

“Yes,” Izuku says quickly.

“‘Kay. Good.”

Izuku nods slowly and never once loses eye contact. He takes in a deep breath, blinking rapidly, before, “It’s warm. Your hand.”

“So’s your face.”

“Mean,” Izuku says, but then the best thing in the entire universe happens when he tilts his face into the touch and smiles so fondly, right at Katsuki, like he’s everything, and also the only thing.

Katsuki licks his lips. 

“Oi. Don’t lie. I’m always nice to you.”

“That’s true,” Izuku concedes, and they’re both whispering now.

“Not when I called you Deku, though,” Katsuki says.

Izuku shrugs. 

“Wasn’t on purpose. It’s really not something I think about.”

“Still. Let me take care of it now. Please?”

Understanding dawns in Izuku’s eyes as he realizes what Katsuki is asking for. Still, Izuku hesitates.

“It’s not like I’m paying the guys to be your bodyguards or whatever, nerd. Just– if they see something, they do something.”

“No physical violence,” Izuku says suddenly. Katsuki takes a breath and prepares to argue that point, when Izuku adds, “It just comes back to bite me in the ass, Kacchan. Really. This is what I was trying to tell you before.”

All of the fight in Katsuki’s body deflates at that. There’s no way he can refuse to hear Izuku out about this a second time. 

“Okay,” Katsuki says, “I’ll let the guys know.”

“Okay,” Izuku says, nodding. “Thank you, Kacchan.”

Katsuki hums vaguely, realizing he would probably agree to anything Izuku asks of him right now. His thumb brushes along Izuku’s jaw and lower cheek. 

He can’t believe he’s allowed to do this. To be this close to Izuku and feel him in this way. It has Katsuki’s insides doing all sorts of stupid stuff. His organs have turned into erupting volcanoes, spitting out ash and desire and joy and hunger in equal measure. 

Katsuki starts to lean forward, because he has a pretty good feeling Izuku won’t mind if he does. Izuku jolts in place as Katsuki rests his forehead against his. It’s silent between them as they watch each other. The centimeters of space between their lips is heavy.

And Katsuki has never felt this way before, not once in his life. The blood rushing through his body feels electric.

He’d keep this moment forever if he could.

“Knock, knock,” Katsuki’s dad announces, pushing open Katsuki’s ajar bedroom door and walking right in. “Guess whose green tea cookies came out amazing this time! Oh, your mother gave me such a hard time with the first batch, Katsuki, you wouldn’t believe what she compared it to. Just awful. Ignore her if she tells you. Hm? You boys ok?”

“Fucking yes, old man,” Katsuki snaps. He knows he has a full body blush and he wants to set his entire body, and possibly the house, on fire. “Jesus, you know saying knock knock isn’t actually knocking, right?!”

“The door was open,” his dad says, like a fucking kicked puppy. 

“God damn it,” Katsuki grouches, fumbling around to stand up. “Okay fine, give us the stupid cookies!”

Izuku blinks up at Katsuki when he hands him the plate. 

“Here. I’ll go get us drinks. These things look dry as hell.”

“Hey!”

–-

Katsuki returns with two tall glasses of his dad’s papaya juice.

“It’s all we have,” he says, and then sits back down next to Izuku carefully. 

“That’s f-fine,” Izuku says, and then winces at himself. 

“Cool,” Katski says. 

It’s monumentally awkward and Katsuki can’t stand it. He refuses to let things feel weird between them ever again.

“Anyway, I never fucking decided what to read, nerd,” Katsuki snaps, “you distracted me with your fucking five-hundred page art portfolio.”

“Hey,” Izuku says, “you liked looking through it. You said so!”

“I say lots of things,” Katsuki grumbles pointlessly. “Here. We’re reading Mirko, then.”

“We?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki says, and scoots as close as he can to Izuku again. He throws an arm around Izuku’s shoulders and then counts to five while holding his breath so he doesn’t throw up. “You never read this one, yeah? Let’s read it.”

“Okay,” Izuku says, so quietly Katsuki barely catches it. 

—

Izuku ends up with a pile of comics ten volumes high by the time his dad's due over to pick him up.

"You have to read them all," Katsuki tells him, adding another book to the pile. "And you have to read the Mirko one tonight."

"We already read it together though," Izuku protests.

"I don't care," Katsuki says, "that was here. You have to read it on your own and I swear you'll think it's the best. I mean, you liked it, yeah?"

"Yeah," Izuku says, smiling. "It was really cool."

"Right, then," Katsuki says. "Cool."

"Yup," Izuku says.

Outside, Izuku's dad gives a friendly honk.

"I should go," Izuku says. He stands up, awkwardly balancing his huge pile of comic books.

"Lemme get you a bag," Katsuki says, tugging open his closet and rooting through his shelves until he finds an old messenger bag. "Here, you should take this."

"What, no, it's okay—"

"Shut up," Katsuki says, and holds the bag open so that Izuku can carefully place the books inside. "Now you won't drop them."

"Yeah," Izuku says quietly, turning up to look at him, and Katsuki realizes how close they're standing.

Izuku wets his lips.

Katsuki watches the movement closely, and then traces Izuku's freckles with his eyes. 

"Uh," he says, awkwardly.

"My dad's waiting," Izuku says, after a moment. "I should go."

"Right," Katsuki says, when they're down by the front door. "Thanks for coming over."

"Yeah, it was fun!"

"So," Katsuki says, fiddling with the door handle. "I guess I'll see you in the morning, then?"

"Yeah," Izuku smiles but it’s quieter than usual. "Bye, Kacchan."

"Bye," Katsuki says, lamely, and pretends like he isn't skulking on the porch until Izuku's car has disappeared around the corner.

—

"Shut up," Katsuki says, when he hands Eijirou a flyer for the school production of Hairspray the next morning.

—

"Not a fucking word," Katsuki tells Shoto, handing him a whole handful of flyers. "Go and stand over there and catch people coming out of the library."

Shoto, to his credit, doesn't say anything. He says nothing pretty loudly, though.

—

"Shut up," Katsuki says, as the whole varsity rugby team files past, each with their hand out for a flyer, "shut up, shut up, shut up."

—

By the end of the day, the entire cheerleading squad is wearing Hairspray pins.

Chapter Text

Izuku looks kind of dazed when he comes up to Katsuki in between classes. 

"Kacchan," he says, eyes wide and reverent. "Kacchan, people are coming to see my show. They're coming to see me. On stage."

"Yeah, no shit,” Katsuki grunts. Wasn't that the whole fucking point of Katsuki humiliating himself?

"Because of you," Izuku says, beaming.

"They'll all see how good you are, now," Katsuki pushes out, quickly. He doesn't dare meet Izuku's eyes. "Shut up," he snaps, feeling pathetic. "Whatever, I have to go."

"Okay," Izuku says with a smile shining brightly in his voice. "Thank you, Kacchan."

—

“Katsuki,” Ms. Saito beckons him over with a wave of her hand from where she stands by the stage, observing the dance rehearsal during class. Katsuki saunters over to her with his arms crossed. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’ll be straightforward with you. We’ve sold more tickets for the show these past two days than we have during the last two weeks combined,” she tells him. Her eyes remain trained on the stage. “All because you’re telling students to come see our show and passing out fliers.”

Katsuki nods, slowly.

“Yeah, I know. That was the whole fucking point.”

Ms. Saito quirks an eyebrow, finally turning to regard him with squinted eyes. 

“Don’t push your luck. Watch the language.”

“Sorry, Ms. Saito,” Katsuki drones. 

“I know what you’re doing and why you’re doing it,” she continues, and once again turns to face the stage, where Izuku leads the rehearsal, “and it’s honestly very sweet, Katsuki. And greatly appreciated.”

Maroon blooms hot and dark across Katsuki’s face. He kicks the side of the stage. 

“I dunno what the hell you’re talking about!”

“Uh huh. Listen. It’s not possible to pass my class without participation points, and you, sir, have not joined us in a single class exercise so far. However–” she puts a hand up when Katsuki stiffens, rearing back to start complaining, “Because you’ve helped out with the fliers and mobilizing the student body, I am awarding you twenty-five participation points. It’s not enough to pass, but you still have time to earn the rest of the points needed.” 

“Oh,” Katsuki says. His fists unclench and hang limp at his sides.

“You can say thank you, now,” Ms. Saito says, tilting her head up.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. 

“Thank you Ms. Saito.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiles at Katsuki then and it surprises him for a moment. “It wasn’t my idea, though. It was Izuku’s.”

Katsuki stares at her dumbly while she shakes her head. 

“He came up to me very excited this morning and told me all about the fliers. He said 'it’s so amazing, it should count as class participation, don’tcha think, Ms. S? ’” Ms. Saito laughs, her chunky, brass earrings swinging with the motion. “He thought he was being so sly. Well. It’s a fair idea, so I’ll allow it this once. And only this once, Katsuki.”

She nods at him in dismissal and then turns to address the stage ensemble with a loud clap of her hands.

Katsuki watches the rehearsal distractedly for a few moments, before he catches Izuku’s eye. Katsuki kinda grins and exaggeratedly mouths, thanks nerd.

Izuku blinks at him. He slowly catches on, expression brightening out in a wide smile before he pumps his fists in victory. As if he were the one being given the extra credit. 

Katsuki stands a little longer by the stage and watches the rehearsal with Ms. Saito. 

—

"Alright," Shoto says at the end of their English class, with a severe look on his face. "It’s getting serious. If I don't make fun of your stupid crush soon, I'm going to explode.”

"It's not stupid," Katsuki snaps.

Shoto points at the Hairspray pin on Katsuki's backpack.

"Fuck," Katsuki says, with despair. "Okay. It’s stupid. Meet me after practice. You can say shit once it’s safe at my house."

"Excellent," Shoto says.

—

"I can’t believe you’re dating the musical theater kid," Shoto says, dropping his school bag on Katsuki’s otherwise spotless floor and sprawling across Katsuki's bed. “All these years we’ve been watching his plays and it turns out you were perving on him the entire time. You complained and complained but always kept coming with me… actually, I should have realized sooner.”

“We’re not dating! Fuck off, you’re taking up all the space on my fucking bed," Katsuki says, nudging at Shoto repeatedly with his knee so that he moves over to make space. "And at least he has a name. Yours could still be the janitor."

"He's not the janitor," Shoto says. "And before you ask, I just know."

Katsuki grunts, "Any closer to figuring out who he is?"

"Not really. But his birthday's coming up. He's getting a wide-angle lens for his camera."

"All the better for taking candid pictures of you with," Katsuki says, rolling onto his side. "Not creepy at all."

"It doesn't feel creepy."

"Well," Katsuki says, "that's fine I guess."

“He asked where I'm going to be on his birthday, so he could take a picture of me."

"Don't you think it's kind of fucked up that you still don't know his name?"

"I guess," Shoto says. "Don't you think it's kind of fucked up how you're totally in love with the weird kid who tried to bring you lunch and you never even told me?"

"His name's Izuku," Katsuki says, after a reluctant pause. "And I just—" he tails off. "I didn't not tell you."

"Yeah," Shoto says, turning to look at him properly, "you did. You didn’t tell me, Katsuki. On purpose.”

"I didn't know what to fucking say," Katsuki spits out. "I'm not—this isn't fucking funny to me. It’s not a joke. It's like… I like guys, or whatever. I like this guy."

"Yeah," Shoto says, "I know."

"I really like him," Katsuki says and covers his face with both hands. Now that he’s started, the words don’t want to stop. "I actually really like him, it’s so fucking stupid, Shoto. I want to date him and all that shit. And it feels like we’re on the same page sometimes, I swear, but he doesn’t say anything so I have no idea what he wants and it’s driving me fucking crazy!"

"I know," Shoto says, softly. "I know."

"Fuck," Katsuki snaps. He feels hot all over. "I'm so stupid."

"I know that, too," Shoto says, and he pats Katsuki’s shoulder. "I've always known that part."

"Screw you," Katsuki says, finally dropping his hands to punch Shoto in the arm. He feels all weird inside, and his hands are shaking. He's just come out and it's this huge, momentous moment in his life but it’s happened in his bedroom on a random weekday and he didn't plan it. He didn't plan any of it.

"You okay?" Shoto asks.

"Kind of," Katsuki admits, shrugging a shoulder. "I didn't think—" he stops. Swallows hard. It’s a little bit like jumping off a cliff when he says, "Fuck. I'm gay. Seriously."

Outside his bedroom, his mom drops a basket of laundry.

—

Katsuki scrambles to his feet, his heart beating loudly in his chest. 

"Mom?" he says, his mouth dry. His bedroom door isn't closed properly, again, and he pulls it all the way open.

His mom's in the hallway not too far outside his bedroom, laundry all over the floor, the basket down by her feet. She looks really pale, and her eyes are wide. 

"Katsuki," is all she says.

"Mom, did you—" he doesn't know what to say. "Were you listening?"

"I didn't mean to," she says, haltingly.

"But, you heard me," Katsuki manages. There's a ringing in his ears, traveling back and forth, from one side to the other. "You heard what I said."

"I, uh," his mom shakes her head. "Katsuki," she says, again, and then she begins to cry.

An eerie feeling drops in Katsuki’s gut. Something close to sudden, engulfing grief. 

"I should, uh, go," Shoto says roughly, appearing at his shoulder. "I'll call you."

Katsuki doesn't say anything, just moves out of the way so that Shoto can slip out and down the stairs. The front door goes a moment later.

His mom wipes at her cheeks with the back of her hands. Her voice is quiet and so unlike herself, as she asks, “How long?”

Katsuki doesn't know what the hell she's asking. 

"I don't know," he says, helplessly. "A while." 

His eyes prick with tears. This is his mom, and secretly he'd never been scared about how his parents were going to react. His parents are annoying as hell and way too protective but he’s always felt, deep down, that they’re cool. He’s taken a look at his peers' families and he knows. He knows that most kids don’t get parents like his. He knows this. 

He doesn't want to be proven wrong.

"Okay," she says, still crying. Katsuki's never seen his mom cry like this, except maybe when her mother passed away. Katsuki was only six years old but he remembers the broken, lost look on his mother’s face as clear as daylight. 

"Mom," Katsuki says. He holds his hand out towards her but she avoids his touch, pulling herself away and suddenly he hurts in a new, terrifying way he’s never experienced before. 

"I can't— like this—" she hiccups, and she takes a step back, bumping into the wall.

Katsuki watches as she goes into her bedroom and closes the door.

—

"Mom," Katsuki says, knocking on her bedroom door. "I picked up the laundry."

He can hear her crying.

She doesn't answer, and he leaves the basket with clean folded clothes by her closed door, and goes downstairs.

—

His dad gets home an hour later.

He’s shrugging off his jacket and greeting his son happily before he takes a second look and really sees the look on Katsuki’s face. 

The serene expression slips off of his face.

“What’s wrong,” Masaru asks, quick and panicked all at once.

Katsuki shrugs inanely. His arms are loosely folded over his chest as he sits, slouched on the couch, both feet planted firmly on the hardwood. 

“Ask mom.”

His dad begins to walk towards him instead, but Katsuki abruptly shakes his head. He sits up a little more to lean forward and point an accusing finger upstairs. 

“Go ask mom!” Katsuki snaps at him. 

His dad nods reluctantly and turns to run up the stairs. 

—-

There's a text from an unknown number on his phone. 

It says, hi :) Best Jeanist comics are awesome, ur right! Just finished the last one. Also mom says do u want to come over tomorrow? We’re having katsudon!

There's another one, too. 

this is Izuku by the way! 

Katsuki is brought back to the post-it note he tacked on to the tall stack of comics he lent to Izuku; the one he hastily scribbled his phone number on, refusing to think too much about it. At the time, the simple act made his heart pound with anticipation. 

Katsuki deletes both messages and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes.

—

"Hey, kiddo," his dad says, softly, from the doorway sometime later. 

Katsuki's sitting on top of the kitchen counter now, kicking his heels roughly against the cupboard doors. At some point, he’d walked into the kitchen for something, maybe water, a distraction, but he’d never managed to actually get anything. 

"You know your mom hates it when you sit up there and kick her cabinets," his dad says, hands folded as he walks up to his son. 

Katsuki shrugs. 

"She already hates me, anyway."

"Katsuki –" 

"She does!" Katsuki shouts and staunchly refuses to cry.

"She doesn't hate you," his dad ways, and his voice is wobbly, as if the words hurt to say. "Neither of us do. We love you. So much, Katsuki."

"Fuck! Whatever.”

"She doesn't," his dad reiterates firmly, but his eyes are pleading. "It was a shock for her and she reacted badly, and that’s…” his dad trails off tightly, and it’s only now that Katsuki looks up and realizes his dad is pissed. 

“That’s not on you, Katsuki. That’s on your mom. She screwed up, not you. You can be mad at your mom if you want to be and I wouldn’t blame you. But please know she could never hate you.”

“I’m not mad,” Katsuki says, and oddly it’s the truth. 

He’s not mad. He’s fucking devastated. Sick to his stomach. He isn’t ready for any of this, and that knowledge terrifies him. He’s not ready. But it’s here— the change has already happened and he’s floundering to stay afloat. None of it feels real or right and Katsuki doesn’t have a damn clue what he’s supposed to do with himself.

A familiar spike of nausea shoots through him. Like twisting his knee on game day. 

“She’s never gonna look at me the same way ever again,” Katsuki says, and he feels more than sees his dad reaching out to wipe his tears away with warm, dry fingers. 

“I’m so sorry, Katsuki. Mom let you down. She let me down, too.”

“She cried the same way she did when grandma died,” Katsuki continues, unhearing. “Like I had died.”

“Oh, Katsuki,” his dad says wetly, pained, and he steps closer to his son until he can tug him into his arms and kiss the top of his head. 

"Everything will be okay," his dad reassures him. "I’m gonna take care of this, okay? You don’t need to worry about anything. You didn’t do anything wrong.” His dad struggles to speak for a moment, and when he finds his voice, he says, “I love you, Katsuki. You are my perfect child. Okay?"

Katsuki swallows thickly and doesn’t respond because his throat is so tight from holding back tears it aches. It’s several long minutes before his dad lets Katsuki pull away from his hug, and after he does, Katsuki drops onto a chair around the kitchen island, exhausted. 

There’s a few beats of clumsy silence where it’s clear that Katsuki’s dad wants to say something but has no idea how to. In the end, he just blurts it out. 

"So," his dad says, spreading his hands apart. "Boys, huh."

"Don’t," Katsuki says, and wills the ground to swallow him up whole. “Just don’t even go there, old man.” 

"Fine, alright. So. Do you, um, have a boyfriend?"

"Dad," Katsuki hisses and blushes bright red. When he looks up, his dad is bright red too. "No."

"Mom said there was a boy," his dad goes on gently. “She didn’t mention a name, so I couldn’t help but, you know, wonder and so I wanted to ask if maybe–”

“If you ask me if I’m dating Shoto, I’m running away. You will never see me again.”

“Okay! Okay, I just had to ask. Can you blame me? You’ve been inseparable since you were ten, it’s sweet.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes at his dad suspiciously. 

“Were you hoping it was Shoto?”

“Wha– no! I mean– I’d be fine and happy for you if it were him, but–”

“Stop talking,” Katsuki groans, hitting his head on the edge of the kitchen counter. “Please. God.”

“Sorry,” his dad murmurs. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing, but I do want to know about these things, Katsuki. Being gay is a part of you, and it isn’t something that you have to hide from me, or feel like–”

“Okay, holy shit, I get it! I’m– fucking out and proud now, happy?! Thank your wife for that!”

His dad goes quiet. 

Before the guilt forces Katsuki to take it back, his dad says, “I’m sorry that your mother… outed you, Katsuki. You weren’t ready yet. And I know that you don’t owe us all of the details of your life. I just want you to know that you’re safe here. If there’s ever a time you do want to talk about dating or boys or heck, we can discuss safe sex options any time–”

“I’m gone,” Katsuki says, standing up. “I’m packing my shit and you’re never seeing me again.”

“Wait—sorry, sorry,” his dad says desperately, and waves his arms around until Katsuki sits back down. “I’m really bad at this, Katsuki. Clearly. Just know that I’m always here for you and there’s nothing you can’t tell me. That’s the point I’m trying to make.”

“Whatever,” Katsuki grumbles. The overwhelming humiliation is almost numbing. “Just don’t ever try to talk to me about Shoto and sex in the same conversation ever again.”

“Look, kiddo, it’s not my fault that he’s the only friend you have ever brought over to meet us. Oh. Well– that Izuku kid a few days ago, too, now that I think of it. Huh.”

Katsuki slowly buries his face in his hands. 

This can’t get any worse.

“Oh,” he hears his dad say a few moments later, in quiet realization. “I see. I see now! Izuku, huh? Oh, he’s a great boyfriend for you, Katsuki. You two are very sweet together— I even thought so the night you brought him over!”

"He's not my boyfriend!” Katsuki snaps. 

"But you want him to be?"

Katsuki bangs his head on the counter a few more times, and thinks about holding Izuku's hand in the hallways. 

"I guess," he grunts.

"Okay," his dad says, sounding a little bit wistful. "Good. That's good. Have you told him how you feel yet?"

“What?” Katsuki unintentionally spins around too fast to face his dad and nearly stumbles off the chair. “Of course not, are you fuckin’ crazy?! I don’t even know if he’s really into me or if I’m–”

Katsuki stops himself then, because his dad is watching him with the most endeared smile on his dumb sappy face.

“Knock it off old man! Stop tricking me into talking about my feelings!”

“I’m not tricking you into anything, I’m just happy for you!”

“I told you we’re not even dating yet!”

“Yet,” his dad repeats, smug. He continues to grin as Katsuki flips him off.

Katsuki bites his lip. 

"So, Mom—"

"She'll come around," his dad tells him, sobering swiftly. "It was a surprise to her but she’ll get over it. She just has to. I’ll handle her, Katsuki, you don’t have to worry about anything. It’s not your job to fix this, it’s your mother’s. And mine as well.”

Katsuki nods and stares at the floor again.

"Everything will be alright," his dad murmurs. "I promise."

"Fine, whatever.”

His dad sighs, and pulls Katsuki into a longer, tighter hug this time. 

"I got you, Katsuki," he says quietly. "I’m right here. Always."

—

Katsuki spends the rest of the evening in the living room with the tv on so he can't hear if his mom's crying. His dad stays downstairs with him, pretending to watch tv far past his usual bedtime.

When they both finally trudge upstairs to go to bed, it’s silent. 

—

"Are you asleep?"

"I'm not now," Katsuki grumbles, and his eyes crack open.

His mom is sitting on the edge of his bed. She looks tired and tear stained, the light from the hallway sneaking in through his door and across the carpet.

"Oh," Katsuki says, swallowing. He glances at the clock, it's just past three. He can't have been asleep long.

"I just—" she trails off, and she leans in to smoothe Katsuki's hair away from his forehead. "I wanted to say that I’m so sorry, Katsuki.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what to make of that.

“Sometimes I'm not a very good mom and I let you down. Like tonight," she says, and cradles his face in her hand. "Like tonight, I wasn't a good mom and I let you down."

"You didn't," Katsuki manages, even though she did. She really did.

"I did," his mom says, now in tears, "and I want to tell you that I'm going to be better, from now on, and I'm sorry I reacted like that. I should never have eavesdropped, either."

"The door wasn't closed," Katsuki says, for some reason. 

His mother is quiet for a short while, and Katsuki can crane his neck up enough to make out her very still silhouette, before, “It scared me, Katsuki. Hearing you say all of those things. I wish I had a better reason, but I was just… terrified. It felt like you were suddenly someone I didn’t even know and I– I just got so upset.” 

That hurts to hear, more than Katsuki’s prepared for. He slowly shuts his eyes. 

“I know it’s not true,” she says, voice quiet. “I just got overwhelmed. But that shouldn’t have mattered, I’m– I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” Katsuki says, because he does, he’s just not sure if it matters. 

"You're a good kid, Katsuki," she says, choking up, "the best. I love you. I could never–" she loses her breath, before putting a hand to her chest to steady herself. “I could never lose you. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

"I meant what I said," Katsuki says, after a long moment of listening to his mom try to calm herself down. His own voice sounds numb. "That I’m gay.” 

"I know," she says, stroking his hair. Katsuki doesn't bat her away for once. He's tired, and he closes his eyes. “You’re still my beautiful Katsuki.”

He falls asleep with her sitting beside him.

—

In the morning, Katsuki sits out on the front step with his school bag for nearly thirty minutes while he waits for Shoto to come by. He’d meant to fit in a morning run but never quite managed to get his feet going. He watches the sky change colors as the world wakes up and brightens. 

It’s quiet. 

"Hey," Shoto says, nudging his bike into Katsuki's mom’s flowerbeds. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Katsuki says, nodding while he gets on his bike.

When they're out of sight of Katsuki's house, around the corner and by the park, Shoto tumbles off of his bike and grabs Katsuki's sleeve. 

"I’m sorry," he rasps, and hugs Katsuki so hard it hurts. His face is buried in Katsuki’s shoulder and he’s shaking, just the slightest bit. “I should have stayed. I didn’t know what to do.”

Katsuki clicks his tongue, shaking his head. 

“No, it’s good that you left when you did,” Katsuki says, and he means it. He gently pats Shoto’s back in a way he’s never done before. “It’s okay, Shoto. I had to figure it out with her and my dad on my own. It’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Shoto repeats into his shirt, quietly. He holds onto Katsuki. “Yeah.”

"Yeah," Katsuki says, and hugs him back.

—

They skip first period and hide out in the arts magazine office, eating snacks listlessly and not saying much. Katsuki kind of feels better afterwards.

—

"Hey!" Izuku says, at the beginning of drama class, coming over to where Katsuki's sitting. "So, I sent you a text last night but maybe I didn't get the number right, or something? Because you didn't reply– which is totally fine! But I just kind of wondered, because my mom was asking—"

Katsuki looks up from where he's tiredly kicking a can of paint.

"Hey," he says.

Izuku watches him closely for a moment, and then sits down next to him. 

"What’s wrong?" he asks quietly.

Katsuki could think of a million different ways to answer that question but he can’t let himself go there right now. 

"Just some stuff with my parents," Katsuki says and blankly shrugs. "Sorry about not replying."

Izuku gently nudges him with an elbow. 

"It's okay, don’t apologize," Izuku says. "Hey, you want to come over tomorrow and have katsudon? My parents want to meet you."

“Your parents want to meet me?” 

“Um,” Izuku stalls. “Yeah. Not in a weird way. Just– do you wanna come over or not? You can hide out there if you need to.”

Katsuki stares at Izuku. He’s worried, and doing a bad job of hiding it. His eyes are tense, and his pretty freckles are bunched up a bit under his waterline. 

Katsuki sighs. 

He really likes Izuku.

And he wants to meet his parents. 

"Sure," Katsuki says, and the ache eases a little in his chest. “Thanks.”

—

Shoto's waiting for him outside of the drama studio, leaning up against the wall and looking bored, as usual. 

"What are you doin’ here?" Katsuki asks.

Shoto shrugs. "Figured I'd come meet you," he says. "Come on, let's get lunch and I'll let you talk about how cute Izuku is for five whole minutes."

Katsuki scowls around the blush on his face. "I'm going over to his house tomorrow. We're going to have katsudon."

"Uh-huh," Shoto says, rolling his eyes.

"His mom's invited me," Katsuki says, nudging Shoto with his elbow. "What do you think that means?"

"That's he's as big a loser as you are and he’s planning your wedding," Shoto says. "You think they'll have noodles today? I really want noodles."

"Five whole minutes, you said," Katsuki says, shoving Shoto in the side.

Shoto just wriggles away. "I didn't mean five exclusive minutes. We can talk about other stuff at the same time. Such as what we're going to have for lunch." 

They wander around the corner and Shoto bumps straight into someone. 

Katsuki recognises him from around; he's a second year who plays in one of the bands that always set up at the after-game rugby parties. Shoto semi-regularly reviews the band's shows, too, which Katsuki knows because they're one of the only shows Shoto reviews that Katsuki could reluctantly call cool. Shoto appears to recognize him, surprisingly, as he doesn’t ignore the guy. He straightens up imperceptibly while the guy regards him with sleepy eyes.

“Oh,” Shoto says. His eyes seem locked onto the other’s. “Hey.” 

The guy runs a hand through his spiky, indigo locks quickly as he glances between the two of them. 

"Uh," the guy says, "Hey. So, Shoto, there's a party coming around soon, it’s— it was supposed to be this small get together you know, and now it’s turned into this big thing, so—"

Katsuki tilts his head to one side and narrows his eyes. 

Huh, he thinks.

Shoto just stares at the guy, without blinking. "I see. So?” 

"Nothing, just, it’s gonna be a huge thing, you know? Our band’s gonna play again and all that," the guy says. He stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Thought you might want to come, that's all."

"Why is that?" 

"No real reason," he says, after a moment. “Nevermind. Have a nice lunch.”

Katsuki watches the guy briskly walk off. Katsuki's trying to remember his name, but it won't come to him, right on the tip of his tongue. "Shoto," he begins. "Um—"

"Well," Shoto interrupts, "that was kind of strange. I reviewed his band last month so I can’t do it again for this issue. That would be against the magazine’s publishing guidelines. Do you want to hurry up at all? There’s not going to be any more noodles left if we don't get there soon."

Katsuki just blinks, and follows Shoto down the hallway.

—

Katsuki bikes over to Izuku's the next day because he really doesn’t live far away at all, it turns out, which is a haunting revelation for Katsuki. He takes a big bag of cookies with him in his backpack that he stole from the kitchen and is pretty sure his mom planned on giving to the neighbors. He also brings another six comic books he's pretty sure Izuku's never heard of before. 

When he gets there, and walks up the porch to the tall wooden door standing imposingly in front of him, Izuku opens the door and grins at him before he can raise his hand to knock. 

Izuku looks extra pretty right now, with an eager light in his bright green eyes. He’s wearing a white t-shirt with some dorky summer camp logo on the front, and loose shorts. He never wears shorts. Katsuki would definitely know. Katsuki tries not to let his eyes linger on his legs any longer than necessary once this realization hits him. Is this how Izuku looks when he’s just himself, relaxing at home?

"Hi," Izuku says, and ushers him inside. "Mom, Dad," he yells, "Kacchan is here!" 

A short woman in an apron appears from around the corner and brightens into the biggest smile Katsuki has ever seen when she spots him. 

“Hello! You must be Katsuki! Oh, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she gushes, and cradles her own face in her palms. “Oh my, you are a handsome one, aren’t you! Come, sit down, I’ll bring you boys some snacks!” 

Izuku's mom, Inko, is really nice, and she has Izuku's smile and dark green hair. She takes Katsuki into the living room and offers him some tea and a plate of tiny sandwiches. She’s fussy, treating him like some very special guest, which he kind of is (he’s the flyhalf) but he didn’t expect Izuku’s mom to recognize that right away. 

Izuku's step-dad comes downstairs after a while; a tall, skinny blonde man with a wide smile. He introduces himself as Toshinori and then he sweeps Katsuki up into an awkwardly tight hug first thing when they meet. He asks Katsuki about playing rugby and what he wants to do at college. Katsuki sort of wants to die, but they're actually kind of nice, if a little weird.

Izuku just sits beside him on the couch and grins, already eating the cookies. 

“So, Katsuki, Izuku tells us you helped him pass out fliers at school for the musical,” Inko says, turning to her husband and grabbing his hand. 

Katsuki thinks frantically for a way to prove it isn't so. 

"Um," he says, slowly, “…yes.” 

"That was very kind of you!” 

“We want to tell you how grateful we are. For helping Izuku and the whole cast get the audience they need. He told us tickets are selling really fast now,” Izuku’s step dad says with smiling eyes. 

“Oh, yeah,” Katsuki says, and shrugs. “No biggie.”

No biggie, he thinks to himself, with grief. When has he ever said these words out loud before. Why are Izuku’s parents making him sweat so much? 

“It is a big deal,” Izuku says, suddenly adding to the conversation. He’d been content to simply watch Katsuki suffer up until this point so his sudden comment has Katsuki narrowing in all of his attention to the boy sitting next to him. “Ms. Saito is getting really serious now! She’s added two more rehearsals to our schedule and keeps yelling at us to memorize our blocking.”

“Yeah, well,” Katsuki says, “that lady is always yellin’, so what’s the difference.”

“Well it’s even more, now,” Izuku says, “Everyone’s so excited! It’s all because of you, Kacchan.”

“Shut up,” Katsuki grumbles, feeling so hot he might pass out. He can’t believe Izuku is doing this to him in front of his own parents. “It’s not a big deal. The show is good and now everyone will know. Stop smilin’ like that!”

“Like what— ahh, okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Izuku laughs, swatting half heartedly at Katsuki’s hand as he pulls his cheek. 

“Oi, when are the extra rehearsals?! Nobody told me about that!”

“Huh? Oh, I have to double check. I’ll text you the new schedule!”

“Yeah, you better.”

“More energetic scenery painting?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

When Katsuki eventually thinks to check, he looks over at Izuku’s parents already standing up and excusing themselves to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. He notices the way they both grin and Inko giggles into her hands. 

Katsuki is definitely going to die. 

—

They eat katsudon in the dining room, and Izuku laughs a lot and makes jokes with his step-dad. Katsuki eats so much food that he’s already mentally adjusting his workouts for the week to compensate, and then there's ice cream for dessert. Katsuki gets extra because he's the guest, and Izuku complains a lot and pretends to be sad until his mom relents.

“Dinner was very good, Mrs. Midoriya,” Katsuki says when his plate has been wiped clean. “Thank you for the meal.”

“Oh, of course Katsuki! I hope you know that you are always invited to join us for dinner. Or any meal. Feel free to come over any time.”

“Mom,” Izuku says, face reddening. 

“You’re always welcome here,” Toshinori adds. He smiles warmly at his son. “I’m sure Izuku would love to have you over again soon.”

“Oh, god,” Izuku says, and buries his face in both hands. 

“Thanks,” Katsuki says, glancing between Izuku’s parents smiling at their flustered son. “Uh. Yeah, I’ll take you up on that.”

“You don’t have to,” Izuku mumbles from behind his hands. 

“I want to,” Katsuki says. He stares at Izuku until he catches his eye, and then shoots him a smirk.

Izuku smiles back, and lightly kicks his foot under the table.

—

After they've eaten they go upstairs to Izuku's room.

Katsuki stands in the doorway and stares.

"What the hell happened?" he asks, staring around. "Did a tornado hit?"

"Ah," Inko says, coming upstairs and sighing. "A boy after my own heart. See if you can't get him to clean every now and again, huh, Katsuki? I'm sure that room had a floor when we moved in here."

Izuku just rolls his eyes and sweeps a pile of school books and clothes off his bed and onto the floor. He seems to wait until Inko has disappeared back downstairs before he shuts his door closed as quietly as possible. 

"When’s the last time you cleaned?" Katsuki asks, kicking a pile of clothes out of the way.

"Not too long ago," Izuku says, airily. He hops onto his bed and crosses his legs and smiles at Katsuki. He has kind of a weird look on his face but Katsuki can’t place its meaning. "Um. Wanna sit down, Kacchan? We can watch the new Hero Universe reboot we were talking about the other day! Or something. I don’t really have that much of a preference, actually, so if there’s something else you wanna watch, that’s completely fine too! I wanted to have options but, um, I wasn’t sure what else you liked to watch you know? Rugby, I guess? Do you watch rugby games? I wouldn’t even know what channel that’s on, though, honestly so you’ll have to let me know. If that’s what you want to watch! Kacchan?”

"Hmmm," Katsuki says, and perches very carefully on the bed. 

Before he knows what he's doing, he's mentally organizing Izuku's room, making room on the shelves for Izuku's school books and his action figures and sorting out his laundry.

Shoto says that Katsuki is kind of obsessive. Katsuki is inclined to agree.

"You're not even listening to me," Izuku says, after a while. The frown on his face is audible.

"How do you even know what's clean and what isn't?" Katsuki asks, toeing another pile of clothes.

Izuku shrugs. "Sniff it and see, I guess."

Katsuki blinks at him, in quiet horror. 

"What," Izuku says, slowly. Katsuki stares at him. Izuku sits up and sighs, looking every bit as dejected as he can. "Do you want to clean my room now?"

"Yeah," Katsuki says, already standing up. "Kinda?"

Izuku rolls his eyes to the ceiling and flops backwards on his bed. 

—

"I'm not sniffing your clothes, dumbass," Katsuki says, twenty minutes later. "Clean stuff in that pile, dirty stuff in that pile."

—

"Is that a fucking pizza box in your closet?"

"Maybe," Izuku says, still frowning.

—

"You need to bring Katsuki around more often, Izuku," Inko says happily, bringing them up some more juice and snacks, and some trash bags that Katsuki takes with a smirk. 

He’s totally great at winning over moms. 

—

"You are so weird, Kacchan," Izuku complains. "Can we watch the movie yet?"

Katsuki rolls his eyes, and makes Izuku fold his clean clothes and put them away in the closet.

—

"So," Shoto says at school the next day. "You went around to his place and you cleaned his room? Is that right? Like, I'm not making that up in my head or anything. No auditory hallucinations. My ears work properly."

"It was really messy," Katsuki says, with sorrow.

"Yes," Shoto says. "So you tidied it up. Of course. That's amazing, that's probably the greatest thing I've ever heard. Great job, Katsuki."

"He'll be able to find stuff now," Katsuki snaps, awkward and grumpy. “I helped him!”

"Yeah, because that was his intention when he invited you over," Shoto turns to him. "Katsuki, you are so stupid. There isn't even a word to describe how stupid you are."

"Well his mom fucking liked me," Katsuki says, stubbornly. He kicks his feet against Shoto’s under their lunch table.

"Yeah, because what everyone wants in a boyfriend is someone their mom approves of."

"Shut up! He is not my boyfriend."

"Well," Shoto says, "not anymore. Not after you made him sort his laundry instead of making out with him. In his bedroom. On his bed."

Katsuki shuts his eyes miserably. 

"...You think there might have been making out?"

Shoto cocks his head to one side. "He's just as lame as you are, so probably not. But, you know, maybe."

"Fuck," Katsuki says, and spends some time feeling monumentally stupid.

—

“Rematch,” Katsuki pants, sidling up to Izuku during passing period.

“Um,” Izuku says, glancing around wildly, “What?”

“Your mom and dad. They said I was welcome to come over whenever, right? I’m going over to your house again so we can have a rematch. Y’know, since we never got to watch a movie last time.”

Izuku regards him with amused eyes. 

“Sure, that should be fine! When did you wanna—”

“Today. After school. There’s no rehearsals this afternoon and practice got canceled ‘cos coach is out, so we’re both free. Yeah?”

“Oh,” Izuku looks surprised. He mulls it over before nodding, “Yeah, I guess that’s okay. We might have to get food before heading over, though? My parents are gonna be late getting home today. They have a dinner date tonight, so we’re on our own food wise. Sorry!”

“Perfect,” Katsuki says, without meaning to. He straightens up and scowls, “I mean, yeah, whatever. We can get food.”

“Um,” Izuku clears his throat, eyes trained somewhere to the left of Katsuki’s shoulder. “Maybe we could go out to eat and then watch the movie at mine after? There’s this cafe not too far from my house, so, you know that’s an option. I’ve never been there but I heard nice things about it, Ochako said it’s really cute and all the baked goods are made fresh every morning and they have really good mint tea! Which is my favorite tea so maybe I’m biased for wanting to go there but it’s, um. It’s just an idea.”

He’s starting to become annoyingly pink, which Katsuki doesn’t understand. What he understands even less however is why the nerd would want to eat shitty fast food when Katsuki Bakugou in all of his glory stands before him. 

“Hell no,” he says straight away. “We’ll pick up some groceries on the way over. I’ll cook.”

“What! I didn’t know you could cook!”

“The hell? I can do everything nerd, don’t you know that by now,” Katsuki grunts, and knocks his knuckles against Izuku’s forehead. 

The brief touch isn’t enough to satisfy him, however, so he goes in for seconds and makes sure to really rub his knuckles in for a (in his opinion) affectionate noogie. 

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Izuku whines, batting him away. 

“Whatever. If you get detention I’ll kill you. You’re gonna be late to class.” 

“So are you!”

“And? Nobody ever gives me shit for being late. I’m the flyhalf.”

Izuku rolls his eyes. “Kacchan, I’ve literally witnessed Ms. Saito give you a detention for being late three days in a row.”

“That batshit yuppie doesn’t count! She tried to give me a detention for refusing to pretend I’m an anchovy in a tin can!”

“Second I hear yelling, I can always count on it being you,” a voice teases from behind him. 

Mina pops up next to Katsuki looking bubbly and pleased in her cheer uniform as she glances between the two boys. Katsuki spots the shiny blue Hairspray pin clinging to the neckline of her top.

“This guy bothering you?” Mina asks Izuku as she affects a suave tone, jutting a thumb up at Katsuki. 

“No more than usual,” Izuku says with a smile, which is so surprising to Katsuki that he simply gapes back at him. 

Mina immediately takes note of this. 

“Izuku and I are friends now, didn’t you know? You can’t have this cutie all to yourself anymore,” Mina says, grinning wickedly as she wraps an arm around Izuku’s shoulders and smugly watches Katsuki remain speechless. 

“We’re friends?” Izuku asks, and then immediately flushes red as he waves around his hands. “Not that I have a problem with that! Of course not!”

“Yes, we’re friends! Any friend of Katsuki’s is a friend of mine. ‘Cos clearly only an angel could tolerate this guy.”

“Izuku, get the fuck away from her! She’s only capable of having bad intentions.”

“So mean,” Mina grumbles. 

“Um. I would like to be friends,” Izuku says, laughing nervously. He meets Mina’s eyes as he adds, “If you're Kacchan’s friend, then you must be really cool, too!”

“Ughhh,” Mina groans, both hands flying up to grip her chest as she makes a deeply pained face. “You’re seriously so cute. How the hell did this guy bag a sweetheart like you?”

“You’re dead,” Katsuki announces, before he lunges for the girl’s throat. She just barely dodges out of the way, cackling madly as she dashes off. Her cheer skirt bounces and sways around her as dances down the hallway. 

“See you in class, Izuku! Don’t let this meathead make you late!”

The hallway is almost empty now, and Katsuki presses a hand over his burning face.

“Don’t listen to anything she says. Pinky’s been out to get me since freshman year.”

“I think she has fun with you,” Izuku smiles. “I’d like to have more friends like that.”

“Yeah, well,” Katsuki says, and then scuffs his shoe against the nearest locker. “Fuck. Fine. Just don’t listen to anything she tells you about me. It’s all lies and slander.”

“Okay, Kacchan,” Izuku says, and his eyes are teasing. “She’s right though, I gotta get to class. Um, I’ll see you after school?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki says. He’s out of reasons to stall but somehow it feels like there should be more to saying goodbye. “Uh, have fun or whatever. In class.”

Izuku just bounces on the balls of his feet again, both hands gripping the straps of his backpack. 

“Yeah. You, too!”

They both stare at each other. 

“God, get the hell outta here!” Katsuki snaps, and reaches out until he can grip Izuku’s chin between his fingers, shaking him lightly. 

“You have to let me go first,” Izuku laughs, meeting Katsuki’s eyes with something nebulous and warm shimmering in his gaze. A moment later he darts off down the same hallway Mina disappeared. 

Once he’s out of sight, Katsuki spends a few more seconds banging his head on a locker before finally walking to class.

—-

“What is it, old man? Didn’t you get my text?”

“I sure did! I just wanted to call and check in. What are you and Izuku up to today?”

His dad sounds happy and casual over the phone, and it makes Katsuki feel weird inside in a way he couldn't possibly begin to articulate. 

“You boys working on homework or just hanging out?”

“Just hanging out,” Katsuki admits stiffly into his cellphone, and kicks the bike rack. “I’m waiting for him out front right now. He had to run to the theater studio to get something he left during class and he’s taking fucking forever.”

His dad laughs.

“Well, you’re a good sport for waiting.” His dad pauses, before clearing his throat, “You know, this is the second day in a row you’ve been over to Izuku’s house. I never got to hear about how it went meeting his parents yesterday since you got home so late.”

Katsuki wills the flush on his face to disappear before Izuku arrives. 

“It was fine. What the hell do you want me to say? They were nice, or whatever. They told me to come over whenever I want. So, I am.”

“I see,” his dad hums. “Well, that’s good. Yeah. Just, you know, if you’re feeling uncomfortable at home—“

“I’m not avoiding mom or the house so stop fucking worrying. We just wanted to watch a movie tonight.”

“Good, yeah, that’s fine,” his dad says quickly. “Just know that you can still bring Izuku over to the house whenever you want, okay? He’s still welcome here. I do have to add no sleepovers though for obvious reasons.” 

“What the hell is wrong with you,” Katsuki hisses angrily, his heart pounding at an alarming rate. “Why do you always have to fucking go there!”

“I’m your dad, Katsuki! And I know how teenagers are, ok?”

“God, just shut up. We’re not— we aren’t doing anything like that!”

“I believe you! I just have to set some ground rules. His parents will be home today as well, right?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki lies with a grunt. Like hell is he telling his dad they’re going to be alone at the house.

“And you already checked that it’s okay for you to come over again?”

“Jesus, I just fucking said so! Am I done explaining myself yet?”

“Okay, I get it,” his dad sighs deeply, signaling that he’s going to hang up soon but he’d really rather keep talking to his son, and for some insanely stupid disgusting horrible reason, Katsuki suddenly wants to hug his dad.

Coming out has really been one horror after another. 

“I’ll tell you if anything happens,” Katsuki presses a hand over his deeply flushed face. “Like. You know. With Izuku or fucking whatever.”

Katsuki shrugs pointlessly. He’s never felt more like a child and an adult at the same time. Every new rush of emotion is humiliating, but the fresh pain from a few days ago is gone, and Katsuki knows it’s because he has his dad on his side. 

He has to appreciate that much.

“Thank you, Katsuki,” his dad says softly, and sniffs. Katsuki imagines his dad tilting his glasses to wipe under his eyes. “Let me know how everything goes. Just have a fun time tonight, ok?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki says. He hesitates. “Did you tell mom?” 

“I did,” his dad says, and then nothing else. Katsuki’s heart sinks.

Before it can fall too deep, however, Izuku arrives bursting out of the front doors of the school. He’s winded, pink in the face from probably running across campus. His eyes widen with relief when he spots Katsuki.

“Kacchan! You waited! Sorry, I couldn’t find my math book in the studio, so then I checked our history class, and then I got stuck talking to Mr. Aizawa because he was still there and he started asking me about tickets for the show—-“

“Nerd, calm down. It’s fine. I was just talking to my dad anyway.”

Katsuki waves his phone around.

“Oh,” Izuku says, and then smiles, “tell him I said hi, please!”

“Izuku says hi,” Katsuki mumbles into the phone, feeling lame as hell.

“I heard!” His dad’s voice carries a broad smile, “Tell him I said hi and that I hope he stops by the house again soon.”

“Yeah, whatever—"

“Tell him!”

“Okay, fuck. Izuku, my dad said to come over again.”

“Thank you Mr. Bakugo!”

“He said we gotta go. Bye.”

“T-That’s not what I said!” Izuku says, loudly, tilting himself closer to the mouthpiece of Katsuki’s cellphone. 

“Yeah, well it’s the truth! We still gotta pick up the fuckin’ groceries and I don’t wanna walk in the dark.”

“Groceries?” his dad chimes in. Oh fuck. “Katsuki… are you cooking him din—“

“Gotta go bye,” Katsuki says, and promptly hangs up.

———

“So things are good with your dad, then?”

Katsuki pauses his chopping, and glances up at Izuku standing beside him as they prep vegetables and herbs in Izuku’s bright yellow kitchen.

“Oh,” Katsuki stalls, “Yeah, we’re fine. Just– my mom. Things are still weird between us. Probably will be weird for a while.”

“I get that,” Izuku says quietly. He’s cutting up green onions at a painstakingly slow pace, but at least he’s not in danger of cutting off a finger this way. “You know… me and my mom didn’t talk to each other for over a month once, early last year.”

“Yeah?” Katsuki says, putting down his knife. He crosses his arms and leans against the marble counter as he watches Izuku. 

“Yeah. I got in trouble at school– I got suspended, actually,” Izuku appears sheepish, embarrassed, and this is the first time Katsuki is hearing about this so his mind immediately files this information away. “When she found out we got into a huge fight. This was all before she met my step-dad, so it was really quiet at home for a while. I’m glad you still have your dad, Kacchan. I know it’s really lonely when you don’t have your mom on your side.”

He smiles apologetically then, and Katsuki can’t stop himself, can’t fight the rush of affection skipping through him that wants to know, the part of him that wants to feel it all. 

“I don’t feel lonely right now,” he says, and for once he doesn’t fight the blush. He lets it bloom bright all over his face. 

Izuku isn’t much better. He flushes scarlet and then smiles, before covering it with a hand. 

“Oh. Good,” Izuku says from behind his fingers. He’s still smiling. Katsuki can hear it in his voice. “I, well. I feel the same way, so.”

He shrugs inanely and keeps his eyes trained on his pile of poorly prepared greens. After a minute of silence, he sneaks a glance up at Katsuki only to find the blonde grinning down at him in a way that Katsuki can admit is probably a little bit insane, but that is how he’s feeling right about now, so whatever. Izuku groans, and covers his face with his hands again.

“I feel like you’re making fun of me but I don’t know how,” Izuku admits with an audible frown. 

“Probably ‘cos I’m not,” Katsuki says, still smirking to himself as he turns back to the countertop and continues chopping vegetables. “Like I said, I’m always serious with you.”

“Yeah,” Izuku says, meaninglessly, and then scoots a little closer to Katsuki. 

—---

“Kacchan, we can multi-task. C’mon, please? ”

“We can just eat on the dining room table like civilized fucking people,” Katsuki grumbles, carrying his plate of spicy tofu and veggies over to the next room. 

“No, let’s eat it while we watch the movie! That’s what makes it taste even better,” Izuku says, excitedly, pulling on Katsuki’s sleeve as if he hasn’t just said something batshit insane. 

“You don’t think my food is good enough on its own? You need a bunch of loud distracting sounds and colors to eat my fucking cooking?!”

Izuku laughs at that, possibly harder than Katsuki has ever seen him laugh. 

“You are such an old man! Loud sounds and colors? You mean the ones in the moving pictures?”

Izuku continues to laugh until Katsuki reaches out, swiftly snatches the dish right out of his hands, and turns on his heel towards the dining room with both of their plates. 

—

It doesn’t take long for Katsuki to realize why Izuku wanted to eat while watching the movie. 

The moment they’re both sitting down at the table in front of their food, facing only each other, Katsuki’s hands start to pour with sweat, so immediately he worries he might have a medical condition. 

“Let’s eat,” Izuku says with a small smile, but Katsuki can tell he feels it too. 

It’s just the two of them. Sitting face to face, feet touching under the table. In an empty house. Eating a meal they cooked together. Katsuki feels something akin to howling at the moon buzzing beneath his skin, and really, he might have a fucking medical condition. 

What makes it all the more frustrating is how goddamn small the Midoriya’s dining room table is. Katsuki doesn’t have all that much leg room and as much as he wants to seize any opportunity he can to initiate more between them, there’s no way he can play footsie with Izuku in his dining room right next to the ugly bright yellow kitchen. No way. 

Katsuki scoots forward a little bit in his chair, and then backwards again when that doesn’t feel right either. He glances up, meets Izuku’s eyes, and then stares back down at his plate. Where is he even supposed to look? They’re fucking face to face right now!

“Get a grip,” Katsuki mutters to himself. 

“Huh?” Izuku says, eloquently, around a mouthful of coconut rice. 

“Nothing, shut up,” Katsuki says, and then jerks his chin towards Izuku’s food. “How is it?”

“You were right– you are good at everything,” Izuku laughs. “This is amazing, Kacchan. I can’t believe there’s so much flavor with such simple ingredients! We already had almost everything we needed except the green beans and peppers.”

“It’s all about the herbs, nerd,” Katsuki says, mostly talking out of his ass. “Thai basil is the shit. You should take some home with you the next time you come over, we grow a bush of it in our garden at my house. Or my mom’s garden, whatever.”

Katsuki idly stabs at his food a little bit with his chopsticks. Izuku clears his throat. 

“Sure! I mean, maybe you could even teach me how to cook a dish sometime, something really simple! Would definitely help me feel less stupid in the kitchen.”

“I dunno nerd,” Katsuki says, smirking at Izuku. “Based on what I saw today, you’re pretty fucking hopeless.”

“Don’t say that, Kacchan,” Izuku whines. “I followed all of your instructions– and there were a lot! And everything came out great in the end anyway.” Suddenly, Izuku’s eyes widen. “Oh, wait, that reminds me! Remember the other day in class when we were making up potential quirks that would be really useful for everyday life and work in the Hero Universe? ”

Katsuki can’t believe he’s saying this as he admits, “...Yeah.”

“Well I just thought of one! Imagine– a quirk where you could instantly know every ingredient and measurement of the ingredient as soon as you eat it! You wouldn’t need recipe books, or measuring cups, not to mention the implications for other materials beyond edible items—”

Katsuki nods, alternating between bites of food and laughing at Izuku being a complete and utter loser. He keeps their ankles pressed together, occasionally nudging the other’s foot when Izuku says something annoying, or cute, or if he gets self-concious about his talking.

—--

Izuku’s living room is warm, and cozy, and has one wide chenille loveseat facing the TV and not a single other piece of furniture that you can sit on. 

“Here, go ahead and get comfortable. I’m gonna go grab us some blankets,” Izuku says, rushing out of the room before Katsuki can reply. Katsuki faces the couch like a mighty foe.

He’s still tense in the shoulders when Izuku returns with the blankets and sort of plops down next to him on the midsized couch. Not right next to him, but appropriately close enough for two friends watching a film together. Closer than that, maybe, but nothing crazy.

Katsuki can’t read into it. 

—--

They’re almost an hour into the movie, and Izuku has glanced over at him four times now. Katsuki’s counting and tallying everything that happens for future behavior analysis he can mull over tonight before he falls asleep, so by the fifth time he turns and catches Izuku’s eye.

“What is it?” he asks gruffly, pointedly choosing not to ignore it this time. 

Izuku bites his lip and glances between Katsuki and the TV, where a team of heroes take down a villain faction to the soundtrack of too many damn trumpets. He scoots a little bit closer to Katsuki as he turns to face him.

“Oh, uh. Nothing important. It’s just… well, you can um, you know. If you want to.”

Katsuki gapes incredulously back at Izuku. The other boy’s face is doused in red to the tips of his ears, and he appears right on the edge of panic based on the jittery look in his eyes. 

“I can– what?!” Katsuki might also be on the edge of panic. 

“No no no, it sounded weird the way I said it! I- I didn’t mean anything weird just— your arm!” Izuku half-shouts, bringing his hands up into tight fists. “I meant that you can put your arm around me if you want!”

“Arm?!” Katsuki shouts, without even remotely meaning to. 

Izuku cringes but he doesn’t look away. He doesn't take it back or hide from the other.

“Yeah... If you want. Like last time.”

His voice is quiet compared to the noisiness blaring from the TV in front of them. Katsuki sees Izuku’s silhouette with the glow from the movie; his bright green eyes twisted up with anxiety yet so determined at the same time. He chews on his lip as he watches Katsuki, like he’s ready for his reply no matter what it is. Katsuki is so pleased he can hardly stand himself for the rush of satisfaction that grips him when he meets that look head on. 

Katsuki feels his expression explode into a broad, predatory smirk. 

“Oh? If I want, huh,” Katsuki says gleefully, watching Izuku remain flustered and frozen beside him. “What about you, nerd? What do you want?”

Izuku’s eyes go briefly wide before he sits up straighter and says, despite the blush staining his face, “I- I want you to put your arm around me. But only if that's what you want.”

Katsuki can practically hear the howling wolf sounding off somewhere inside of his chest. The smirk settles into a fond grin. 

“I want,” he says simply, and then reaches over with his right arm until he can pull Izuku closer. He makes sure to flex his bicep, just a little bit, as he adjusts his arm to wrap around Izuku’s shoulders. He settles his hand by gently curling it around Izuku’s shoulder on his other side. 

“Better?” Katsuki teases, tilting his head closer to Izuku with the smile still loud in his voice. He continues watching the movie.

“Shut up, Kacchan,” Izuku grumbles, and his pointy elbow lands somewhere in between Katsuki’s ribs. Katsuki wheezes, but not even that stops him from grinning. Not when Izuku is leaning into his chest, so close Katsuki could tuck the crown of Izuku's head under his chin if he shifted forward just the slightest bit. “Mean.”

“You don’t mean it,” Katsuki says, gently squeezing the hand he has around Izuku's shoulder. 

Izuku doesn’t really say much to that other than some low, irritated mumbles that Katsuki can hardly hear over the explosions happening on screen. When Katsuki finally decides to chance a glance down at him, however, he catches the shine in Izuku’s eyes, peeking out from beneath the blanket he’s hiding in. He's still pink all over.

Katsuki tries not to pump his fists in the air. 

—--

“It’s on,” Katsuki tells Shoto first thing the following morning, feeling somewhat possessed. “Oh, it is so on, dude. You have no fucking idea.”

“What is?” Shoto asks, managing to sound somewhat curious as Katsuki rolls his bike out to meet him on the pavement.

“Izuku. It’s happening, dude, I’m not fucking crazy. He’s into me.”

Katsuki’s heart pounds away wildly in his chest, as if having some kind of tantrum while it adjusts to this new development. 

Shoto firmly presses his lips together. He sucks in a deep breath before exhaling, and calmly says, “Okay. Katsuki, no shit. I don’t know how it’s taken you this long to accept it but yes, Izuku clearly likes you. I’m going to be sensitive to the hard time you are having right now, you know, what with your parents and all. How you’re not talking to your mom right now and things are all weird. I don’t want to make you feel even worse, so I’m not going to say anything else about how blind and stupid you are.” 

“Wow, fucking thanks,” Katsuki barks at him but for once there’s no heat to his words. Shoto must notice as well because he just rolls his eyes, shaking his head with the tiniest smile. 

Katsuki can’t find it in himself to care. His every thought is preoccupied with the knowledge that Izuku wanted Katsuki to hold him. 

It’s on. 

—-

A day later they're in Katsuki's back yard, lazily sprawled across the grass, listening to music on Shoto's phone until the battery runs out.

When it goes dead, Katsuki heaves a dramatic sigh. 

"You want to come inside?" he asks, because Shoto hasn't been inside of their house since Katsuki's mom and dad found out.

Shoto shrugs a shoulder.

"I'm okay out here," he says.

"Mom misses you," Katsuki says quietly, "She’s been saying it for days. You know how much she loves it when you two team up to fuck with me."

"It is one of my favorite hobbies," Shoto says, "humiliating you with Mitsuki, I mean.”

"The old man came home with this pile of books," Katsuki says, after a while. "They're all called stuff like, So Your Kid Is Fucking Gay and shit, it's really stupid. He keeps putting his glasses on and reading them instead of watching a docuseries. They're all bookmarked."

Shoto rolls onto his side. "Well. That's good, right?"

"It's embarrassing," Katsuki admits. "Like, he probably knows more about being gay than I do."

"That's... weird."

"I know, right? It’s fucked up." Katsuki picks at the grass. "The hag’s weird. She hugs me a lot, which is annoying, but. She gets really sad if I push her away now. This whole thing is dumb as hell."

"She was really upset," Shoto says quietly, without meeting Katsuki's eyes. "I didn't like that."

Katsuki swallows. 

"She heard you, too," he says, quietly. "She doesn't just know about me. She knows you like guys, too."

"I know," Shoto stares up at the sky. He’s quiet for so long that Katsuki assumes he doesn’t want to keep talking about it, until he says, "You think she'll be upset with me, too?"

Katsuki shrugs. 

"She's not crying anymore. Says it was the shock. That she didn't expect it."

"Don't know why she was so surprised," Shoto mumbles. "You talk about Izuku all the damn time."

"Do not," Katsuki says.

"Do too," Shoto says. He presses the toe of his sneaker against Katsuki's ankle. "So, you don't think she'll be, um, mad at me?"

"She's not mad at either of us, I don't think," Katsuki says, softer than he means to. "She's just… upset."

"Huh," Shoto says.

"She'll probably hug you a lot," Katsuki warns him. "I think she's really trying."

"I never figured her for someone who'd have to try," Shoto says, after a minute.

He sounds sad in a way that Katsuki could probably never really understand. Katsuki’s always had a mom, and this is the first time she’s disappointed him in a way that actually matters.

He knows it’s different for Shoto though. He’s used to being hurt by his parents.

"No," Katsuki says. "Me neither. Dad thinks that's why she's so upset, she didn't expect it. She's mad at herself."

"This really sucks," Shoto says quietly. 

Katsuki thinks about how Shoto has always loved his mom; thinks about how hard he grins when she gives him a present on his birthday every year and ruffles his hair. 

He thinks about the fact that Shoto has given her flowers on mother’s day every year for the past five years, despite both his mom and Shoto trying to hide this fact from Katsuki. He figured it out immediately after the first time, when he caught Shoto giving his mom two pretty yellow roses when they were twelve. 

“Yellow, ‘cause of your hair,” he’d heard Shoto say stiffly to his mom. Mitsuki had simply melted. Katsuki remembers feeling beyond baffled when he noticed her wiping at wet eyes.

He’d meant to make fun of Shoto for it, relentlessly, but somehow he never found the right time. Years passed and Katsuki guesses it wasn’t really all that funny, anyway.

"Yeah," Katsuki says, finally. "You want to come inside? She really misses you, Shoto."

"I guess," Shoto says softly.

–

“There’s my favorite son!” The hag declares excitedly and stands up when Katsuki and Shoto trudge into the living room. 

Shoto goes pink, shaking his head. “I thought we agreed to never say that in front of the problem child. He’s right here, Mitsuki.”

“As if he doesn’t already know,” she waves him off, and approaches them both with a smile. She hugs Katsuki first, surprisingly, and pats his head a little.

“Thanks, kiddo,” she tells him quietly. 

And then she turns to Shoto and promptly begins to sob. And then the worst thing in the entire world happens as Katsuki watches Shoto start to tear up as well, and then they both hug eachother like it’s the end of the fucking Notebook.

“Hag, stop making moves on Shoto,” Katsuki says, loudly. “Dad is literally upstairs.”

“Shut it, problem child,” she sniffs into Shoto’s shoulder. She lifts her head as she pulls back and touches the side of Shoto’s face, says, “I’m sorry I let you down. I’ll be better from now on, okay? I love you, kiddo.”

“Hag! He’s taken!”

“Stop ruining it,” his mom turns to snap at him, again, and Shoto just laughs, but it’s his happy laugh, so Katsuki guesses that makes it okay.