Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s a lot of things about becoming an adult that Katsuki never exactly took the time to consider. Like the fact that his body is tired all the goddamn time. 

Being a teenager certainly gave him some false sense of security in that fucking department. Because he swears he can hear his bones creak every time he lifts them out of bed to get dressed in the morning. 

He hobbles about like an old man until he’s warmed up, and even then it can take nearly an hour for that to happen. Fucking life-altering injuries and their fucking life-lasting effects. No amount of ‘rehab’ is rehabilitating a crushed arm, but Katsuki will be damned if he doesn’t try.

The worst part is that Katsuki used to be a morning person. He used to enjoy waking with the birds, watching the sunrise, all that romantic shit.

But Jesus, it’s as if he’s been hit by a truck every damn time he enters the land of the living. No matter what time he goes to bed. 

And he’s tested out different sleeping patterns now, even forcing himself to stay awake long past tired. All to the same effect. It’s useless. He’d just better adapt to the chronic fatigue like he’s adapted to the chronic everything-fucking-else.

The other tiredness is deeper than bone, deeper than nerve and sinew and tissue. Katsuki could never have imagined (or let’s face it, have changed) a lot of things that happened. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t carry it. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the weight. 

Today he’s on patrol, which means there's no mission to impact his sleeping routine, but he’d still rather get up earlier so he has time to prepare, rather than drag his sorry ass into the office only to bite everyone’s head off and deal with the fallout. 

Not that he’s particularly apologetic about his grumpy-old-man type of personality: most times he’s just forced to pay for lunch, or do everyone’s paperwork, or clean the whole building from top to bottom, or some other crap as ‘retribution’. 

And most of the time that means Katsuki is run ragged after all the damn extras otherwise they refuse to work with him.

Still, the setup manages to suit everybody. 

Their office acts as a sort of base for any Pro Heroes who want to work freelance outside of an agency, for whatever reason that might be. No questions asked, only a simple signup and background check. They have all the best equipment available and free to use, all the best medics and all the best physiotherapists, the best gym space, the best sauna and spa (in his opinion at least, not that he has much frame of reference).

Mirko created the place (and came up with the idea), then Katsuki joined alongside Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari, Jiro and Mina. Mainly because they’re all still deciding what agency they want to attach themselves to and what kind of ‘brand image’ they want to move forward with into the real world.

Katsuki is there for a slightly different reason, though. 

He’ll be honest: none of the agencies that currently exist appeal to him. All that posing and interviews, all that useless garbage, just feels disingenuous to the damn name of ‘hero’.

It’s not because Katsuki keeps the desk beside his own free and available, and will snap someone’s fingers clean backwards if they so much as think about touching it (and he can tell when it crosses one of those extra’s minds). 

Not because looking at that empty desk, with its singular All Might figurine, fills Katsuki with more energy and determination and spirit than the damn stupid rankings and all the gossip rags. 

Not because he needs the physical emptiness to outwardly channel this inner emptiness into, because he’s not got a fucking clue what to do with it otherwise. 

No. None of those reasons. 

It’s a good place to store his paperwork, any spare bits of equipment he might tinker with if he feels like it, and any extra pieces of clothing he might need throughout the day. He can burn through a fucking lot. He needs his own desk to contain all his own shit. Like his laptop, and his bentos, and his entire goddamn body. 

So what if he requires two premium cherry wood desks to function? Fucking sue him. 

It’s a bitter autumn morning today, and the chill stings his exposed nose where it sits just outside the collar of his costume, lined with soft cotton and zipped up over his mouth so he can sweat as much as he pleases. He lets the rat tails hang free at the back, and stomps his way over to the office to collect some recent crime stats, check the footage around the local areas, and clock in. 

Some Pros who work at agencies and therefore receive a salary instead of just commission like to pretend they’re working the minute they step out the goddamn door, and take plenty of taxpayer’s money to collect a coffee and go a leisurely stroll, but Katsuki would be damned if he’d become like that. Even if it would mean more money. 

That isn’t how Izuku– 

Katsuki growls as he catches the stray train of thought. He shakes his head and derails it out his fucking ear. 

No. He’s not thinking about that shit this early. He almost wants to shake his whole body or slap the side of his head, but he resists. Barely. 

Before becoming Pro, he’d have had no qualms with regulating his emotions however he damn well pleased, but as his former mentor would say (and Katsuki can’t think of a better word for the denim-clad stick), appearances really are everything. He’s become more aware of that fact in recent times. 

As if he even needs the reminder from the idiots that he works with that his current popularity ranking is only falling further with every day. Seems like the only thing that makes a person No.1 is their ability to smile for the cameras. 

(Not that Half-and-Half even does, Katsuki will admit bitterly).

If he’s honest with himself, though, the anger that’s propelled him throughout his entire life – and he realises now the thing he’s come to rely on – is running on empty fumes. Sometimes Katsuki reaches for it like a comfort blanket. Like a damn baby.

This is also not something he’d considered about ageing. That fury takes up a lot of space, a lot of energy, a lot of physical and mental effort. 

It might only take a second to scream and shout, and yet while it feels good in the moment, it’s more draining than just muttering out a response or keeping his mouth sealed shut.

So Katsuki does his best to follow one of those two options and staunchly not think about what will happen when he reaches out to grip the last vestiges of his childhood coping mechanism and finds his well completely run dry. Who that makes him. What it means.

Katsuki shoulders his way through the doors of the office with relatively little fanfare and thankfully no photographers, and ignores all the hustle and buzz going on around him (since their office only seems to be growing in numbers, and they might have to seriously consider calling themselves The Agency for Those With Commitment Issues or something equally stupid). 

He gets to his desk and fires up his various screens, clicking through the CCTV and scanning for any targets/villains/criminals/whatever-they-want-to-be-called-nowadays. 

‘Yo.’ Kirishima drapes himself across Katsuki’s back as he comes to peer over his shoulder and check what he’s up to. 

Kirishima smells like the wind and sweat. He’s already been outside, clearly. How the fuck has Kirishima turned into an early riser? Katsuki can’t help the fact that it raises his hackles, even though the touch is comforting and also the first time he’s been touched all day. 

(This is also something Katsuki thinks about nowadays. What it would be like if he was touched before he left his empty, minimalist, one-floor one-bedroom apartment. The small space isn’t really the problem: it’s fucking expensive in Musutafu and anything bigger would echo at this point. 

But he wonders if he’d find it easier to wake up with an extra heat-source in bed with him to unwind his stiff joints. To wake up with gentle touches and soft skin and warmth trapped under the covers. That sing-song voice he grew up with calling playfully you’ll be late, using his childhood name that brings such a windrush of power and yet makes his legs go so weak all at the same time, and affection blooming everywhere, happily exchanged, not taken for granted, not stamped out, not hidden away, not scoffed at, so many things Katsuki would have done differently if he’d only been braver and stronger, as strong as –)

‘Wow, you’ve gone all tense. You good?’ Kirishima places both hands on Katsuki’s shoulders and starts kneading.

Katsuki can’t even pretend that it doesn't make him melt. 

‘Fine.’ He still growls, though it’s all for show as he tilts his head to the side and allows Kirishima better access. Kirishima is fluent in the translations. 

Kirishima keeps massaging and Katsuki forces his jaw to unclench.

Anyways, who is Katsuki kidding? It would be fucking impossible to get out of bed if he had all that.

‘I was thinking about knee pads.’ Katsuki states after a beat, clicking through the different cameras just for something to do.

‘Hmm?’ Hair-for-Brains asks.

‘For the suit.’ Katsuki clarifies, which is all he has to say at this point for anyone to understand. ‘He uses his legs as much as me. I think they’d be good for offence, too.’

Kirishima draws back a little. ‘Eh, but without One For All …’

‘He’s still got the fucking muscles, Shitty Hair.’ Katsuki barks. ‘Those don’t just disintegrate.’

‘Sure.’ Kirishima says, still warily. ‘But maybe … since it’s been a few years, he might not be … using them as much…’

It’s been eight. If eight can count as ‘a few’.

‘It was just an idea.’ Katsuki huffs, and finally shrugs Kirishima’s hands off him. 

‘Aw, don’t be like that!’ Kirishima tries, re-plastering himself. ‘I just think we should do some recon or something! Check out how he’s settled in–’

‘We’re not going to check up on him.’ Katsuki says very seriously, because he knows how much Izuku would hate that, and how much these damn blabbermouths would blow this covert operation up in seconds. ‘U.A’s security is strict enough without all of us falling through the door and causing a damn scene.’

‘Dude, we’re Pros now! They’d let us in. And anyway, we’ll wait outside for him after school finishes. Just to ask him how things are going, you know, if he ever misses the action, gauge his interest in–’

Katsuki realises he’s not getting out of this verbally, so physically lifts himself from his chair. It’s about time he puts in some hours anyways. He’s hardly earning anything like this.

‘Come on, Bakugo!’ Kirishima wails, attracting the attention of a few extras gathered around chatting instead of doing their damn job. Not that Katsuki can really talk. ‘I just think we should be sure!’

‘Didn’t I tell you?’ Katsuki’s voice raises across the space, so he stomps over and leans close so he can lower it again. ‘I know him better than anyone. I’m sure.’

*

The day is pointless and boring. 

And he is sure, damnit.

‘Damn Shitty Hair.’ Katsuki hisses. In six hours he’s managed to glare at some middle schoolers who were picking on some kid, stop some graffiti artists who, in Katsuki’s humble opinion, were only improving the drab architecture, and apprehend somebody who was very clearly assaulting their partner in public, dragging the poor lady through the street. 

Conflict resolution is all about deescalation, though. Since Katsuki has only ever known how to escalate shit, he clearly landed like a misplaced bomb and caused a whole scene, with onlookers stopping just to make sure there was a hero involved somewhere. 

The day turns from boring to bad pretty quickly, though.

‘What d’ya mean, she’s not pressing charges?’

The officer down the line sounds meek. ‘Well, it’s a delicate situation, and we can’t always force–’

‘But then I don’t get the fucking commission, idiot!’ Katsuki officially loses the rag. One day he’ll be too old to scream, but today isn’t it. ‘I just spent an hour getting her to stop crying!’

‘Well, you did break the assailant’s nose, but he’s content not to press charges as long as the whole thing is dropped –’

‘HE’S not going to press charges?’ Katsuki booms. ‘What fucking world did I just step into?! I swear to God, get her to change her mind or I’ll come down there and break your nose.’

The admin yelps. ‘Well, Sir, we won’t tolerate threats –’

‘Okay, okay, my bad, I’ll give it a pinch, that make ya feel better?’ Katsuki grinds his teeth as he forces the words through his snarling smile. ‘Just make her sign wherever she’s gotta sign.’

‘Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, I don’t think heroes should be in this profession for monetary gain –’

‘Oh spare me the bleeding heart, Saint fucking Christopher!’ Katsuki cries, but sensing defeat he ends the call and kicks the pavement.

Fuck. Time is money and he’s just wasted an entire day’s worth. He’s not on night patrol because obviously all the agencies own the fucking optimal times crime is committed. Some fucking system.

He could join any old agency that would take him, because the list is long. He could pose in fucking wet t-shirts for half the day, throw out a few calendars every so often, sign some merch on the weekends, sell the rights to the face and his ass, and he’d have the funds in no time. Part of why this is taking so long is that he’s forcing everyone who wants to contribute to send it through their commission or nothing. 

Because it won’t mean anything to Izuku if they fund it through half-naked soft porn or interviews on some daytime channel. Izuku needs to see how much Katsuki earned it. Shit, how much they all earned it; how hard they all collectively worked to keep his spirit alive and how much they achieved by doing that. How much more they still could.

Katsuki knows the damn nerd like the lines of his own palm. He knows Izuku has probably been approached for a million and one media opportunities. He knows Izuku has kept all his notebooks since middle school, has more knowledge of quirk theory than any academic scholar alive today, and has probably thought about every conceivable option to remain a hero.

He knows Izuku is deservedly rich, ridiculously talented, frustratingly intelligent and terrifyingly capable.

He knows Izuku could make his suit himself.

He’s not going to be impressed by some fancy gadgets and glow-in-the-dark material. The suit will mean something because it will represent the years of hero work they all did for him. It will hold their blood, sweat, tears and any other fucking bodily fluid in every stitch and button. It will represent the countless lives saved. It will represent their call to arms. It will tell Izuku I need you, I thought about you every damn second, I kept you with me, I tried to live by your example, I tried to honour your life, I tried to think of the only way you would want it, the only way you couldn't say no.

That’s what’s going to make the difference. 

Katsuki will find the money. That’s not the problem. Everything else is.

*

He ends the day exhausted. He barely made scraps in commission and he knows he’ll be short for this month’s payment but he’ll make it back again. The girls know he’s good for it. He’s damn well leading the charge. 

He reheats some curry as soon as he steps through the door, too tired to even think about moving his arms to cook, and eats it at the sink so he can wash up immediately afterwards. 

The familiar motions of scrubbing and rinsing set him at ease and his mind drifts as he imagines how things might have been different today if Izuku had been with him.

The nerd was always good at resolving arguments with a kind word, a gentle laugh and a smile you couldn’t look at directly for too long. He knows Izuku would have found a way to handle the situation with the sensitivity it needed. 

He sighs as his eyes sting with pure fatigue more than anything, and he closes them.

He can’t help but take the fantasy further. He imagines what it would be like if Izuku were here with him right now.

He’d come up behind Katsuki. Wrap strong, scarred arms around his waist. Katsuki would lean backwards as Izuku supported his weight and told him softly, don’t beat yourself up. Who knows, maybe you were the first step in them leaving. 

Yeah, sure, Katsuki would huff. I probably made her think every guy is the fucking same. 

Regret pierces through him. He went in too hot. He was only thinking of the money. These are people’s lives. No doubt Izuku would scold him about that.

But Izuku would also press his nose to Katsuki’s nape and tighten his arms, bleeding heat from his body as his fingertips dug into the meat of Katsuki’s chest. It’s the hardest part of the job. You can’t save everyone. But you can try your best. That’s all you do, Kacchan.

Kacchan …

Katsuki jerks as he realises he’s left the water running and he’s leaning against the sink on one hand, the other stroking his side. Christ, he’s a loser. He slaps the tap off and quickly dries the rest of the cutlery. 

He knows he wants to shower and he wants to jerk off, but doing those two things at the same time just to conserve energy is the least arousing thing in the world. He hates the quick, perfunctory style or it: standing up straight, knees apart, ready for business. 

He especially hates the way he unconsciously point towards the fucking drainpipe like a trained mutt, a leftover from his days in dorms when he only had minutes and shared communal showers.

No, Katsuki likes to be wined and dined and fucking romanced, even if it’s only by himself. He sets the mood with scented candles, pristine sheets and comfortable pyjamas laid out.

He’s quick in the shower as he scrapes off a full day’s worth of grime from his skin until he feels clean enough to drag his soft flannels on and dive into bed, releasing a blissed out breath. 

Katsuki allows his hands to wander at a leisurely pace. He needs some stress relief, but when he touches himself he’s still soft — hardly the most stimulating day, in any sense of the fucking word. 

Still, he’s light and gentle and patient, just building up to it, his fingers teasing around his floppy length and allowing it to harden slowly with the familiar thought that always creeps in:

If this was Izuku …

More and more, these thoughts are harder to control. 

In the beginning (that being after Izuku lost One for All and left U.A), they were just whispers and images, nothing more. They had no story, no origin, but simply: if Izuku were here. 

He’d think about it in situations that made sense. Training, patrolling, rescue missions. Situations they had been in together. Situations that Katsuki expected them to be in for the rest of their lives. Side by side, partners in everything.

Izuku became a sort of All Might to Katsuki. At least that’s what he told himself. 

He’d ask himself what Izuku would do in any given situation, because Izuku’s never been wrong a day in his life and Katsuki certainly can’t say the same.

And so Izuku occupied his mind daily, until he became more of a comfort to return to rather than something Katsuki actively chose to think about. Izuku became a homing beacon, a pillar of support and warmth.

Then Izuku crept into situations that didn’t make sense. Like Katsuki’s house, Katsuki’s kitchen.

Katsuki’s bed.

Katsuki’s dreams. 

Katsuki wonders if, by spending all his time with Izuku growing up, he’s just never had to think about the nerd until now.

Izuku was always around. He was always a constant planet floating within orbit, always a musical voice just within earshot, always a shining sun in the sky, irritatingly close at all times and making the hairs on Katsuki’s arms bristle with what he understood to be rivalry and contempt.

Time really is a bitch, obviously. If Katsuki ever finds a quirk that can rewind it, he knows it’s on damn sight for his younger self. 

Because now, at twenty five years of age, Katsuki’s heart pounds at the mere thought of Izuku beside him in this context. 

His rough calloused palms and how they’d definitely stroke Katsuki’s thighs open: how they'd be slow and sweet and reverent regardless of his partner because that’s just Izuku. 

How Izuku would definitely know every single method to make Katsuki squirm and stiffen in seconds.

He would definitely take his time in making Katsuki lose his mind. Maybe Izuku would be leaning over Katsuki in bed, knees either side of Katsuki’s hips as Katsuki’s palms settled into the divots of his pelvis. Maybe Izuku would put a hand through Katsuki’s singed-crisp hair and take his mouth in a kiss, and Katsuki would pull him to fall down fully on top, to feel his whole solid warm weight, their chests thighs abdomens pressed together, their hands wildly roving, their arms wrapped tight and desperate around each other. 

Katsuki grips himself in a loose fight and strokes himself slowly, even though he’s dry as a bone and his own rough, overused hands chafe against his sensitive cock in a way that’s not entirely pleasant. He reaches for his massage oil and pours some over his fingers. 

When he returns to himself, though, he leaves his length flushed half-hard on his stomach and travels further down. He needs the endorphin hit that only lowering all his inhibitions and surrendering to pleasure can achieve. 

Katsuki slides a finger inside himself easily, already so used to this that he knows how to relax and push into the sensation.

He manages two quickly after that. He’s been doing this ever since he was in dorms at U.A, not really consciously assigning it to his sexuality and more to a form of yoga. People want to be uptight prudes about shit, that’s their choice. It feels fucking incredible and it leaves him in a boneless heap ready to pass out in seconds.

Now, though. Katsuki can admit it’s not just about yoga or self-pleasure. 

Now he imagines Izuku sliding in deep and easy, right to the hilt, the full pulsing feeling of him stuffing Katsuki to the brim. He imagines what sorts of noises Izuku would make, what his face would look like, what Katsuki could do to him to make him surrender that hard-won control. 

Katsuki refuses to try a dildo, because he’ll only ever settle for the best and if he can’t get that then he’s not about to accept some plastic knockoff. 

(He won’t even accept any flesh and blood knockoffs, either.)

But it’s also because he’s quietly terrified he’ll become addicted to the feeling, since even the thought of it is enough to have Katsuki switch from quietly interested to violently desperate in a fifth of a second. 

For some reason Katsuki’s got it into his head that it will make this whole situation worse – the situation that’s between Katsuki’s heart, his balls, and Izuku’s ownership of them. He’s sure that if he does know what it could feel like with Izuku, rather than just the fantasy in his head, he’ll only succumb even more to the depths of the abyss that he’s been scrambling to escape from these last eight years. 

Because then that would be him admitting this is something he wants. Izuku is something he wants. Not just by his side. Not just as a goalpost in order for Katsuki to reach new heights. Not just as a worthy rival. 

He wants Izuku’s eyes on him at all times. He wants Izuku’s attention and care. He wants Izuku’s affection and devotion. He wants to be Izuku’s one and only, the way that Izuku is for him.

‘Izuku, Izuku…’ 

The name falls from Katsuki’s lips like an incantation as he manages three, four fingers inside. It takes some time, gently massaging himself open, but he soon finds his prostate with practised ease. 

The sensation is like a bolt of lightning.

His toes flex and spread wildly, his heels dig into his mattress, his hips lift off the bed as his whole body goes rigid and his other hand flies to his neglected cock. Katsuki strips himself roughly as his orgasm washes over him, Izuku’s name collapsing into a long, drawn out groan from the very back of his throat. 

Once the afterglow dies to a gentle memory Katsuki glances down at himself.

‘Tch.’ He tuts at the warm mess on his stomach, hauls himself out of bed and cleans himself up in the bathroom. It turns out that jerking off in bed makes him feel no less like a dog when he’s forced to wipe himself down like a mucky pup in any scenario. 

Still, when he climbs back into bed he’s loose and unwound enough to melt into the mattress, to press his face into his pillow and pull his heavy, weighted blanket across his body and feel the sensation sink deep into his bones. 

Sometimes (only on the rough, long, and Katsuki can admit lonely nights), he’ll fold the blanket in such a specific way that he can roll onto his side, wrap both arms around it, throw a leg over it and squeeze it close to his chest. 

It’s the strongest painkiller in the world. The cuts and bruises accumulated throughout the day can do nothing to touch the serenity that overcomes him when he’s finally able to fill his empty arms.

Tonight, though, Katsuki wants nothing more than to be cocooned in its warm embrace. He falls asleep basically suffocating himself, hiding away from the world with only a tuft of his singed hair visible from the outside.

*

‘Kacchan! Wait, Kacchan!’ Izuku’s voice rings out high and loud behind Katsuki, peddling as hard as his tiny legs will go as Katsuki flies down the hill in front of him, roaring with laughter and sticking his feet out.

‘Kacchan!’ Izuku cries, almost lost to the wind.

‘Just watch, Zuku!’ Katsuki shouts back, turning his head to make sure. ‘Nobody can go as fast as me! Watch!’

Watch.

Keep watching.

His heart is a drumbeat. His blood feels fizzy and alive inside him. His whole body soars high. You’re the only one. The only one who makes me feel this invincible. 

The only one. 

And it’s the natural order. 

You behind me, racing to catch up, only able to witness just how amazing I am. 

Keep watching. Look how amazing I am.

Keep looking at how amazing I am.

Keep your eyes on me. 

The natural order.

Pride and happiness. Joy. Love. 

What an amazing quirk! I’m sure you’ll go on to do something amazing! 

A flashy quirk for a future hero!

Superiority. Arrogance. 

Fear.

Inadequacy and self-doubt.

Are you alright? Did you hit your head?

Don’t ask me that! I’m amazing! I’m meant to be amazing!

Don’t look at me like you know …

Like you know that I’m not. 

Don’t you dare look at me …

Deku!

Bitterness and pain. 

Idiot! I want to win and surpass you! 

One day … one day I’ll beat you with my own power.

Is that … that what you really thought?

There were things that I hated about you, sure.

But I could clearly see how amazing you were.

All Might was my hero, but … 

You were the one actually in my life!

Izuku … 

Can I still catch up to you?

*

When he wakes up, the morning sun beams through his thin, cheaply-made curtains and Katsuki has a missed call from Melissa Shield on his phone. 

He blearily opens his eyes and squints at it for several seconds. He can’t remember if they scheduled an update chat or not. But truthfully they haven’t had one in a while. And he’s keen to hear how things have been going. He sent all his requests in an email yesterday; he’s sure she’s got questions.

It only came in about an hour ago, so as Katsuki gets ready for the day he calls her back.

‘It’s been a slow month but I’ll be good for it in a couple weeks.’ Katsuki starts when the line clicks connected.

‘Bakugo-san.’ Melissa replies, a hint of fondness in her tone. ‘You surely don’t think I’m calling just to nag? When have I ever done that? No, I have wonderful news!’

Kastuki’s heart stops. Before she even continues, he knows – 

‘It’s finished!’ She shouts, her excitement pouring down the line. ‘The parts we were waiting on came through yesterday! Hatsume-san was up all night; I couldn’t persuade her to take a break.’ Now that’s definitely fondness Katsuki can hear. ‘Do you want to come see it?’

Katsuki’s mouth hangs open with nobody home for a prolonged beat before he manages a rough, ‘Mm. Yes. That’s brilliant. I’ll tell the others. Ah — thank you, Melissa-san.’

He ends the call and stands there in numb silence. 

‘Fuck.’ He mutters.

Fuck. It’s ready. But he’s not ready. 

He’s not good enough. He’s not popular enough. He’s not kind enough. He’s not nearly strong enough. He’s not nearly the hero he wanted to be by the time it was ready. It’s been eight years and shit what the fuck has he been doing the entire time? 

Katsuki paces about and cleans and delays going to the office because he knows as soon as he tells anybody — as soon as anyone looks at his face — it’s all over. 

He’ll have the face the music and hope against all hope that Izuku will accept this offering but shit he’s not ready, he wanted to be better, he wanted to be something that nobody could say no to, he wanted to prove to Izuku that he was worthy of standing by his side. 

Shit.

‘Shit, shit, shit.’ He scrubs at his hair and leaves it in a mess before he checks the time and realises he’s already late. Instinct makes him move more than anything: he makes it to the office just in time to realise he looks like a frantic maniac and his suit is half zipped up.

He’s so distracted that he runs into someone with a punched out oft like he’s in a damn movie.

‘Woah, where’s the fire?’ Kaminari asks, two hands on Katsuki’s chest to steady him, because of course it’s that idiot he charges into.

‘It’s ready.’ Katsuki blurts, with no real plan and no conscious thought inside his brain.

Kaminari knows instantly. 

‘Shit.’ He says. 

It’s the first time Katsuki thinks he’s ever agreed with Dunce Face.

*

They gather everyone. 

Todoroki, Tsuyu, Uraraka, and Iida were on missions overseas, but they come back to Japan just for this. They book an urgent flight in a matter of hours, and then they arrive at the office where Katsuki asked for the suit to be delivered, still in their Pro Hero costumes, dragging their luggage behind them.

Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, Jiro and Mina are already together. Aoyama arrives with Shoji, Kota, Sato and Ojiro. Tokoyami and Yaoyorozu are shortly afterwards. And then before he knows it, the entirety of Class A (or whatever they can be called, since they’ve all graduated now) is crammed into the relatively small space of one of the private office rooms, usually where they hold meetings for special missions.

Katsuki stands in front and inspects it with his chin in his hand and his eyes narrowed.

‘We won’t be able to see it in action until …’ Melissa tries gently, standing beside all the equipment she’s just spent several minutes unlocking.

‘Isn’t she glorious?’ Hatsume cuts in, excitement spilling over, her eyes sparkling as she peers at it from every angle.

Katsuki takes a subtle stock of the room as people filter through and soft voices start to chatter and catch up amidst the situation. 

Nothing has changed. Nobody has changed. Everyone looks exactly the same. Even after eight years.

He looks back at the suit. 

They added the knee pads. They added the cape. They added the gloves and the arm braces. All the tiny little touches and every little suggestion Katsuki gave. They added it. It’s perfect.

‘Hmm.’ He hums.

‘Woah, look at the gauntlets!’ Uraraka steps up to inspect them. 

Katsuki eyes her warily. He’d have thought by now her and Izuku would be an item, maybe married and about to pop out some babies. But nope. She remains free as a bird, if the media are to be trusted. 

But Katsuki personally knows she’d have trouble hiding Izuku from him. Especially since Katsuki watches her updates like a hawk. 

But true, they’ve all been distant with Izuku while they’ve been working hard to earn commission and keep this under wraps. 

He wonders if … once they give this to him, maybe she …

‘He’ll love them.’ She decides with a nod.

Katsuki already knows that. That’s why he designed them himself.

‘It’s pretty cool.’ Jiro adds, circling around too with her arms crossed.

‘It’s all exactly like the costume he had at U.A.’ Todoroki adds thoughtfully. ‘Did you make this from memory?’ He directs the question at Hatsume. 

Katsuki really wishes he could somehow disappear and it would go unnoticed.

‘Not at all! Bakugo-san sent in lots of drawings! Some of them were from Midoriya’s old notebooks. It was super useful to go off —’

‘Okay, okay, lemme get a real look.’ Katsuki barges through everyone and plants both hands on his hips as he steps so close his nose nearly brushes the fabric

Then he reaches out and finally touches it.

The material is lightweight but good quality. Sturdy. Stretchy. He tests it between his fingers. It has just enough give and support. The gloves are durable. Comfortable. The gauntlets are good. Similar to his, which is what he wanted, but made of a thinner metal for ease of movement. The cape will come in handy in bad weather. It’s soft, with enough elasticity to last. It’s ready. There’s nothing to tinker with.

‘What about … elbow pads?’ Katsuki asks.

Melissa blinks. ‘We can add those!’ She beams.

‘But dude, if he never had them before he might find it restrictive.’ Sero says, swivelling his arms as if to show off the range of movement needed. ‘Take it from someone who knows.’

‘It’s extra support, Soy Sauce!’ Katsuki barks. ‘We can make them removable.’

‘Removable elbow-pads?’ Kirishima asks incredulously. ‘Why?’

‘I’m not against it.’ Tsuyu tries, sensing a dispute. ‘We could always give Midoriya-kun the option.’

‘And then we can add sparkles, oui?’ Aoyama notes. ‘I sent across some glitter ideas I think he’d like.’

‘I’m not sure how practical that might be, but I do think removable elements could be a good idea.’ Yao-momo chimes in. ‘I have them in mine, and maybe if the sleeves–’

‘But also let’s make the cape longer, because otherwise it could blow into his face–’ Kaminari starts.

‘I think we should make it shorter , so it doesn’t catch –’ Ojiro cuts in.

‘But should the leggings be more for compression, so he doesn’t exert his muscles–’ Mina interrupts as she pulls at one of the trouser legs.

‘Compression is not a bad concept in theory, but it might get uncomfortable after a while –’ Tokoyami tells her gently.

‘He must have a full range of all his limbs in order to perform his duties – !’ Iida waves an arm.

‘Stop, stop, it’s perfect!’ Katsuki shouts, and everyone falls silent to stare at him. 

He realises defeat and heaves a heavy, long sigh. ‘We could keep fucking tinkering with it but it’s pointless. We’d be wasting time.’ He admits. ‘We’re giving him it as it is.’

Melissa beams at him. ‘Do you really mean it? You think it’s perfect?’

Katsuki scoffs. ‘Like I’d accept anything else. We worked our asses off for this.’

‘That’s why it means so much to hear.’ Melissa confirms, and gives the suit a gentle pat on the shoulder as though Izuku is already inside it.

Hatsume blinks, and for some reason looks disappointed. ‘Really? You don’t want to see the other designs? Because we went through so many, we left out a few–’

‘We’re happy with it.’ Everyone choruses to Hatsume, who pouts but seems to accept that answer.

*

And so there’s nothing more to be done. 

They unanimously agree. It truly is perfect. The moment that Katsuki has been waiting on for eight years arrives with very little fanfare and no warning. No trumpets or balloons. Nothing different in the mirror. Same old face, same old flaws, and nothing like how he wanted to be. 

It’s a cold morning when Katsuki is told that All Might will be bringing it to Izuku. 

He’s a nervous wreck all day. He can admit that shit to himself now. He’s jittery and irritable and explosive and plain sullen. 

Everybody knows. Everyone steers clear. And then it’s been hours and there’s been no news and Katsuki can’t take it any longer. 

He has to know. He has to be there. He has to be the one.

He arrives at U.A and goes to Izuku’s classroom – because of fucking course he knows what classroom Izuku teaches in. He walks in just in time to see Izuku gently touch the suit where it sits in its briefcase, All Might holding the case open, and then they both glance up. 

All Might looks relieved, as though he’s glad it’s Katsuki. As if it could be anyone else but Katsuki. 

Izuku looks …

It’s been too long. Why did Katsuki waste all this time until now? Maybe they shouldn’t have kept this from Izuku. Maybe they should have allowed him into the process, let him be involved, let him pick the colour scheme and the fucking elbow pads; let him be a part of their lives for the last eight years.

But they wanted to be sure it was possible before they offered Izuku any hope. They wanted to do it for him, for everything that Izuku did for them.

Katsuki knew that the only thing keeping Izuku from still calling himself a hero was his own mind, and that they needed to find a way to overcome that — to show Izuku how much his heroism had bled into everyone he’s ever known, and how much being a hero is a title bestowed by deeds, not by power.

Izuku looks exactly the same. And yet he’s so painfully beautiful that it strikes Katsuki deep in his chest. It’s like Izuku has plucked a hidden, unknown cord in his heart and it’s reverberating throughout his entire body. 

His bright, expressive eyes that hold a light that Katsuki’s been missing from his life. His gently parted lips, revealing wonder and shock. His freckled, pinkening cheeks. The mottled dark scars across his face, hands, and any other visible skin. His fluffy green hair, shaved on one side still; Katsuki imagines maybe it grew back in too unevenly around the burns and scars. His professional suit, with his tie all done and his shirt tucked in. 

Katsuki feels everything right itself in the world when he sets his eyes on Izuku. As though his eyes were meant for nowhere else. 

But Katsuki can tell, even from this distance, from the way Izuku’s fingers rest on the suit and his posture is stiff, that he’s wary, he’s doubtful. He’s not sure if he can accept this. 

Katsuki does the only thing he can think of. 

He flings out a hand. 

*

They all go out to celebrate that night. The entire graduated Class A hit the town, despite the double-takes and the photographers and the chatter that follows them everywhere they go, because a whole host of Pro Heroes gathered in one area must mean something’s happening. 

Normally it spells trouble for the streets, but this time the event is just the thing Katsuki has been waiting on for almost a decade.

Crybaby Hero has not stopped leaking tears for four consecutive hours, and is surrounded by his old entourage – that being Iida, Todoroki and Uraraka, who excitedly catch him up to speed with their lives while they pester him for every single detail about his own. 

Everyone is both crowding him and trying to give him space, like he’s the foreign transfer student or the celebrity guest who’s come to class. 

Katsuki watches from the sidelines as he nurses a whiskey and ignores the pokes and prods from Hair-for-Brains and Dunce Face, sitting at the other side of the booth they managed to secure and clearly deciding to make Katsuki’s life a living hell.

‘One word.’ He warns them, and they mime zipping their lips closed in tandem. 

Jiro falls into Kaminari’s side easily, and even she gives Katsuki a knowing look as Dunce Face nuzzles her temple in that sickeningly lovesick way. 

Damn Dunce Face and his inability to keep quiet about anything. 

Izuku’s voice is high and light and carefree, a musical laugh that sometimes floats across here and there. At first it sounded self conscious and unsure of its welcome, but now it releases easily and happily. 

He’s still in his teacher's shirt-and-tie with those sinful black slacks that quite literally hug his thighs. Katsuki has no idea who allowed him to buy those. 

There’s no question whether or not he’s been working out since they all left U.A. Clearly, the dream has been as alive for him as it has been for Katsuki. 

Only trouble is that Katsuki is finding it hard to drag his eyes away. It’s like he’s forgotten all forms of suppression or what the fuck he did before he realised his feelings for Izuku. He can’t keep this shit inside. He’s too old, too desperate, too needy, too fucking obsessed. 

They all migrated to a bar near the office after Izuku tried on the suit for everyone, showing it off to them all before quickly tucking it back in its briefcase so ‘it doesn’t get damaged.’ 

It looked better on him than Katsuki’s most feverish fantasies. He’s got the image imprinted in his mind despite the fact he’ll be seeing it every day now and will have to get damn well used to it.

But now Izuku comes back from the bar with his drink and his fanclub in tow, looking at the empty space beside Katsuki.

‘Can I sit, Kacchan?’ He asks, bold and direct.

There might be a subtle and uneager way to move, but Katsuki currently doesn’t know it. 

He moves so quickly he basically leaps into the air.

Izuku was too damn busy crying to take Katsuki’s hand back at U.A, because he needed both of his own to wipe the snot and downpour, and Katsuki knows when Izuku gets into that state there’s no helping it. 

So he dropped his arm quickly in favour of stomping over and spewing some tirade about how ‘he’d better accept it now because they’ve all spent a lot of time and money on it’ and started arguing with All Might when he said Izuku could take all the time he needs.

But eventually Izuku nodded that yes, he wanted it, and Katsuki had to stop himself from beaming with glee and pumping his fists into the air. He knew. Of course he knew. He knows the damn nerd better than he knows himself.

Katsuki then took Izuku to go see the others, who were all waiting at the office, and the rest is history.

They’ve not exactly had a moment alone.

‘Hi.’ Izuku murmurs gently. His voice is strong and clear and unwavering. He looks at Katsuki with such a heated focus. His posture is defined, his spine held straight, and his warmth and clean-linen-with-mint smell radiates across.

‘Nerd.’ Katsuki manages in return, gruff and awkward. He wants to blow up his own face.

Izuku instead gives Katsuki a glorious, impish smile. ‘Well —’

‘Midoriya-kun!’

‘Midoriya, did you —‘

‘Midoriya, we were—‘

Izuku turns away at the sound of his name from three different angles, and then all the extras are fighting over each other to talk to him first. 

Katsuki can understand it. And he’s honestly pretty content to just exist here. Beside Izuku, basking in his presence, close enough to touch, close enough to daydream about touching, close enough to memorise every inch of him, close enough to store all that information away, everything he’s been missing and all that he’s had to live without for eight years. He’s genuinely, and ridiculously, happier than he’s been in all that time. This is his place. This is his birthright. 

But then Round Cheeks puts her hand on the side of Izuku’s head and goes, ‘Ohhh, it really suits you, Deku-kun!’

Izuku laughs gently, allowing her to tilt his head this way and that, but Katsuki knows the insufferable idiot. He knows what Izuku’s blushing-face-and-rigid-body means. He knows what their thighs pressed under the table, thinking they’re being subtle, means.

Katsuki’s stomach sours. It’s so sudden and abrupt he’s worried he might actually throw up the mouthful of alcohol he’s just upended down his throat. Thankfully he manages it with a grimace and pointedly glances away from them. 

Why can’t Katsuki be happy? Izuku should have someone like Uraraka. She’s so gentle, so loving, so lovely, so sweet and funny and kind. She would make him so happy. She would give him everything he deserves, shower him with affection and be the support in his life that he needs and will never admit he does.

Izuku shouldn’t be alone. He shouldn’t be resigned to Katsuki’s current life, and he sure as hell shouldn’t be with Katsuki’s sorry-excuse-for-a-hero ass. He should have somebody wonderful, as long as they adore him with everything they are, and Katsuki knows for certain that Round Cheeks fits the bill perfectly.

And yet …

Her hand on the side of his face.

Their thighs pressed.

Their noses close.

Their giggles quiet.

Katsuki knows with perfect clarity he cannot watch them get together. It’s like his chest cavity is collapsing again. 

He needs to get out of here. He needs to strip from his hero costume and crawl into bed and curl up and feel this pain. Stupid, irrational, delusional pain. He’s got no clue why he’s even feeling it when he never once thought Izuku felt the same, but it turns out the confirmation is too much to bear. 

Katsuki’s fantasy, of being pro heroes together, of opening their own agency and fighting side by side, somehow mingled into the fantasy of coming home to Izuku and falling on top of his warm weight on the sofa. He’s been racing towards that fantasy for the last eight years. He forgot that only half of the fantasy ever had hope of coming true.

Now that it finally has, he feels both bright anticipation for their future together and bleak loss for his make-believe dream that never had any possibility of becoming reality anyways.

Katsuki quietly shuffles from the booth. He holds up his empty glass in explanation when Kirishima and the others frown, confused. He doesn’t look at Izuku. He avoids him and goes out the other side, even though it’s a longer journey and means everyone has to vacate the booth and go back in. 

But he doesn’t want to have to talk to Izuku right now. Or make the happy couple move any closer than they currently are.

He’s intending to leave, but what’s one for the road? 

Katsuki orders a shot at the bar and sips it peacefully, the loud conversation over the thumping bass a strange comfort. He knows if he looks over to the table he’ll catch someone’s attention, so he sets his glass down and makes his way out. 

The air is a slap to the face. Shit, he got way drunker than planned. Katsuki staggers a little down the road.

Damn, he’s an idiot. 

That’s the love of your life back there, his brain tells him. He wants to snap, yeah I fucking know, but too little too late.

The love of your life, his brain screams, his heart screams, his fucking soul screams. You could spend time with him and you’re sulking like a fucking kid who got one piece of candy and now wants two. 

He’s right there. The love of your motherfucking sorry existence. 

Go back. 

His feet keep stubbornly on.

Go back.

‘Kacchan!’

Katsuki spins, heart in his throat, eyes wide in search of that voice.

Izuku is running towards him. How those short little legs can move so quick is beyond Katsuki. His tie has been pulled down to hang loose, his top button undone, and his suit jacket discarded. It gives a vision of Izuku’s lithe waist where his shirt is tucked into his trousers, his freckled throat and collarbones.

Katsuki blinks dumbly before Izuku arrives right in front of him, panting slightly. ‘You’re leaving?’ He accuses, a frown marring his smooth forehead. ‘You should have said!’ 

‘Didn’t wanna get in the way of the fan club.’ Katsuki explains, but it slurs out slow and heavy and he frowns at his own voice all syrupy and low.

‘Kacchan!’ Izuku scolds when he realises just how drunk Katsuki is, and his hands flutter about Katsuki’s person without landing. ‘Let me walk you home.’ He states, his arms snapping to his sides after a beat.

‘I’m fine, nerd.’ Katsuki tries, but he sways on the spot. Shit, is he about to faint like some fair maiden?

‘Well, just for my peace of mind.’ Izuku tries gently, using that voice he always does on little kids. ‘Please?’

He gives Katsuki those megawatt puppy eyes. Katsuki might be aiming to become the strongest hero to ever exist, but he’ll never be a match for that damn kryptonite. 

‘Tch.’ Katsuki scoffs, but he turns on his heel and starts slouching down the road, hands in pockets. ‘Better keep up then.’

‘Okay! I meant to ask, would you prefer I call you ‘Katsuki’ now?’ Izuku asks, his voice very deliberate when he pronounces Katsuki’s name.

Disgusting. Horrific. Wrong. So wrong.

Katsuki can’t stop the shiver that drops down his spine when he hears Izuku call him something other than the nickname only he’s got the permission to use. 

‘No, idiot! I’m too damn used to the other one!’ Katsuki realises he’s being a bit harsh, so he decides to risk it – it’s hardly different to what he used to do back at U.A anyways, hardly different to how anyone else shows platonic affection – and plants a hand on top of Izuku’s head.

Just because Round Cheeks did it doesn’t mean anything.

‘You’d better not change it now.’ Katsuki demands, pressing his fingertips down on Izuku’s skull and giving Izuku a glare to show how he feels about that. 

A truly gigantic grin breaks across Izuku’s face. It’s as if Katsuki has just handed the man the moon. Seriously, Katsuki hasn’t seen this smile all night. It’s pleased and proud and giddy and a little fucking insane. 

‘Mm! Got it!’ Izuku’s voice always comes out higher and lighter when he’s actually happy. Not just pretending, not just socialising or saving people. This is Happy Zuku.

It’s probably for that reason that Katsuki can’t resist. He’s just watched Round Cheeks do it all night. He’s just fantasised about how it would feel under his own fingers. Now, with the opportunity to find out, he can hardly pass it up.

Katsuki stops pressing his fingers down in favour of sliding them through Izuku’s hair, running through the soft strands to cup the nape of his neck and give it a little scritch. 

Izuku blinks, his mouth parting, his cheeks spilling colour. 

He stares at Katsuki in shock.

Katsuki rips his hand away roughly. It wasn’t any different to Round Cheeks. It wasn’t. Izuku can’t work it out just from that. There’s no way. No way.

‘Christ, patrol is gonna be a pain tomorrow.’ He blurts, just to change the subject, because the way Izuku is looking at him right now makes Katsuki feel seconds away from falling to his knees and just confessing the damn truth.

‘Oh?’ Izuku gives a breathy little laugh. Katsuki stores the sound away inside his heart. 

‘Yeah – what time will you be coming?’

Izuku frowns.

‘Into the office? I can meet you and show you around, if you want.’ Katsuki’s tongue feels weird as he speaks. Like he’s talking too fast and too slow at the same time.

‘Uh, Kacchan, I – I have to hand my notice into the school. It’ll be about a month before I can join everyone as a hero.’

‘EH?’ Katsuki barks. ‘But – that ain’t right! Surely there’s laws and shit that say you can leave whenever you want!’

‘Only if I was being mistreated.’ Izuku explains calmly. ‘And I want to work my notice. I want to give them time to find a replacement. And explain to my class where I’m going.’

‘Damn bleeding heart.’ Katsuki runs a hand down his face. ‘So you won’t —what, for a month?’ He groans.

Izuku chuckles, but this one is different. It’s dark and teasing and new to Katsuki’s finely-tuned ears. ‘Anyone would think you missed me, Kacchan.’

Unfortunately for Katsuki, the alcohol loosens him enough to mutter, ‘You have no goddamn idea.’

Izuku stops. He just stops in the middle of the street. 

Katsuki hears what just came out of his mouth and feels his whole face burn. 

‘I told ya to keep up, idiot.’ He grumbles, tucking his chin into the collar of his uniform and casting his eyes away. 

‘Kacchan.’ Izuku says softly. He takes a step towards Katsuki. ‘I missed you every single day.’ 

Katsuki feels his eyes sting at those words. Feels his throat closing up and his pulse thudding inside his ears. Regret and misery and happiness and longing are one fucking concoction when being drunk is added to the mix like a little cherry on top. A tear manages to escape and he hisses, scrubbing it away with one hand. 

Izuku’s arms are wrapped around him in a second.

It’s everything Katsuki has ever wanted. Everything Katsuki has been dreaming about for so long, everything he never even knew he needed and everything he’s been trying to bury deep and pretend he doesn’t. Everything he’s only ever allowed himself to have in dreams. Warmth and safety and love and Izuku. 

Pure light bursts open inside Katsuki’s core. It flows outwards and spills into every part of him, making him feel like he’s shining like that damn I-Can’t-Stop-Twinkling French twink. And he can’t control his arms when they throw around Izuku and clutch him tight. He can’t control anything — not the way that he shakes and trembles, not the way that more tears rush to freedom, not the way he inhales deep. None of it. 

Izuku is shorter, which means his face is pressed into Katsuki’s chest whilst Katsuki has to lean down a little to shove his nose into Izuku’s shoulder.

‘I’m sorry it took so long.’ Katsuki croaks.

‘Don’t speak.’ Izuku whispers softly, muffled against Katsuki’s body as he strokes a hand up Katsuki’s back, trailing both physical pleasure and emotional fulfilment in his wake, making Katsuki feel weak-kneed and hot-stomached and stronger than he’s ever felt before. 

But Izuku’s demand — as considerate for his drunken state it might be — falls on deaf ears.

Izuku is in his arms. It’s never felt more right than this. It seems to just strip away every single one of Katsuki’s defences until he’s utterly and blissfully bare.

‘Damn idiot, we knew you’d say no if we asked, everyone knows what you’re like: you wouldn’t want the fucking hassle and you’d stop us at every turn, but it was taking so damn long to get the funding – I didn’t want it through some stupid merch or some shit, that felt like the easy way out, no: it had to be real hero work we funded it with, but then we couldn’t fucking talk to you cause I knew one of those damn extras would spill the beans and it was game over before we even begun, but fuck Izuku I’ve missed you so fucking much —’

‘Shh, shh.’ Izuku gentles a hand through his hair while Katsuki trembles in his hold, his own hands gripping onto Izuku for dear life. 

‘Missed you so, so much.’ He mutters, his voice fierce and angry and rasping and guttural. 

The dam has cracked, the floodgates have opened, all that stupid cheesy shit Katsuki’s always heard people say and never actually believed can happen. He’s believing it now, since he can’t seem to shut his fucking motor mouth, keeps babbling out, ‘just missed you … been so long … missed you so much …’ 

‘Shh, I’m here.’ Izuku goes onto his tiptoes to put his mouth to Katsuki’s ear. ‘Kacchan. I’m here.’

There’s a soft pause before Izuku speaks again. ‘After the war, when you were all bandaged up, I wanted to —’ Izuku’s voice wavers, thick with tears, but he forces himself to continue: ‘So badly I wanted to do this, but I couldn’t. I was terrified I had lost you, but when I saw you I was too scared to come near, in case …’ 

Katsuki squeezes Izuku to the point of suffocation, tucking his nose into the bare skin of his soapy, soft throat and relishing in his realness, his Izuku-ness. The same laundry detergent he’s used since he was five. 

‘In case I … I hurt you, or — you didn’t want —’

Katsuki only shakes his head roughly, clutches Izuku to his whole body, and tries to demonstrate in every single way possible just how much he wants this.

Izuku sobs into Katsuki’s chest and holds him with more violence and urgency than before, digging his fingers in and tightening his arms painfully. If he still had OFA, Katsuki would be toast.

But yet he’s everything Katsuki pictures at the kitchen sink when he’s alone at night. He holds Katsuki with the same emotion that Katsuki holds Izuku with.

It’s several minutes before either of them can so much as loosen their hold.

‘Come on, idiot, your tear ducts are gonna be workin’ overtime at this rate.’ Katsuki croaks after he’s swallowed down his own sniffles and sobs.

Izuku hacks a wet laugh. ‘Maybe they’ll unionise and demand a day off.’

‘Bout damn time.’

They both laugh at their silliness, and then Izuku is the one to pull away and wipe at his face with both hands. It gives Katsuki the excuse to do the same without being watched. 

But Katsuki is finished sooner than Izuku, because Izuku is miraculously still crying, his hands rushing to mop up the flood.

Katsuki wishes he could do something: take Izuku’s face in his hands and stroke his cheeks, kiss away the wetness and give him tea-bags for his no-doubt inflamed eyes. But he’s not Izuku’s partner. He’s lucky if he’s Izuku’s friend. And so he does what he’d do for Shitty Hair and takes his shoulder.

‘Come on. You’ve had a long day. I’m not far from here.’ He still can’t help but press his thumbpad into Izuku’s collarbone before he releases him; his body still can’t help but reach out in these tiny, infinitesimal ways. More. More.

They trudge back to Katsuki’s flat and it’s only as they’re walking up the stairs that he starts feeling nervous. Shit, he’s not exactly cleaned anytime recently, and he’s not had guests over in ages: he’s got no idea what the space says about his lonely life, or what he’s accidentally left lying around. His head fills with images of dirty underwear and mouldy food, and he’s almost terrified to open the door once he turns his key, but of course that’s the only option, and he’d better just get it over with now –

Katsuki steps inside and finds his flat the exact same as it’s always been. Clean, orderly, spare. 

He exhales a breath of relief and opens the door wider for Izuku to step in behind.

Izuku’s eyes are moving greedily to take in every inch of the space. Katsuki can recognise that nerdy analytical expression anywhere. He’s always wanted to know every damn thing about someone. 

‘This is me.’ Katsuki gestures a hand as he makes his way to his kitchenette. ‘Pretty basic. Feel free to roam. I’m making tea. Want some?’

‘Oh – no, sorry.’ Izuku politely backtracks. 

Katsuki blinks in surprise and sinking disappointment. He was sure Izuku would stay at least a little while. He was sure Izuku would want a tour. Katsuki feels his own selfish greed reach out with clingy fingers to grasp at any part of Izuku they can reach. Come sit with me on the sofa. Come stand beside me in the kitchen. Closer, closer.

He knows he can’t have Izuku the way he wants, but he at least thought he could have a little fucking more of him.

‘I have work tomorrow morning, and I had better say goodbye to the others.’ Izuku explains, clearly able to read Katsuki’s face.

Oh. Of course. Katsuki is effectively cock-blocking Izuku. Of course Izuku should go back to his own damn party and continue what he started with Uraraka.

It would be a lie to say that Katsuki really doesn’t want that. The truth is more that he wants to want that. With every fibre of his being, he wants to wish selflessly for Izuku’s happiness. He wants to be the type of person that can do that.

Jealousy feels the same as his mean-spirited bitterness in middle school, and it frightens him. He knows he can’t give himself over to it and so he needs to find another avenue. The easiest route would be to change his perspective and come around to the idea of Izuku and Uraraka.

But Rome wasn’t built in a day. At least he’s aware of the problem enough to be able to work on it. He might find one of those therapists Kirishima keeps yapping on about for that express purpose. He’s not fucking up his second chance.

Slowly but surely, he knows he’ll be able to cheer from the sidelines eventually. The sidelines are still better than anything he fucking deserves.

‘No, of course, go.’ Katsuki nods, and walks into the kitchen so he doesn’t have to watch Izuku leave. ‘Just close the door after you; I don’t want frostbite.’ He puts both hands on his counter, leans over his sink and clenches his jaw.

‘Um, Kacchan …’ 

Izuku sounds closer than before.

Katsuki turns to find him in his kitchen doorway with his phone outstretched and his bottom lip being gnawed between his teeth.

‘Could I take your number?’ He asks, tilting his head. ‘Just so I can let you know when to expect me next month!’

Katsuki rips Izuku’s phone from him and punches in his new number, his heart lifting with the prospect of being able to talk to Izuku throughout this month of purgatory.

He can see, from the brief time that Izuku’s text history is visible, that it’s just a bunch of parents he’s been texting with updates of their kid’s day. 

Riku did great today! He sat for the full …

Itsuki was quiet, but once we started reading …

He always gives his everything. His entire life, he’s always devoted it to anything he does. Katsuki didn’t think it was possible to fall any deeper. It’s not a process that ends, apparently. Somehow, it can get fucking worse.

‘Here, nerd.’ Katsuki offers his phone out.

Izuku accepts happily. His thumbs fly over his screen, and then Katsuki’s trouser pocket buzzes.

‘Oi, are you testing me?’ Katsuki cocks an eyebrow.

Izuku, instead of yelping and going stiff as he did when they were at U.A, just laughs. It’s a rich, confident sound. ‘Sorry, Kacchan, force of habit. I’ve got trust issues since I became a teacher.’

‘What’s that like?’ Katsuki asks, curious.

‘Oh, it’s a different kind of hero work, that’s for sure.’ Izuku states. Katsuki finds himself grinning now. ‘I mean, the kids are great, but I can’t give them my full attention, which is frustrating because they all need different things from me, and I always feel like I’m letting one down.’

‘You can’t save everyone, Izuku.’ Katsuki murmurs. ‘Just the ones you can reach.’

Izuku looks at Katsuki. His eyes shine with such a true affection it’s almost difficult to look at directly. He looks at Katsuki with this soft, tender face, as though he could do it forever, and Katsuki can feel the sensation of it reshape his insides and very vitally redefine who he is. 

Under that gaze, Katsuki feels worthy, heroic, strong, but also vulnerable, exposed, sensitive. He’s everything at once. He feels godlike and human.

‘Should you be going?’ Katsuki asks, gruff, glancing away.

Izuku blinks, and it ends the spell of his gaze. ‘Oh! Yes! Well – I’ll be off.’ He bows slightly before he bolts for the door,

Katsuki doesn’t even have time to blink before Izuku is out of his life for the second time.

At least this wait is only a month.

*

It’s as he’s getting into bed that he actually checks the text Izuku sent. 

It’s only a smiling sun emoticon. 

Katsuki saves Izuku’s number and sends a blast of fire back before he falls asleep.

When he wakes in the morning, the inside of his skull feels as though it was opened and shut just for fun: just for someone to rummage around in there and reorganise the furniture. 

He groans, clutches his temples, and wonders how the fuck it’s always old men he sees in bars and clubs. He’s not yet thirty and he’s becoming fucking intolerant.

Once he’s washed and freshened up and feels a little more alive, he can actually take a look at his screen.

It’s only then that he sees Izuku’s message waiting for him, sent last night: get some rest. Then he sent a picture of a bear with a snooze-bubble.

Katsuki chuckles at it, shaking his head. 

Morning. He replies. He can’t think of a good emoji and he isn’t down enough with the kids to even bother learning.

His phone buzzes in his hand before he can even put it back in his pocket.

Morning, sleepy! Izuku replies with a smiley.

Not that late, asshole. Katsuki writes. Plus I’m hungover.

Oh no! I should have made sure you got enough water. Do your best today! Izuku writes in full sentences because of course. Then he sends a bomb emoji. Damn, he’s been keeping up with Katsuki’s brand image. It makes him feel ridiculously floaty and bubbly, like he could start giggling for no reason.

when did u get home? He asks, and then he remembers. 

Oh right. Izuku went back to the bar. Maybe he’s with Uraraka. 

Maybe he woke up with her in his bed and she’s kissing his freckled shoulder while he texts Katsuki with one hand, his mouth open –

Shit, why does it matter? Sex is sex. It’s nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. 

So maybe he can’t ever have sex with Izuku, does that mean he can’t be close to him? Does that mean their bond isn’t anything important? Does that stop Katsuki from supporting Izuku and remaining by his side for the rest of their lives? Of course not. 

Sex, even though Katsuki has never had it, is … weird. It makes him feel uncomfortable. It’s invasive, self-serving, just for instant gratification and Katsuki has never once wanted it before now. It’s something that people want from him , and Katsuki will be damned if he gives Izuku that same treatment. 

Maybe people have had sex with Izuku, but they’ll never know him. 

They’ll never have known him from the age of four. They’ll never understand his obsessive tendencies or his competitive drive or his unshakeable sense of honour, his goofy humour or his gentleness, his paternal instincts or his intelligence about useless facts, his ability to calm people, his incredible strength – nobody will ever know that shit because Izuku doesn’t even know that shit, the only person in the world who does is Katsuki, and he’s not intending to fucking shout about it.

But someone will know what Izuku looks like naked, his traitorous mind whispers. Someone will know how he sounds when he’s on the brink, and the way he moves, and the face he makes.

It’s less about pleasure and gratification for Katsuki, and more a deep-seated possessiveness that he’s the only person who should ever see Izuku in that state. 

His phone buzzes.

I went straight home after I said goodbye! I am currently grading creative writing papers! There are a lot of superhero vegetables.

Katsuki has no clue how Izuku can type that fast, but before he can ask Izuku sends through a picture.

Katsuki stops in his living room where he’s been shoving on his boots.

Izuku is smiling, doing a peace sign beside his head, his eyes crinkled and the sunlight slanted across one side of his face illuminating the green of his hair and his dusting of freckles.

Katsuki cradles his phone close as he stares, the warmth of love threatening to spill over in his eyes. He smiles down at the image, free to let his face betray every emotion he feels when looking at Izuku, but it’s when his vision truly goes blurry that he scoffs at himself and shoves his phone away.

He’s walking down the street when he realises he never replied. Izuku might take that as a sign to never send a picture again. 

Seeing as this might be the only way he can actually look at Izuku for the foreseeable future, Katsuki scrambles to yank his phone out. 

He points the camera at himself with his hood zipped over his chin and his eye-mask pulled down, only really his nose on show. He snaps a photo before he can talk himself out of it and sends it with the caption, u probably love those stories u nerd.

Izuku sends through a string of emojis: a pile of books, a pair of glasses, a salute, and a heart.

Katsuki is trying very hard not to fucking focus on one in particular.

The rest of the day is … in a word, long . But in a weird way, it’s not.

He chats to Izuku the entire time.

Katsuki assumed Izuku would just disappear after that initial conversation, and he’d already been planning conversation starters he could strike up for his daily dose of Izuku’s face, but it turns out he didn’t even need to bother. 

Izuku sends him updates throughout the day:

A true masterpiece! He sends for a blotchy drawing of a whale. 

A tragic fate! He sends for a teddy with paint matted into its fur.

Healthy diet starts now for hero training! He sends a picture of his home-made bento at lunch, all neatly arranged and painstakingly perfect. 

‘Dude, you are gone.’ Sero notes when he passes Katsuki’s desk and finds him grinning over his phone.

‘Fuck off Soy Sauce.’ Katsuki says, but there’s no real bite and he doesn’t care.

‘I’m sending him this.’ Kirishima threatens, pointing his phone at Katsuki’s face.

But Katsuki blinks at that. ‘Huh? You got his number?’

‘Yeah, man, he gave it to everyone!’ Kaminari cheers.

Katsuki flops into his seat, his mouth setting into an unwelcome, uncontrollable pout.

It’s stupid. Who even cares? Izuku should have all their phone numbers. It wouldn’t be fair for Katsuki to hoard him.

‘He’s not replied to any of my memes, though.’ Jiro muses, a fingertip to her chin where she’s perched on her desk, but her eyes are dancing as she looks at Kaminari.

Katsuki takes the bait. 

He texts Izuku a picture of his own lunch with the message, this is what the pros eat, idiot.

Are you eating processed food, Kacchan?? Izuku responds instantly. That’s not like you!

Katsuki huffs with an eye roll, but warmth is flooding through him at Izuku’s eagerness. It’s a sandwich, hardly gonna kill me.

I’ll make us bentos when I join! Izuku promises.

Katsuki’s heart flutters violently. I’ll hold u to that.

Chapter Text

The weeks pass slowly other than the company of Izuku inside his phone. 

Same old route to and from work, same old patrol, same old criminals, same old Monday. 

The day that Izuku can finally join them drags itself closer and closer, inch by boring Izuku-less inch, until it’s on their doorstep and Katsuki is buzzing with excitement.

He sends Izuku a picture of his face in the morning, which has become their standard greeting, and he can’t even hide his smile. It barely peeks out from his collar but it’s there for anyone looking. Last day before ur free.

I’m so excited! I’ve been training hard with the suit. It’s perfect!

I said u could come train with us, idiot. There’s a gym here. Katsuki frowns as he types. Goddamn nerd has been withholding himself from them. From Katsuki.

I’d be too embarrassed to train alongside the pros. Plus, Hatsume-san has been so helpful! We’ve gone through two notebooks.

Of course that’s the reason. Izuku holds himself to such impossible standards and unreachable heights. But because of that, Katsuki knows if he’s joining them now then he’s probably more than qualified to stand with the ‘pros’.

Where’s my fucking photo, idiot? Katsuki wants to grumble. It’s become the daily fix he needs more than coffee.

But he didn’t need to ask. After that message, Izuku finally sends one.

Katsuki is on patrol as usual, doing the rounds of his local streets, but he chokes on his tongue when the picture finally loads. He has to slap his chest in the middle of the street to make sure the saliva goes down.

Izuku is wearing the suit. He’s crouched slightly, feet apart, showing off his flexibility and the insane muscles of his thighs, pointing his phone at what looks to be his bedroom mirror, because Katsuki could recognise those All Might posters anywhere. 

Of course his bedroom is neat and orderly, his bed made, his desk clean. It’s small and homely. Katsuki immediately wants to be in it. 

Izuku hasn’t exactly invited Katsuki over in the entire month he’s been working his notice period, and he hasn’t taken up any of Katsuki’s offers to stop by the office for a casual tour. 

But this one small insight says more than enough. 

Izuku is ready. This is his battle stance. 

Katsuki can’t even contain himself. Looks good, he texts.

But of course, being distracted on patrol was never the smartest idea anyone had, let alone a damn hero.

The blast takes him by surprise. 

Katsuki still manages to roll into the landing so he cushions the blow, but then another one appears behind him and he jumps up, whipping around frantically to ascertain what he can about the situation. 

There’s no sign of a villain. The people in the street are running, their screams echoing real terror, but nobody is pointing any weapons.

What could it be? What the fuck is going on? There’s no bank, no jewellery stores, nothing to rob here. There’s nothing.

Something hits the back of his head. It feels weighty and sharp enough to be a rock, or part of a building.

Pain lances from his skull right through to the front of his face.

Katsuki staggers. His hands fly to his head as his vision goes grey around the sides. He drops to his knees instinctually, his palms spreading on the ground without a second thought. They feel oddly wet.

He pulls them up and stares at the insides of his palms. They’re smeared red with his blood, now covered in dust and gravel.

He doesn’t remember passing out. 

Which is just plain embarrassing.

He’s fought in a fucking war and can’t even manage to stay conscious after one hit.

Katsuki peels open his eyes, expecting to find his usual bedroom wall and instead sees pure white. The noises of beeping machines and familiar heart monitors filter through as the white takes shape and becomes a ceiling. 

He groans. It all comes rushing back, and he realises he fainted in the street like a damsel. Not his first time, but this one just stings. 

One hit. That’s all it takes now? He’s losing his fucking edge. And here he is, aiming for the top. Some joke.

‘How we doing, Dynamight?’ A soft voice asks at his side.

Katsuki turns to find a nurse smiling gently beside him.

‘Hnngh.’ He manages. ‘The fuck happened?’

‘The police will be here to talk to you in more detail. But it appears to have been a fight between two criminal organisations. Seems like you were caught up in the crossfire. Wrong place, wrong time.’

‘Story of my fucking life.’ Katsuki grumbles. 

He’s assuming if it was two crime gangs, that’s why he couldn’t see anyone on the street. Probably some kind of meet-up turned south or a trade deal gone wrong, and then the fighting happened. They must have used their quirks to attack each other instead of guns. Maybe they were on top of a building? 

He’s damn lucky it was only a rock.

Katsuki wrestles his phone out of his pocket and prepares for the avalanche.

The first notification: Missed call from Izuku. 1 minute ago.

He taps the rest. 

Missed call from Izuku. 2 minutes ago

Missed call from Izuku. 3 minutes ago

Text from Kirishima: where the fuck are you? We can’t find you anywhere we’ve gone to three hospitals 5 minutes ago

Text from Kirishima: dude please fucking reply 5 minutes ago

Missed call from Kirishima 10 minutes ago

Missed call from Kirishima 11 minutes ago

Missed call from Izuku 11 minutes ago

Text from Kaminari: where are you???? We’re going insane 12 minutes ago

Text from Sero: dude where are u ? we can’t get any info out of anyone 12 minutes ago

Missed call from Izuku 12 minutes ago

Text from Todoroki: Tell us where you are and we will come. 15 minutes ago

Missed call from Todoroki

Text from Todoroki: We are all worried but the police will not reveal any information. 17 minutes ago

Text from Jiro: jesus bakugo what happened ??? are you okay??? 

Missed call from Izuku 20 minutes ago

Text from Mina: oh my gosh we just watched please please as soon as you’re awake tell one of us where you are 20 minutes ago

Text from Iida: I am sure you’ll be inundated with messages but we need to know where you are ASAP STAT. 22 minutes ago

Missed call from Izuku 22 minutes ago

Text from Uraraka: we’re all together and we’ll come as soon as we can 25 minutes ago

Missed call from Izuku 26 minutes ago

Missed call from Izuku 27 minutes ago

Katsuki can’t look at the rest because Izuku starts calling.

He presses accept.

Izuku is breathing hard down the line.

‘‘M okay.’ Katsuki croaks. He unfortunately doesn't sound it.

‘They won’t let me in.’ Izuku states. His voice is hard and cold. Katsuki almost doesn’t recognise it. 

‘You ‘ere?’ Katsuki squints. How come none of the other fuckers could find him?

‘Yes. You need to tell them to let me in.’ He’s clipped and sharp.

Katsuki knows that tone of voice. If Izuku still had OFA, he’d probably have clawed the building apart.

He pulls his phone away from his ear. 

‘Um, sorry?’ He asks the nurse who’s fiddling with his IV. ‘Can you let –’ 

Katsuki doesn’t know how to explain, so he clicks out of the call with Izuku into his camera roll, which is simply flooded with pictures from over the last few weeks. 

(He thinks, belatedly, that it’s quite incriminating evidence if anyone ever does look at this shit. He needs to figure out how to put a passcode on here or something).

He shows the most recent one from today of Izuku in his suit. ‘This man in?’

The nurse nods. ‘Let me go get him.’

Jesus, of course she knows who it is.

Not a few seconds later, Izuku stomps in. 

He’s wearing a truly frightening expression, one Katsuki can only label murderous intent. His forehead is crumpled, his eyes are bulging so much the whites are on show, and his chest is pumping fast as if he’s running on the spot.

He’s still got his new hero suit on. It looks even better than the picture.

He takes one look at Katsuki and stops. He just freezes. His jaw is clenched, fists balled. But he does nothing. 

Katsuki knows. He opens his arms wide.

Izuku is in them in less than a heartbeat. 

They clutch at one another the way they did that first night. Everything laid bare. 

It’s as if Izuku’s strings are cut loose, and he just melts.

‘I was terrified.’ Izuku chokes, barely audible, all his blind rage gone now and leaving behind just overwrought emotion.

He’s a blubbering, crying mess in the next instant, his whole body violently shaking, his hands running along Katsuki’s shoulders and gently cradling his head where it’s been bandaged. ‘Don’t ever do that again. Never go out by yourself again. I can’t — Kacchan, I can’t — !’ 

Katsuki has genuinely never wanted to kiss someone more. It’s a real, physical pain. He feels it in his chest, his stomach, and even in his mouth. He has to press his lips together to stop them from touching Izuku’s cheek. He has to actually clench his jaw and turn his head away.

‘Welcome back’ He manages, after he’s swallowed the urge. ‘Deku.’

*

It takes quite some time for Izuku to settle and finally untangle himself from Katsuki. 

He very reluctantly pulls away in increments: clutching to at least one part of Katsuki before he finally releases him to fetch him some water.

This being at Katsuki’s request, and only because his iron will is now at breaking point, and he’s very seriously about to grab Izuku’s face and suck the fucking life out of him.

But once Izuku returns with a packet of biscuits, a cup of coffee and a bottle of water (always above and beyond), Katsuki knows they need to alert the rest of their worried unit.

Kirishima arrives through the door first, followed by Sero, Kaminari, Mina, and Jiro. 

Kirishima throws himself at Katsuki with all the grace and decorum of a lost child, and then the rest of them pile on.

Katsuki groans as they all start leaking all over him. 

‘Enough!’ He tries to calm them down as Kirishima takes his head – the non-bandaged part – and kisses it.

‘Damn idiot!’ Kirishima yells, hands on either side of his face cupping his jaw. ‘We’ve been tearing our hair out! I called every hospital in the country!’ His eyes flash angrily even as they fill with water and spill with tears.

‘Tch. Hair-for-Brains.’ Katsuki shushes him as he presses their foreheads together. ‘I’m fine.’

Todoroki, Iida, Aoyama, Uraraka, and Tsuyu come shortly afterwards.

‘This is why we patrol in pairs!’ Iida starts throwing his arms around.

‘Bakugo, do you need anything?’ Todoroki comes close and takes his shoulder very softly. ‘I brought grapes, since the internet advises this.’

‘Thanks, Half-and-Half.’ Katsuki nods as he starts shovelling them into his mouth. 

‘It looked so scary.’ Uraraka wrings her hands. ‘We all saw it on the news. I’m so glad you’re okay!’

Katsuki cuts her a glance before he nods. He’s trying not to let his feelings interfere with their relationship, but it’s proving tough when he can’t even help but look at Izuku to see what he makes of this arrival.

Izuku is frowning at the ground, so not a great time to try to gauge his reaction.

‘It was unexpected, tell you that.’ Katsuki offers.

He’s released that night. Izuku won’t leave and Katsuki can’t bear to utter the phrase ‘feel free to’. He’s more shaken up than he thought he’d be: once all the adrenaline has flushed from his system and the reunions have passed, he feels drained, sore, and jittery. He wants to sleep for a week but also startles easily at any sudden noise.

Izuku calls a cab to take them back to Katsuki’s flat and helps him with the stairs without a word, his arm wrapped tight and sure around Katsuki’s waist as they hobble together.

The touch is grounding, affirming. It makes Katsuki feel safe. Held. It’s exactly what he needs right now and also for the rest of time.

When Izuku manages to escort Katsuki to his sofa, he slides his arm away from Katsuki’s middle as he sets him down.

‘Wait.’ Katsuki whines when he’s plopped onto the cushions and loses Izuku’s heat. He’s barely even conscious he’s doing it: his hands reaching out instinctually. His eyes are pulling together and yet he needs — he needs —

‘Shh, it’s alright.’ Izuku murmurs, thinking him delirious. ‘I’m sure Kirishima-kun will be here soon. Although what paperwork was important enough to leave you for, I don’t know…’ His voice takes on that quick, thoughtless muttering quality as he continues, ‘Could have obviously called in sick, I’m sure Mirko-san would have found cover, don’t really understand —‘

‘Izuku.’ Katsuki tries plaintively, tugging him down. ‘Please?’

‘Oh — ah, what is it, Kacchan?’ Izuku stutters, his train of thought derailed.

‘Just — please .’ Katsuki feels like it doesn’t need to be spelled out. He’s very clearly asking for one thing. 

‘Water? Cushions? You want my jacket?’ 

Katsuki groans and gives up, flopping backwards listlessly. He’ll never get what he wants. Damn idiot is too blindsided.

‘Kacchan?’ Izuku sits beside him. Sensing the perfect opportunity, Katsuki falls sideways and into Izuku’s lap. His eyes shut blissfully and he releases a contented sigh. 

‘Kacchan…’ Izuku tries, but then a hand is carding into his hair, the other smoothing down his back, melting his stiff muscles as easy as putty.

Katsuki rubs his face into Izuku’s thigh, seeking his warmth. A sensation steals over him that can only be described as peace in his soul. 

He’s out like a light. 

*

He wakes up in his own bed, the sheets pulled over him but still in his dirty hero uniform. Katsuki winces at how crusty he feels, and the slowly ebbing pain he was half-aware of returns with full force at the act.

He groans, burying his head deeper into his pillow. 

‘Kacchan?’ Izuku’s voice drifts over to him from behind his bedroom door.

Katsuki lifts his head instantly, despite the fact the jerky motion causes more pain and a wordless hiss. 

He remembers now. Izuku took him home. Izuku stayed. Of course the idiot stayed.

Katsuki groans again.

‘Alright, I’m coming in.’ Izuku informs him, and then the door opens. Izuku’s voice is much closer when he asks: ‘What’s happening? Where does it hurt?’

Katsuki opens one eye. 

Izuku is kneeling by his bedside, concern etched into all of his features, his arms crossed tight over his chest and his hands holding his biceps.

‘Did you stay all night, nerd?’ Katsuki rasps. ‘You shouldn’t have.’

‘Well, I was waiting on Kirishima-kun.’ Izuku tells him plainly. ’And it’s only the afternoon.’

His voice, his care, his attention: Katsuki can’t resist a single bit of it. He snakes a hand out from under his covers and reaches out to touch Izuku’s face.

‘Ah – Kacchan, you’re not well.’ Izuku pulls away. ‘I made some soup, and I called in to the office. You’ve got the rest of the week off.’

The rejection stings, even in his basically concussed has-no-idea-what-timezone-he’s-in state. He wants Izuku’s face under his palm. He has to curl his fingers around the emptiness to contain it.

‘Idiot, I don’t need a week off.’ Katsuki rises gingerly and puts both legs out of the bed. ‘Did you carry me here?’ 

Ever the damsel. Goddamn.

‘Well, you needed proper neck support! The couch couldn’t offer that.’ Izuku defends.

‘Izuku.’ Katsuki exhales tiredly. ‘You can go. I appreciate all of this, nerd, but I’ll be fine.’

‘I really can’t do that, Kacchan.’ Izuku tells him seriously. ‘I’m happy to call someone in my place, but I won’t leave you alone right now.’

Katsuki stands shakily. Izuku instantly supports him with an arm around his back, the other splayed across his chest. A wave of tiredness crashes over him, despite the fact he’s just slept, and it makes Katsuki lean into it gratefully.

‘Gotta shower.’ He rasps.

‘I’ll take you.’ Izuku murmurs.

Katsuki can do nothing to show his gratitude, so he just bumps his forehead into Izuku’s temple as they walk. He closes his eyes to enjoy the nearness. He imagines this is what they’d do if they were together. He imagines having this closeness with Izuku always. Able to touch him whenever. So thoughtless, no nerves or conscious decision behind the act. 

It’s a weirdly beautiful pain. Like a wonderful dream fading when he wakes up: one that he’s both sad to lose but happy to have experienced. 

Izuku takes him to his bathroom as though he’s familiar with the layout of Katsuki’s flat, which should be embarrassing but instead makes Katsuki feel warm. Izuku should be familiar with the layout. Izuku should be here.

‘I’ll be just outside.’ Izuku promises.

Katsuki steps under the hot spray once he’s undressed and unravelled his bandages. He closes his eyes and relishes the feeling. The back of his skull feels tender and bruised and sore, but it doesn’t feel too inflamed thankfully. He’s had worse. 

He moves slowly and gently, working the shampoo into a lather to get all the dried blood, and wraps a towel around his midriff once he’s done.

‘Izuku…’ He calls quietly, the sound needy and childlike. 

‘I’m just here.’ Izuku reminds him from behind the door. 

He waited outside the whole time. He didn’t move away.

Katsuki opens the door and reaches for him blindly, his eyes squinting.

‘I’ve got you. I’m here.’ Izuku murmurs, his voice full of warmth and kindness. 

Katsuki hardly cares that he’s virtually naked. Izuku supports him with an arm around his damp side, a compact shoulder underneath his armpit, and a hand on his chest again, only this time it’s Katsuki’s bare skin under Izuku’s calloused palm. The sensation is far more intimate, but Katsuki can’t exactly appreciate it like this.

He just puts his forehead on top of Izuku’s crown and lets Izuku walk them together.

Once he’s deposited into his room, Izuku carefully rummages through his wardrobe and finds some loose clothes. 

Katsuki holds his arms up for Izuku to drag his jumper on over his head, and then Izuku turns around to face the door and let Katsuki wrestle with the flannel bottoms. 

Katsuki drops the towel and tugs them on slowly. 

‘Done.’ He announces, once they're on.

Izuku spins, but he doesn't look at Katsuki and instead picks up his discarded towel from the floor. ‘Now rest .’ Izuku instructs, and pushes him gently to lie down in bed. 

Katsuki has no strength left to fight.

‘Stay…’ He whispers as his eyes drop.

He’s in and out for a while. He hears soft murmurs, and feels light touches to his forehead. He smells cooking. He feels cared for.

When Katsuki wakes up properly, he accepts Izuku’s homemade soup and some spoonfuls of rice hand-fed to him. He’s soon too full, and has to gently push Izuku’s arm away.

In the last eight years, Katsuki has just sweated out a sickness bug, cracked some painkillers into a bottle of water and shouldered on. He can’t remember the last time he was looked after – maybe at U.A when he was recovering from the war. But nothing to this extent. Nothing so dedicated and focused. 

And he knows he should find it overbearing and suffocating. Any one of the damn extras would make him feel that way. But with Izuku, Katsuki wants to enjoy it. He always was a selfish bastard. He wants Izuku fussing and muttering and caring all up in his space.

‘When will Kirishima-kun be here?’ Izuku asks when Katsuki is done eating, still kneeling by his bedside.

It’s just weird enough, said with just enough pause and weight, that Katsuki frowns.

‘Eh?’ He squints.

‘I assume you two don’t live together, but he’ll want to be here tonight, right?’ Izuku presses on.

Katsuki stares blankly.

‘Because you’re a couple.’ Izuku states. His green eyes are steady on Katsuki’s face, confident in their assessment. ‘I’m sure he’ll want to spend some time with you, after what happened.’

Katsuki doesn’t have a huge reaction. He half-thought this was where the conversation was going, and isn’t surprised to be proven right.

He lays a hand on Izuku’s scarred forearm, just to get him to seriously look at Katsuki.

‘Izuku.’ He croaks, and keeps a hold of Izuku's gaze as he speaks. ‘Do you really think this bachelor pad screams some kinda domestic bliss? It’s just me in here. Kirishima’s an affectionate idiot, but that’s all. I have no idea who he’s dating, if he is dating, but it ain’t me.’

Izuku’s mouth moves for a beat before he closes it and nods sharply. ‘Oh.’ he states. 

He sounds … disappointed?

Katsuki removes his hand from Izuku’s arm. He can’t really read the expression on Izuku’s face, but it sure as hell isn’t relief. 

Katsuki knows for certain he’d be having a different reaction to hearing Izuku is painfully single.

It only acts as further confirmation. Katsuki’s feelings are not returned. He has to wake up, pull himself back into reality, shake off the dream. Shake off the dream.

‘Thanks for worrying or whatever though, nerd.’ Katsuki huffs, self-deprecating as he looks off to the side, because it’s hard to look Izuku in the face right now. ‘He’d be a pretty shitty partner to leave me like this.’

Something touches the centre of his chest. Katsuki looks down to see Izuku’s fingertips gently resting over the scar tissue now covered by his jumper. Edgeshot did a great job: it’s a very clean, even line. It’s only obvious to those who know where to look.

Katsuki blinks at Izuku.

Izuku stares at him with something like loss on his face. ‘For … eight years …?’

Katsuki knows what he’s asking. You’ve been alone all this time? 

He gives a small nod, unable to speak.

Izuku swallows thickly. He lays his palm flat to press it fully to Katsuki’s chest. 

Katsuki finds his own hand moving on its own. He clutches Izuku’s small palm. He holds Izuku there, curls his fingers around Izuku’s rough knuckles and clings on tight. 

‘Would you let me do something, Kacchan?’ Izuku asks, shuffling closer.

Katsuki’s pulse jolts as though electrified. Barely able to believe it, he nods, his mouth open.

Izuku bends close and lays his ear beside his palm. He lays it on Katsuki’s chest.

Katsuki knows his heart is thumping hard. He knows it gives him away; it reveals his deepest, innermost feelings. But he understands why Izuku needs to do this. 

Katsuki lowers his head so his nose buries into Izuku’s thick hair, breathing him in.

They stay that way for a long time. 

Chapter Text

One Month Later

Katsuki inspects himself in the mirror, swivelling this way and that as he ensures he looks perfect. He’s on patrol with Izuku today. He’s made pork katsudon to share. He’s got his eyeliner on under his mask, his best aftershave, and he’s styled his hair in a way that looks effortlessly windswept but purposefully put together. His rat-tails are braided and decorated with explosive clips. His shoulders and arms bulge within the new material of his suit. He nods, content. It’s good. He’s good.

Better than pictures now, Katsuki tries not to skip with the prospect of seeing Izuku’s beaming face in person. 

He stomps quickly to the office, and even though he’s early (by a half-hour, when he got up a full two hours before he was due to go in just to get ready and prime himself like a peacock), he spots Izuku chatting to the extras through the glass, two coffees in hand. 

Katsuki rushes on through. 

‘Deku!’ He barks.

Izuku spins with a smile already on his face. They meet somewhere in the middle and embrace; Izuku holding the coffees on one side as his arm wraps easily around Katsuki.

This is a new tradition now, too. 

Whenever they see each other and whenever they part ways, they hug. 

It started as some throwaway comment from Izuku, after their week spent in Katsuki’s flat while he healed from his head injury. 

It was filled with a lot of pointless worrying on Izuku’s part, a lot of homemade stew and daytime napping, a lot of chatting about life post-graduation as they both caught each another up on the last eight years; where they’ve been, what they’ve done. 

Katsuki can’t help but think about the time with total fondness, despite the circumstances. Izuku basically moved in, and his presence filled Katsuki’s space with light and laughter and warmth.

But Izuku made this strange comment about the last thing he did before Katsuki got injured. 

‘I can’t believe I ran away without a proper goodbye!’ Izuku agonised, confessing how much it plagued him during his wait in the hospital, saying that ‘it might have been the last time they saw one another’ because he’s an overdramatic idiot (and Katsuki tries not to think about never seeing Izuku again, never mind say it).

Izuku vowed that he was going to become as affectionate as Kirishima, and that Katsuki had better just accept it. Argued that because of the nature of their jobs, nothing was ever guaranteed, and if they were going to be pros together then this was just going to be the new routine.

Of course, Katsuki has been more than happy with this development: even when he has to press his lips together so he’s not tempted to brush them across Izuku’s face, even when the pain of pulling away is sometimes worse than the absence of Izuku entirely, he’d still always choose this.

‘Morning, sleepy!’ Izuku cheers close to his ear, his voice infecting Katsuki with happiness; that newly teasing lilt still there. ‘Cappuccino!’ He presents it to Katsuki in a dramatic bow, but Katsuki’s already gotten his daily fix.

‘I’ve got lunch covered.’ Katsuki informs Izuku, patting the bag over his shoulder which acts as payback for Izuku’s bento yesterday. 

He accepts the coffee from Izuku, though.

‘Amazing! So what’s the route today?’ Izuku sparkles. He’s so kissable that it hurts.

‘Gimme a damn minute nerd, I gotta put my stuff away.’ Katsuki grunts.

Izuku follows him to their desks. ‘I was thinking, instead of starting here , we could head out to the other side of the city and work backwards …’

Izuku’s happy chatter follows him as he unpacks. 

Katsuki sneaks glances every so often at Izuku perched on the desk Katsuki picked out, in the hero suit Katsuki funded and designed, with two little bobble-head Deku and Dynamight figurines sitting beside each other, right beside the original All Might.

When Izuku first saw the desk on his tour of the building, Katsuki was ridiculously, irrationally nervous. 

He felt as if showering Izuku in heart-shaped confetti would be less fucking obvious. 

He just felt as if Izuku would take one look and know . 

But Izuku, in true Izuku fashion, was utterly clueless and swept away by everything. He was surrounded the entire day by an entourage of extras who were just so excited he was returning to the field they couldn’t leave him alone. 

Katsuki gruffly told Izuku that the desk beside his was free, and Izuku of course took him at face value and set his stuff down before he was practically carried off by Mina, Kaminari and Kirishima who wanted to show Izuku where they all trained.

He didn’t even look at the All Might figure. 

Katsuki was certain he hadn’t even seen it. 

And yet before he went home for the night, Katsuki caught sight of Izuku touching the figurine gently on top of its little bobbly head. He felt a strange squeezing sensation in his chest: affection and hopeless idiocy rolled into one.

Why couldn’t he tell Izuku that it was a gift? 

It would probably make the nerd cry and Katsuki wanted Izuku to know it came from him and him alone.

But he probably didn’t tell Izuku for the same reason Katsuki did anything in life: he could only ever see the right choice in retrospect.

He was just so sure Izuku would know it was from him . Would realise the one thing they held in common above everyone, the one thing that connected their lives, and be able to tell that it was Katsuki who put it there. 

He realised that he’d come to depend so much on Izuku’s insight: on Izuku’s ability to understand the things Katsuki couldn’t even understand about himself, or couldn’t admit to. Izuku was normally so fastidious and astute – a quality that Katsuki had long wanted to repel, wanted to run from, because when it was directed at him he felt peeled open and seen.

And yet now he wants it directed at him. He wants its beam of light pointed his way. He wants Izuku to look and never stop.

He couldn’t bring himself to tell Izuku the truth. 

He still hasn’t. 

On Izuku’s third day as a hero, Katsuki came into work and found twin Deku and Dynamight figurines sitting on Izuku’s desk.

It was the only merchandise Katsuki had actually signed off on that used his name and likeness. The only official one, of course.

It stopped him in his tracks. His heart swelled to painful size. He was actually quite worried it would swell so big it would just fucking burst.

They both didn’t mention anything after that. 

But Katsuki felt like they both knew. Izuku always had a way of seeing.

They’re still settling into their new routine and finding their feet. They only have patrol together twice a week, which means the rest of the time they’re rotated for other people’s schedules and only catch each other passing by in the office hallways or at lunch.

Sometimes they’ve got longer missions they have to travel to, and don’t see each other for days on end.

The first mission Izuku had away from home (‘home’ being the office), Katsuki was a nervous wreck. He ended up caving and video calling Izuku from his hotel room in Osaka. 

Izuku showed him around his lodgings and put him at ease with his happy chatter, until the call ended and Katsuki had to seriously consider his codependency issues because nothing felt any better.

Thankfully Izuku came home without a scratch, the mission was a success, and he let Katsuki pick him up at the airport. 

Solidifying the real weight of Izuku in his arms made Katsuki realise that yes, this beats all other ways to say hello or goodbye. 

‘Ready to go?’ Katsuki saunters over to Izuku’s desk once they’ve both set their things down.

‘Yes!’ Izuku nods.

Katsuki flicks the Deku bobblehead — for good luck, obviously. 

‘So tell me: you hated it.’ Izuku states when they start walking. They’re a few minutes earlier than they’re scheduled, but there’s no containing the energy of the small planet that is Midoriya Izuku, and Katsuki could see him getting restless.

‘It just didn’t make any damn sense!’ Katsuki launches into a tirade about the latest zombie horror. ‘How come the virus mutated the second it broke out? That shit takes fucking months, if not years –’ 

‘Okay, okay, I see your point.’ Izuku holds his hands up as he laughs, his mouth shaping easily into his happiest expression. 

It’s an expression that Katsuki dreams about showering affection onto. Specifically with his own mouth.

He only bumps their shoulders gruffly, rolling his eyes, but it’s all for show as his cheeks ache from smiling. 

When they arrive back for lunch, everyone is giving Katsuki pitying looks. 

Far from the mischievous, teasing, bright-eyed glances he got at the start, they’ve all realised this is so far beyond a crush and are acting accordingly now. 

There’s just one problem with that.

Katsuki leaves Izuku heating up their katsudon in the staff room and grabs Kirishima by the scruff.

‘You’re all being obvious as fuck.’ Katsuki snaps when they’re in a room alone.

‘Dude , this is painful.’ Kirishima groans. ‘I get that this is the average Midoriya Izuku experience, but man, we can’t take much more. You’ve got to stop looking so starstruck if you’re not gonna do anything about it.’

‘Well what the fuck am I meant to do?’ Katsuki barks.

‘Something , please; anything’s got to be better than this.’

‘Help me.’ Katsuki throws out.

Kirishima blinks. ‘Okay. With what?’

Katsuki scratches his chin. ‘I just. Look, I like this set up. I don’t need it to change, I don’t want it to. It all runs smoothly and I’m happy. I don’t need more. The only issue is … I really …’ He swallows. ‘I mean I’m – don’t fucking laugh, Shitty Hair.’

‘I’m not! I wouldn’t!’ Kirishima cries, wounded.

Katsuki bites the bullet. ‘I really need to kiss him.’ He blurts. ‘And I know it sounds nuts. That’s not something people need . It’s not like fucking oxygen. But it’s true, Kirishima, I swear to God this isn’t normal. It’s like my damn body is fucking itching all over to do it. It’s getting worse. I mean I have to catch myself every damn day. Sometimes I’m pinching my damn leg to stop myself.’

Katsuki presents his thigh to Kirishima with a hand, just to show the severity of this situation.

‘Then kiss him , you damn idiot!’ Kirishima takes him by the shoulders and gives him a rough shake.

‘You’re meant to be helping!’ Katsuki growls, teeth clacking together.

‘Tell me why you can’t?’ Kirishima asks. ‘Give me one good reason.’

‘That he’s fucking heating up our lunch to have together right now!’ Katsuki shouts. ‘That’s my fucking reason! I’ve just got him back – I won’t fucking lose him again!’

Kirishima gapes, utterly shocked. ‘Bakugou, you cannot be serious. Tell me you’re not this blind.’

Katsuki frowns. ‘What?’

‘Midoriya’s hook line and sinker for you, man. You can’t tell me you don’t know.’

Katsuki stares. 

‘Huh?’ His voice is punched.

Kirishima’s eyes are wide and clear. He’s a lot of things, and sometimes one of those things is an idiot, but never a liar.

‘Midoriya feels the same, so please put him, yourself and all of us out of this misery and kiss him!’ 

Katsuki feels rocked to the core. He stares at the ground, as though it’s shifted without his awareness. ‘You think …’

‘I don’t think. I know. Take a look at his face! You’re both as bad as each other. We just can’t take the circling anymore, dude, it’s like watching two puppies bang against glass. If I’d known you had no clue, I’d have said something sooner, but everyone thought you knew!’

‘But …’ Katsuki tries weakly. ‘He’s never …’

Said anything. 

Who the fuck is Katsuki kidding? 

This is Izuku. 

Of course he’d never say anything. He’d be even more paralysed than Katsuki if he felt this.

Katsuki feels his heart lift up to the sky. Is there even the slightest chance? Could he actually …

Kirishima hauls Katsuki’s ass from the room and gives him a gentle push forward. ‘Go get him.’

Katsuki stumbles to the staff room and finds Izuku on his phone.

‘Oh!’ He smiles as soon as he sees Katsuki. ‘I was just texting you. Where did you go?’

‘Damn paperwork I forgot to file.’ Katsuki grumbles, and Izuku hands him his portion of the katsudon he spent all last night making. 

They make their way to their desks as usual, pulling their chairs as close to either end as possible so that Katsuki can prop his feet up on Izuku’s desk in the guise of spreading out and Izuku can tuck his legs underneath him on his seat and lean forwards to ramble to his heart's content. 

Katsuki is so keyed up he barely tastes the food. The whole time he’s just looking at Izuku, thinking: could it be?

His imagination, thus far kept on a tight leash, finds the thought enough leverage to go wild. 

He pictures Izuku in his house, in his bed, in his shower, in his lap. The thoughts run rampant enough that Izuku stops in his chatter about quirk theory and blinks.

‘Kacchan?’ Izuku asks. ‘Everything alright?’

‘Ueh? Oh — yeh.’ He nods and stuffs his face to avoid scrutiny. Something niggles in the back of his mind though. ‘Oi, ya ever hear from the other extras?’

Izuku blinks and tilts his head. ‘Have you been worrying about them?’

‘No, tch, I just wanna know. You and Round Cheeks were always close.’

Izuku looks even more confused. ‘Ahh, yes, but I’m sure Uraraka-san is doing well. She’s overseas again though.’

‘That why you don’t see her?’ He keeps on; pressing until it hurts. 

‘Um…’ Izuku looks at Katsuki thoughtfully. ‘I guess so. Sorry, Kacchan, I don’t understand…’

‘I thought you and her would be a thing by now, that’s all.’ He mutters darkly. ‘I kinda always thought there was something going on.’

Izuku’s cheeks redden, and he clears his throat. ‘No, um. No.’ His voice sounds weird. Clogged.

Katsuki waits for more, but that appears to be all he’s getting. 

‘No?’ He confirms. His heart is doing goddamn cartwheels. He swears he didn’t just invent shit, but maybe he’s always had a weak spot for Izuku and everyone around him. He can always tell when one of those extras is cosying up to him. 

Christ, half the class had a crush on him at one point or another. 

But maybe his mind got the better of him in this case.

Izuku shakes his head resolutely. He keeps chewing, as if to avoid speaking. 

Katsuki shovels some more mouthfuls in as well, but it’s hard to focus.

‘Well I’ll be damned!’ He laughs all of a sudden, unable to contain the tentative hope bursting through. When Izuku frowns, Katsuki tacks on, ‘Not often that I’m wrong, nerd.’ He grins.

Not often indeed. 

Katsuki’s never been so overjoyed to be this wrong in his entire life.

*

When they part ways that night, after a long day of mostly nothing, Katsuki doesn’t feel the same agony at the feeling of Izuku being in his arms but not being his.

He doesn’t feel agonised at all.

He feels – really, truly feels – Izuku’s arms wrap around his midriff. He feels them give the briefest squeeze before they wrench themselves backwards forcefully, almost as if … 

As if he doesn’t want to let go.

‘Bye, Kacchan! Have a great week!’ Izuku chirps happily as he starts down the road. And Katsuki really looks. Looks at the stiffness to his shoulders, and the way his fists clench for a second before they release. 

He doesn't want to let go.

‘Izuku!’ Katsuki shouts thoughtlessly.

Izuku stops and turns. 

Katsuki’s tongue feels fat. 

‘Lunch tomorrow?’ He calls. 

They don’t have patrol together, but Izuku should be able to swing by his desk. The hope in Katsuki’s voice puts him to fucking shame, but it’s done now, and maybe he should start laying the groundwork anyway.

Izuku’s brilliant beam is worth it. ‘Mm! It’s on me! Your katsudon was delicious! We’ll need to call it your Famous Kacch-udon!’ 

Katsuki rolls his eyes as Izuku laughs, but he goes to bed with that knowledge curled up in his chest like a secret treasure tucked away.

*

The next few days, Katsuki does everything he can to test his theory. 

It’s as though his hope overrides everything. Even his desire to grab Izuku’s face and pepper it with a million kisses. Even the desire to cling on during a parting hug and drag Izuku back to his place and never let him go. The desire to cup his face. To run hands through his hair. Squish his stupidly squeezable cheeks. Thumb at his freckles. 

No: in the pursuit of proper confirmation that he’s got a real chance, instead of suppressing everything, Katsuki feels like he can actually be freer with his emotions. 

‘Oi, Izuku, gimme a massage?’ Katsuki asks after a training session of lifting weights and some light cardio, since he can’t let his heart get too hyperactive; only the real threat of a fight gives him enough of a boost, otherwise he’s like a tired old man on the treadmill after twenty.

Instead of blushing and stuttering, Izuku just gets this determined look on his face. ‘Of course! When?’ 

‘Could do now?’ Katsuki’s skin tingles at the promise of it. He flexes his arms where he stands, trying to show off the muscles he’s gained in the last eight years. 

It’s just the two of them in the gym this late, spread out across the weight room where Izuku is doing pull ups at the back on the bar and Katsuki is watching him in the mirror while he does bicep curls (focusing more on one arm, of course, currently supported inside his compression sleeve). 

They decided to squeeze in a quick session before going home, and Katsuki’s been planning to ask this question for an hour.

But when Izuku comes over, he’s completely professional, his touch distant and calculating as it prods Katsuki’s back where he’s sitting on the bench. ‘Tell me where it hurts.’

‘Mmm.’ Katsuki rolls his head, because truthfully he has been getting some backache. ‘Damn everywhere.’

Izuku gets to the task at hand, and of course he’s fucking incredible, digging his thumbs directly into the knotted sore spots in Katsuki’s back and making them disappear like magic. 

Katsuki is a little more shameless with his noises, but even then every time he takes a peek he finds Izuku with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in concentration and so damn adorable that Katsuki wants to explode .

Katsuki cooks Izuku dinner as a thank you afterwards — but even sitting on Katsuki’s couch in his tiny flat watching reruns of All Might documentaries and slurping Katsuki’s special-recipe ramen doesn’t give Katsuki any greater insight. 

It’s damn difficult to make Izuku lose his cool and show his emotions. 

Despite being a crybaby for life, he rarely gives into his feelings now. He thinks things through before he acts on anything. Katsuki has seen it in the streets on patrol, in his training and exercise regime, in his mannerisms and words.

Maybe this is a consequence of the war, but the kid Katsuki once knew has gone. In his place stands a generous, patient, calm and controlled man.

But that only gives Katsuki more fuel for fire. He will make Izuku’s emotions come to the forefront. 

He’s damn well been an expert in that since he was four.

He will find confirmation.

*

Of course, it only takes a single day for everything to fall apart.

Ever since Katsuki chatted with Kirishima, he’s been slowly but surely building evidence.

This Izuku is different from the Izuku that Katsuki knows like the palm of his overused hand, and so it stands to reason that this Izuku also acts differently when it comes to romance, too.

Katsuki has done everything to hint at his feelings without outright saying them: he’s invited Izuku over to his place basically every night, cooked for him (as payback for massages or lunches or random errands or filed paperwork), he’s sent Izuku pictures during their time apart, bought him gifts (it was limited edition and he knew the exact spot it would take on Izuku’s desk), and still Izuku is polite and cordial.

(He did launch himself at Katsuki over the figurine, but he abruptly pulled back as though he hadn’t meant to and it was over quicker than it began).

The only time the stiff politeness fell away was when Katsuki got injured, but he doesn’t feel like a repeat.

Katsuki has come to the very careful, very cautious conclusion that Izuku is shy . 

He has several facts that can back this up.

Firstly, Izuku has always been shy, although this has mutated itself in various ways throughout his life. At first he was a stuttering nerd quaking like a leaf, but during their time at U.A his shyness transformed into falling silent instead of stuttering, into his body going rigid and his eyes casting away during an awkward moment. He learned to plant his feet over time, but that never changed.

Now, Katsuki concludes his shyness is being masked by pleasantries and social niceties. He probably had to force himself out of his shell once he became a teacher, and the rest is history now.

Secondly, Izuku feels awkward whenever the topic of romance is brought up, and normally shuts down during the conversation with one word answers. So, there’s nobody in his life, and he’s still the least suave person Katsuki knows when it comes to this shit. It probably wouldn’t occur to him to act on his feelings for anyone. 

Thirdly, he’ll do anything for Katsuki. 

He’ll do everything Katsuki asks, even putting something in the trash for him when Katsuki is closer to the can. He’ll flood Katsuki with praise on his hero work, offer him endless compliments about his form and his technique, reply to his texts in seconds, embrace Katsuki anytime he sees him, always have coffee waiting for him, always check in before he goes to sleep, always beam wide whenever their eyes meet.

Izuku just generally dotes on Katsuki in every single way. 

Since Katsuki started thinking about it, there’s actually more he isn’t even adding to the list because it would take so long. 

He basically already acts like Katsuki’s boyfriend right now.

Katsuki damn well knows that from the outside he himself would just assume they were together, and he knows if someone was interested in him, they’d be pretty put off by this display every single day.

So Katsuki has decided. He thinks Izuku feels the same, but he’s shy. 

He thinks Izuku feels the same.

It makes Katsuki feel like he’s being carried along on a cloud. It makes his heart wake up racing and his mind so eager to be with Izuku again that he struggles to fall asleep in order to get there.

The day that he’s decided to talk to Izuku is the day it all falls apart.

They have their patrol. Katsuki has their lunch. Izuku has their coffees. They embrace happily in the morning. They set out on their route.

Katsuki is planning to bring it up gently at lunch. Just bemoan being painfully single and hint at how pathetically available he is to anyone looking. But also specifically someone three feet away. He needs to be forceful at this point.

Still, he also wants to ease into it. He doesn’t want to be interrupted in case he starts talking about this on their patrol and there’s some actual hero work to do.

But as soon as they step out of the office, they’re accosted by the reporters waiting for them. 

‘Deku! Hero Deku! Can you tell us a little about what it’s been like adjusting to hero life again?’ A reporter shoves his mic in Izuku’s face.

‘Ah, wonderful!’ Izuku replies, far too polite to shoulder past but clearly uncomfortable about the situation. 

Katsuki stands behind him and scowls at the cameras.

‘I’ve missed all of my classmates who I’m pleased to say are now Pro Heroes, and I’m so honoured to serve the people of Japan again!’ Izuku adds.

‘Any plans to join a proper agency soon? There’s talk you might open your own, since you’re so popular in the rankings. I’m sure I know a few heroes who would be happy to join.’

‘Oh, it’s very early days, and I’m really enjoying getting back into things!’ 

‘And tell us — your fans are dying to know, what’s your type?’ The reporter looks like he’s been waiting to ask this specific question and everything else was a setup, damn gossipmonger. ‘What hope can you give to those who’d love to be swept up into those heroic arms?’

‘Oh — none. My heart is very much taken. Thank you.’ Izuku smiles gently as he pushes past, but his voice is firm.

Katsuki doesn’t move for several seconds. 

He realises Izuku is halfway down the street before his legs move instinctually. 

My heart is very much taken.

Horror fills his lungs. It crushes his windpipe. It suffocates all air. 

Very much taken. 

‘Izuku!’ Katsuki shouts, hoarse, sharp and frantic.

Izuku turns around and stops. ‘Oh, sorry Kacchan! I just wanted to get away.’ 

‘That was a lie, right? That last question?’ He demands. He doesn’t care how revealing he is now. ‘You were lying?’

Izuku swallows, but his face falls into a serious expression. He waits for a passerby to move around them before he shakes his head. 

‘No, Kacchan.’ He says softly.

Katsuki’s world collapses. 

Without speaking, he blasts into the air and keeps going until he gets to his flat.

It keeps replaying over and over as he fumbles for his keys.

I’m very much taken.

As though it was obvious. As though it’s been set in stone since the beginning of time.

Who? Who is it? That asshole from Otheon who couldn’t keep his hands to himself? Someone Izuku has never introduced to him? Someone he’s been hiding?

That’s why he doesn’t invite me to his place.

That’s why he goes mute whenever the fucking topic of dating pops up.

It all clicks neatly in place.

That’s why.

Of course. 

Eight years. Eight whole years they were apart. 

Of course. 

‘Average Midoriya Izuku experience.’

Of course. 

Katsuki unlocks his door and stumbles inside. He feels winded and dazed, as though he’s been struck over the head. But that’s not why he’s here.

No. That’s not it. 

He feels it building up from the very pit of him. He knows acutely what’s about to happen. The only thing Izuku can always drag out of him. 

Katsuki rips his eye-mask off and dives onto the couch just in time to break down.

He clutches at his chest and his stomach where his organs feel as though they’re rupturing. The pain is worse than anything ever inflicted onto him. It’s really the pain of dying. He wishes this were hyperbole and Hollywood fantasy. 

It’s not. It’s real. It turns out this is actually something that can happen. 

Heartbreak is a fucking literal term.

Katsuki presses his nose into his couch cushions as the sobs take hold of him. The first one is so hard to release that Katsuki has to actually groan before it willingly comes out. Then it chokes him so much that he ends up silent, curled up, convulsing with it.

And then he drags a juddering, shaky gasp of air in. Again. Again. The tears come flooding shortly afterwards.

Again. 

In and out. 

Again.

Is he wailing? 

Fuck. 

Hurts. Hurts so much. Agony. Is he going to die? Might suffocate. 

I’m very much taken. 

He’ll pass out. He won’t survive. He can’t survive. 

He will. He will survive. He has to.

Does he? What for? 

Only reason he survived the first time was to get back to Izuku’s side. 

To save Izuku.

Make sure he was safe. 

To look at him again. 

For the rest of their lives. 

I’m very much taken. 

Someone else. Someone else gets Izuku for the rest of their life. 

Not him. It was never him.

He’s drowning. Gasping. He almost wishes it would kill him rather than hold him hostage over the fucking edge. 

Why? Why did he think he could have Izuku? Why did he delude himself into believing it?

It wouldn’t hurt this much if he hadn’t deluded himself. 

I’m very much taken.

He told himself he’d be content to watch from the sidelines. 

He told himself he wanted Izuku to be happy even if it wasn’t with him. 

He’s a selfish bastard. He can’t want that.

He can’t be happy without Izuku.

But it’s not just about Izuku being happy with someone else. 

It’s that they’ve clearly taken Katsuki’s place. 

Katsuki wouldn’t mind if Izuku had someone to go home to. A lover who satisfied some needs or offered some comfort, but still could never take Katsuki’s place.

To know he might not even have that …

Izuku spoke so clearly. So confidently. 

Very much taken.

It was a fact. Indisputable.

And now Katsuki might not … 

His place at Izuku’s side – 

(Hurts so bad).

It might be gone.

‘Kacchan!’ 

Katsuki jolts, his head whipping up. There’s a pounding at his door. 

Izuku sounds frantic. 

Of course the idiot tracked Katsuki down to his flat. Katsuki’s never just left the job like that. They had patrol. They were working . There’s obviously got to be something wrong with him.

Izuku must be worried.

But Katsuki can’t – 

He just can’t.

Katsuki puts his head down, curls further into himself, and ignores it. Izuku will think he’s not home if he just waits long enough. He presses fists to his eyes and closes his mouth to contain the crying, although it still streams over his face and knuckles.

‘Kacchan, let me in!’ Izuku demands. ‘Your vitals are dangerous!’

His vitals? 

The fuck?

Katsuki lifts his head again to frown, momentarily too confused to keep crying, and he swallows in the short interim it gives him, which helps put a pause on the waterworks.

Just at that same second, Izuku decides it’s been too long and kicks his door down. 

As if the one thing Katsuki needed today was the hinges coming off his crappy apartment door-frame. 

Izuku uses the fucking suit to do it as well, but somehow his door is strong enough to withstand the attack and remains clinging on to the wall.

The lock is fucking busted, though. That's sure to be a pain in the ass later.

Katsuki just stares as Izuku barges in. 

‘What’s happening? What’s wrong?’ He rushes to Katsuki’s side and kneels beside him. ‘Your head? Your heart?’ He takes Katsuki’s face in his hands, eyes scanning all over him, trembling, gasping for breath. His mouth is open, his eyes insane. He looks feral. ‘What is it?’

Katsuki pushes Izuku’s rough-yet-gentle hands away and turns to press his nose into the couch, his back to Izuku. Hopefully this time he really does suffocate and die. 

I’m very much taken.

Betrayal and loss and pain. Bitterness and anger and humiliation.

Sadness. 

Emptiness.

He can’t hide. 

‘Kacchan, talk to me, please.’ Izuku sounds close to tears himself, his hands resting on Katsuki’s shoulders but not moving, trembling lightly. His voice is thin and brittle, about to snap. ‘Please, Kacchan, I need to know what’s wrong. I can help, I promise. Please .’

Katsuki knows he’s acting like a spoiled brat and doesn’t care. Who gives a single flying shit anymore? 

But the sound of Izuku’s voice – the pain in it. The fear. They’ve been through too much. He can’t ignore it.

Katsuki turns around with great reluctance. 

He’s a total mess. His face must be the grossest, puffiest, rawest fucking skinbag to ever exist. He imagines it like a wrinkled melon on top of his shoulders. He can barely open his eyes, they’re that swollen. He flops around onto his back and looks at his hands on his stomach through his bleary, blood-shot vision. 

He wants to let himself be controlled by his emotions. He wants to open his mouth to repel Izuku in every way he can, to shout and insult and shove him away.

But when he reaches down to the bottom of the well, there’s nothing.

‘Who is it?’ He sounds like death. He’s barely even able to speak. It comes out as a cracked whisper.

‘Who‘s what?’ Izuku asks, as frantic as Katsuki was.

‘You said … you were – t-taken.’ His breaths are fucking hitching with the aftershocks now, and it’s making his voice stutter. He can’t really find it in him to care much. ‘To t-that reporter. So … Who is it?’ He rasps.

Katsuki does, however, resent the fresh heat brought to his eyes by those words. And the way this completely blows any credible cover. 

Izuku knows now. He can’t not. There’s no way. 

Izuku shuffles closer, so close that their heads are bent together and their noses are almost touching. ‘Kacchan. I said my heart is taken. By you.’

Katsuki’s breath jerks. He cuts his eyes to Izuku instantly, only able to make out his blurry outline. ‘What?’ His voice is small. His pulse pounds in his fingertips. He stares at Izuku’s face.

Izuku takes Katsuki’s hand and presses it to his chest. He looks very serious, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded, his mouth thin and unsmiling (even through the water-logged lens). 

‘You, Kacchan. It’s taken by you. I thought you knew.’

Katsuki …

His fingers tighten in the thick material of Izuku’s hero suit, unable to feel the beat of his heart since the suit has so many layers. His mouth stays open as he stares in awe at Izuku’s severe expression, almost carved in marble. It’s an expression he’s never seen before. It’s like Izuku is containing every emotion he’s ever had and not allowing a single one out.

‘Me?’

Izuku nods. He leans forward on his knees, one arm coming around Katsuki on the couch to cradle him very gently, fingers spreading across Katsuki’s ribs as their foreheads come into contact.

Katsuki can’t do anything as Izuku settles into a far more intimate position. 

He can’t even breathe.

‘Yes.’ Izuku rubs a thumb over Katsuki’s hand, still gripping the suit. It moves back and forth, a thoughtless soothing motion. ‘Kacchan, you’re my heart. You always have been.’

Katsuki reaches out his other shaking hand. He trails it across Izuku’s cheek dumbly. He can’t even believe this is real. 

Izuku’s pulse is fast at his throat under Katsuki’s fingertips. But he’s giving nothing away. His face is a blank, serious mask.

‘How do you feel about that?’ Izuku asks him very softly, his gaze calculating. ‘I just assumed that you knew and didn’t want me to bring it up. Was I wrong?’

Katsuki nods silently, still too stunned to even process this. He swallows with difficulty. ‘I didn’t know.’ He croaks, still rough. ‘Didn’t know a damn thing. I had to run here when you said you were taken, ‘cause my fucking heart broke into a million pieces, Izuku.’

Izuku’s eyes widen as a gasp is ripped from his throat. ‘Kacchan.’ He whispers.

And then he throws himself on top of Katsuki and squeezes him for dear life, their legs tangling together and his face pressing into Katsuki’s shoulder. 

‘Kacchan, tell me I’m not dreaming, please.’ Izuku demands. 

This is real. Real. 

Katsuki makes a wounded, pained noise before he throws both arms around Izuku’s solid, familiar weight in return. 

It feels as though his spirit rushes up through his body and moves Katsuki according to its own will. It turns Katsuki’s head to pepper kisses to Izuku’s scarred, freckled cheek, it wraps both of Katuki’s legs around Izuku’s hips and moves Katsuki’s hands into Izuku’s hair to hold his head. He’s not conscious of it and has no way to stop it. 

Izuku lifts his face to hover above Katsuki’s; even with Katsuki gripping the short strands at the nape of his neck.

Instead of tears – which Katsuki almost expected – he finds this dangerous look on Izuku’s face. It’s totally unrecognisable.

Katsuki would almost think it anger, if he hadn’t already seen Izuku’s real fury in the throes of battle or at the hospital. No, it’s hunger . An intensity that is being held back by his shaking form.

‘Kacchan, I need to kiss you.’ Izuku states. He sounds husky. ‘Will you let me?’

Katsuki fully ascends into the next fucking life. 

‘Let you? ’ He chokes, still rasping. ‘I’ve been goddamn dyin’ for you to, idiot. I’ve been fucking falling apart waiting for it.’

Izuku frames his face with those big, scarred palms of his that bleed heat and love from his touch alone. ‘Just let this not be a dream.’ He murmurs. It’s a prayer. 

Katsuki feels his own heart break apart and come together, break apart and come together, again and again. Every time it’s made anew it feels bigger.

They’re both the same. They’ve been so blind.

‘You sure I ever looked this good in dreams?’ Katsuki teases, because clearly he looks like a train wreck.

Izuku smiles this new smile: wondrous and beautiful. ‘No.’ He agrees. And then he kisses Katsuki. 

Soft mouth. Very gentle. Warm. 

There’s a beat, a pause, where they do nothing. Just bask in the moment. Just stay totally still and allow it to sink in. 

Izuku opens their mouths. He breathes into Katsuki. Katsuki exhales back. Their breath becomes one. Their hearts are against each other, beating in time. 

Katsuki moves his hands and cups Izuku’s face tenderly. Izuku opens his mouth as his tongue touches Katsuki’s bottom lip. It feels so incredible that Katsuki makes a noise, a little moan, without his volition. 

Izuku does it again, emboldened.

A completely profound worship comes over Katsuki as his hands go into Izuku’s soft hair, touch his ears, grip his throat. Their tongues meet wetly and lap against one another. Electric heat sparks in his belly and clenches his gut hotly. He’s getting hard just from this.

Katsuki doesn't even notice. A delight zips up and down his spine, sparking his nervous system ablaze with the knowledge he’s kissing Izuku . His lips tingle in deep pleasure from Izuku’s attention. His pulse enters another stratosphere. He feels almost so ecstatic he’s become mute, like a monk before a holy apparition. 

Izuku pulls away. 

Katsuki blinks, dazed, and looks at Izuku with unfocused eyes as Izuku stares down at him. 

Something in his face must be what Izuku is looking for, because he quickly recaptures Katsuki’s mouth and kisses him with abandon. His hands tighten their hold, his body presses down hard, his mouth moves eager and rough, stealing the oxygen from Katsuki’s lungs and scraping teeth across his lips. 

Katsuki can’t help but release these pathetic little whimpers and moans every couple seconds, punched-out and choked, but then Izuku groans against him so hard their mouths vibrate. 

The sound is so desperate, so urgent, that Katsuki echoes it.

‘Kac-chan.’ Izuku groans verbally against him, muffled in the space between their wet skin, a sound so drunk on feeling it slurs.

‘Izuku.’ Katsuki whispers rapturously as they part to gasp air.

Then Izuku is kissing down his scarred cheek and along his throat with the frantic energy of a drowning man.

Katsuki follows instantly, lavishing attention with his lips and his teeth to any skin available, nibbling at Izuku’s jaw and ear. 

Still some part of him is struggling to process that this is happening: his legs come up along Izuku’s back and cling for dear life, his heels press into Izuku’s spine, because he can’t help but do everything he can think of to keep Izuku where he is.

As if he even needed to bother. 

Izuku is clutching at his sides now, fingers fully embedded in Katsuki’s ribs, sucking hungrily into the sensitive skin of Katsuki’s throat and rumbling this beautiful filthy basically shameless noise.

Katsuki realises with a bolt of lightning the familiar pooling heat in his gut and the intensifying tingles in his groin all signal an oncoming orgasm; that he’ll literally come in his fucking pants right now if Izuku doesn’t stop.

‘Iz– Izuku.’ Katsuki gasps, jolting with the mortification, and instead of gripping, he gives Izuku a gentle push.

Izuku senses the change in milliseconds and rips himself away. 

‘Kacchan, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over–’ Izuku races to speak, his chest heaving quickly and his eyes wide with panic.

Katsuki takes Izuku’s face in his hands and pulls their foreheads together, pressing their noses in an affectionate bump. 

Izuku exhales slowly from the wordless reassurance. 

They catch their breath and melt into each other. 

Katsuki can’t help but twitch and tremble from the near-miss, the curling pleasure receding in waves, but thankfully through the heavy material of their hero suits he’s able to angle himself away and go unnoticed. Thank Fuck. 

‘Kacchan, your eyes… they look so sore …’ Izuku murmurs, an aching sadness in his voice, and then he leans down to press very soft kisses to Katsuki’s bruised, swollen eyebags. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’ He whispers. ‘I didn’t think you would misinterpret my words. I was so sure you knew.’

‘Don’t be sorry.’ Katsuki mutters, but he’s unable to keep from smiling at the attention. Izuku’s mouth is perfectly shaped for kisses, curing all pain. It could cause world peace if Katsuki wasn’t such a greedy bastard who refuses to share. ‘Worked out anyway, idiot. But – what did you mean about my vitals?’

Izuku pulls back, which Katuski resents instantly. He opens his eyes to see why.

Izuku swallows and gives him this very impish, very guilty look. ‘Well, Hatsume-san … she did some upgrades that I asked for while I was working my notice, one of them being … um, well, at first it was just a locator for you, but then I thought what good is a locator if I don’t know what state you’re in, so she built a monitor for your vitals, y-you know your heart rate, blood pressure, temperature, oxygen levels, all of that, and added it to my suit.’

Izuku gives him a very wary expression. 

‘Hah? How the fuck did you guys even get that information?’ Katsuki frowns, totally thrown.

‘Well, it’s wirelessly connected to the monitor in your suit, which would make it difficult if something happened on your day off and you weren’t wearing it, but Hatsume-san couldn’t get the clearance to make a monitor that would always be attached to your skin, though I do think it could be a good idea.’ Izuku gives him this hopeful, puppy-dog look.

‘You made a monitor for my suit and didn’t tell me?’ Katsuki asks.

Izuku goes stiff. ‘W-well …’ His telltale stutter appears.

‘And how the fuck did you attach it without me even knowing?’ Katsuki is honestly more impressed than anything.

‘W-well, you see Hatsume-san added it when you went to see her for some repairs about a month ago, before I joined everyone as a hero again – I mean it was more of test period for her new ‘baby’ than anything, and I assume you signed off on it without really looking at the repairs or listening to what Hatsume-san said, that is; if you didn't know about it — but I only asked her if something like a monitor would be possible and then by the time I knew it she was telling me she had placed it onto your suit and it should be fully functional –’

‘Damn.’ Katsuki cuts off the rambling. ‘So can I get one for you?’

Izuku blinks, his mouth open. ‘Eh?’ 

‘I mean, it’s only fair.’ Katsuki explains, although he’s grinning now. He also feels an overwhelming, perverse relief at the thought. Knowing where Izuku is when they’re apart. Knowing how he is. At all times.

‘Um… of course.’ Izuku looks stunned, his bright green eyes owlishly wide. ‘Of course you can have one for me, Kacchan. I’m … sorry I didn’t ask.’ He looks rueful again. ‘I didn't really get a chance to ask before it was done. I thought it would make you feel uncomfortable. It really wasn’t for any reason, it just –’

‘It comforted you.’ Katsuki states, his voice strong albeit a little rough. ‘Put you at ease. Stopped you worrying. Stopped you being distracted. Felt like confirmation I was alive. Felt like a damn lifeline.’

Izuku stares silently, but he touches Katsuki’s cheek very softly and nods. 

Katsuki turns his head and traps that palm against his shoulder. He kisses it forcefully, kisses all those puckered, wrinkled scars. ‘I get it, nerd. I love you.’ He declares, and then grumbles, ‘Love you so much, should come with a damn health warnin’.’

Despite everything, this is when the waterworks finally decide to arrive. 

Izuku hasn’t had an emotion a day in his life that hasn’t caused some kind of tear to his eye. Maybe that’s Katsuki’s selfishness coming through, but he needed his crybaby to cement that this was happening.

And lo and behold, Crybaby Hero makes a comeback in a big way. Izuku’s tears are thick, fat giants rolling down his cheeks as he clutches Katsuki and weeps into his chest. His mouth is open against Katsuki’s chest, nose smushed against his body, shaking with it. Almost a mirror of Katsuki just minutes before.

Katsuki holds him through it. Shushes murmurs and kisses into his hair and rocks him back and forth. 

‘K-Kacchan.’ Izuku yelps at one point. ‘I l-lo – lo—,’

‘I know. Take a breath. Come on.’ Katsuki murmurs, but still wraps Izuku up in his arms and tightens his hold as if anyone might just come along and snatch his Deku out from under him. Katsuki wouldn't be surprised if there was a sizeable crowd who wanted to. He’ll be damned if they ever get near. 

Izuku hitches breaths, hiccups and sniffles, but he doesn’t try to speak again. He’s clearly too emotional. 

Katsuki didn’t intend for the words to land like a goddamn bomb, but then again when has he ever been capable of subtlety?

He knows Izuku wants to speak. He knows what Izuku wants to say, and that he wants to return the words as quickly as he can. But it can wait. They’ve got time.

They have a lot to discuss, sure. But they’ll get there. Katsuki will make sure of it, this time.

Chapter Text

After Izuku has calmed down and is only sort of sniffling into Katsuki’s suit, they take themselves to the kitchen and make some cold compresses with Katsuki’s tea-towels that he digs out from his drawers.

It’s goddamn embarrassing at the age of twenty five to be standing beside Izuku with his face tipped upwards and his eyes covered with a cooling cloth because he got so emotional over the idea of Izuku being taken that he broke down. 

It’s always Izuku at the scene of the damn crime whenever that happens. Starting to think his crying is infectious. 

‘Anyways, how come you’ve never taken me to your place?’ Katsuki gripes while they wait for their puffiness to go down.

‘Oh.’ Izuku sounds different. There’s a story here. Katsuki braces himself. 

You’re my heart. You always have been.

Katsuki repeats those words on loop.

‘Ah … well you know, it’s only temporary, but the truth is I didn’t have any savings when I graduated since I never managed to work during my time at U.A, and moving out of dorms was a big adjustment for me personally. Ahh … actually Kacchan, since the war, it’s been difficult for me to get used to new things, which is why I was so thankful for the teaching position at U.A. I think I might have struggled to start anywhere new. I needed what was familiar …’

Katsuki pulls his cloth away from his face to look at Izuku. Izuku’s eyes are covered, head tilted back, but he can tell just from the shape of Izuku’s mouth that this is hard for him to say.

‘So … I’m still with mom. I understand if you find that strange. Most people do. But mom was alone while I was at U.A, and I never considered the impact of that on her … especially when the war broke out. She’s older now, Kacchan. Things are different. She’s happy if I’m happy. Even as a hero, though it was a shock when I told her I was going pro. Still, she knew how much it meant to me. How much I missed it. But I couldn’t just leave her again.’

Katsuki sets the cloth down, moves quickly, and takes Izuku into his arms. He rests his chin on top of Izuku’s head and strokes his back. 

Izuku goes stiff. The cloth creates a wet patch on Katsuki’s shoulder, where Katsuki forces Izuku’s head against it.

‘Idiot. That makes perfect sense. I was just worried you were keeping something from me.’ Katsuki explains.

Izuku wraps a tentative arm around Katsuki. It feels less sure than it did ten minutes ago. 

‘I’m still … not convinced that I won’t wake up at any minute.’ Izuku confesses in a soft murmur.

‘Me too.’ Katsuki admits gently, the whisper that escapes much sweeter than he intended it to.

Izuku draws back. He takes his wet compress off and puts it on the counter. ‘Really?’ He asks. He’s not smiling, that serious look settling over him again, but his whole face shines. His eyes are lit from within. It’s pure happiness. Katsuki gave him that.

Katsuki nods. If so little can make Izuku look like this , then …

‘I used to imagine you were in my kitchen. And we were doing this.’ He squeezes Izuku.

Izuku goes violently red, his whole face a summer-blush strawberry. ‘Kacchan.’ He chokes. But then his arms become more confident, snaking around both sides, fingers tightening on Katsuki’s ribs. ‘I …’ He trails off.

Shy . Katsuki knew it. 

‘Did you imagine me?’ Katsuki whispers as he touches their noses and peers into his face, desperate for any kind of verbal confirmation.

Izuku can’t meet his eyes, but being this close is still its own reward. 

Then he starts speaking. 

‘Yes.’ Izuku states, looking off to the side, though there’s something resolute about him. His voice is strong again, the way it was the night they gave him the suit and Katsuki realised how much Izuku had changed.

‘All throughout U.A, Kacchan. I was happy to accept whatever you wanted to give me. I already knew friendship would be enough for life, when we got to that stage halfway through our first year. I never expected more. But I wanted you to have every joy. That meant love, too, Kacchan. I wanted you to have somebody.’ Izuku’s hands tighten at Katsuki’s back, which sort of negates what he’s saying, but Katsuki keeps listening.

‘And I was prepared to make myself indispensable to them. I wrote notebooks on things that might assist whoever you dated, so they might accept and understand me, and not see me as a threat or feel the need to push me away. I was so worried that your future partner would persuade you to stop talking to me. I was so worried I’d lose you. I knew they’d instantly be able to tell how I felt about you. It was obvious to everyone. I was so sure it was obvious to you, too. I was sure there was no way you could misunderstand me at Ground Beta. But mostly, Kacchan, I just made sure that anyone who might want to date you had my full support. I made sure that my feelings never hindered you in any way. At one point, I did think that it would be Kirishima-kun. But you never dated. And even after we graduated … I mean, I was happy to have you in other ways: there was always a constant stream of updates on my phone, and Aizawa-sensei kept me in the loop. I knew you were very busy. But still you never dated … It made me sad, Kacchan. And all that time, I’ve just wanted — to love you, and cherish you, and give you all the joy possible.’ Izuku’s voice lowers to a whisper, but it sounds no less sure of itself.

Katsuki feels himself tremble. 

He remembers Ground Beta, holding Izuku down and thinking where is the victory, where is it? So desperate to feel it, willing it to happen – he’d just fucking bested the person All Might selected as his successor – and yet that was just the start of Katsuki understanding himself, and understanding them. 

The start of him taking a longer look at Izuku, wondering why Izuku was the only one able to provoke him to such extremes. At first he told himself it was because Izuku had been recognised by their hero. Izuku was the Chosen One, when that should have been a title given to Katsuki.

And so he raced through U.A clinging on to that silly, stupid image of victory and the pride he would feel when it arrived. He burnt through everything to get there. He was so sure it would give him everything he had ever wanted. The confirmation that he was the best. Better than All Might, better than the nerd, better than anyone. He just wanted to be the best. As soon as he had the evidence, he’d stop chasing, stop fighting, stop thrashing and struggling. He’d finally be on top and allowed to breathe. 

He’d finally be what people expected of him since he was four years old.

And then the war. And then he died. And he realised he only ever wanted to be by Izuku’s side. All that time. It was meaningless without Izuku. Every win. Every victory. It was nothing.

And yet…

Izuku knew that all along. Always one step ahead. Always so much further in front of Katsuki. Ever since they were kids.

‘Izuku.’ Katsuki murmurs. His voice is full of a love he doesn’t try to hide.

Izuku finally meets his gaze, clearly afraid.

‘I never dated because … I felt the same.’ Katsuki murmurs. ‘I felt the same about you. But I didn’t know it at the time. I do now. That’s the reason.’

Izuku’s eyes grow wide in wonder.

‘But I can’t love like you do.’ Katsuki has to admit. He has to open up all his ugly, twisted parts for Izuku to see and make a judgement on. ‘I can’t just want you to be happy even if it’s with someone else. It fucking kills me thinking that someone else could make you happy. Someone else gets all of you when I only get a piece. Someone else sees you every morning, and kisses you before work, and eats dinner with you that night, I can’t —‘ Katsuki takes Izuku’s face and shakes his head as his throat constricts. ‘I can’t stand that fucking shit, Izuku.’ 

Izuku takes Katsuki’s wrists and runs his thumbs over the pulse-points. ‘Kacchan. You’ll never have to. I couldn’t bring myself to be with anybody else. It would never be fair to them. It would be cruel. Nobody could compare to you.’ 

Katsuki’s heart bursts from selfish happiness at those words. He re-takes Izuku into an embrace.

But even still … even still …

‘I can’t be selfless, Izuku.’ Katsuki croaks. ‘I’m trying to tell you that. I’m still the same as I was at U.A. I get so jealous that I feel fucking sick with it. All you ever wanted was for me to be happy, even if you weren’t there, but I … I …’ 

‘I want you to be happy, yes. But to be the one allowed to make you happy?’ Izuku pulls back to give him a serious look, holding him by the waist with more surety now that they’re talking like this. ‘The one allowed to touch you? And take care of you? And make you laugh? And talk to you every day? I never let myself want that because it would consume me, Kacchan.’

Katsuki’s pulse races in his throat. All of this is like sweet honey nectar to Katsuki’s fears: wrapping them in balm and soothing them. All of Izuku’s gentle words and touches are like healing ointment.

‘I was so damn jealous of Round Cheeks.’ He whispers like this is a church confessional. The final frontier, since he might as well give Izuku everything; needs to give Izuku everything. ‘It’s been driving me crazy.’

‘Uraraka-san?’ Izuku pulls his head back in bewilderment. 

Katsuki nods, waiting.

Izuku’s expression settles into understanding. ‘Kacchan, Uraraka-san is gay.’

Oh. Damn. Katsuki’s been a bitch to a fellow soldier. The words do nothing to reassure, though. He needs to know …

‘But you were always close.’ He says, his eyes trying to find any slight hint in Izuku’s face. ‘Did you … you ever …’

‘Did I ever have feelings for her?’ Izuku finishes. 

Katsuki can only nod wordlessly. He needs to hear Izuku say it, one way or another.

‘No.’ Izuku states. ‘But I am bisexual, Kacchan. I’ve been attracted to other people –’

‘Who?’ Katsuki’s fingertips dig in a little with the force of his grip. ‘Round Cheeks? That damn Otheon asshole?’

Izuku gives him a raised brow. ‘Let me finish.’ He states. He sounds gently commanding in that way only Izuku can be.

Katsuki clenches his jaw and says nothing. 

Knew it. A rancid sourness rises up his throat. Knew it, knew it, knewitknewitknewitkn–

Izuku gives him a soft, knowing smile as his hands stroke along Katsuki’s sides in a gentle, soothing manner. 

‘I have been attracted to other people.’ He begins softly. ‘It would pass after a few conversations with them, though. I’ve always been very fascinated by people, their quirks, their strengths: you know that Kacchan. But every time I tried to bring myself to develop a deeper connection, I would just end up comparing them to you. I tried not to. I tried so hard to feel the way I felt about you for other people. But I was only ever left feeling guilty when it didn’t work, and I realised I had misled them. So I decided to finally stop. There was only ever one person for me, regardless of if you accepted me or not. And the feelings I had for you, Kacchan – they only ever grew. Since we were kids, I’ve always thought you were amazing. Still, I never expected that feeling to deepen as we got older. It’s true that I clung to you – I couldn’t bring myself to stop. I had to have you in some way. I couldn’t ever let you go. Even when I knew that was the only way I’d be able to move on. I never wanted to move on. I want to keep loving you all my life, because you're a part of me. The most important part. You're my heart. I’d die rather than lose any piece of you, including the feelings I have. But you need to know, Kacchan, as well as amazing, I’ve always thought you're the most incredible, powerful, dedicated, and beautiful person to ever exist. I’ve always been so astounded by you it’s all I can do just to stare. You’re the only person I’ve ever had those feelings for, and the only one I ever will.’

The only one. 

Katsuki kisses him.

He grabs Izuku by the face and attacks his mouth with his own, pouring his whole heart through the desperate way he clutches Izuku and the way he presses forward and the way he’s scrabbling at Izuku’s chest and the way he’s begging closer, closer.

Izuku’s earlier nervousness evaporates. 

He surges forward to meet— no, to welcome Katsuki.

Although he’s shorter, he takes both of Katsuki’s thighs and hitches him up off the floor, forcing Katsuki to wrap legs around his torso as Izuku’s hands run all over his back. They stagger a little bit until Izuku presses Katsuki up along the fridge and Katsuki wraps both arms around Izuku’s shoulders in an embrace. Their teeth press and click and smash together. There’s heat, wetness, saliva running down their chins, and then Izuku takes his lower lip and sucks : hard and brutal and punishing.

Katsuki writhes against him, nails scraping, hands grappling, legs squeezing. 

Izuku forces their mouths to open wide and plunges his tongue deep inside Katsuki. He’s licking along Katsuki’s gums, running the tip of his tongue along the rows of Katsuki’s teeth, somehow exploratory and claiming all at the same time, deeply possessive and obsessively curious. 

Katsuki gives back as good as he gets. That old, bright flare of competitiveness sparks inside him, but instead of shying away or stomping it out, Katsuki feels excitement flood him as he grins wild and free against Izuku, realising he doesn’t have to anymore. 

He takes hold of Izuku’s jaw with insistent fingers and buries one hand in the back of his head, yanking his hair to give better access.

Izuku makes a rough grunt, a noise full of wanton lust, when Katsuki pours his tongue down Izuku’s throat and ravishes every corner of his mouth. 

Izuku’s nails dig into the meat of Katsuki’s thighs, and then he’s scrambling to undo the clips of Katsuki’s thigh-holsters that attach to his suit, he’s tugging Katsuki’s skin-tight top from out of his trousers, his bare hand sliding up Katsuki’s ribs and racing to find his naked skin.

Katsuki is so on board with this plan he decides to plant his feet so he can rip at Izuku’s suit too. 

Although he funded the damn thing he’s now utterly desperate for Izuku to be out of it. 

They paw and push, shove and tug, cling and rip at one another while they kiss with a violence that only the both of them can understand the beauty of.

Izuku’s phone starts buzzing. 

Katsuki has just managed to unzip the front of Izuku’s suit and yanked his top half off his shoulders, biting and sucking at his collarbones, on a high he’s certain there’s no drug for: a combination of searing arousal, pulse-pounding adrenaline, physical pleasure, a lack of oxygen, a flood of endorphins, and the strongest hit of dopamine he’s ever experienced. 

It makes everything around him hazy and unfocused apart from Izuku under his hands, under his mouth, under his body.

But then Izuku uses one hand to pull his phone out of his pocket, obviously about to throw it away, until he yelps and jumps backwards so quickly that Katsuki staggers and almost falls flat on his face.

Izuku pulls the phone to his ear.

‘A-All Might!’ Izuku starts stuttering. ‘Ah – yes, we’re okay! I’m so sorry to have caused trouble! I see – my phone has certainly been acting up, ha ha! Weird – oh no, it must be the connection! Yes, we’ll be right back!’

Katsuki is literally so woozy he can’t even stand up straight. He has to literally lean against the counter. He’s so pathetic it’s unreal.

Izuku ends the call quickly and covers his face with both hands. ‘Ohmygod.’

Katsuki wishes he was capable of proper speech right now.

‘Kacchan, nobody understood what happened when we left so suddenly, and Mirko-san tried to get in touch with us, but failing that she had to call my emergency contact, ahhhh, All Might was so stressed-out, we need to get back –’

Izuku starts towards the door.

‘Dammit, nerd, hold up!’ Katsuki shouts, and stomps over.

Izuku turns around, his mouth bitten-red and puffy-slick, his cheeks stained in a wine-flush, his hair sticking up on one side where it was yanked, and his hero suit still unzipped around his shoulders. He looks thoroughly fucked and they didn’t even manage to get to that.

‘Idiot. You’re a mess.’ Katsuki tuts.

‘You’re …’ Izuku tries, his eyes tripping up over Katsuki. ‘Kacchan, you look …’

Katsuki fixes the suit, gives Izuku’s hair a gentle run-through, and realises that’s the best he can do. ‘What?’

Izuku, instead of answering, just steers Katsuki to the bathroom.

Katsuki somehow looks worse. 

He gapes at his reflection, with his whole face and neck utterly beetroot. His hair is standing on end. He looks like he’s been electrocuted.

‘I look like I’ve just taken a fucking hit from Dunce Face!’ Katsuki cries, pressing closer to the mirror and trying to understand the person in it, with their wild-insane eyes still swollen from crying and yet somehow wired to the moon, newly pink body since the flush goes fucking everywhere , lips so fat and abused he looks like he’s had work done. 

Izuku slaps a hand over his mouth. He’s shaking.

‘You better not.’ Katsuki warns, deadly.

‘I can’t …’ Izuku wheezes. And then he just throws his head back and bellows. 

The sound is music. It’s so light and joyous that it works itself into Katsuki and practically tickles him from the inside. 

It takes nothing for him to join Izuku and guffaw at his own face.

‘How the fuck did you do this?’ He grabs Izuku, both of them still laughing, and shakes him. 

‘I’ve never — seen Kacchan so — so dishevelled!’ Izuku howls. 

‘I’ve never been so fucking dishevelled!’ Katsuki defends. ‘Who the fuck are you getting this disheveled for?!’

Izuku takes his face. He’s beaming. ‘Nobody. Only you. Forever.’ He punctuates each word with a kiss.

Katsuki settles, a sigh exhaling from his lips. 

It’s exactly the kind of response he needs to this irrational, silly, pointless jealousy. If Izuku were to stomp on it or discard it, it would only grow: it would take root inside Katsuki and destroy him.

Izuku just kisses the growing bud and gives it wings to fly away.

’Really?’ Katsuki presses on, because he’s enjoying it, and he can tell Izuku is enjoying it too. 

‘Mm, you make me lose my mind, Kacchan.’ Izuku confesses as he brushes kisses over Katsuki’s throat now. ‘You always have.’

‘In what way?’ Katsuki whispers, nosing at the shell of Izuku’s ear.

Izuku jerks back.

Katsuki blinks, startled.

‘Kacchan, we have to go back to work.’ Izuku tells him. He disentangles himself fully and takes two steps backwards.

Katsuki growls and runs a hand through his hair. ‘Can’t we call in sick?’ He throws out.

‘There’s nobody to cover today.’ Izuku replies. ‘What if —’

‘Yeh, yeh, a building collapses or a baby sneezes, blah, blah.’ Katsuki has never seriously resented the job until now. 

‘Kacchan!’ Izuku scolds him exactly how the fantasy Izuku scolds Katsuki in his mind whenever he finds himself being unkind.

Katsuki can’t help but laugh freely at that. It’s loud and obnoxious and full of joy, even to his own ears.

Izuku gapes.

Katsuki stops. ‘What?’

Izuku takes his face in his hands and looks at him very seriously. ‘I’ve never heard that laugh. Is that … the first time?’ 

Katsuki rears his head back. ‘What? That I laughed? Of course not, idiot.’ 

They just spent five minutes laughing over their own reflections.

‘Oh.’ Izuku releases him. A pout juts his bottom lip out. ‘Who else makes you laugh like that?’

Playing along? Or is he making fun of Katsuki?

No – serious.

He’s serious . Katsuki can see it in his eyes; the genuine emotion.

Katsuki can’t stop the truly animalistic grin that takes over his face, nor the hot pulse of satisfaction in his gut at making Izuku feel the thorny, ugly possessiveness Katsuki’s been dealing with this whole time. 

He meant it when he said he couldn’t be selfless like Izuku. But it turns out that Katsuki’s selfish love is catching. They can be selfish bastards together.

‘Bother ya?’ He breathes close to Izuku’s face.

Unfortunately, it’s the wrong thing to say. 

Izuku looks to the ground as he gives a nervous chuckle. ‘N-no, I’m happy Kacchan is happy, just curious.’

Katsuki feels his heart drop at that badly-concealed unhappy look on Izuku’s face. 

He tries the phrase on himself, imagining if Izuku had replied differently:

‘Who the fuck are you getting this disheveled for?!’

Izuku grins. ‘Bother ya?’

Shit. Fuck.

It’s the worst thing anyone could say. It’s mocking and dismissive and cruel.

Katsuki would blow up quicker than a lit fuse if that was how Izuku reacted. He would feel like stewed garbage. He would feel so damn small. He’d call quits faster than Izuku could blink. He would pretend it all meant nothing.

Katsuki throws himself at Izuku before that happens. 

‘Sorry. Just teasin’ ya, didn’t come out right.’ Katsuki rasps as he shoves his nose to Izuku’s shoulder and wraps arms tight and fast around his middle. He bites the bullet and adds, ‘I don’t – I can’t laugh like that with anyone else.’

‘Kacchan.’ Izuku’s voice is warm and fond as his arms drape along Katsuki’s back and through his hair, the sound lighter and softer than he’s ever heard it. ‘If you’re going to be a limpet we won’t get anywhere.’

‘Wh – I’m not a fucking limpet!’ Katsuki pushes his forehead into Izuku’s chest like a ram. He unwraps his arms from around Izuku and balls his fists at his side just to be petty. ‘Just – fucking say you understand or whatever!’

‘What do I understand?’ Izuku holds his head in place and scratches his nape affectionately.

‘That – I didn’t mean it, so you can stop being upset. And I’m not a damn limpet .’ 

He adds that last part more petulantly even though he doesn’t move away, not until they’ve sorted this. 

But maybe he deserves the insult. Maybe it’s Izuku’s payback. Tit for tat.

He doesn’t want that though: doesn’t want them to keep a scoresheet and take chunks out of each other. Shit, everything was perfect two fucking seconds ago and now –

Izuku kisses his head. ‘I like you being a limpet. My limpet. I also love you more than anything in the entire world.’

It’s the first time Izuku has managed the words. Of course when he finally manages to say them, it’s in the sweetest way possible.

Pure happiness pours into Katsuki with those words. It makes him feel tingly and floaty. All the fight goes out of him. He puts his hands on Izuku’s hips and shuffles a little closer, lifting his head up to nose at Izuku’s throat. 

‘Hm?’ He croaks, small. Encouraging. 

‘This – us – is new.’ Izuku tells him. ‘All of it, Kacchan. So we might say or do things that upset each other. We just have to talk it through. I’ll be honest, I did get jealous when you said you’d laughed like that before. It does bother me.’ He exhales a soft chuckle. ‘It’s very stupid, but true. I know I told you I only ever wanted you to be happy, but it’s because I shut down that side of me that wanted more. The side of me that just wants you all to myself. It does exist, Kacchan, but it’s very strong. I don’t want it to frighten you. I can feel it coming out now, though.’

‘Idiot.’ Katsuki grumbles, relief shooting through his veins and turning them to gold. ‘Gimme it all. Thank Fuck you only want me to yourself. I only want you to my goddamn myself. And I don’t need this Mother Theresa pure and holy saint who just wants what’s best for me. I want you to be … fucking desperate for me…’ 

His voice trails off awkwardly as his face scalds with pure embarrassment. He shouldn’t have said that. He swallows hard.

‘Kacchan, I’ve always been desperate for you.’ Izuku whispers into his forehead, his lips to Katsuki’s left eye. Katsuki wields to Izuku’s touch like a flower and keeps pressing closer for it. ‘I can’t imagine not being desperate for you. To tell you the truth, during U.A I got so desperate that I wrote all of your proportions down so that I could make a weighted pillow from them and fall asleep with it and pretend it’s you.’ 

Katsuki actually moans. It’s a snuffed out startled little moan, more like a gasp, that surprises the both of them. 

‘Fuck.’ He hisses, mortified. That shit is like freaking cocaine to him. He can feel himself getting addicted.

Izuku notices. His hand goes through Katsuki’s hair, sinking into the stiff strands and cradling his skull. ‘At U.A I studied your training schedule so I could join you every time; I told myself it was so I could be there if you needed me but really it’s just so that I could watch you for hours and go back to my room and jerk myself off.’

‘Izuku—‘ Katsuki gasps, lifting his head and opening his eyes. He can’t believe Izuku is just openly saying this shit; all this shit that Katsuki keeps locked away and wouldn’t admit to on pain of death. 

Izuku is flushed, panting, like somehow admitting it is giving him a high too. ‘And when it was my turn to do the laundry I would steal your clothes for a little while and just wear them in my room — sometimes I did touch myself but most of the time I just held them to my face and smelled you because I needed you so much it was the only thing that helped.’

‘Seriously?’ Katsuki whispers into Izuku’s cheek, actually woozy on this. 

Needed you so much. Smelled you. Got off. Watched you for hours. 

Yes, yes, yes, yes, Katsuki’s brain hums with no other thought. 

‘I’m literally so insanely desperate for any scraps of you Kacchan that I created a system of alerts on my phone for any sightings of you after I became a teacher — I'd go to those places and just pray we would bump into each other; I would sit for hours at cafes looking out the window because it was like I was missing a vital organ —‘

Katsuki can no longer bear it. He kisses Izuku, hard and forceful. Then he speaks against Izuku’s teeth, ‘This is what I fucking wanted more than anything, damn nerd; I want that crazy fucking obsessive streak focused on me and nothing else.’

‘You’ve got it,’ Izuku gasps as he kisses back. ’You always have, it’s yours.’

Everything dissolves into tongues touching, heat, wet, breath, bodies, moving. Izuku grips his hair painfully. Katsuki grips Izuku’s throat. They’re pressed together in Katsuki’s tiny bathroom as if they’re on the fucking battlefield and on the verge of death. 

Izuku rips his mouth off Katsuki with a ragged breath and holds Katsuki fast and hard against him as he speaks to the side of Katsuki’s head. 

‘Kacchan. You know I would do anything for you, but I want to do this properly. I don’t want to rush this. I think we should go back to the office. That way we can think things through. Then I can cook for you tonight and we can discuss everything. There’s so much I want to tell you. And so much I want to ask. I don’t want to continue this until we’ve laid everything out for each other. Especially what we want from this.’

Katsuki is in this woozy, drugged state. ‘Okay.’ He murmurs, pliant and agreeable as he clings to Izuku. His heart is racing from leftover adrenaline and his cock throbs in time with his pulse, but he oddly doesn’t want to resist Izuku. He wants to be good; so good for him.

Izuku shudders, probably overwrought. ‘Good.’ He doesn’t let go.

Katsuki trails a hand up his side. ‘Should we … get a move on?’ He’s not being particularly helpful either, his chin tucked away in Izuku’s throat, content to stay here forever.

‘Mm.’ Izuku nods. Doesn’t move. 

It takes them an hour. They manage to detangle from each other after about twenty minutes, and then it’s the business of getting reorganised, straightening clothes, washing their faces, and sorting out their cover story.

The short of it: they got hit with a quirk.

What quirk exactly becomes the topic of much debate. 

Katsuki argues it could have been anything that forced them to run home, even a freaking stomach bug quirk that made them shit themselves. 

But Izuku says it has to be sadness. It has to be a quirk that makes someone unbearably sad.

‘It’s obvious, Kacchan.’ Izuku cradles his face as Katsuki sulks and pouts. ‘I would instantly know, no matter what you told me, that you’d been crying. I would be so worried I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. I would think something was terribly wrong. If you told me it was a quirk that made you horribly sad, that's the only thing I would accept. We’ll just say we don’t know where it came from and we didn’t see the assailant: maybe it was someone who accidentally bumped into us on the street. You know it’s the best story.’

Katsuki grumbles and groans, mainly for the fact he’ll have to own up to fucking crying , but when they get to the office, Izuku is right. 

Everyone storms him.

What’s wrong, oh my God what happened, are you alright, where did you go, is everything okay? 

Izuku is a cry baby for life and so the after effects of his tears aren’t that worrying. He could have been crying over a toddler that waved at him this morning or a particularly sad advert he saw on the train.

Katsuki is obviously different. His blood-shot, puffy, snotty look makes them think the end is nigh; even with his mask on over his face there’s no hiding it. 

And it’s fucking mortifying. 

Katsuki ducks his head and glares at people and just grunts out that he’s fine, goddamnit, stop fussing. 

‘It’s been a stressful day. We just wanted to let you know we’re alright. We’d like to get back to work thank you! Nothing is wrong.’

Izuku ushers him forward with a calm but claiming hand on his back.

Katsuki latches onto it like a lifeline. He feels weirdly over sensitive and raw even though he’s literally gotten everything he’s ever wanted: Izuku, in love with him, obsessed with him, and ready to jump his fucking bones.

But Izuku’s words in Katsuki’s bathroom and in the kitchen niggle away at his brain.

He can’t help but replay them, over and over.

Especially the fact they need to have a sit down discussion over dinner. 

Does he want what Katsuki wants? 

Katsuki wants commitment. He wants the lifelong dedication he’s desperate to give to Izuku to be returned in kind. 

I love you more than anything in the world. 

You’re my heart. You always have been.

I never let myself want that because it would consume me, Kacchan.

There’s not many ways for those statements to be misinterpreted. Katsuki can’t hold them up to the light and angle them in a certain way that makes it sound like Izuku isn’t committed. They exchanged so many words to that effect, it would honestly fucking shock Katsuki to the core if Izuku had somehow managed to not mean any of them.

But Katsuki has fucking whiplash from everything he said.

Izuku said he wanted Katsuki to have love; even if that didn’t include Izuku himself, even if Izuku helped Katsuki find that person and gave them a fucking handbook on how to deal with Katsuki. 

And yet, throughout U.A he also wanted Katsuki all to himself, and shut down that part of him because he thought Katsuki didn’t feel the same?

He is definitely overthinking it, and catastrophising, and being a fucking idiot that only focuses on the negatives, but ... which one is it? It feels like it can only be one, since they’re diametrically opposed. Selflessness and selfishness don't exactly go hand in hand.

He can understand Izuku wanting to ignore and reject his own jealously, because Lord knows Katsuki has done his fair share of that; but why push him onto someone else? Why actively want him to date people? Why write up notes for his future partners, and basically plan for that eventuality? 

Doesn’t that go against everything he said about being desperate for Katsuki? 

Even when he thought Izuku didn’t feel the same, there’s no way Katsuki could handle watching Izuku with someone else. There’s no way he could feel any happiness about that.

Katsuki knows Izuku has probably taught himself that the self sacrificing, altruistic kind of love is the most kind and compassionate love there is. He never spares a minute to think about himself, he's always been that way, so of course nothing changes when it comes to relationships.

In reality, the kindest way for Izuku to love Katsuki would be to tell Katsuki that all his greedy and possessive feelings are reciprocated. All his weird, twisted, warped desires, every single one of his needs; all of them are met and felt in kind.

I shut down that side of me that wanted more.

It’s petty, and stupid, and idiotic almost … but Katsuki could never just shut off his feelings for Izuku. Even if he tried his damn hardest. Even if he spent years. He can’t just stop them, like twisting a tap. He’s got no clue how Izuku can do that. 

And it scares him.

Katsuki knows he has Izuku’s heart. Maybe he’s had it since they were kids. 

But does Izuku want Katsuki’s? Will he accept and appreciate Katsuki’s love focused on him like a fucking solar beam from outer space? 

Katsuki's mind races as he sinks into all the worst possible outcomes.

Like the chronic fucking pessimist he is, he can’t help but wonder if giving Izuku all of his love would somehow disintegrate the image of Katsuki in Izuku’s head – the version of Katsuki that Izuku knew all through their childhood, but the one that doesn’t really exist anymore?

What if this is all just hero worship and Katsuki has just been some kind of forbidden fruit to Izuku all this time? Is that why Izuku held himself at such a distance?

What if Katsuki loves Izuku’s heart and soul, and Izuku only loves a fantasy?

Izuku left U.A and didn’t look back.

There’s a lot of things that Izuku is capable of that Katsuki isn’t. 

These thoughts swirl and cloud Katsuki’s mind as they move through the office. 

Izuku can tell he’s quiet but aside from the occasional furtive glances, he doesn’t speak either.

‘Bakugou! You sure you’re okay?’ Kirishima pops up from nowhere and attaches himself to Katsuki’s side, slinging an arm around his shoulders. ‘You should take the rest of the day off, you know! We have stuff in place for this kinda thing!’

‘I’m fine, Shitty Hair.’ Katsuki growls.

‘I’ll let you two talk.’ Izuku murmurs to him quietly, and then he removes his hand from Katsuki’s spine and storms away, pulling his phone out and typing quickly. 

Probably replying to all the messages they got whilst they–

‘Dude! What’s going on!’ Kirishima hisses close to him so nobody overhears. ‘You can cut the tension between you guys with a freaking knife!’

Katsuki drags Kirishima away into a private room and shuts the door behind him. He can’t contain it any longer. 

‘We kissed.’ He blurts. 

Kirishima’s mouth drops. ‘What! That’s amazing! I told you, man!’ He pumps a fist and breaks into a grin.

Katsuki starts pacing. He shoves a hand into his hair. ‘It’s – yeah. Sure. But then – okay, what would you say to somebody who told you they loved you more than anything and you were their fucking heart, but also they basically didn’t mind if you found someone else and they just wanted you to be happy regardless if it was with them or not?’

Kirishima’s mouth remains open for a beat.

‘Yeah.’ Katsuki agrees.

‘Uh.’ Kirishima tries. ‘Dude, it sounds like maybe he’s just unsure about what you want.’

‘And I’m not!’ Katsuki shouts, and then huffs. He needs real advice, and decides to just come clean. ‘Look, it wasn’t a quirk. I thought Izuku was taken and this was the reaction.’ Katsuki points to his face. ‘I bawled like a damn baby. It was fucking humiliating but then Izuku told me he’s only ever had eyes for me. Problem solved. Only then he started saying all this shit like I wanted you to have somebody and I wrote up notebooks for them or some crap. I mean, what the shit! I’d never fucking give anyone full support to take Izuku! I’d make damn sure they knew they had competition. I wouldn’t just fucking give Izuku up! At the goddamn snap of a finger! I know he never thinks about himself and he’s a crazy bastard, but—’

I want him to be jealous. 

I want him to be greedy. 

I want him to be unable to control himself when it comes to me.

I want him to be fucked up in the ways that I’m fucked up. 

I want him to feel the same.

Katsuki cuts off with a frustrated groan. He can’t fucking say that. He sounds insane. 

‘Bakugou.’ Kirishima begins gently. ‘It’s been – what, eight years? Or maybe … you guys have felt this way for even longer? You’re not gonna solve everything with one conversation. You guys need time. And you need to tell him this.’

Katsuki swallows at that thought. It’s not as easy as that. ‘Yeah, yeah.’ He huffs.

‘Come on. We gotta get back to work.’

They both leave and make their way back to their desks. 

Katsuki can see Izuku waiting for him. He’s chatting with Mirko, who takes Izuku's shoulder and gives it a shake.

Izuku crinkles his eyes in that awkward smile that isn’t entirely genuine. He lifts a hand and scratches his head: bingo, awkwardness confirmed. 

‘And we have plenty of support! We’re not short on numbers! I mean it!’ Mirko is saying. 

Katsuki stops behind her and waits.

‘Oh, Kacchan.’ Izuku blinks and straightens up when he notices Katsuki. He looks between Katsuki and Kirishima curiously.

‘You!’ Mirko spins and points a finger at him. ‘What have I told you about overworking! I thought that’s how we got into that whole mess last month with your head injury. Now get out! I don’t want to see you two until tomorrow!’

‘Hah?’ Katsuki barks, a wave of anxiety rushing up his throat at the thought of not being able to distract himself with patrol now; about the dreaded conversation being very much imminent. ‘Damn rabbit, I said I’m fine!’

‘And I said no!’

‘You’re not my boss!’

‘Someone’s gotta be!’

‘Well it ain’t you!’

‘Well it’s my office!’

‘Ahh, thank you so much Mirko-san, we appreciate it!’ Izuku bows furiously as he takes Katsuki’s arm and drags him out.

‘This ain’t over!’ Katsuki threatens. 

As the door swings behind them, he hears Mirko bemoan: ‘All because I’m trying to give you time off! Damn heroes!’

Izuku’s grip isn’t exactly forceful, his warm hand wrapped around Katsuki’s bicep gently, but Katsuki still allows himself to be pulled because he knows when to put up a fight and Mirko isn’t the type to give in lightly. 

Plus there’s protocol in place for these situations, and even though it’s a lie, Katsuki doesn’t want to cause any trouble for the office. They’ll probably have to file an incident report and all that crap. 

Katsuki feels mildly guilty about lying. He’d feel worse if he hadn’t had to file a million reports over the last eight years, one of them being that he missed a day off work because he fell into someone’s black hole they accidentally dropped (don’t ask) and he was stuck inside it before they came back for it. 

A fun fucking six hours. 

Black holes are a lot more boring than they sound. That quirk seemed more hassle than it was worth. But a pretty effective way of capturing villains, he could admit.

Once they’re outside in a quiet area, Izuku stops and peers into his face. ‘Are you alright?’

Katsuki clears his throat. ‘Fine.’ He swallows awkwardly.

‘What did you and Kirishima-kun talk about?’ Izuku asks. ‘You were gone for a while.’ 

Katsuki studies Izuku. His furrowed brow, his clear green gaze fixed on Katsuki, waiting for Katsuki’s answer. He wants to give Izuku an honest one.

‘I told him about us.’ Katsuki admits. ‘Kirishima was the one who pushed me to tell you how I felt.’

Izuku’s mouth drops, and then his cheeks flush pink. ‘Oh. That’s kind.’ His voice sounds totally different; light and happy, a small smile breaking across his face.

Katsuki nods. ‘Yeh. So … what do you wanna do now?’ He asks, uncertain. 

Izuku’s flush darkens. But then he swallows and looks at Katsuki head-on. ‘I have a suggestion, if you like.’

Katsuki’s heart starts to race. His palms slick with sweat. ‘Huh?’ He breathes. He feels warmth trickle into his chest, but his earlier nerves bloom to life in the face of Izuku’s focus.

‘I’d like to take you for a date.’ Izuku states, the words coming out a little shakily as though his own heart is racing. ‘It’s only two o’clock right now. I’d have to go home and get dressed, but I can pick you up in about an hour. There’s an aquarium I know how to get to, so I can take us. And I’d like to cook for you if that would be alright. I’ll bring the ingredients with me so I can cook in your apartment. If you’re up for it?’

Katsuki blinks, stunned. His own cheeks feel prickly with heat. ‘Yeah. That — yeah.’ 

Damn, he’s a stuttering school-kid mess. The stinging slap on his cheeks is intensifying. 

Izuku blinds him with his beam. ‘Great! See you then, Kacchan!’

He flings himself at Katsuki in a quick embrace, and then he’s setting off into the sky.

‘Wait — fuck!’ Katsuki shouts after him. 

He needs to know what to fucking wear.

Chapter Text

Shit. Fuck. Shit. 

Katsuki stares at his wardrobe, currently lying across his fucking bedroom floor.

‘Fuck this.’ He states as he decides to go for a shower. 

Katsuki cleans everything. In-between his toes. Under his arms. His chest, back, stomach, thighs, shins, feet, and then he spends about half an hour on his ass. 

At first he thinks, okay, gotta be clean (gotta be prepared). He exfoliates everything (literally from top to bottom, including the soles of his feet and underneath his nails and everything that exists in-between), before he lathers himself up with body wash, fingers himself open and scrubs inside. 

The sensation, coupled with the excitement-fuelled-adrenaline coursing through his body, has him hard instantly. 

He almost wants to ignore it, but then he remembers that just kissing Izuku was enough to send him into an orgasm, and that he’ll need to be somewhat fucking spent if he wants to last tonight. 

Tonight. 

Tonight . 

Katsuki takes himself in hand as he thinks tonighttonighttonight, and Izuku in his house cooking for him, and the way he picked Katsuki up and licked into his mouth, and he noises he made and how he sounded and felt and smelled—

It doesn’t take long. Really: it’s seconds before he’s spilling into the stream of water and crying out Izuku’s name.

And once Katsuki has washed and dried, he gets onto moisturising his entire body. He looks at his ass in the mirror because he needs it to look fucking edible. 

But then those anxious thoughts start creeping into his head, like:

What if Izuku thinks I’m weird if I ask for this, though?

What if he’s expecting me to fuck, and he’s totally put off that I want to get fucked?

I mean shit do I want to fuck Izuku, those thighs should be illegal, but I don’t know how and I’ve never done it and I’d probably suck at it and I also don’t want to fucking hurt him either

This is the only thing I’m familiar with (through my own fingers) but maybe Izuku doesn’t want to fuck me

What if there’s a whole code I’ve missed about who does what and I don’t know it?

What if Izuku is totally disappointed that I don’t have a fucking clue how to fuck?

What if he doesn't like the fact I’m a virgin?

What if he’s got so much more experience? He said he never dated, but maybe he’s done other stuff? 

Maybe he’s had casual sex whereas I’ve had exactly fucking none .

What if I’m just fucking bad at sex? 

What if the way I move and the way I sound is totally fucking off-putting and I don’t know it?

Katsuki furiously massages his ass, thighs, arms and chest with shea butter as he argues with himself in his head.

He loves you, you stupid bastard. He said he felt like he was missing a fucking organ. Get real.

He stole your clothes so he could wear them and feel close to you like a damn groupie. 

He made a pillow from your goddamn proportions. He’s so freakishly obsessed, it’s bordering on frightening.

You’re my heart, Kacchan. You always have been.

Get out of your shitty head. Do not fucking ruin this or I will kill you.

He’s got ten minutes.

‘Gghaa–’ Katsuki chokes before he descends on the pile of clothes on his floor.

He finds a pair of black trousers and a nice red shirt that goes with it. He tries every variation of jacket before he settles on his denim one and only has a couple of minutes to spare to shove everything back up in his wardrobe (on the hangers, obviously, he’s not getting anything fucking crushed), and take a look at his face before there’s a soft knock. 

Katsuki shoves on a pair of boots, dries his hair by using the sparks from his sweaty hands and subsequently makes it stand on end, then rips the door open.

Izuku is standing in a black shirt and a nice pair of dark blue jeans, which show off his perfect, sculpted body in all the right ways. He’s got a coat over his arm and a bag in his hands. 

‘Hi.’ Izuku’s eyes run up and down Katsuki greedily, although Katsuki knows he’s doing the same thing. ‘Wow. You look amazing.’

It’s hardly different to what Izuku says every damn day, but Katsuki feels himself flushing at that. 

He steps close for their usual greeting of a hug, until he realises that he can do more now — he can actually do what he’s been wanting to do for eight fucking years, why waste time now — and places a hand on the side of Izuku’s face.

Izuku looks utterly stunned, his eyes like a baby deer, when Katsuki leans down and presses a gentle, quick kiss to his mouth. 

Katsuki wants to go in for another, but Izuku goes totally stiff.

‘Uh.’ Katsuki tries, when Izuku doesn’t show signs of doing anything.

‘S-sorry. You surprised me.’ Izuku confesses with a little huff as he touches his lips. ‘I’m just … still getting used to it.’ He gives Katsuki this soft smile that makes him want to kiss Izuku until he’s breathless, but then Izuku comes inside and brandishes his bag. 

‘I’ll put this in your fridge if that’s alright? And then we can make our way there?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ Katsuki gestures.

Internally, he’s a raging storm of emotions. He’s never been on a date — not that he’s never been asked , but he always saw it as a distraction during U.A, and then just pointless after he graduated because his heart very much belonged to another, as Izuku would say (even though it’s painfully fucking cheesy).

He’s got no clue what to do. Do they hold hands? 

Katsuki starts sweating as he pictures it. Walking down the street holding hands. Fuck. He’s got no experience in the dating department and why the fuck did he think that would be a good thing? That it would somehow make him a stronger hero to have no social skills? He’s currently more useless than he’s ever been in his whole life.

‘Ready?’ Izuku asks. He stands close to Katsuki and his heat radiates through Katsuki’s skin and into his bones.

Katsuki decides; fuck it. He grabs Izuku’s hand.

Izuku freezes and looks down. 

‘Oh.’ He sounds punched.

Katsuki throws Izuku’s hand away. ‘Fuck sake, shitty nerd, I thought that’s what you were going for.’

Damnit.

He’d held Izuku’s hand for less than a second. The touch still burns. 

Izuku’s hand was somehow soft and rough at the same time. Katsuki could feel his hardened calluses, the sensitive, silky skin of his scars. He could feel Izuku’s heat. His strength.

In his line of vision, Katsuki sees Izuku delicately reach out and take Katsuki’s hand again. He links their fingers. They slot in so easily against each other. Izuku’s big-knuckled grip is slack and warm, cocooning Katsuki’s palm. 

Katsuki stares down at them. They’re joined. 

It looks so natural. So right. It settles something deep within his core and he feels pure happiness flood his veins. 

It’s a bit awkward to leave the house like that, but they manage. They walk down the street in their casual clothes, holding hands, any average couple, and only get a few glances here and there.

‘Do you mind? If people find out?’ Izuku asks, after the third glance. 

Katsuki stiffens. ‘Do you?’ He grunts, jaw clenching. 

Izuku strokes his thumb over Katsuki’s palm. It’s like goddamn catnip; Katsuki finds himself melting in seconds.

‘Sorry, I should have been clearer. I want to go public so the world knows your mine. But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, so I can wait as long as you need.’

Katsuki is silent as he processes these words. 

So the world knows your mine. Okay. 

That’s fucking commitment. 

He starts grinning. As he thinks through everything, his mind throws up memories from back at his place, finally connecting the dots together instead of falling into a pit of despair.

I’ve just wanted — to love you, and cherish you, and give you all the joy possible.

To be the one allowed to make you happy.

Yes, Izuku said that, didn’t he? It all happened so quickly, the whole thing is a blur, but words are resurfacing now, I couldn’t ever let you go, I wanted to keep loving you all my life, you’re the only person I’ve ever had those feelings for.

They moved so fast, Katsuki didn’t let the words sink in. He just fell into the familiar pattern of assuming the worst and preparing to blow everything up. But Izuku does want commitment. He wants this in the way Katsuki wants this.

Izuku peeks at him from under his lashes, but when he catches sight of Katsuki’s face he falters.

‘Ka-Kacchan?’ He stutters, his cheeks tomato-red.

‘Good.’ Is all he answers. But it must show on his face. It must shine from his eyes. 

Still, he can’t think of a way to ease into it. Whatever discussion Izuku wants to have about what they both want. There’s hardly any simple openers. 

So you wanna be together forever or not? Eh? EH?

But there’s still some other things that Katsuki needs clarity on.

They take the train, make it to the aquarium and collect their tickets, all the while still holding hands. They probably look like teenagers, clinging on to each other like they’re life rafters. 

Katsuki doesn’t give a shit, to be honest. They hardly fucking got to be teenagers in the first place.

They both step into the soft blue glow coming off the tanks. 

Izuku leads him through the mess of bodies pressing along the glass walkway. He's very clearly familiar with this place and knows where he’s going. 

Katsuki looks around in wonder as hammerhead sharks and clownfish all float on by above his head.

‘It’s calming, isn’t it?’ Izuku murmurs, and then he stops walking.

Katsuki glances down at him and then at where he’d led them: a quiet section with a small two-person bench in front of the main display. 

‘Woah.’ Katsuki whispers as his eyes take it all in. Fish of every size and variety are glittering in the vast waters. It’s like watching a moving rainbow.

‘Sit?’ Izuku asks, gesturing with his other hand. 

They take a seat, hands still joined.

Katsuki is getting real damn sweaty at this point but he’s not about to pull away. Izuku doesn’t seem to mind although he must be able to feel it. 

Izuku is cast in all the blues and greens from all around them; from the gently swaying fauna and light refractions catching in the water. The rest of the room cast is in darkness to give the tanks visibility for the onlookers, and also to avoid giving the damn fish a sore head. 

But Izuku is beautiful like this. His angles are all muted and soft, his expression one of gentle curiosity as it studies the fish, his features on display. Outside of his hero suit, he looks inexplicably younger. Katsuki deeply regrets the years they spent apart.

And he can’t help but wonder if this is what Izuku would look like coming here himself, maybe whilst he was a teacher – taking the kids on some field trip, or maybe coming here with friends. Wandering around, head tilted back, such a picture of childlike awe. It pierces Katsuki’s chest.

Then Izuku turns to him. ‘It’s not perfect, but it’s all I could think of on such short notice.’ He smiles, but there’s a nervousness obvious in his voice as he holds his spine stiff and erect. ‘For our next date, I’ll have something much better planned.’

Katsuki swallows. He glances away from Izuku and frowns hard, mouth twisting down. ‘It is perfect, idiot.’ He huffs, trying for flippant and just sounding hurt.

His chest constricts. He wants to pull his hand away.

Izuku is quiet for a beat. Katsuki avoids his gaze.

Then Izuku replies, his voice stronger: ‘I feel like I keep being misconstrued. I want you to understand that any time spent with you is my favourite thing in the world, Kacchan. But I wanted to give you a perfect date if I ever took you on one. I imagined all the things I would do to blow you away. I’m being silly, of course. This is … more than perfect.’

Katsuki breathes for a moment as he listens. He clears his throat. ‘It’s hard for me to – say this shit. Doesn’t come easy, Izuku. But – that whole thing back there. With you being all, I want to go public so the world knows your mine. I – that’s how I feel, too.’

He doesn’t look, but he feels Izuku tighten his grip. They’re both goddamn sweating. About to cause a damn nuclear reaction if Katsuki’s quirk accidentally goes off. It’s been known to happen.

‘Well. That makes me really happy.’ Izuku whispers softly. He sounds dazed.

Katsuki forces himself to take calming breaths and actually process what is happening here. The lack of oxygen from their makeout must have gotten to his head, since he started to spiral despite Izuku saying the loveliest shit in the world.

But it goes both ways. A discussion is a two way street. And Katsuki wants to be very fucking clear from this point on.

‘Well, good. ‘M glad. I just … was wonderin’ about some stuff you said.’ He murmurs, focusing on the fish.

Izuku strokes a thumb over his hand. ‘What, Kacchan?’

‘Well. Firstly, the whole thing you said back at my place, in the kitchen, about wishing I dated during U.A.’ He starts gruffly, awkwardly. ‘You basically said you would’ve found the best match for me like one of those damn ‘come pick a bride’ TV shows. I don’t get that, Izuku. I don’t really understand…’ 

Katsuki frowns at their joined hands, sitting between them on the bench, and adds:

‘Why.’ He finishes, lamely. ‘I … it’s probably because I couldn’t really watch you with someone else and be happy. Even if you were happy. I know that’s shitty, but I gotta be honest. I’m just tryna wrap my head around … understanding it. And I’m not … gonna say that I think I’m the best match for you.’ He confesses quietly. ‘Hell, I’m sure there’s plenty people out there that are fucking far better suited to you than me, Izuku. But I won’t ever step aside for them. And I’d probably … fuck, if I'd known how I felt about you at U.A, I’d probably have gotten in their way, too.’

Jesus, it’s hard to say this shit. Like he’s being skinned alive. He’s almost sure that would be less goddamn painful than this. 

Why is it so hard? He’s only telling the truth. But these are the worst, most self-centred and egotistical parts of himself. The parts he knows still exist, and always will.

‘Kacchan.’ Izuku murmurs. His voice is deep, dark. Serious. ‘I wouldn’t have been happy if you dated.’

Katsuki meets Izuku’s gaze that instant. It’s almost difficult to maintain eye-contact, it’s so heated. 

‘Oh?’ Is all he can croak out. His heart thuds out of time.

‘Can I ask you to imagine a fake scenario?’ Izuku asks gently.

That intense focus on his face is too much to bear or even witness, so Katsuki looks down at their hands. ‘Sure.’ He rasps.

‘Imagine I didn’t feel the same way about you. I didn’t have any feelings for you. Nothing more than friendship.’

Fake. It’s fake. This is all fucking fake.

Katsuki’s throat burns as he nods, but his chest feels achy and trembling. ‘Kay.’ He exhales.

‘Would you want me to be with somebody else, or would you want me to be alone?’

Katsuki holds that question in his head. 

He pictures Round Cheeks and Izuku at the booth in the bar, and thinking to himself, Izuku should have somebody wonderful, as long as they adore him with everything they are.

As much as it would hurt. 

As much as it would hurt.

‘I’d want you to be with somebody else.’ Katsuki whispers, a slow trickling realisation setting in, because it’s the truth. And maybe, it’s true for Izuku. Katsuki tacks on quickly, just to be sure: ‘It would fucking blow , but I’d want you to have that.’

Izuku thumbs Katsuki’s hand. ‘Then we’re the same. What I said back at your place, Kacchan, was with the understanding I was never part of the equation. I was never an option for you. I really meant it when I said I thought you knew how I felt. All this time. So I just assumed you didn’t feel the same way and never would. You didn’t want to talk about it, and that was okay. So what I said is missing some context, Kacchan. Because the truth is, I expected eventually that you would find somebody. I suppose I wanted to … speed up the process. I wanted to make sure I could handle it, so that it would never come between us. I raced towards the idea of you dating, so that I could get used to it, so that I didn’t have to imagine it anymore. But this was after I had accepted and come to terms with never having you for myself. Because, Kacchan …’ Izuku takes a hold of Katsuki’s hand with both his own now, cradling it gently as if it’s precious. ‘I’ve started to come to terms with having you. And I can’t go back. I won’t. The only person in the world who could ever love you this much is me, and I won’t accept that there’s anyone better for you. I’ll prove it to you every single day.’

Oh.

Katsuki puts his other hand over Izuku’s as he drops his forehead onto Izuku’s shoulder, the weight of his relief making him sag. 

‘You better.’ He huffs, but he’s grinning as he hides it in Izuku’s shirt. Damn schoolgirl, he chastises himself, but he can’t find it in himself to care much. The achy fear and doubt over Izuku’s feelings and Katsuki’s own jealousy has been replaced with something like fucking starlight. 

Izuku wouldn’t be happy. He’s not a self-sacrificing angel where Katsuki is a controlling bastard. He’s just as possessive and clingy and greedy, in all the best ways.

‘Was there anything else?’ Izuku asks softly into Katsuki’s crispy hair.

‘Well…’ Katsuki swallows. ‘When you said. You shut off your feelings. Like wanting me, and stuff. I don’t … I don’t really get that either. Like – how?’

‘I trained.’ Izuku answers easily. 

When Katsuki lifts his head to give him a bewildered look, Izuku smiles.

‘It’s the same as Blackwhip, Kacchan. I learned to control my heart. I had to.’

‘Blackwhip?’ Katsuki frowns. ‘We trained how to use it in fights , not … anywhere else.’

‘But I had to learn how to control it.’ Izuku replies. ‘Whenever I felt a strong emotion, it would just manifest. When I got angry. Or scared. I had to train myself to close off my emotions so that didn’t happen.’

Alarm bells are ringing in Katsuki’s head. Katsuki is hardly one to talk, but –

‘Izuku.’ He begins softly. ‘That doesn’t sound healthy. You can’t just – stop feeling. You gotta allow things to make you scared or angry. That’s just life.’

‘But it was dangerous, Kacchan.’ Izuku explains softly, shaking his head. ‘It put people in danger if I felt those things. Because of One for All. Because of the power I had.’

Katsuki breathes as he processes this. It’s true Izuku hasn’t had anything close to an ordinary life. There’s still some things about One for All, about the vestiges , that Katsuki is sure nobody but Izuku will ever know. 

A cursed power …

‘Do you remember when you got kidnapped?’

Katsuki is pulled out of his thoughts, and blinks at Izuku before he nods. Of course he does. They don’t talk about it, though. Maybe they should.

‘If I was able to use One for All the way I could during the war, I’m sure people would have gotten hurt. And … when you died –’ The word chokes in Izuku’s throat, ‘I don’t know what would have happened if Lemillion hadn’t been there. I’m glad I lost One for All, Kacchan. It had become something I don’t think anyone could control.’

Katsuki feels his breath quicken in his throat for an Izuku that is totally unreachable to him: the Izuku going through all that at U.A, trying to balance it all and keep it a secret at the same time. Trying to not let any of the cracks show, even as this power he’d had for less than a year was growing wild and untameable.

‘Shit.’ He hisses. ‘Makes sense, when you think about everything else you had to hide.’

He wasn’t shutting himself off for no reason. It was to protect people. But—

‘You don’t do that shit anymore, Izuku.’ Katsuki states, hard and cold as he holds Izuku’s gaze. ‘You fucking feel. Get angry, get scared, get goddamn emotional.’

Izuku looks at Katsuki with hope and fear warring on his face. ‘I’ll try. It’s been hard to remember than I can.’

Katsuki’s heart breaks as he lifts one hand from their joined ones to grip Izuku’s nape and press their heads together. ‘You can, Izuku. You can.’

If a verbal confirmation does anything, anything at all, then Katsuki will keep telling Izuku every day. Maybe nobody’s done that for Izuku. Maybe it’s taken Katsuki too damn long.

A shudder passes through Izuku at the words, and he bites his lip hard as they rest against one another. 

‘You’re Quirkless now, idiot.’ Katsuki huffs after a beat, fond. ‘Nothing’s gonna blow up if you get a little mad.’

Izuku laughs, a big beautiful sound, like a choir song. Katsuki grins as he basks in it.

‘Okay. I will.’ Izuku kisses Katsuki's forehead and a little bit of his eyebrow. ‘I promise.’ He exhales sweetly, and then asks, ‘Was that everything?’

Katsuki tries not to squirm. His other fears, about all of Izuku’s feelings being born from a childhood of idolisation, seem small in comparison to what they’ve just talked about.

Do you really love me, or do you just think you love me?

Can you convince me that you love me? 

And how do I learn to believe you?

It’s such a silly, idiotic thing for his brain to do – its last attempt to protect him from the fall, because it knows once he hits the ground he’s not getting back up. This is it. Better be sure. 

How can he be sure?

Katsuki swallows.

‘That thing you said, about expecting to wake up.’ He starts roughly. ‘I’m kinda having it now. I dunno why, but I keep thinkin’ this is all some ruse. Like you’re gonna change your mind. Or realise … you were wrong. No clue why.’ He shrugs jerkily, although he has some idea why.

Because surely Izuku can’t really love him, after everything?

Because ... how could he?

Izuku nuzzles Katsuki’s head. Katsuki meant what he said. Even if there’s a hundred, a trillion , people who would be better for Izuku, Katsuki still won’t unlatch his clinging hands until he’s cold in the grave, so as long as Izuku is willing to give his love, Katsuki is willing to take it.

‘Kacchan.’ Izuku murmurs. ‘I can’t really believe this is happening either. I feel exactly the same. It’s like a fist around my lungs, every time I think that maybe I’ve misunderstood everything and you don’t want to be with me. Even though I keep telling myself that doesn’t make any sense.’

It’s not just him. This insane, self-destructive pattern goes both ways.

‘We’ll just have to talk to each other.’ Katsuki states. ‘Just … lay it all out in the open.’

‘Mmm.’ Izuku hums. 

He feels brave enough to do it.

‘You’re my boyfriend.’ Katsuki states.

He says it like a statement of fact.

It’s a childish word for what they are to each other, but Katsuki needs it in writing. He speaks it into the air to make it come true.

‘Yes.’ Izuku squeezes his hand to an almost painful degree. His voice is strained and raspy. On the verge of tears, Katsuki is well aware.

‘And I’m your boyfriend.’ Katsuki lifts his head and looks at Izuku sternly.

Izuku’s eyes are wet and flowing. ‘Kacchan is my boyfriend.’ He agrees, nodding as tears drip noiselessly down his cheeks. It’s like he doesn’t even notice.

It feels so fucking good to hear it. Katsuki’s beam is wild and unabashed. ‘Damn right.’

Izuku touches Katsuki’s face with the pads of his fingers, lips trembling. ‘I love you.’ He whispers, like an afterthought, like he can’t help release the words. 

Katsuki still kisses those salty lips anyways. ‘You can tell me about it sometime. Love you too, idiot.’

Izuku nuzzles his nose and Katsuki thinks, finally: problem solved. 

‘But — what about Kirishima-kun?’ Izuku croaks.

Katsuki frowns. ‘What about the damn idiot?’

Are they really going backwards?

Izuku swallows. ‘It’s just the same thing you asked me about Uraraka-san. I just … I could never be sure. If there were feelings there.’ Izuku draws back to give him an inquisitive look.

‘None.’ Katsuki states with total confidence.

Izuku, for some reason, only looks more fucking confused. ‘Not at all?’

‘Didn’t I tell you, idiot?’ Katsuki grumbles as he looks at their joined hands again, trying not to clench his fists. ‘You’re the only one I’ve ever … felt that way for.’

Izuku is very silent. It feels oppressive, weighted. 

Katsuki frowns and glances up.

Izuku has that weirdly dark look on his face again. The one he had before he kissed Katsuki. The one he had back in Katsuki’s hospital room. ‘I don’t think you did tell me that, Kacchan.’

Katsuki feels his face heat. ‘Whatever. Anyways, that answer your question, damn nerd?’

‘I think I have a few more.’ Izuku replies. His voice is soft and gravelly with that strange undertone. 

Katsuki waits, and then prompts: ‘Kay.’

‘How long have you felt this way for me?’ He asks softly. It’s slow and tender, but there’s something deeper underneath. 

Katsuki opens his mouth, but he pauses. 

Despite everything they’ve just said, everything Katsuki knows he needs to do, for some reason he feels that old instinct to repel, to protect , flare to life. 

Insult, mock, shove. Explode. 

It’s in his nature.

It’s who he is.

Explode.

Izuku could always see through it anyways, but that wasn’t the point, The point was that Katsuki didn’t admit to having any weaknesses.

Such a small, pointless technicality when the one person the act was always for, was the only person who knew it was an act. 

But Katsuki considers all the time this took. Thinks about Izuku watching him, turning his head away for a second only for Katsuki to start watching Izuku. 

He thinks about how much further they still have to go. All the things Katsuki hasn’t even yet said.

He thinks about the heavy weight of his head as it hung down between his shoulders in front of Izuku. I’m sorry for everything. 

He thinks about the decade-old weight that lifted from his soul as he spoke. 

The blessed weight of Izuku that first time he slumped into Katsuki’s arms.

Fingers outstretched. Palm open. Are you alright?

Was that the first time anyone had asked Katsuki?

He can’t be sure anymore. 

At the time, Izuku’s question hit him like a bolt of lightning. That lightning was fury, because his mind twisted the words into something patronising and nasty because of his own insecurities.

It didn’t have to be Izuku that set off those feelings, it could have been anyone, but it was made worse by the fact that it was Izuku: someone he’d been told by teachers and classmates alike was so far beneath him it was laughable, and it was Katsuki’s job to point and laugh, and he played along, all the while something felt so off about it, but he beat down that part of him, because surely everyone couldn’t be wrong.

Because everyone told him this was the way things were supposed to be now – the strong used their power over the weak, and that was heroic, that’s what it meant to be a hero, and Katsuki had always wanted to be a hero. But he had wanted it with Izuku . Then Izuku had to go and betray him by being Quirkless, after everything they had talked about, all the things they said they’d do together, but now they couldn’t have any of that, and it made him so angry.

And yet violence was heroic. Katsuki’s quirk was explosive and painful and loud and destructive, but people applauded him for that, they cheered and they smiled, they told him it was wonderful, and it all got warped inside his damn mind.

Katsuki was born into his world loved, he knows that. He’s well fucking aware. 

He’s been given chance after chance that he doesn’t deserve. Parents who try their damn best despite all their mistakes and all the regular arguments and misunderstandings that come with having a kid so strong society has told him that his strength needs to be weaponised.

He’s been given teachers who shouldn’t even give him the time of day but decide to for whatever reason, classmates turned friends who humour him and humble him, tease him and bring him back down to earth, care about him for no goddamn reason and prove to him that fighting isn’t something done alone.

But … Are you alright?

Nobody asked him that.

Would they even have a reason to? 

Has Katsuki ever given anyone a reason to? 

The hero, the strongest, the loudest, the goddamn insufferable brat. Nobody would ask because he’s already outlined the ways in which he would respond. He bites the hand before they can even get the words out.

Yet Izuku always ran right ahead, despite knowing the outcome. In spite of the outcome.

Now it’s up to Katsuki. He’s tired. He’s old. He died, once. He’s so fucking lucky to be here. He’s the product of everyone’s sacrifices and their transformative love.

He inhales before he speaks.

‘It’s … like I said, Izuku. Probably always.’ Katsuki’s voice comes out soft and low, but it still crackles like the sparks coming off a fire. Combustible, even like this. 

‘I was just too pigheaded and stupid to see it. But the first time I think I knew how I felt was when we graduated. Everything was so …’ Katsuki chews on his lip as he tries to think about how to phrase it. ‘I mean, I knew the embers had been fading for a long time. But once they were gone, it all happened so damn quick. It’s like you were always there, and then the next second you were out of my life. Despite all the fucking time I had to prepare for it happening. I was never gonna be prepared for that, though. And being a hero, training, classes, all that shit was the only thing that really connected us then. I don’t think we knew how to talk to each other without it. You know it’s true, Izuku – you didn’t start a conversation with me that wasn’t about being a hero. Not that I fucking helped, either. The war … we just wanted to move on …’

Katsuki takes a steadying breath before he continues.

‘And I know, once the embers left, that you had to deal with it in your own way. But you cut us off. You cut me off. I didn’t know what to do. That day, when we graduated and I felt like it might be the last time we’d ever talk … yeah, I knew. I knew I loved you. I wanted to appreciate graduating, join the whole damn party, and I did. But I also just wanted to be near you. I realised I would want to be near you no matter what. It didn’t need to be as heroes. But it was the only thing I could think of: it was the only damn way I knew how to reach you. So I started thinking about how to get you back. But not because I thought you were wasted as a teacher or that the whole world needed you. No, it’s because I didn’t know how else to ask you to stay by my side.’ 

Katsuki runs his fingertips across their joined hands, then upwards to grip Izuku’s strong forearm. ‘I … I am asking that now, Izuku. I want to be by your side. As long as you’ll have me. I was just … afraid, and fucking insecure, and all that crap, when we were younger. I’m not anymore. I know that’s my damn lot in life. Stuck to you like glue. Cause I can’t … God, it sounds cheesy, Izuku, but you gotta believe me. I can’t live without you. And the last eight years until now … I’ve just been living to ask you this. I just couldn’t think of a way. I’m happy you came back to be a hero, but this, here , is all I wanted. Everything I’ve ever wanted.’

Somehow, opening up is having the same effect as drunkenness on Katsuki; it’s like an intoxicating drug seeping into his system. He feels it melt his bones and his insides as he keeps his head down nestled in Izuku’s shoulder, not meeting his gaze.

Izuku slides a hand out of their joined ones and cradles Katsuki’s face. His body is tense, but his hand is relaxed and his touch is gentle. 

It tilts Katsuki’s face up to meet his gaze.

Katsuki does, without reservation. He feels floaty and high.

Izuku’s eyes are bright from the leftover wetness of his tears, but his expression is at once tranquil and resolute. ‘I’m too blessed, Kacchan.’ He whispers. His eyes don’t leave Katsuki’s.

Katsuki shakes his head. ‘You’re not blessed, Izuku. You deserve it. Deserve everything.’

Izuku looks away sharply and takes some even breaths. He holds himself very still. 

Katsuki allows him to. He knows sometimes that emotions can run so high they can become hypersensitive to the point of pain. He’s getting better at reading this older Izuku. He’s quietly proud of himself for that. 

‘I never expected any of this.’ Izuku confesses, because he probably still wants to ensure there’s no misunderstandings. ‘I never really imagined you’d ever feel the same. Let alone this. It’s … overwhelming, Kacchan.’

Katsuki stays silent.

‘In a good way.’ Izuku adds. He turns with a flash of a smile. ‘I just need a minute.’

‘I’ve got time.’ Katsuki murmurs as he kicks his legs back and makes a show of settling in to watch the fish. 

Their hands remain joined. They stay that way for a peaceful while, just stroking their thumbs over each other.

‘Kacchan.’ Izuku finally speaks. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘Could eat.’ Katsuki agrees. Truthfully he’s been enjoying the calm and serenity of this moment.

‘I’ve been practising recipes. For our lunches. I hadn’t gotten around to bringing this one in yet, but I thought you would like it. It’s spicy.’

‘Right up my street.’ Katsuki throws Izuku a smile.

Izuku blinks at him dumbly for a second before he stands, giving Katsuki a little tug upwards, and Katsuki gets to his feet. 

They meander out of the aquarium and take the train back to Katsuki’s flat. 

Unfortunately, his wrist is cramping, but to avoid parting for any length of time, whilst they’re walking Katsuki just takes Izuku’s other hand and goes in front of Izuku, holding both for a brief second as he walks backwards and Izuku gapes before Katsuki releases the sweaty one and spins to Izuku’s other side.

Izuku laughs in delight as Katsuki flexes his sore wrist. Then Izuku pulls Katsuki’s hand up to his mouth and kisses their joined fingers.

Katsuki can’t wipe his obnoxious grin.

‘I will need both to cook, Kacchan.’ Izuku tells him.

‘We’ll see about that.’ Katsuki tells him sternly.

Izuku laughs again. 

Katsuki, tired of holding back, swoops down to smack a kiss to one of those stretched, squishy cheeks.

‘Kacchan ,’ Izuku sounds both breathlessly happy and pouty. Katsuki pulls back and confirms it as his bottom lip sticks out despite the shine in his eyes. ‘Not fair! I’ll get distracted and trip up!’

‘I’ve got you, nerd.’ Katsuki holds up their hands. ‘Don’t you know that by now?’

They waddle up the stairs to Katsuki’s flat.

Izuku at least looks sheepish when Katsuki presents his door and how it no longer shuts properly. Or at all. It kind of just needs to be wedged in, but the lock is utterly useless.

‘I was worried about you.’ Izuku pouts again.

‘Can’t use that trick too long, I’ll get used to it.’ Katsuki pokes Izuku’s bottom lip with a finger. 

Well. He means to poke it, but he more strums it with a thumbpad and watches the flesh bounce back easily.

‘I’ll find another way.’ Izuku teases, light dancing in his eyes.

Katsuki’s heart lifts at the confidence in his voice, the total surety.

They’re really doing this. 

Boyfriends.

He walks them inside, smile on his face and comeback at the ready, but once the door is ‘shut’ (wedged)— 

Katsuki is pushed from behind and shoved forcefully up to his wall.

Katsuki spins, confused and a little fucking concerned, because they just—

Izuku grabs his face and yanks him down.

Katsuki is being kissed to within an inch of his life.

Izuku presses himself solidly to Katsuki, no space between them, a thigh slotting between Katsuki’s legs and a hand running along his side and around his back to pull Katsuki impossibly closer, the other staying on his face and gripping his hair.

Katsuki goes lightheaded and dizzy. His pulse shoots through the roof at lightning speed and arousal blooms throughout his body, and a noise falls out his mouth he’s got no hope of catching.

His skin goes hyper sensitive. Goosebumps lift everywhere as his nipples peak and harden and his toes flex in his shoes. His hands scramble desperately at Izuku whilst he feels his cock stiffen and thrum with hot, heavy hunger. 

He can’t help but arch his spine and rock his hips into Izuku involuntarily, as if he’s now been conditioned to do that when Izuku kisses him; as if his body has been trained without him knowing.

Because Izuku kisses as if he’s starving , ravaging Katsuki’s mouth and leaving him utterly limp and boneless against the wall as he submits to Izuku’s raw power. Izuku sucks greedily on Katsuki’s tongue with such a single-minded focus that Katsuki can’t fucking breathe.

Then Izuku pulls back roughly.

Katsuki is panting hard. His eyes open to blink spots from his vision as he sways where he stands.

Izuku kisses his nose, then his jaw, very gently and with none of the fury Katsuki just witnessed. 

‘Sorry, Kacchan.’ He rasps, thankfully breathless too but still somehow coherent . ‘Everything you said – I just had to. I couldn’t wait. I’ll make you something to eat; you must be hungry.’

Katuski leans heavily against the wall, dumbfounded, as Izuku goes to rummage around in his kitchen and make himself at home.

Of course, Izuku was at home in Katsuki’s kitchen while he recovered from his head injury. He knows where everything is and is pulling out pots and pans to cook with.

But Katsuki is fucking legless as he drags himself up on weak thighs that want to buckle and tries to get his footing back on planet Earth.

He looks down. 

Shit. 

He’s poking out from his black trousers. He can’t even walk straight. 

But the material makes it so much worse. There’s no resistance, unlike with denim: the thinner fabric just bends to his cock’s will. Which is to make itself as obvious as fucking possible.

‘Kacchan! You can sit down while I make it. It shouldn’t take long.’

The smells of sizzling ingredients and spices wafts across, and it smells amazing, but then a wave of an entirely different hunger pulses directly in Katsuki’s dick at Izuku’s voice. 

He has to grab himself to stave off the painful new heartbeat he’s fucking developed.

‘Hm-mm!’ Katsuki replies, sounding strangled. 

Shit. Oh God, this is not good.

Katsuki stomps over to the sofa and pulls a cushion over his lap.

This is too embarrassing. He’s ready to blow his load from one kiss. And somehow it’s not even receding – no, far from it. 

It’s getting worse .

He wriggles and writhes on the spot to get comfortable, but nothing eases the insistent new pulse: this quick, dark thudding in his cock that brings such a sweet pleasure-pain it’s maddening. It travels down his legs and makes them start shaking. 

This cannot be happening. Can he make it to the bathroom? 

Or … if he grinds down on his palm right now, he could finish before Izuku comes back. 

Yes. And then Katsuki can calmly excuse himself to change his briefs and they can have a lovely meal and keep holding hands and kiss on his couch with Izuku on top, all his heavy weight just rubbing along Katsuki’s body —

Katsuki sneaks a hand under the cushion to press the heel into his crotch. He almost spasms, he’s that close; only a few more seconds.

But the angle is awkward. 

Katsuki tries not to hiss, clenching his teeth as he shifts and squirms to get better access.

A few more seconds.

He’s thrusting his hips up into his hand, biting his lip raw to stifle any noises.

Has it already been a minute?

He’s not got a fucking clue.

He squirms again.

A few more.

‘Tada!’ Izuku announces behind him, and Katsuki nearly jumps in the air as he whips around to see Izuku holding two bowls aloft with a wide grin.

‘I thought I would make us something simple and easy; just fried chicken, rice and sauce, though I added more chilli to yours … Kacchan?’

Katsuki knows how he looks.

His whole face is flushed, he’s breathing heavily, he’s got a cushion over his lap, one hand underneath…

‘Are you getting sick? Oh no, do you have a stomach-ache?’ Izuku deflates like a wilting plant. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t ask! We don’t have to eat right now! We can eat later! Five minutes in the microwave will do fine. I just got excited about cooking for you, it’s silly but I enjoy taking care of you, Kacchan. Let me put these down and I can make you some tea.’

He ends his tirade by disappearing for a few seconds and then he’s back, much closer than before and right in Katsuki’s face.

Izuku presses cool fingers to his forehead and frowns. ‘Actually. You feel a bit hot, Kacchan, do you want to lie down?’

Has Katsuki lost the ability to speak? 

Has the damn nerd literally kissed it right out his mouth?

Katsuki just clutches the cushion, trembling slightly. 

‘Iz…’ He tries, shaky, but he can’t produce anything further.

Without preamble, Izuku takes the cushion from Katsuki’s lap and places two soft hands on his shoulders, about to lift him to a stand.

There’s no hiding it. There’s no mistaking it. 

Katsuki does nothing as Izuku stares down at his crotch where his erection is outlined in incredible detail. The hard length of it sits sideways and tents the fabric. 

Mortifyingly, another pulse of arousal thrums through him and makes it very clearly throb.

Izuku’s mouth drops open.

Katsuki groans and covers his face with folded arms. ‘I – fuck , I know this isn’t your fault but it really fucking is, Izuku. You can’t just kiss me like that and expect me not to – Jesus, I –’

The words die in his throat when he feels Izuku’s warm palms slide up his two thighs and force them apart. 

‘F–fu–’ Katsuki startles as his arms drop away.

Then his heart takes a flying leap up into his throat at what he sees.

Izuku sinks to his knees in front of Katsuki, falling in between his spread legs, his hands trailing down Katsuki’s shins to hold his ankles.

‘This is alright?’ Izuku asks, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded and focused on his face. ‘I don’t want to move too fast.’

‘I’ve never done this.’ Katsuki blurts, with all the elegance of a raging bull. ‘Any of it. Anything.’

Izuku sucks in a sharp, startled intake of air through his teeth. ‘Really?’ He blinks those green, green eyes, all wide and deer-like, but his expression is very intent. ‘Never?’

Katsuki swallows hard before he nods. 

Shouldn’t it be fucking obvious? 

‘Me neither. I haven’t ever done anything like this.’ Izuku murmurs softly after a second of eyeing Katsuki’s crotch. ‘I’ve only ever wanted to do it… with you.’

Katsuki nods fervently, joy spreading through him, spilling into every corner. Selfish bastard , but there’s no changing him now; he’ll always be like this when it comes to Izuku. ‘Yeah. Yeah.’ He exhales shakily.

Izuku lays his temple against Katsuki’s knee and looks up at him. ‘Can I? Please?’ He kisses Katsuki’s clothed knee and then the inside of his thigh, waiting for permission, as if this is something he’s receiving instead of something he’s giving. 

Katsuki’s mouth is open, completely drunk on arousal, before he can move his head to nod silently. 

Izuku kisses along Katsuki’s inner pant-leg, and then his tongue comes out to taste.

The sensation, despite the layers of clothing, makes Katsuki moan. He’s so sensitive there, he’s never been touched in this place, and Izuku is just laying open-mouthed, wet, hot kisses to it. Katsuki writhes and throbs again in his trousers, pulsing and stretching the fabric more.

Izuku makes a soft little grunt as he watches Katsuki, eyes straying from his face to his crotch.

‘So beautiful.’ Izuku tells him, and Katsuki throws his head back against the sofa and clenches his hands.

Izuku is nosing closer and closer to his crotch, until his breath just ghosts over Katsuki’s erection, the lightest gentlest heat, and he can’t fucking handle it, it feels as if it’s going fucking insane.

‘Iz–Izuku–’ He gasps. ‘I’m – please–’

Izuku lays his hot mouth over where his balls are. 

The pressure and the scorching warmth has Katsuki arching his spine with a shout.

His hands automatically fly to Izuku’s head before he realises and rips them off, nails digging into his fisted palms. Fuck .

‘Nnhgh.’ Izuku blindly takes one of his wrists and places Katsuki’s hand back on his head, forcing Katsuki’s fingers to sink into Izuku’s soft tresses. 

Then he’s pressing in harder against Katsuki, making the fabric of his trousers spit-damp and soaked as he swirls his tongue along Katsuki’s clothed cock, running his mouth up until he reaches the tip and pouring pleasure all throughout Katsuki’s body. It’s the singlest hottest thing in recorded fucking history.

‘Gonna – gonna–’ Katsuki thrusts upwards once, eyelids fluttering, so close.

Izuku pulls away instantly.

Katsuki is too stunned to do much of anything.

Izuku leans over him and kisses him soundly. 

Katsuki is programmed now to kiss back, to give in, to melt into a boneless heap and let Izuku do whatever he wants.

‘Can I take this off?’ Izuku asks against Katsuki’s mouth. He tugs at Katsuki’s shirt. He doesn’t stop kissing though, sloppy and messy as saliva runs down their chins and the words are muffled against their mushed skin. 

Katsuki just nods frantically and Izuku separates their mouths to unbutton Katsuki’s shirt quickly and pull it over his head. 

Katsuki lifts his arms obligingly, and then Izuku just stands above him with Katsuki’s shirt in his hands as his eyes rove over Katsuki’s chest.

It doesn’t feel invasive, or violating, or uncomfortable or strange; not the way it feels when other people look at him like this.

No. Izuku’s heated focus feels so good it makes Katsuki grind down into the sofa helplessly to try and relieve some of the agonising, persistent throbbing. It makes him breathless and his blood run hot and his nerve endings fucking burn .

‘Honestly, Kacchan, I don’t know where to start.’ Izuku murmurs, his voice rapturous. His lips are puffy, his cheeks a deep pink, his jaw slack as he stares in wonder. The colour brings out the green of his eyes and his dark constellation of freckles. He’s so unfairly gorgeous. Like a fucking illustration.

Then Katsuki realises how unequal things are.

‘Y-you.’ Katsuki croaks, and leans forward to settle hands on Izuku’s sides and dip his fingers underneath the material of his shirt, making himself clear as he feels along Izuku’s taut abdomen.

Izuku keeps his eyes on Katsuki as he unbuttons his own shirt, letting it slip free from him until he places it down alongside Katsuki’s on the armrest.

Then he’s utterly bare from the waist up, his strong chest and arms and stomach littered with scars and burns, but so fucking breathtaking Katsuki is stunned silent. 

All that naked skin on display is available to him . 

He’s never really considered that before now. He fantasised about what it would be like with Izuku, but pictured Izuku’s face and his voice: the things he already knew better than himself. 

Never this. He never considered that he also gets to have this . Izuku’s smooth, supple skin, all for Katsuki.

It’s then that Katsuki notices Izuku is hard too. 

His jeans do a better job of hiding it, but there’s no mistaking it. The familiar shape of an erection bulges at his crotch. It’s so clear. He’s painfully fucking hard. Katsuki can make out the entire shape and size of him.

Katsuki lifts a hand to touch, to feel , but Izuku places one on his shoulder before he makes contact.

‘Kacchan.’ Izuku says, his other hand running through Katsuki’s burnt-stiff hair, somehow doing it in a way that doesn’t hurt, even when Katsuki struggles with that. ‘Would you let me take care of you? And learn what you like? Please?’ 

Izuku leans down so their foreheads press and their noses brush as he speaks. ‘I would really love to. I’ve dreamt of this. Doing this.’

Katsuki’s mouth dries up. He can’t find it in him to deny Izuku’s gentle plea. He wants to do this together , he wants them to strip naked and press themselves to each other, to rut and rub and join body and soul. 

But goddamn Izuku and his doe eyes.

Katsuki nods.

Izuku presses a light kiss to his lips. Katsuki chases it, but Izuku moves across to his jaw. Further down, nuzzling and kissing his throat, until he finds a spot behind his ear that makes Katsuki gasp. 

Izuku gently flicks with his tongue, and Katsuki feels a bolt of pleasure shoot directly to his dick. 

‘Fuck.’ Katsuki exhales, and his hands — thus far limp at his sides — slide up to feel Izuku’s bare back, all smooth heat and crisscrossing silky scars. He’s like a kintsugi artwork. 

Izuku is moving further down now. His hands are bracketing either side of Katsuki on the sofa, and he nuzzles at Katsuki’s collarbones, at the starburst scar along his shoulder and then the other one at his ribcage, and then brushes his lips across chest before he just takes Katsuki’s right nipple into his hot mouth.

‘AH!’ Katsuki shouts.

He spasms as white-hot electric sparks rain down his spine. Izuku takes it as encouragement, and his hand comes up from the couch to cup Katsuki’s left pec and flick his other nipple with a fingertip. 

It’s — what the fuck.  

The sensation is fucking crazy. Katsuki’s never touched himself like this. He had no idea that this was possible .

But his nipples have some kind of zipline to his cock, and every nibble of Izuku’s teeth and pinch of Izuku’s thumb and forefingers echoes a corresponding sensation right from the base of his cock all the way up his shaft. 

He’s writhing, moaning, falling apart. Izuku moves on from his chest and Katsuki can’t help but gasp a ragged inhale at the loss, until Izuku kisses down his stomach, finding sensitive spots at his hip bones and nibbling there, and then his hands are undoing Katsuki’s trousers as he gets on his knees once again.

Katsuki does very fucking little to help as Izuku slides them from each leg, too blissed out and overwrought to even see clearly. 

Izuku smothers a moan into the meat of Katsuki’s bare thigh, and the muscle twitches and jumps in the newly cold air. 

Izuku’s eyes are trained on the very obvious wet spot at the front of his briefs.

It’s goddamn embarrassing. He’s almost come about six times already, and his dick is clearly desperate to: just pumping out precum as his whole stomach tightens and pulls together in preparation.

‘Kacchan’s so perfect.’ Izuku tells him, rubbing his nose into the downy hair at the tops of his legs, and Katsuki would tell him I’m right here idiot, don’t refer to me in third person, but his brain has literally melted out his fucking ears. He’s about three seconds from erupting. 

‘Smell so good.’ Izuku tells him, and something gooey and warm ignites in Katsuki’s chest.

‘For – for you.’ Katsuki gasps.

Izuku lifts his head from sniffing Katsuki’s inner thigh. ‘Hm?’

Katsuki manages to unclench a fist and take Izuku’s face in his hand, thumbing at his cheekbone. ‘For you.’ His breathing is laboured and the words come out rushed. ‘Showered. Moisturised. For you.’

He hopes the words will earn him some more of those sweet fucking murmurings Izuku’s been making into his leg, and he’s rewarded when Izuku’s wide eyes glaze with lust and his croaked voice says, ‘Just for me? Kacchan was really thinking about me? He’s too thoughtful, too sexy and wonderful, as if I wouldn’t beg on my hands and knees for him after a full day on patrol –’

Katsuki moans low and long, the noise drawn-out from deep inside his gut, and he throbs again, his cock bouncing with it. 

‘Don’t think you know how long I’ve thought about this, Kacchan: how long I’ve dreamt about you naked and tried to fill in the blanks, how much I jerk off to the thought of you until I’m dry: at U.A sometimes it was four times a night, just because I might have caught you coming from the showers and saw a glimpse of your bare shoulders–’

Izuku speaks as he slowly peels Katsuki’s briefs, and although they’ve gotten this far, the final piece of clothing makes Katsuki feel so exposed he has to cover his face and focus on Izuku’s familiar rambling to get through the mortification of baring himself as his cock rushes up to slap his stomach, dribbling a little more fluid. Izuku slides his briefs from his ankles and throws them away.

Then Katsuki can feel Izuku’s breath gusting over his cock, and he clenches his backside to try not to come that very fucking second.

‘I knew you would be perfect, Kacchan, but my imagination could’ve never created this.’ Izuku’s voice sounds dark and deep in his chest.

Katsuki keeps squirming, keeps resisting, hanging on by a thread.

A fingertip delicates strokes along his length. ‘You have the most perfect cock in the world, Kacchan.’

Katsuki moans as his cock bounces in the air, bounces into nothingness, as Izuku keeps torturing him with these featherlight touches that blaze fire but do nothing to quench the ache inside him.

‘Ple – Izuku, please–’ Katsuki babbles.

‘I promise I’ll take care of you Kacchan. But just give me a little more time.’ Izuku’s fingertip runs up and over his hypersensitive, spongy head, and Katsuki bucks upwards. 

He lifts one arm to peek down below at Izuku, who is staring in awe at Katsuki’s violently flushed, throbbing cock, the veins stark and head stretched outside the warmth of his foreskin, just begging, begging –

Katsuki watches as Izuku delicately leans forward and licks the tip. Molten hot lava pours into his stomach as Katsuki thrusts.

‘Ghh—Izuku, close, close, I’m close I’mclose–’ 

Izuku draws back entirely and runs hands up and down Katsuki’s shaking bare thighs in a soothing gesture.

Katsuki groans at the loss, the rush of likely the most intense orgasm of his life just dissipating from his body making him slump, and he tries not to weep at it even though he can feel wetness leak from the corners of his eyes. ‘Please , Izuku, need it.’

‘Just a few more minutes.’ Izuku tells him, and Katsuki sobs a little at the thought of minutes . 

Izuku quietens him with kisses pressed to his knees and his thighs. 

The throb has taken on a painful edge, a little sharp zing to it. If he took himself in hand right now he’d come. Just from wrapping a hand around himself.

But he wants to be good; he wants to give Izuku what he wants, even if that is torturous. 

‘You’re being so, so good.’ Izuku murmurs, and Katsuki squirms and readjusts his trembling legs and bites his lip until he tastes blood as Izuku leans back in and presses a gentle, dry kiss to his tip.

Katsuki is helpless to the way pleasure ricochets through him at that smallest touch, even as his pulsating need rises up stronger. He doesn’t even know what noises he’s making at this point, but he abandons covering his face so that he can watch Izuku dedicate more attention to his cock, nuzzling his lips and nose along the shaft, eyes closed and his face one of pure bliss.

When Izuku’s open mouth drags just so along him, his bottom lip brushing the head, he knows;

‘Izuku, close, close.’ Katsuki’s whole arms are flexed as his hands tighten to fists.

He’s more prepared this time for the way Izuku sits back on his haunches to wait. He’s only a little less devastated, still writhing in agony but able to keep it to himself as he sinks his teeth into the inside of his cheek and screws his eyes shut.

‘Kacchan.’ Izuku murmurs.

Katsuki blinks open his sticky-wet lashes to look at Izuku between his legs. 

Izuku’s whole face and chest are a dark maroon, his eyes glassy and intoxicated. ‘I want to make you come. Can I?’ 

‘Yes, yes,’ Katsuki nods, eagerly spreading himself a little more even as his pelvis aches.

Izuku drops a kiss to his thigh. ‘So perfect.’ He murmurs. 

Then he shuffles forward, rises again and hovers over Katsuki’s dick, which is now steadily streaming clear, viscous pre-cum from his engorged tip, the whole length entirely coated in it. 

Izuku opens his mouth, Katsuki’s heart bursts, and then he envelops Katsuki in beautiful, euphoric heat.

The orgasm makes Katsuki’s mind white out. He comes from the very pit of himself and shoots down Izuku’s throat with a wild cry, every muscle strained and his mouth dropped open.

Izuku swallows him: the walls of his throat milking Katsuki for every drop and his lips giving the most divine suction.

Katsuki truly ascends. Deep pulses of the most intense pleasure he’s ever known wrack his whole body with wave after glorious wave, all racing towards the centrepoint of his engulfed cock. Everything glows with warmth, it feels endless and timeless and fucking spiritual , the sensation like pure holy light pouring into Katsuki’s being. 

As it fades he knows it could only have been seconds. But it hardly matters — the experience has been branded onto his mind and body for life.

Katsuki is unable to move, think, or do anything. He’s not even sure if he’s conscious. 

When he comes to himself, Izuku is brushing kisses along his pelvis and stroking hands along his skin, murmuring soft words and silly little praises. 

Katsuki can only weakly paw at Izuku’s head, trying to get him to rise, and when he does Katsuki wraps Izuku up with both arms and legs and drags him down to the sofa, rolling on top of him and settling his head under Izuku’s chin.

He runs hands all over Izuku’s bare chest, greedily mapping whatever he can as Izuku does the same.

Katsuki risks his luck by skimming fingertips over Izuku’s denim-clad crotch: he wants to taste and feel, he wants to do what Izuku just did (although Katsuki’s not sure that’s earthly possible, but he’ll do his damn best, and anyways just the thought of having Izuku that way is enough to make him freaking salivate).

But Katsuki’s heart plummets as he feels that Izuku has gone soft — or no, there’s a slight wet patch, and he blinks down at it to see a dark spot —

‘You came?’ Katsuki rasps.

Izuku hums. ‘Hmm. That was one of the best experiences of my life, you coming in my mouth.’

‘Jesus.’  

Katsuki has no idea how Izuku can just say this shit. Because it was singlehandedly the best fucking thing he’s ever felt or indeed experienced, but he can’t just go and voice it.

Though …

‘Me too.’ Katsuki gives in just to see total delight spread across Izuku’s face. 

‘Really?’ Izuku breathes, nosing at Katsuki’s cheek.

Goddamnit. Here goes. 

‘I didn’t even think what just happened was fucking possible, Izuku. Swear to God I ascended.’ He confesses, and Izuku looks utterly overjoyed, his face glowing and his eyes crinkling into two moons as he giggles, high-pitched and blissed out. 

Katsuki can’t help but laugh back, which only sets Izuku off more, which in turn sets off Katsuki, and then they’re just cracking up into one another like two damn kids.

There’s some shit Katsuki wouldn’t admit to on the pain of death, but maybe he would on the joy of love.

Chapter Text

They stay wrapped up in each other for a long while. Cramped on Katsuki’s sofa that really only fits one person.

Katsuki finally manages to divest Izuku of his godforsaken jeans, wrangling them off his legs as if they offend him, and then Izuku is just in his boxer shorts, big baggy ridiculous things that probably offer no support and Katsuki is going to buy him some actual underwear literally tomorrow.

But it makes Katsuki realise how piercingly naked he is in all of this, cock soft and wet with saliva, nipples peaked and skin bare, just in his socks and nothing else.

Fucking nothing else.

Izuku lies back down in his boxers, collecting Katsuki back up in his arms as if they’ve been parted for days rather than seconds because he’s a hopeless sap.

Katsuki plays with the waistband of his underwear while they settle and their legs tangle.

‘Can I?’ Katsuki sounds rough as all hell. He runs a fingertip along the elastic band and underneath, just toying, playing, even as his fingers tremble.

Izuku smiles, beatific, right in his face as he squashes their noses. ‘Mm! You can do anything you want, Kacchan.’ He murmurs softly.

Katsuki cocks a brow with a grin, some snarky remark on his tongue, but when his eyes meet Izuku’s and find the total warmth and love radiating within them, it has a corresponding effect on his own face. 

His smile softens, goes shy, and he casts his eyes away as he begins sliding the boxers down gently.

The skin that gets revealed is a little paler than the rest of him, and Katsuki’s heart starts to pound and his face floods with heat as the material slips over one asscheck, all soft and freckled and fluffy with downy hair.

Katsuki can’t help but run the flat of his hand over it greedily and pull and squeeze.

‘Ah, m-might need to stand –’ Izuku sounds breathless and giggly, trying to wriggle where he’s on his side and the boxer shorts are trapped beneath his weight.

Katsuki rolls on top and into Izuku’s lap so they don’t have to be separated for even a second, despite internally calling Izuku a sap for that. He yanks Izuku’s boxers off with a little more insistence now that he’s got his eyes on the prize, and then finally Izuku’s cock is free.

Katsuki drinks in his fill.

It’s floppy, short, pink and a little shiny. It looks sweet and round. There’s some cum clinging to the tip, his shaft smooth and his pubic hair a small dark green thatch between his legs, trailing upwards into a very thin happy trail. 

Katsuki just looks and looks and looks. He’s unable to tear his eyes away. 

He feels his jaw relax and his mouth fill with saliva as if he’s starving .

He’s never, ever felt this way – like just looking at somebody could make him so ravenous his teeth hurt to sink into them. Like he wants to suck and lick and taste.

Katsuki thought he understood attraction. 

Logically, rationally, it was something people felt towards him, because of his physique and his bad-boy attitude. It was a fantasy they created in their heads to occupy their minds from their boring lives. 

Katsuki allowed it. Not much he could do anyways.

But he watched other people experience attraction, too. He watched couples on the street munching on each other and stumbling around the place. He watched people at bars and clubs slink away with their hands pawing at each other, almost tripping over their own asses to do so.

He watched movies and TV shows where people seemed so desperate for one another it was like they couldn’t breathe without them.

And he scoffed. 

Tch. As if. 

All of that shit is just make-believe nonsense to get people through the day.

And then Izuku. 

Katsuki knew he wanted Izuku like that when he kept waking up from dreams about the nerd in a hot, clammy mess; panting breathlessly with a racing heart and wide eyes. Almost nineteen years old and about ten years too fucking late. 

The dreams were unlike anything he’d had before. Just the impression of closeness, of skin on skin, heat, breath, and Izuku’s face near his own. 

Close enough to kiss. 

And then Katsuki dreamt that he did.

He woke achingly hard and was already gripping himself before he’d had a conscious thought.

Not difficult to put it together after that.

And he thought: alright, maybe people were onto something, with the whole ‘attraction’ shit. 

Katsuki had to grumblingly admit it was potent , that was for sure. 

He could imagine himself stumbling around on the street kissing Izuku. If it was Izuku in his arms, then yeah, he’d stumble. He could imagine getting woozy, clinging on and tripping up. But only with Izuku.

He meant it when he told Izuku that he realised how he felt at their U.A graduation. 

With the first conscious thought of I won’t see Izuku tomorrow, that strangled desperation took hold of him the same way it did when Izuku left U.A, during the war. 

But instead of a frantic search to find him, Katsuki could do … nothing. 

This was the way things were to be from now on. This was what everyone told him was to be the new normal . 

Izuku was quirkless and wouldn’t be a hero.

But something inside Katsuki rebuked that. 

It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel natural.

Not just the fact that Izuku was the most heroic person he’d ever met. And he’d met fucking All Might.

No. It was more than that.

Not to see Izuku? Not to spend every waking moment together? Not to hear his voice and see his face? How the fuck could that be right?

He was bowled over by the realisation. 

He was in love with Izuku.

He’s been in love with Izuku.

He’s always loved Izuku.

Once the first crack appeared, the dam burst, and it all came flooding. All the feelings. Everything he’d repressed, ignored and denied his whole life.

Once they graduated and Katsuki went pro, he shoved it down like he did with everything. His mind was set on the goal of getting Izuku back by his side, and he assumed once he had that, then he wouldn’t want for anything more.

There was no fighting it. Katsuki knew loving Izuku was for life. He accepted that fact pretty quickly, no changing it. 

But as long as Izuku joined him again, then everything would be fine. All would go back to the way that it was, and everything would be fine.

Yet this last month, having Izuku by his side, has taught Katsuki a lot of things. 

Mainly that wanting somebody can hurt. It can feel desperate and aching and raw. It can plague your mind and make you go fucking crazy.

Having bits and pieces was never going to be enough. Not even Izuku by his side was enough anymore. More, more, more . He was just like one of those actors on TV, moaning and grabbing and faking it for dramatic effect.

Only this wasn’t fake. 

Katsuki wanted to cling on tight during an embrace. He wanted to smother Izuku with kisses. He wanted to smell his hair and nuzzle his throat. He wanted all that lovey-dovey crap.

But this …

Now this. He wants to fucking eat Izuku alive.

Katsuki watches as Izuku squirms and blushes under the attention of Katsuki’s gaze. Izuku’s cock starts to stiffen with these little twitches, and then – oh. 

Not so little after all.

Izuku’s definitely a grower, not a shower. And fuck, does he grow.

Katsuki’s eyes widen as Izuku, in the span of seconds, rises several inches and expands . The roundness that was sweet before now demonstrates an entirely different girth, but Katsuki can tell he’s only half-hard as he flops sideways a little, not fully erect.

‘Kacchan …’ Izuku murmurs softly, casting his eyes downwards. 

Katsuki realises he’s done nothing but stare and that it might be a little off putting, despite evidence to the contrary. But he knows sometimes these things are just biological and involuntary, and he can also hear the nervousness in Izuku’s voice.

Katsuki runs his fingertips lightly over Izuku’s stomach where he’s balanced atop his thighs. ‘You’re very pretty.’ He rasps.

It’s the first thing that comes to his dumbass mind but it works wonders. Izuku’s mouth parts gently. His dick sways, once, then stands tall and proud. 

‘Really?’ Izuku whispers.

‘So damn pretty it hurts.’ Katsuki confesses. ‘Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.’

Izuku shudders underneath him as his cock starts dribbling.

‘Can I?’ Katsuki hovers a hand over the length, not touching.

Izuku nods quickly, eagerly, the tops of his cheeks blood-red.

Katsuki wastes no time. Izuku feels absolutely wonderful in Katsuki’s palm. Warm, flushed, and pulsing. His skin is like satin. Katsuki pulls his hand down slowly, just testing.

Izuku exhales such a beautiful groan, eyelashes fluttering and his neck twisting this way and that.

Katsuki distantly feels himself starting to respond, but this isn’t about him. He wants to explore and learn. He wants to feel every part of Izuku. He wants to know what Izuku tastes like, and to make some more of those sinful noises spill out of Izuku’s throat.

Katsuki watches his own hands fondle Izuku: one coming down to massage his balls and pull at the skin just a little, the way Katsuki likes, while the other gets a feel for the length in his grip – the veins, the foreskin, all of it so new and exhilarating. 

Izuku pants and writhes and falls apart under him, and the power is indescribable.

‘Kacchan.’ Izuku breathes.

Katsuki presses the pad of his thumb below the head to that sensitive spot he knows is there and gives it a little rub.

‘Wait, wait, too fast!’ Izuku gasps, tensing all over.

Katsuki goes rigid in seconds. 

Izuku’s eyes are screwed shut, his back arched. ‘Want … to go slower.’ He explains, painfully tense.

Katsuki takes all his hands off Izuku entirely, and Izuku whines. 

‘I’m sorry.’ Katsuki sounds gruff and scratchy. Fear trickles into his heart. ‘I didn’t – I thought you wanted –’

Izuku lifts up and wraps both arms around Katsuki, forcing Katsuki to fall on top of him. His erection slots in alongside Izuku’s easily, but Izuku doesn’t seem to notice. He squeezes Katsuki to him and nuzzles at his hair.

‘Slower … because I’ll come.’ Izuku adds, a little winded in Katsuki’s ear. ‘I already came too fast the first time. I want to savour this.’

Oh. 

Hot damn. 

Katsuki grins into his chest. ‘Kay.’ He murmurs into Izuku’s throat, his hand trailing downwards once again, slowly this time, luxuriating in the feel of Izuku’s stomach and the way it jumps. 

‘I haven’t seen all of you.’ Izuku states, at random, as if the thought popped into his head. ‘Can I see you?’

‘What the fuck haven’t you seen?’ Katsuki frowns.

‘Your back.’ Izuku replies.

Right. Katsuki supposes his back has been to Izuku this entire time. Even like this, Izuku probably can’t get a good angle to crane his neck.

‘Such a nerd.’ Katsuki announces as he hauls his ass off the sofa and turns, presenting himself with spread arms.

He hears Izuku gasp. And then Izuku stands up too. He doesn’t ask for permission this time: just slots his hands nice and easy against Katsuki’s midriff, cradling his waist, and then he moves lower.

Again: Oh. 

Katsuki realises he’s not shown Izuku his ass. He bites his lip, a strange wash of anxiety and anticipation flooding his senses. Izuku has liked what he’s seen thus far, but …

Izuku releases a bitten off, almost pained sound as his hands fall to Katsuki’s hips. ‘Perfect…’

Katsuki’s head goes hot, and he can’t help but push into those hands a little, just rock backwards and tilt his ass up invitingly at the praise.

Izuku gets bolder from that. He skims fingertips lightly over Katsuki’s asscheeks before he just grabs two fistfuls in both hands, like he can’t wait any longer. Katsuki grunts at the sensation, the skin sensitive and Izuku’s big hands like two furnaces seeping heat into him. It also makes his stomach leap and his hole clench involuntarily. 

‘I-Izuku…’ Katsuki stutters, trembling lightly.

Izuku presses bodily to Katsuki’s back, oh lord, oh fuck. 

Katsuki’s mind turns to static as Izuku’s knees bump into the backs of his legs, his chest slides up along Katsuki’s spine and his hard, heavy cock swings in between Katsuki’s thighs to run along his ballsack. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck. Katsuki’s stomach floods with molten hot lava as his own dick bounces mid-air, so turned on he’s starting to shake all over with it.

Izuku moves his hands from Katsuki’s ass around to his stomach, one sliding upwards to play with Katsuki’s raw nipples and the other trailing through Katsuki’s blonde bush, tugging at the curls.

Katsuki releases the longest moan he’s ever fucking heard.

Izuku trails kisses along the back of Katsuki’s neck and shoulders, licking and biting at the knobs of his spine, pressing the front row of his teeth in as he sucks. His body heat is like a wall – all muscle and strength – and his arms are warm and glorious wrapped around Katsuki.

It’s everything. Every fucking thing. Fuck. Christ. Holy shit. Katsuki has imagined this. He’s dreamt about this. He’s played this entire scene like a film reel on loop for the last eight years.  

He’s closed his eyes almost every single night and imagined Izuku behind him, holding him up, nosing along his nape and gently kissing his shoulders but fuck his soft naked skin and his searing heat and his worshipful touch are everything Katsuki could never have pictured, oh sweet Jesus Katsuki is rocking into him, his mind flooding now with pictures of Izuku inside him like this, filling him up completely, and he clenches around nothing, and the emptiness and the aching is too much to bear–

‘Fuck me.’ Katsuki gasps, turns his head to mouth at Izuku’s temple, lifting an arm to grip Izuku’s hair. ‘Fuck me, fuck me, please fuck me Izuku, oh fuck–’

Izuku shudders violently and bites down on his nape hard.

Katsuki makes a startled little yelp until he realises what he’s done. Every single one of his muscles goes rigid. 

He’s got no clue why that just fucking fell out of his mouth what the fuck—

‘Yes, yes, need to fuck you Kacchan, need it so much.’ 

Words tumble out of Izuku even as his teeth are lodged into his nape: his voice muffled and wet as it rasps into Katsuki’s skin, tongue swirling as he speaks, his palms flattening on Katsuki’s hips and yanking him back against Izuku forcefully, fingertips tight enough to bruise Katsuki’s pelvis.

The words are so lewd, so explicit, that they should make Katsuki feel mortified. Instead, Katsuki heaves a dry sob of relief and pure ecstasy. His head lolls backwards onto Izuku’s shoulder, and although Izuku is shorter, he’s stockier. He takes all of Katsuki’s weight with ease.

‘Need to fuck you so badly, feel like I’ll die if I don’t.’ Izuku tells him, voice dark and breathless, and Katsuki laughs – albeit a little delirious and high-pitched at this point – before he lifts both arms up to reach Izuku’s head, melting bonelessly into him. 

Izuku mouth is open, just pressing blunt teeth into Katsuki’s throat as his hands travel to grab Katsuki’s ass again, only this time he’s spreading his cheeks and running his hard cock along Katsuki’s crease, and Katsuki’s mind feels filled with cotton fluff and white-hot bliss. 

‘Can I get you ready, Kacchan? I haven’t done it on anyone but myself, but I want to do it for you.’ Izuku slurs against Katsuki’s cheek, because Katsuki’s head is bent backwards and his eyes are rolling behind his skull.

‘Yes, yes, ohhh fuck yes please.’ Katsuki babbles; three sheets to the wind at this stage.

‘I need to lay you down, Kacchan. Do you have any lube?’ Izuku is speaking whilst he’s making these deadly, downright depraved rolls of his hips into Katsuki’s ass.

‘Ma — massage oil, in the — bedroom, yeah.’ Katsuki pants.

Izuku gives a playful, purposeful pinch to his asscheek before he wraps a strong arm around Katsuki’s waist from behind and lifts him off the floor.

‘Ah!—‘ Katsuki shouts, but Izuku is walking already, even though Katsuki’s feet are dragging the floor before he picks them up and shrieks like a goddamn kid. 

‘Izuku!’ He cries, but he’s laughing and he can feel Izuku doing the same against his back. ‘Warn me, goddamnit!’

‘No time to waste.’ Izuku pants as he all but fucking races to the bedroom, and the laughter spills out bright and free from Katsuki’s mouth at that, as Izuku gets to his door –

‘Don’t fucking kick this one down too!’ Katsuki cries.

Izuku secures both arms around Katsuki’s middle and sort of positions him forward, in a way that is clearly meant for Katsuki to open the door, almost the way a person bounces a kid or a puppy.

It’s not that fucking funny, but clearly Katsuki’s stupid brain is high as a kite, because he’s giggling as he turns the handle, as Izuku staggers them both inside, as Katsuki falls on top of the bed (finally, they made it to the fucking bed) and spins to hold his arms open and receive Izuku’s frantic kiss and his hot, sweaty body connecting with Katsuki’s. 

Katsuki’s smile is squashed in seconds as their mouths rejoin and their skin slides along one another, Katsuki’s hands roving all across the expanse of Izuku’s shoulders and his bare legs hooking around Izuku’s thighs. They’re both uncaring about their cocks wildly swinging around as they tussle and scramble against each other, until Izuku starts to slide down him again—

Katsuki opens his mouth to complain, because dammit this all started as a way for him to repay the life-altering pleasure Izuku had just given Katsuki.

But then Izuku flips Katsuki easily, which should be difficult to do to an almost six foot tall muscle-laden pro-hero, but Izuku makes it look like he weighs nothing. His sure, confident hands just circle Katsuki’s waist and spin him around by the hips with such force Katsuki’s upper body has no choice but to follow.

‘Oh –’ Katsuki gasps, as Izuku lays himself along Katsuki’s spine and starts lavishing attention to all the parts he couldn’t reach before now, mouth skimming down the small of Katsuki’s back and nuzzling into all the scars and burns there.

Katsuki wants to speak, wants to say, let me do this to you nerd, I haven’t gotten to explore you yet –

But those confident, strong palms take two handfuls of Katsuki’s ass again, and Izuku just sinks his teeth right into Katsuki’s right asscheek as his fingertips pull at the left, thumbpad slipping into Katsuki’s hole.

‘Fuck!’ Katsuki shouts. 

Izuku lays sharp bites all over, directing his mouth to his left side and then–

‘Oh my god, oh god.’ Katsuki gurgles. The sensation of himself being parted, pulled open, as Izuku’s soft mouth kisses all over his puckered rim, fills him with that static noise again that just makes any fucking thing fall out his mouth. ‘Oh fuck, Izuku , oh god –’

Izuku doesn’t waste time. He licks once, twice, over Katsuki’s exposed rim before plunging his hot tongue into Katsuki’s hole.

‘Chrrrist!’ Katsuki shouts, can’t help but rock back against him, no shame in his mind, only stark relief at the very thorough shower he took before, this amidst the rapidly increasing pleasure that races along his nerve endings and builds in the most beautiful way deep inside his stomach. 

Izuku, while pulling him apart, has been creeping his thumbs inside until both are stroking his walls with the wetness of his saliva and turning Katsuki to liquid. He does it for just long enough that Katsuki’s hole is no longer clenching tight around Izuku, but loose and soft and desperate for something deeper.

‘M-more, please—’ Katsuki gasps raggedly, his mouth creating a small puddle of drool on his bedsheets where his face is pressed into them sideways, both hands clutching his covers and cramping up.

Izuku understands. He sinks his middle finger inside, no burn or stretch due to how open Katsuki is, only a grateful, smooth glide and a drawn-out groan. 

Izuku doesn’t remove his mouth, flicking his tongue over the top of Katsuki’s rim where his spine ends, and it’s such an insanely sensitive spot for Katsuki, one he never knew existed, that he’s literally powerless to his own reactions.

He’s blindly rocking backwards, mewling and garbling noise as Izuku’s finger twists and curls with expert precision, drawing in and out for a moment until another joins it, and together they find the magic bundle of nerves that is Katsuki’s prostate.

‘Oh, oh!’ Katsuki’s voice is as high as he’s ever heard it: no gruffness or raspiness evident, just this completely unfamiliar sound of honeyed sweetness he didn’t even know he was capable of. ‘Izuku, yes, Izuku!’

Izuku seems to be experimenting: he pushes his fingers downwards, which has Katsuki thrusting back onto him with stifled, bitten off moans, and then he presses them upwards, which has Katsuki spasming all over and unable to utter a single sound as a sensation like climax washes over his whole body: intense pleasure crests in his stomach as his cock pulses like it’s being stroked from the inside, and he knows he could come like this, untouched, if Izuku keeps on going.

‘Please, please, pleasepleaseplease— ’ 

When he returns to himself, that word is spilling endlessly from his mouth as he writhes on Izuku’s fingers.

There’s some awkward jostling, and Izuku’s mouth and heat disappear for several beats, yet his fingers are still rubbing over that spot and pressing just so that Katsuki wouldn’t even notice if a missile landed in their room.

But then Izuku’s heat is back again, and he starts to fuck his fingers a little more purposefully in and out of Katsuki when something cool and smooth pours over Katsuki’s rim. The oil. 

Izuku, with every motion of his hand, drags more and more slickness inside, and the sensation of the hot, silky liquid coupled with everything else makes Katsuki finally attempt speech.

‘Iz – please, I’m ready, please – want you.’

Katsuki is wrecked and broken to his own ears, which would be utterly mortifying coupled with the way he’s rocking back on Izuku’s thick fingers and hot, insistent mouth, if he even had a brain left to give a single shit. 

‘Need you to be ready.’ Izuku sounds so unlike himself, rough and rasping, as if their roles have reversed. ‘Don’t want it to hurt.’

It seems so unbelievable that Izuku has never done this. That he’s a total loser virgin like Katsuki. Because how the fuck is he doing this?

But then again, Katsuki knows he’d be able to at least do this part to Izuku. He would know how to open Izuku up until he’s boneless, and the thought of doing so is more than enticing.

It’s what comes after that would leave him stumbling in the dark.

Three fingers now, with the thumbpad from his other hand still inside and holding him open. But as incredible as it feels, it’s not Izuku’s cock, pulsing and hot inside him as Izuku blankets himself over Katsuki’s body, and he needs it, he needs it.

‘Need you now Izuku, please,’ Katsuki’s voice is choked and wet, and he’s got no clue what the fuck he’s doing, he’s lost all his fucking faculties, because he punctuates the last word with a long, high whine that sounds like he’s dying, like he’s in fucking agony.

He’s never heard these noises come out of him in his whole life, and he wants to feel mortified but it’s as if nothing matters but getting Izuku inside.

‘Kacchan, I’m here. I’m here Kacchan.’ Izuku lifts his mouth to trail kisses all over his spine, three fingers sunk deep and curling, and Katsuki feels the wetness in his eyes roll over and spill down his face.

‘You’ve never—’ His head clears long enough to ask. ‘You really never —’ He’s so high-pitched, reedy and thin, ‘d-done this?’

Izuku shakes his head forcefully. ‘Imagined it. Used to imagine this. Doing this to you.’ Izuku leans over Katsuki so his mouth is placed close to Katsuki’s ear, his nose brushing Katsuki’s hair as he crooks his fingers. His voice so close and warm makes Katsuki shiver. ‘Need to make you feel so good, Kacchan, need to take my time and do everything I’ve ever wanted to; need to take you apart so you never forget it.’

Katsuki muffles a sobbed groan into the sheets. He’s so far past ready it’s bordering on painful.

‘Need to learn everything you like so you’ll never want anyone but me.’ Izuku carries on, and if Katsuki had half a brain left he’d choke out, haven’t we just fucking discussed this, I’ve never wanted anyone but you, but he’s pretty sure it’s been established that he’s not even got a single braincell left at this point. 

Izuku keeps curling his fingers and pulling Katsuki wide, just barely brushing over that bundle of nerves inside.

Katsuki realises it’s going to take some intervention from himself at this stage, because Izuku seems perfectly content to keep torturing him for the rest of time.

‘Izuku,’ Katsuki pleads, ‘Need you inside me. Dreamt about it for so long.’

Izuku goes stiff. Bingo.

‘I’ve u-used that oil and imagined you fuckin’ me since I was nineteen.’ Katsuki whispers, soft and sweet, and he’s eternally thankful for this sudden burst of shamelessness — he’s never been capable of lying, and he knows Izuku is aware of that — because Izuku gives a punched out little gasp and stops moving. His fingers are still inside Katsuki, but they go rigid. 

‘Kacchan …’ Izuku sounds awed and a little drunk, like he’s just been dealt a blow to the head.

Looks like two can play at that game. 

Katsuki tries to keep the smugness from his tone when he murmurs,  ‘Please don’t make me wait any longer.’

‘I’ve never done this, Kacchan.’ Izuku tries gently, a nervousness obvious in his shaky breath. ‘I don’t know how.’

‘Me neither. But I just want you.’ Katsuki tells him with surety. He takes it a little further, pushes just that little bit harder, and asks sweetly: ‘Don’t you want me?’

Izuku exhales a soft little laugh. ‘More than you know. More than anything.’ 

Those words still light Katsuki up from the inside, all that dedicated love focused on him and nothing, nobody else. 

But then Izuku kisses the shell of his ear and says, ‘I see what you’re doing, you know.’

Katsuki trembles. ‘What am I doing?’ He asks breathlessly, even though excitement thrills up his spine at the dark tone of Izuku’s voice.

‘Making me forget everything I’ve ever known.’ Izuku whispers thickly, his bottom lip brushing Katsuki’s throat. ‘Kacchan is very clever.’

For some reason, Izuku’s tendency to refer to Katsuki in the third person isn’t strange anymore. Katsuki now finds the little habit hugely endearing and in this context, incredibly fucking arousing.

Because he can imagine Izuku doing this in his everyday life now. Maybe it was his possessive way of laying claim to Katsuki: calling him this childhood nickname that nobody else used, that sometimes nobody else understood at all.

Maybe Izuku didn’t direct the nickname at anyone; maybe he said it to himself, just a thoughtless mutter or observation during their U.A days. Maybe it was something he wanted to tell Katsuki but didn’t feel he could. Maybe it was his way of holding onto Katsuki.

Sometimes, Katsuki likes to think of it as a small way that he kept Izuku company, whenever Izuku was missing him and wanted to talk to him, but Katsuki had too much shit to work through before he could be worthy of asking to stand by Izuku’s side. 

The fact that Izuku still does it now makes Katsuki certain that it’s a habit he maintained after they graduated too. 

Katsuki imagines Izuku marking papers, doing his shopping, going a walk, or just any other task with ‘Kacchan’ unconsciously falling from his lips here and there, unable to stop saying it the way Katsuki was unable to stop hearing it. Unable to keep Katsuki out of his mind.

And that, coupled with the words coming out of Izuku now, sends Katsuki far past desperate. 

‘Please, Izuku, I’ve waited so long, I couldn’t even use a dildo, just wanted it to be you, only you.’ Katsuki babbles, pressing backwards.

Izuku groans, burying his face in Katsuki’s neck, but he’s nodding as he does. ‘Me too.’ He confesses. ‘But I want it to feel good – what way feels good?’ Izuku asks, his other hand (the one not currently buried inside Katsuki’s ass) smoothing down his flank in soothing motions. ‘Tell me, Kacchan.’

‘Want to see you.’ Katsuki states, voice hushed between them. ‘Can I turn around?’

‘Of course.’ Izuku leans back, and they manoeuvre until Katsuki is on his back, legs bracketing Izuku’s weight, with Izuku’s fingers still holding him open. 

They stare each other in the face. The intimacy of the act is like a punch to the gut, as if it’s the first time they’ve ever seen one another somehow, and they both move at the same time, reconnecting their mouths and kissing hungry and desperate. 

Katsuki rakes nails down Izuku’s naked back and runs his hands up to grip at his hair while Izuku strokes all over his chest and side, working his fingers in and out of Katsuki.

But then Katsuki pulls away from the kiss, and it must be something in his eyes, in his expression, the way he’s looking at Izuku.

Because Izuku whispers, ‘I know, I know.’ His face is overwrought, his eyes the brightest Katsuki has ever seen them, and then he’s shuffling upwards on his knees to align his hips to Katsuki’s.

It takes some more awkward manoeuvres. This shit isn’t exactly simple. At one point Katsuki bashes Izuku’s chin with his knee as he tries to bend it too quickly, but they both laugh, and the tension is broken.

Then Izuku is lined up, one hand gripping himself at the base. He slips his fingers ever so slowly, ever so gently, free from inside Katsuki. He moves as glacially as possible, as if it’s the most important act in the world.

But Katsuki appreciates it when his fingers are gone entirely because the loss is less sharp and brutal, and in the same breath the blunt head of Izuku’s cock is at his rim, just rubbing backwards and forwards, soft and hot and promising.

Katsuki pushes into the sensation, sucking him in greedily and sinking into the bliss of being filled, and it being Izuku.

Izuku goes stiff all of a sudden when he first breaches the tight ring of muscle. ‘K-Kacchan, did you want — I don’t have anything, I forgot t-to ask —’ He sounds choked.

‘Relax nerd, we’re fucking virgins.’ Katsuki huffs throatily, basically shuffling downwards on the bed to get more of Izuku inside; inhaling sharply as Izuku sinks further inside.

‘But— it’s polite —’ Izuku whines, the tendons of his neck flexing as he squeezes his eyes shut and his face crumples up. He lets out a long, drawn-out moan when he’s halfway in, his jaw clenched and his bottom lip clamped between his teeth, his whole body held still and unmoving. 

God, he’s such a virgin, Katsuki thinks with wild glee and violent satisfaction. 

And there’s no burn, no slight twinge of his hips, no discomfort or pain or embarrassment. 

There’s just this deep-seated, dark pleasure curling through him as he watches Izuku’s face travel through agonised to euphoric to agonised again, as Izukus’s skin spills red in a flush from the tops of his cheeks down to his chest, as the full weight of him bears down on Katsuki, as his cock pulses inside him and their sweat drips and mingles together as one. 

Katsuki feels his own moan unspool from his throat and escape from between his clenched teeth, incapable of being swallowed with the sheer perfection of every sensation, every sight, every sound and smell, as Izuku finally finally sinks all the way inside. 

Izuku’s hips fit snug and encased between Katsuki’s thighs as he fills Katsuki to the brim, his balls brushing the bottom of Katsuki’s asscheeks, and they both hold themselves there for a moment to collapse into one another and groan against each other’s mouths. 

Katsuki clings to Izuku: his arms around his neck and shoulders, his shins around Izuku’s back. He’s always thought the term ‘making love’ was mushy and stupid and downright weird, but he knows now that there’s nobody in the world he could be like this with, there’s nobody who could bring out this side of Katsuki, this vulnerable needy thing, and he feels from the way that Izuku clings and shakes and gasps that the same is true for him. 

They kiss for a while. Just soft, lazy, slow kisses, trailing their tongues along one another. 

‘Kacchan.’ Izuku exhales. ‘Kacchan .’ 

It’s reverent and devoted and adoring and sensual. He says Kacchan the way anyone would say sweetheart, or darling, or love, or baby. For Izuku, he manages to roll every single word into his Kacchan. He manages to make Katsuki feel every single one of those words. 

‘I love you.’ Katsuki is helpless to admit, whispering it between them as they settle against one another and take a second to savour it. ‘Love you so much.’

They exchange more kisses, more soft touches and gentle caresses, Izuku to Katsuki’s face and Katsuki to his shoulders. Izuku rests their foreheads together and they look at one another. 

They both seem to understand that they need this. They hold the contact and Katsuki strangely feels as if he could look into Izuku’s eyes forever. There is obviously the desire to move, to chase the pleasure simmering in his gut and throbbing in his cock, and similarly he wants to witness Izuku fall apart in all the ways he’s been dreaming about, but more than that he wants to experience this moment of connection with Izuku, this deepest intimacy he’s ever had and ever will, this profoundly beautiful thing as they breathe into one another and sink into one another’s gaze, understanding each other so perfectly, joined as one. 

Izuku starts to smile softly after a while, this amused loving thing as his eyes glisten with emotion. 

Katsuki follows suit, his mouth unable to resist, a grin spilling across his face.

‘I could stay like this forever, Kacchan.’ Izuku admits, his smile stretching. ‘I don’t want to move. Sorry. I guess this is how it ends.’

Katsuki wants to roll his eyes or make a joke, but he can’t dredge up any feeling but total sincerity. ‘Pretty good way to go.’ He whispers, nuzzling up to bump their noses.

Izuku strokes his face with a hand, his eyes crinkled. Katsuki feels him flex inside, once, and gasps as the sensation sparks across his whole body. 

He clenches around the glorious pressure of Izuku. Izuku’s breath is punched out as he rocks forward a little bit, and Katsuki welcomes it with a slow roll of his hips.

‘Wait, Kacchan.’ Izuku begs. 

Katsuki stops moving entirely at the urgent tone in Izuku’s voice. 

Izuku cups his jaw and presses soft kisses over his cheeks and nose. ‘I just want to take my time. Want to make you feel amazing.’

‘You are.’ Katsuki croaks. He feels like there’s not really a word in any language to express the way Izuku is making Katsuki feel. There’s not even really a metaphor good enough to compare to it. 

‘I’ve never felt this, Izuku.’ It’s all he can offer up, but it’s weak and paltry in any sense. 

‘Me neither.’ Izuku whispers back, like it’s a secret, although it is: it’s only for them to know.

‘But I need to learn what makes you feel good.’ Izuku explains. ‘Especially since we’ve both never done this. I just need to – adjust, first.’ He sounds nervous, and awkward, as if that’s an embarrassing thing to admit and not something Katsuki can give him as easy as breathing.

‘Take as long as you need.’ Katsuki murmurs softly. ‘No rush. I don’t want to rush it, either.’

Izuku kisses him again like he’s helpless to it; like it’s second nature at this point.

Katsuki doesn’t really know how long they stay that way. Unmoving, joined together, Izuku buried deep and their mouths lazily sliding and suckling. He loses track of time, forgets the freaking meaning of the word.

Because it feels as if Izuku is fusing with Katsuki somehow: like Katsuki won’t ever be able to live without this, as if this is a new state of being for him, and when Izuku pulls out Katsuki won’t survive the vacant space he leaves. 

Maybe it’s the endorphins talking, but sweet Jesus Katsuki truly feels that way. The ache in his balls has flourished into a full, thumping pain, but even still, the small twitches and trembles from Izuku are enough to satiate the need. It’s enough to feel him pulsing with life inside Katsuki and just brushing his prostate with every flutter and flex.

Eventually Izuku pulls from the kiss to look him deep in the eye. He gives a gentle, experimental little motion: barely even a thrust, but Katsuki’s eyes widen as a sharp inhale is torn from his throat.

Izuku studies him intently as he repeats the motion, and Katsuki has to dig nails into the thick muscles of Izuku’s back so he feels like he’s not about to fly apart.

‘Ah, Izuku…’ He groans, the deliciously warm pleasure from the friction of Izuku against his walls seeping through him to spread across his whole body until his fingertips tingle and his toes curl. 

Izuku’s hands run soothingly down his sides to settle on his thighs, gripping two handfuls into Katsuki’s flesh.

‘The angle, Kacchan, it’s — can I?’ He sounds guttural and raw.

Katsuki has absolutely no fucking clue what Izuku is asking him and wouldn’t even be capable of doing anything anyways, so he just gives a sharp nod.

Then Izuku is lifting both his thighs up until Katsuki has no choice but to put his legs in the air.

Izuku presses down on his kneecaps until they bend and pushes them into Katsuki’s chest.

‘Ah!’ Katsuki shouts when the new angle makes Izuku slide impossibly deeper inside, makes him hit that spot that lights up every single nerve ending he has, and Izuku remains still for a beat, panting heavily into Katsuki’s face.

‘Just need a second.’ He confesses. Katsuki strokes Izuku’s damp hair from his eyes and catches his own breath too.

When Izuku gives a slow roll of his hips, then another, the feeling is indescribable. It’s like being tenderly caressed from the inside in every single way. There’s a pleasure hidden deep within Katsuki that Izuku has uncovered, and his hot, heavy cock is lovingly milking every ounce of it. Katsuki can do nothing but gasp, moan, mewl and crumble to pieces. Izuku keeps Katsuki’s legs folded as he repeatedly glides along Katsuki’s sensitive walls and hits his prostate, again, again, again, even though each new stroke, each new thrust, lights up a different part of Katsuki.

Katsuki really does forget everything; doesn’t even want to orgasm, just wants to keep experiencing this for as long as humanly possible, for the rest of time.

‘Kacchan.’ Izuku whispers, devout and tormented all at once, until he comes to a gentle stop, fully submerged with his hip bones flush to Katsuki’s ass.

Katsuki feels himself whine, hands scrabbling at Izuku, his own hips moving to keep the pace. ‘Izuku, Izuku –’ He tries.

‘Shh, it’s okay.’ Izuku kisses along his face. ‘I want to try something.’

Katsuki forces his brain to clear from the fog and blinks hard a couple times, only looking at Izuku once he’s sure he’s not about to beg. ‘Hmm?’ He croaks. 

‘I just want to move a little. I don’t want your legs to cramp.’ He gives one of Katsuki’s bent legs a stroke, and it’s only then Katsuki realises they’re shaking, and he becomes aware of the growing ache in his hips and thigh muscles.

‘Oh.’ He says, and Izuku gently unfolds his legs and sets them down.

Katsuki sighs gratefully at the release from the cramped position, even though Izuku slips a little from inside.

Katsuki stretches his legs and plants his feet on the bed to push down on Izuku.

Izuku grunts softly before he slides two hands underneath Katsuki’s spine and lifts him to a sitting position, easy as a knife through butter, like Katsuki weighs not a goddamn thing.

Katsuki clenches instinctually to keep Izuku inside.

Izuku’s head drops onto his shoulder as he groans, fucking up helplessly, before he falls down onto his back to the end of the bed and Katsuki is placed on top.

Katsuki is the one to groan this time, falling forwards the same as Izuku until their chests are pressed together. He noses underneath Izuku’s throat, and now he’s the one in control, he’s the one that can sink down and lift off Izuku’s cock. 

Katsuki excitedly does, but to his dismay he can’t get Izuku deep enough, even when he straightens his spine until he’s sat up in Izuku’s lap and grinding down; because although Izuku is fully submerged, Katsuki’s prostate is at a different angle now.

Izuku strokes along his flank and massages his hips with his thumbs, which are starting to ache from being kept open so long, although the ache is oddly pleasant, like the burn of a good workout, though Katsuki can’t ever remember loving a workout this fucking much.

‘Kacchan.’ Izuku murmurs. 

Underneath Katsuki, Izuku’s hair is damp and stuck to his cheeks and forehead, his face is the brightest, hottest red Katsuki has ever seen, his mouth is plush and wet from being kissed and sucked, and his eyes are glazed over and drunk. ‘This is still sore on you. Can I try something else?’

Katsuki flops forward to lie on Izuku’s chest and catch his breath, content to let Izuku do whatever the fuck he wants. 

He realises Izuku is being more attentive to Katsuki than Katsuki is capable of being attentive to himself.

‘It might make me slip out, Kacchan.’ Izuku warns, and Katsuki tightens around Izuku again. It makes him Izuku let out a sharp little sound, halfway between a cry and a gasp. 

That sound fills Katsuki with searing arousal and a deep, pulsing gratification, a rushing sensation stronger and more intense than any victory he’s ever felt, than any achievement or win he’s experienced. It feels so fucking good to hear Izuku’s helpless noises and know that he’s the cause. He’s the one making Izuku lose his damn mind. 

‘Kacchan.’ Izuku murmurs close to his ear, his lips wetly trailing Katsuki’s cheek, and the action is so hot that Katsuki’s mouth goes dry. It’s such a subtly assertive move, like he owns Katsuki, like he can do whatever the fuck he wants, and Katsuki knows it’s true. ‘I think I’ll have to come out. I want to try on your stomach again. It’s easier for your legs.’

The truth is that it is easier on his damn legs, and the thought of Izuku’s heat all up along Katsuki’s spine is enough to make whatever is left of his brain melt. 

He nods wordlessly, mouthing at Izuku’s chin in his own form of branding.

Izuku rolls himself up into a sitting position again, supporting Katsuki in the circle of his arms, and then he lays Katsuki down on his back. He pulls out gently, his cock dragging along Katsuki’s walls as he does, and then his fingers are replacing the loss.

‘Can you turn around for me, Kacchan?’ Izuku asks softly, and Katsuki complies without a word, flopping onto his stomach and presenting his ass in the air.

Izuku uses his other hand to pull a pillow underneath Katsuki’s hips, encouraging Katsuki to drop down onto it instead of holding his hips upwards, and as soon as Katsuki does he releases a whoosh of air in an exhaled breath, because the ache just lifts off him entirely. It also means there’s a new, welcome pressure on his throbbing cock, and Katsuki luxuriates in the feeling. 

Izuku spends a moment just massassing his hips again and curling his fingers, but Katsuki misses the fullness of him inside.

‘Izuku, ready.’ His voice is the sweetest he’s ever heard it. ‘Feels so fucking good.’ He murmurs, shifting his hips into Izuku’s warm touch. 

Izuku kisses over his spine for a beat before he lines himself up again. He places Katsuki’s knees together and his legs straight to give them some respite, Izuku’s own legs spread over Katsuki’s, his hand holding Katsuki open as his cockhead replaces his fingers and he starts to sink into Katsuki once again.

Katsuki’s mouth drops open on a silent groan as Izuku returns to that perfect space inside him. Izuku reaches over to his nightstand, and then Katsuki feels something drip onto his ass and trickle into his hole. He realises Izuku is pouring more oil over him, just to make that first thrust all the more magical when he draws back to slam in with a slick, wet squelch, hitting Katsuki’s prostate in one smooth move.

‘Oh, fuck!’ Katsuki shouts, the loudest he’s been, because the momentum shoves up a little forward on the bed and his hands fist in the sheets. ‘Oh fuck, Izuku!’

’Kacchan.’ Izuku moans, raw and hoarse, and then he repeats the motion, dead centre and exactly as before.

‘Shit! Fuuuck, so deep Izuku, oh fuck, yeah —’ Katsuki mindlessly rocks back into Izuku, taking him deeper, and the friction also rubs his swollen cock along the pillow underneath him, the relief and the pleasure blinding. ‘Yeah, yeah, fuck —’ He can’t stop himself, as if every thought is just being fucked right out his mouth. ‘God, yes, Izu—’

Izuku does something. It’s basically akin to sorcery. Katsuki can barely explain it. But he lifts Katsuki’s hips the littlest bit higher, holding them secure, and then smooths a hand down Katsuki’s spine and presses the heel of his palm down, encouraging Katsuki to arch.

The second that Katsuki does, Izuku slides into the most flawless position inside Katsuki, there’s no explanation other than pure fucking witchcraft. 

Everything in Katsuki’s body just blooms.

‘Ahhghffh!’ Katsuki garbles, choked and high-pitched, his face smashed into the mattress, hands gripping the sheets and his eyes rolling to the backs of his head.

‘Kacchan, close, close.’ Izuku pants, breathless, but doesn’t pause in his wicked, sinful movements that are absolutely obliterating the bundle of nerves inside Katsuki.

‘Hnngdhhffh—’ Katsuki whimpers, tears freely streaming now.

Izuku slides a hand along Katsuki’s shoulder to his throat, grips him and forces him upright just a little; not choking, just gently cradling his jaw so he can turn Katsuki and try to see his face.

Katsuki can’t even see anything right now — his eyes are fluttering wildly, his mouth hanging open on a wordless, unutterable moan — but the warm pressure of Izuku’s palm wrapped around his throat is too much.

Katsuki comes so violently, it’s like the clap of thunder. His ears ring from impact and his vision whites out completely. He’s making unintelligible, completely nonsensical warblings that rise up in crescendo to a high-pitched cry, and pleasure floods his entire being until he’s drowning in it, a tidal wave washing over every single one of his senses. Katsuki’s stomach muscles clench tight as he releases everything that’s been building from deep within, just allows it all to flow free.

Katsuki spasms around Izuku’s cock, his hips working to fuck back into Izuku as well as rub himself against the cotton beneath him, the twin sensations coupling to create insurmountable pleasure. 

Izuku drops onto Katsuki with a guttural groan, his weight pressing down and his hand tightening just the barest amount around Katsuki’s throat. His heaviness makes Katsuki’s face smush into the bed, but the lack of oxygen only heightens the sensations; and Katsuki descends into a fucking mewl.

But then Izuku is making the most beautiful sounds above him; high, thin, sharp little whines and cries, weakly thrusting with no finesse, just riding his own pleasure unconsciously, instinctively, in a way that is so fucking hot Katsuki could weep.

They come back down together.

Izuku’s whole chest heaves against Katsuki’s back as he pants, but Katsuki loves it: loves their sticky, tacky skin and how it’s connected in a long line down their bodies, loves Izuku’s nose buried in his hair and his mouth open and gasping for breath, loves Izuku’s little twitches and tremors of sensitivity and the way his hands are still stroking over Katsuki. 

Slowly, Izuku slips from inside, but the emptiness is tempered by the aftershocks of pleasure and the way every muscle in his body is lax and warm and his mind is fuzzy from another earth-shattering orgasm. 

‘Kacchan…’ Izuku mumbles after a couple minutes, and his voice has a slow, syrupy quality to it. ‘Okay?’

‘Perfect.’ Katsuki sighs, blissful and saccharine-sweet, his voice light and bubbly. 

If somebody played a recording of Katsuki right now, he’d bet his life that it was AI. No way that shit was fucking real.

Katsuki has to face facts that Izuku can turn him into a completely different person.

Izuku doesn’t comment on it, though; simply kisses over any available skin he can find. ‘Just going to get a towel. Back in a second.’

Katsuki allows him to leave, and the cool rush of air his departure brings is not unwelcome.

Eventually, Katsuki unsticks himself from the bed and flops onto his back just in time to see Izuku return with a wet washcloth.

‘Oh.’ Izuku falters at the doorway, stark naked and so beautiful Katsuki feels a little loopy, like surely there should be a limit on beauty, surely it can’t keep growing.

‘Okay?’ Katsuki echoes as Izuku finds his footing again and crosses over to him.

‘You’re gorgeous,’ Izuku whispers to him, crawling on top of him and kissing his face as he runs the washcloth over his body. ‘My own brain keeps forgetting how much. It’s like it can’t even make a proper memory of you. You’re too beautiful.’

Katsuki would scoff, and huff, and groan, in any other context. Not this one.

‘Says you.’ He whispers. ‘So fucking pretty, Izuku.’ Katsuki places a hand on Izuku’s face and takes the washcloth from his hands, running it across Izuku’s shoulders.

Izuku kisses him soundly, distracting Katsuki so he can grab the washcloth again.

He lavishes attention to Katsuki’s chest, then his hips and stomach where Katsuki’s own cum is smeared, and then the backs of Katsuki’s knees, his thighs, his ass, and finally his puffy hole. The heat and the pressure makes Katsuki moan appreciatively, not even in arousal but sheer gratitude and comfort.

Izuku gives his mouth a rest and gentles kisses all along his jaw and throat before he throws the towel away and falls on top.

Katsuki welcomes him heartily; thankful Izuku doesn’t want to go shower or something, because Katsuki isn’t sure he can fucking stand right now, or for the rest of the night.

He inhales deep and smells their mingled sex in the air, a scent so wholly theirs, and wants more of it so noses at Izuku until Katauki just rolls on top and shoves his face into Izuku’s armpit. 

Izuku is most concentrated here; his body odour is somehow fresh, like sea brine. Katsuki takes in greedy lungfuls. 

‘Freak.’ Izuku murmurs, teasing, as he throws both arms over his head and lets Katsuki have at it.

The tease doesn’t hurt, though, doesn’t make any insecurity rear its ugly head. ‘Keep talkin’, Mr Catch-a-Kacchan.’ Katsuki growls playfully, pinching at his side and making Izuku yelp.

‘Guess I already did.’ Izuku giggles, his hands carding through Katsuki’s hair, pressing Katsuki closer into his armpit,  and Katsuki feels slightly like a dog at his master’s feet, but it feels too fucking good to stop. If he had a tail it would be wagging, that’s for sure. As it stands Katsuki can barely contain the delighted wiggle of his damn hips. He starts to kiss the skin, but it’s when he tries to lick and get a taste that Izuku jerks away with a bitten off shrieks.

‘Tickles!’ He complains, but Katsuki just drags him back, which ends in scuffling and wrestling and trying to gain the upper hand. Katsuki is certain that Izuku allows him to win, because when Katsuki plants himself on Izuku’s chest, knees at either side of his waist and sat right on top of him, he looks far too happy about it.

‘Cheat.’ Katsuki pouts, which doesn’t even make sense in this context.

‘I got distracted.’ Izuku replies as he runs hands up Katsuki’s thighs. So cheeky. 

A yawn catches Katsuki off guard, and then even more surprising is the rumble of his stomach. Oh. Yeah.

They forgot to freaking eat.

Izuku is up like a spring, and Katsuki is thrown off with a graceless yelp as Izuku races to the kitchen.

‘Just be a minute!’ He yells as he runs through Katsuki’s house.

Katsuki would lie back and wait for the food to be brought to him in bed. But he also … he just wants to be near Izuku. Damn nerd has given him codependency issues. 

Katsuki rummages around for some sweatpants and joins Izuku, who is buck-ass naked in the kitchen. His knees are pretty wobbly, but it’s worth it.

He comes up behind Izuku microwaving the dinner he made them and hooks his chin on top of Izuku’s head, practically engulfing Izuku in his arms. Heh. Small fry.

Izuku leans against him, holding onto Katsuki’s arms with his hands, and they wait for the food to reheat before they take it into the living room. 

The evidence of their desperation, clothes strung about everywhere, makes Katsuki feel both embarrassed and deeply fucking aroused. He can tell Izuku feels the same as his cheeks heat and go cherry-red.

‘I might … get redressed.’ Izuku tries softly, looking at his own shirt and trousers on the floor, only now just realising he’s completely fucking naked.

Katsuki gives him a wounded look. ‘Huh? I’ve got spare clothes. Just wear mine.’

Izuku blinks before he smiles, shy, casting his eyes down.

After all this! Katsuki thinks.

‘Really, Kacchan?’ He murmurs.

‘Dumbass. Just take whatever.’ Katsuki gestures to the bedroom as he settles down onto the couch and digs in, folding his legs neatly underneath him.

Izuku sets his own bowl on the coffee table before he goes to the bedroom.

Katsuki scoffs down hot mouthfuls, not realising how hungry he was until this exact moment. It’s exactly as spicy as Katsuki likes it. He thinks distantly that this might be the best fucking day of his life. 

Fine. Scratch that. It definitely is, but he’s not about to voice it.

Izuku comes back out wearing Katsuki’s baggy flannel bottoms and sleep shirt. 

Katsuki groans.

‘What?’ Izuku frowns down at himself.

Katsuki finishes his food and puts his bowl on the table, opening his arms. 

Izuku skips over to him happily, and Katsuki yanks Izuku into his lap.

‘Look so good in my clothes.’ Katsuki tells him as he squeezes tight.

Izuku giggles. ‘Need to eat, Kacchan.’

Katsuki releases Izuku just enough for him to turn in Katsuki’s lap, reach for his food and start eating. 

Katsuki lays his ear on Izuku’s back and listens to the thump, thump rhythm of his heart. It’s enough to lull Katsuki to sleep. There’s a beautiful, dull pain in his tailbone, a warm post-coital glow igniting his veins, and a happiness making his heart fit to burst. 

Izuku finishes eating and settles back against Katsuki, letting Katsuki trail his fingers up and down his stomach and chest.

‘I should go.’ Izuku mumbles regretfully.

Katsuki freezes.

‘Mom will be worried.’ Izuku tries, soothing hands down Katsuki’s arms. ‘And we have work tomorrow.’

Katsuki feels like saying, just text her, tell her you’re staying, but he knows what Izuku means. He’s not even got a spare toothbrush here. And Izuku has his suit back at home too. It’s practical. It’s logical. 

‘Kay.’ Katsuki says. Wishes he could unlatch his damn arms enough to prove it, though. Turns out he becomes a clingy bastard after sex. Or maybe he always was. But it’s not like he can just hold Izuku hostage here.

‘I know you prefer your personal space.’ Izuku whispers, kisses the side of his head, and that …

That’s not exactly the same thing.

Is Izuku … Is that damn idiot finding excuses because he thinks that’s what Katsuki wants?

Before Izuku rises to a stand, Katsuki tightens his hold. ‘Do whatever you want, nerd, but for the record personal space doesn’t really exist when it comes to you.’ Katsuki realises he’s going to have to be a lot clearer, and adds, pained; ‘I mean, I’d rather you stay. Is all.’

Izuku shuffles around to look him in the face, twisting in Katsuki’s lap so their fronts are pressed. Katsuki struggles to meet his gaze.

‘Are you sure?’ Izuku asks. His voice is hushed.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. ‘Yes, idiot. Wasted enough time. Don’t wanna waste a fuckin’ second now.’ He toys with the waistband of his flannels on Izuku to avoid just gripping Izuku and never letting go. ‘Just wanna be together.’

Izuku lays their foreheads together. ‘I can go get my stuff and bring it over. I’ll be back in an hour?’

Katsuki’s heart leaps, and he finds the courage in himself to look Izuku in the eye. 

Izuku is smiling wide, pleased and hopeful, and Katsuki smiles back.

They have to part, obviously.

Izuku changes back into the outfit he wore for their date before he leaves, folding up Katsuki’s pyjamas all neat and mournful on the sofa.

Katsuki has to basically shove him through the door though, since he keeps coming back for another kiss. But it makes Katsuki laugh, and then when Izuku leaves Katsuki cleans up.

He gathers his own discarded clothes from the sofa and throws them in the washing basket, washes and dries their dishes, bundles up the dirty sheets, adds them to the hamper, and changes the bed and the pillows. 

After all that it’s only been about twenty minutes, so Katsuki goes for a proper shower and re-cleans everything he just scrubbed a couple hours ago.

He’s so soft it’s kind of fascinating; he can’t remember ever being so spent that fingers inside of him didn’t even make him twitch, but he watches his floppy dick as he makes sure to thoroughly clean inside, and there’s nothing. Nada. He’s been well and truly satiated. It makes a dark curl of pleasure seep through his system. 

Washed, dried, changed into pyjamas, he parks himself in front of the TV and waits.

He’s roused from half-sleep by a gentle knock on the door, and pads over while knuckling one eye to find Izuku with an overnight back draped over his shoulder. He’s cold from outside, and Katsuki groans lightly when he crowds into Katsuki’s space and slides those cold fucking hands all over him.

‘Izuku.’ Katsuki warns, albeit sleepily.

‘So cute .’ Izuku croons. ‘My little Sleepy-chan.’

Fucking little? Who’s towering over who?

Katsuki decides to accept this mortifying fucking moniker if it means Izuku will come inside, so he just grunts and pulls him over to the couch forcibly.

‘Someone is about to fall asleep, though.’ Izuku tells him sternly. ‘Why don’t we get you to bed?’

Old teacher instincts die hard, Katsuki guesses. 

‘Joinin’ me?’ Katsuki mumbles around a yawn.

‘Mmm. Just need to get changed and brush my teeth.’

‘Ugh. Me too.’ 

Katsuki stumbles to the bathroom and lets Izuku put his stuff down in the bedroom. He brushes lazily and looks up when Izuku enters, back in Katsuki’s pyjamas and smiling wide, eyes crinkled and expression soft. He holds up his toothbrush and Katsuki squirts some toothpaste on it. Their shoulders brush as they both scrub. Domestic as shit. Katsuki fucking loves it. He keeps catching Izuku’s eye in the mirror, and knows the nerd loves it too. 

Finished in a few minutes, they don’t even pretend they’re doing anything else as they climb into bed and settle against one another to go to sleep. Katsuki pulls Izuku on top just to feel his warm, heavy weight all over, and Izuku sighs and tucks his head under Katsuki’s chin.

His eyes slip closed. Everything feels right. Everything.

‘Should move in.’ Escapes Katsuki’s mouth.

‘Shh, Sleepy-chan.’ Izuku pats his face gently, clearly thinking he’s delirious. 

‘Mean it.’ Katsuki tries to force some strength into the words, but he’s too comfortable, and his eyes won’t open. ‘Spent eight years ‘ithout ya. Don’t wanna be apart.’

‘Me neither. Talk in the morning.’ Izuku promises. ‘Love you.’

‘That a yes?’ Katsuki peels open his eyes to find Izuku watching his face, soft and drowsy eyelids slanted.

‘Mm.’ Izuku nods. ‘Always yes with you, Kacchan.’ He kisses under Katsuki’s jaw. ‘Can’t say no.’

‘Damn right.’ Katsuki nods, and then he’s out like a lightswitch.