Chapter Text
"Where's Kacchan?" Izuku was sitting up in his hospital bed, pillows piled up behind him to keep him from straining his back. His eyes were flat, lacking all their usual light as they stared blankly at the empty bed to his side. He couldn't have known Katsuki had occupied that bed for the better part of a week, no logical reason anyway, but he did. He could still smell him there even though the sheets were new and crisp and untouched. He and his alpha mourned the distance.
Ochako and Kirishima glanced at each other while the rest of his classmates shuffled meaningfully.
When they didn't speak, Izuku turned those unnervingly blank eyes towards them. "How long was I asleep?"
Ochako chaffed her hands against her skirt before pressing her fingertips together. "You were in a coma for a month."
Izuku's eyes traveled over his classmates. Ex-classmates. Graduated classmates. Fellow heroes. They'd been graduated for a year now, but still, they came running when they heard he'd woken up. Tenderness bubbled quietly up in his chest. He could always count on them. Except for when they thought they were protecting him from something.
Even now, a month after the final battle with the League, the one where everyone had gotten hurt and some killed, he could see their wounds. Not physically. All of that had been healed long before he'd woken up, but in the way they stood. Straighter. Stiffer. Favoring arms or legs. In the way they looked at him.
"Where's Kacchan?" he asked again, and this time, he saw the looks that passed between them. The downcast eyes. The shuffling. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of the way they'd acted after the training camp when he'd failed to save Katsuki. "Where. Is. He?"
Kirishima swallowed, eyes wet. "Best Jeanist took him to America."
The words dropped into his head with a hollow 'plink'. It took him several minutes of slow blinking to understand. Too long. His mind felt drug slow. So much slower than his usual thoughts. Out of the confusion, he pulled only one thought. 'He left me. He left before I woke up. He left me.'
"I don't understand," he whispered slowly. 'He left me. He left me. He left me.'
"He- During the battle- He-" Kirishima couldn't get the words out, tears tracking down his cheeks. He wouldn't meet Izuku's eyes. No one would.
Anger bubbled up slowly, but there was no heat to it. No substance. It was just there like the affection. But they were separate from him. He felt empty. Like he could grab the emotions and study them, but not truly feel them.
Todoroki was the one to speak, voice affectless and calm. At least Izuku could always trust him to never hold back. Never tempered by affection or frustration. "During the battle after you'd been taken out, he was protecting you. He'd gone feral and went to far. He lost an arm and a leg."
A rush of emotion punched Izuku in the chest. He looked away as a keening cry burst from him, staring at the empty bed. He didn't want to imagine how Katsuki had felt, lying in that bed, crippled with the knowledge that his career as a hero had been stolen from him. Stolen by Izuku. The person who was supposed to protect him. Katsuki was right to leave. Right to never make that mating bond Izuku had desperately wanted.
Todoroki continued despite the others hissing for him to stop. "Best Jeanist took him to America to seek out someone who could make him prostheses. Originally, they were going to find someone in Japan, but the Americans have more advanced prostheses currently. There's rumors that their prosthetic engineers can return a hero to service without much difference in their previous performance."
Lifting trembling hands, Izuku covered his face. His tears. His shame. He was broken, and he didn't want them to see that. A broken, useless hero. "Did we at least win?" he asked instead of the other question that urged to be asked. 'Is he going to come back?'
"Yes," Yaoyorozu said, but her voice was softer than it would normally be. It was unthinkable that she was unhappy about winning.
'But at what cost?' No one voiced the thought, but it hung in the room like a haze. 'But at what cost?'
Izuku sobbed, unable to curl in on himself because of the stiff bandaging still around his torso.
Ochako reached for him, hand resting on his forearm. "He told us to tell you that he's sorry."
Izuku let out a unrestrained wail. Everyone crowded around his bed, but their proximity wasn't a comfort. Only one person would be, but if he were there, Izuku wouldn't need comfort.
.....
When Katsuki stepped off the plane, he was greeted with the familiar heat of Musutafu in summer. Humidity like he was sitting in a sauna. He'd been all over America in the past five and a half years, but nothing was quite like the weather of home. It could be similar, primarily along the east coast, but just not quite the same. Just similar.
Breathing in deeply, he gripped the small hand in his and started down the ramp to where he could see Best Jeanist leaning against a car with illegally blacked out windows. Katsuki idly wondered if he was absolutely roasting in his hero uniform.
"Your hand is sweaty, Papa."
"Your's isn't much better, little monster," he told the little girl. They held tight to each other to keep her from falling if she slipped. She was clumsy on the best of days, but anxiety made it worse. And she was a very anxious child as it was. At the bottom of the steps, he dried his hand on his pants. "Hold on. Let me put your hair up. You're going to sweat to death in this humidity otherwise. Here, drink some water." He handed her a bottle in exchange for her bright red scrunchy, and swept her mane of green curls into a high ponytail.
He watched her closely as she carefully sipped water before taking the bottle for a drink of his own. He wiped away a trickled of water from her chin.
"Thank you," she mumbled, eyes down as she surveyed Best Jeanist from beneath her lashes. Ever observant. "Who is that hero?"
"My boss." Taking her hand again, he led her towards the hero in question. "His hero name is Best Jeanist."
"I would think we're at least friends by this point, Bakugou." Best Jeanist's blue eyes were sharp as they watched the little girl at Katsuki's side. He hadn't seen her since she was a newborn squalling in Katsuki's arms, and he honestly hadn't been expecting to see her again. Katsuki was forever full of surprises. But that had been one of the reasons he'd hired Katsuki after he'd graduated, hadn't it? "I know you don't remember me, but I've known you since you were only a few minutes old. It's good to see you again. You can call me Best Jeanist or Tsunagu." He held out a hand expecting her to be more accustomed to American manners and forms of greeting, but she didn't take.
The little girl turned her eyes up to Katsuki.
"She won't take your hand. She hasn't gotten her quirk under control just yet, and it goes off when she's nervous." He turned soft eyes down to her. "Give him your elbow instead, Sumi."
Nodding, she held out her elbow, and Best Jeanist touched it gently before pulling his hand back. She bowed and stood straight. "My name is Bakugou Katsumi. Can I call you Tsu, Mr. Best Jeanist?"
Taken aback by her formality and forwardness, Best Jeanist nodded. "Whatever you like."
She smiled brightly, and now he could see her complete parentage. He smiled back, the only indication a crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He could never resist that smile as he'd found out from working with her father, the father she hadn't met yet. He wondered if Katsuki had told her about him.
"We should get going, Bakugou," he said, meeting Katsuki's eyes. "The media hasn't caught wind that you're back yet, but I'll warn you, your parents organized a party for you. They haven't left me alone." As if to prove his point, his phone chimed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he showed Katsuki the onslaught of impatient texts from Mitsuki and the inquisitive texts from Masaru. The only difference was that Masaru had stopped several hours before while Mitsuki never had.
Katsuki rolled his eyes, and accepted the small hand that slipped back into his. Sweat slicked palm pressed against sweat slicked palm. "We need to shower first. We've been travelling for almost a day, and Katsumi needs to take a nap beforehand."
"I'll let them now." Best Jeanist was already tapping away. "But the first thing we're doing before the party is getting your phone reactivated. I'm not going to play messenger pigeon forever. Get in." Without another word, he climbed into the driver's seat.
Opening the back door, Katsuki took a moment to secure Katsumi's booster seat. He threw their backs onto the opposite seat. "Alright, in you go." He lifted Katsumi into the car. "Can you buckle yourself like a big girl?"
"Yes," Katsumi chirped and proceeded to do so. She locked the belt in place and tugged on the strap for his inspection.
"Good job." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before closing her door, and rounding the car to the passenger side. After securing his own belt, he rested his elbow on the center console and offered her his hand. She took it happily.
Best Jeanist passed him a set of keys. "I found an apartment close to the agency. Your things arrived yesterday, but you'll have to unpack. Figured you would prefer to do that yourself over someone touching your things."
Katsuki nodded, and pocketed the keys.
.....
Izuku nearly dropped his phone down a storm drain when the text from Kirishima came through. From a stream of dirty water, a picture of Kirishima and Mina's smiling faces with a reluctantly frowning Katsuki squished between them stared up at him. He didn't retrieve the cell until two messages buzzed through in quick succession, sending his phone closer to the yawning opening of the drain. The first text was an address he didn't recognize, and the other was, 'When do you get off? The party's in full swing!'
What party? No one had ever told him about a party. No one had told him about Katsuki coming back. Annoyance reared its head, but he completely obliterated it with the burning desire to see Katsuki again. He couldn't blame them after the state he'd been in the year Katsuki had left. It took him a long time to return to some form of normalcy, and even then, he'd never been the same. He didn't want to admit or imagine what he would have been like with the knowledge of Katsuki's return. Insufferable probably.
More pictures buzzed in from all of his other friends at the party before he found it in him to reply. 'Soon. I'll be there soon.' It took him a moment to realize that maybe that didn't sound like a real reply, and that actually he didn't get off soon. But maybe-
At his side, Burnin suddenly snarled.
Swiftly, he tucked the phone away lest she break that one too. At least four phones had been sacrificed to her wrath in all the years he'd been working with her. "Sorry, Burnin. I'll turn it off."
"Don't fucking bother, just go."
"What?" Burnin wasn't one for kindness and this seemed very closely related to kindness. "We've still got four hours left."
"I don't give a shit. You're fucking useless when you're distracted, and I don't want to look at your face. You look like a kicked puppy. It's irritating. You'll take my next shift with Shouto. I hate working with that little fuck." She pushed her hair off her shoulder self-importantly, glaring at the passersby. "Ugh. Whatever. Let me call the boss."
Before she could reach for her ear-piece, Endeavor's voice roared across the line. "Deku!"
The pair flinched, and Izuku pressed his fingers to his own ear-piece. "Go for Deku."
"Go home! Coals is taking your spot! Tell Shouto to leave me alone, I'm trying to work!"
Izuku and Burnin exchanged a look. Todoroki wasn't someone who took to bothering people on purpose, and he wasn't someone who willingly interacted with Endeavor. There was a first for everything, Izuku guessed. "How far out is Coals?"
"Doesn't matter! Just got the fuck home! And call Shouto!"
"Copy," Izuku said, and the network went silent again. "Your shift with Shouto is tomorrow, right? I'll be there. Have a good day off."
Burnin huffed, but didn't say anything as he launched himself into the air. He typed in Todoroki's number, grinning.
.....
Katsuki was exhausted. He hadn't taken a nap when Katsumi had, and he'd been at the party for hours. The appearance of Izuku and then the nerd's subsequent avoidance of him had only made him irritable and turn down his hearing aids to a dull buzz in his ears. Alcohol might have made it easier, but not while Katsumi was there.
She was keeping herself occupied with Kaminari, Ochako and some brats that he still wasn't sure belonged to who. But he didn't drink if his daughter was around. Realistically, he didn't want anyone to drink around her, but that would have been more unreasonable than he was nowadays.
He stared pointedly at Izuku across the coffee table from him, and with his hearing aids down, didn't hear Katsumi's quiet voice. She tugged on his sleeve, startling him out of his reverie. Turning up his hearing aid, he asked, "What is it, little monster? Do you need to use the bathroom? I know they don't have a stool."
Katsumi shook her head, freed curls bouncing all around her. Mina had braided her hair, but didn't know how to trap all her curls so there were more than a few that had popped out all over her head. She looked aggrieved and a little apologetic as she glanced at Izuku. She motioned Katsuki down until she could cup her hands around his ear. "My legs hurt, Papa. And... I'm too scared to talk to Daddy. I don't know if you want him to know. I know he doesn't."
Now, Katsuki was aggrieved. Shamed as he caught Izuku's eyes on them. He hadn't wanted Katsumi to grow up without knowing who her father was, so he'd fed her stories and news feeds of Izuku, but the person the media portrayed was very different from the fact of him. The person Katsuki's own biased betrayed was different.
Standing, Katsuki lifted her into his arms. She was light and small, but still, she was getting big. Soon, he wouldn't be able to hold her like that. She laid her head on his shoulder, and his heart clenched with the knowledge of the impending loss.
"We're gonna head out, Mom, Dad. We've got a long day tomorrow," he said as everyone looked up at him.
Activity swirled around them as people stood to gather belongings and spouses and brats, shoving trash in bags that they took as they said their goodbyes. Katsuki was hugged more times than he could almost stand.
When Izuku stood and made to follow Ochako, Iida and Todoroki, Katsuki caught his eye.
"Lend me your ear and a hand," Katsuki said, shoving Katsumi's car seat into his arms to prevent him from protesting.
Izuku followed Katsuki home silently, a feat he didn't know Izuku could accomplish. He remained silent when they got back to the apartment as Katsuki shepherded Katsumi through their nightly routine; wash face, brush teeth, tie back hair, file nails, glass of water. Then he set her in front of Izuku as she fidgeted with the edge of her nightshirt, a piece of Deku merchandise.
Izuku smiled gently. "Hi. I didn't get to meet you at the party. My name is Midoriya Izuku."
"I know," she mumbled, but didn't say anymore.
Katsuki swallowed, uncomfortably nervous. He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. After a moment of tense silence, he sighed shakily. Izuku glanced up at him questioningly. God, Izuku was still so fucking oblivious. Couldn't he see himself in her? Didn't he understand? "Deku, don't freak out. This is Katsumi."
"Okay? Why would I freak out?" Izuku asked cautiously.
He repressed a growl, and tried to keep his voice as even as possible. He knew this day would eventually come. He didn't want her to grow up fatherless, but he could have planned better. Sent him pictures, letters, a text, anything. But he'd been freaked out after finding out that he was pregnant, especially right after loosing his arm and leg. Leaving for America had been as much to get replacements as to run away from Izuku. "This is Bakugou-Midoriya Katsumi."
Izuku went stock still, pleasant smile plastered to his face.
When he didn't move and Katsumi kept shuffling, he sighed. "Come on, baby, let's finish getting you ready. Bathroom and then chair." Katsumi peed and then Katsuki set her in her wheel chair. "Legs," he instructed, but she'd already lifted them.
Pushing up the hem of her shirt, he found the edge of the synthetic skin that covered her prostheses and peeled the fabric away. One and then the other. Titanium glinted at them, and she looked away, jaw clenched. Despite his best efforts, he knew she hated looking at them. Knew they made her different from all of the others kids, kids who had been her friends before she'd lost her legs.
There was a sharp inhale at their side, but he ignored Izuku.
"Sumi," Katsuki said gently, waiting until she looked at him, "You're beautiful and strong, little monster. Do you want to hold my hand?"
She nodded emphatically, and Katsuki positioned her legs so they'd slide into his lap instead of dropping to the floor before holding out a hand. She gripped it tightly.
"On three," he said, maintaining eye contact, "One... two... three." He disengaged her legs in quick succession, and she flinched. Her eyes slammed shut, fingers tightening in his, but remained quiet. "All done. You did amazing, baby."
She nodded, but didn't let go of his hand or open her eyes.
Clenching his jaw, he twisted off one leg and then the other and set them off to the side. He grabbed her other hand, rubbing circles into the backs of her hands until her grip relaxed. She squinted crimson eyes at him. "Time for bed. How about I carry you? Deku can bring your legs and chair. Do you want a story?" She shook her head no, but raised her arms when he stood. He bundled her against his chest, much lighter without the weight of her legs. Again, she laid her head on his shoulder.
When he turned, he was happy Katsumi couldn't see Izuku's expression. Unfiltered horror. Anger. Need. Pain. But also, pure unconditional love of the kind only Izuku could possess. His face cycled through emotion after emotion. He was completely unable to settle on one.
Katsuki was happier than he could express to know the Izuku was still the same old Izuku, at least in the emotions department. "Deku," he said when Izuku remained still.
Izuku jumped to his feet like there was a fire under his ass. Prostheses in one arm -they looked so tiny when he held them- and hand on a handle of the wheelchair, he followed after them.
"Can I call you Daddy, Mr. Deku? I know you don't know me, but..." Katsumi trailed off timidly as Izuku watched Katsuki lay her down and tuck her in.
Her bed was one of the few things besides her prostheses that Katsuki hadn't worried about the cost of. Soft enough to engulf her with all the bells and whistles needed to make life easier for a little girl when she didn't have her legs on. There was a bookcase attached to the bed frame, filled with books, notebooks, knickknacks, and hero merch. The mattress top was exactly the height of her wheelchair. No one would ever believe him about how long it took him to find a bed that exact height.
Katsuki closed his eyes against the warmth that built in them at her words.
Behind him, Izuku fought off his own tears. He sniffled and grinned as he said, "You're my daughter. You can call me anything you want. I'm... sorry I haven't been here."
Her smile was blinding, a carbon copy of Izuku's. "It's okay. You're here now."
Katsuki pressed a kiss to her forehead before sliding her chair next to her bed and standing her legs in their stands. "Love you, little monster. Sleep tight."
"I love you too. Sweet dreams, Papa. Goodnight, Daddy."
"Goodnight," Izuku said, his voice just a chocked whisper as Katsuki guided him back into the living room.
.....
They sat in silence for hours. Katsuki unpacked box after box, fighting sleep with an ironclad fist. Izuku flipped through photo albums of Katsumi that Katsuki had unearthed. Newborn pictures. The quintessential month by month progress pictures Negative had insisted he take. Her at daycare and in pre-school. When she was four and meeting her favorite Disney characters; Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Merida, Winnie the Pooh. One of her kicking the costumed Gaston in the shin, and Katsuki cracking up as he pulled her away. Another of her holding a baby alligator when she was three, the animal nearly as big as she was. Birthdays and friends and everything Izuku had missed.
He cried all the while, smiling through the tears like a love-struck fool. When he reached the section of pictures of Katsumi trying out her prostheses for the first time, he sobbed and dropped his head into his hands. "How did it happen?" he choked out.
Katsuki stepped up behind him, staring down at the stretch of pictures. Katsumi in a hospital bed, grinning despite the bandages while Katsuki was knocked out in his hero uniform at her side. Katsumi frowning determinedly as she pushed herself around in a wheel chair. Katsumi with a smile wider than the horizon as she hung from Katsuki's arms with her new prostheses.
Katsuki's throat tightened, and he swallowed thickly. "Her pre-school was attacked. Her legs were completely destroyed, crushed beneath part of the ceiling. They couldn't save her legs, but they saved her." He fought to keep his voice steady, but no matter what he did, it wavered. "That was the day her quirk manifested. Her teacher told me that if it hadn't and if she hadn't used it, more of the kids would have gotten hurt. Might have died. She blasted away the ceiling when it started to fall."
He watched Izuku's shoulders shake. He wanted to reach out, comfort him, but even all these years later, he didn't really know how to do that. So, instead, he continued talking. "She's a lot like you. She's so fucking strong, Deku. She's been through more in five years than most people go through in their entire lives, but she still keeps smiling. I was really relieved the first time I realized she was like you. If she were more like me-" He couldn't say it, wouldn't. There was a universe out there somewhere where she didn't survive, and he hoped someone had taken pity and put him out of his misery.
"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you come back? Why did you leave before I woke up?" Izuku sobbed, curled in on himself, voice muffled against his hands and legs. "No one has heard from you in over five years! What happened, Kacchan?"
Rounding the couch, Katsuki sat on the coffee table close enough that their knees were just a hair's breadth from touching. He hated admitting weakness. In all their years apart, that hadn't changed. But Izuku was the exception to that rule, wasn't he? Always had been. And he felt that familiar prying feeling in his chest, every emotion he'd bottled up and stored away to ignore clawing out. Out of everyone he trusted, he trusted Izuku the most even when he'd hated him. "I was scared," he whispered, staring down at his palms, at the slightly different colors of them.
Izuku's shoulders slowed, and after a breath, he lifted his head.
Katsuki couldn't look at him, even though he could feel Izuku's eyes boring into him. "I was scared about being pregnant. I was scared I wouldn't be able to be a hero anymore. I was scared you wouldn't want me anymore with only one arm and one leg and most of my hearing lost and my career in shambles. I was scared you wouldn't want to have a baby with me, especially since I was too far along if you wanted me to terminate. I was scared I wouldn't be a good dad. I was scared I wouldn't be able to provide for her." He swallowed thickly, drying his palms obsessively against his pants. "I was scared. I am scared. Every day. I'm not who I used to be, and I am scared you won't want me because I'm not the same person."
A quiet laugh. "You're still the same old you." Katsuki jerked his head up, and Izuku was smiling now. "You're still the most emotionally stupid person I know." He slid to the edge of the couch, pressing a knee between Katsuki's. "It's you, Kacchan, it's always been you and no one else. Ever since we were kids. Only you. Nothing can change that. I thought you would have known that when I asked for your mating bite."
"That was before everything happened. How was I supposed to know that? You're the one who just said I'm emotionally inept."
"Because I love you, and I told you I did every day after we started dating."
Katsuki pointed to himself. "Emotionally inept."
Laughing, Izuku leaned forward. His eyes flicked to Katsuki's mouth. "Can I..." He trailed off, looking into Katsuki's eyes and finding hunger there.
Katsuki nodded, and they fell back into each other as if they hadn't been apart for five years.
.....
"The pre-school was attacked! Who attacks a pre-school?" Negative shouted into her phone, rage billowing from her in sepia toned clouds.
"Pre-school?" Cold fear dumped into Katsuki's veins. "What pre-school? Which one!" Not Katsumi's pre-school. Any other, but his daughter's. There were ten just in the city limits. The odds were in his favor here. Right? Yes. Definitely. It wouldn't be-
"Sunrise. Corner of Sunrise and Palm," Negative said quickly, eyes darting to him, "Where did you say your daughter goes?"
He took off, blasting away from the ground like a rocket. Negative raced after him, propelling herself into the air to catch up. As in all of his dreams, it was as though he was moving through molasses, every movement agonizingly slow. No matter how badly he wanted to go faster, he never could.
As they landed on the street just a block away, a giant explosion blew the roof off the pre-school. Flames billowed into the sky. Windows shattered all along the street. Debris and ash rained. The screams and cries of trapped children pierced through the explosion deafened air.
.....
"Katsumi!" Katsuki croaked breathlessly, clawing at the fabric beneath his fingers. Or trying to. Whenever he woke from a nightmare so suddenly, he could never move, incapacitated by a crushing force on his back that left his lungs empty. Just like he'd been in that moment. Breathless, silent, terrified, motionless. In the time right after waking, he was subject to his own memories. They flashed through his mind, a disturbing reel of destruction. The collapsed in ceiling. Blood and dusk covered children. Katsumi's small, unconscious face. Bloody palms and bloodier skirt.
"Katsumi!" he croaked out again, louder than before, but still nearly silent. Finally -finally- he could curl his fingers into fists. Spell broke, he shoved himself to his feet, frantic. Katsumi. He had to get to Katsumi. She was-
Strong fingers wrapped around his wrists, pulling him to a stop as his palms popped violently. "Kacchan? Are you okay? What's going on?"
"K-Katsumi! I need to- I- Katsumi-" His breath came in quick, staccato pants. Dizziness settled over him, and distantly, he knew he was hyperventilating. "Katsumi! I need to go to her!"
Izuku hushed him quietly, green eyes luminous in the moonlight peeking through parted curtains. "Katsumi's fine, Kacchan, she's sleeping in her room. It's okay. She's okay. She's safe. Kacchan, breath, you're panicking."
He was panicking. He knew that, but he couldn't calm down until until he saw her safe and whole. Free from blood on her skin. "I need to see her!" he gasped. On nights like this, when nightmares chased him out of sleep, he slept in her bed. He cradled her against his chest, heart racing until her soft all-spice and mint scent lulled him back to sleep. It was desperately embarrassing. What kind of father needed his daughter to help him get back to sleep instead of the other way around?
Under Izuku's scrutiny, he felt the ugly, disgusting truth on his skin. The shame of how weak he'd gotten. He was supposed to be her protector and rock, not the body that needed her as a crutch. He couldn't put his truth into words, he could only whisper, "I need to see her."
Without another question, Izuku silently stood and led Katsuki to their daughter's room. They silently slipped into her room, and Katsuki immediately went to her bedside, pushing her chair out of the way to kneel close to her head. He stroked her hair, already feeling himself calm.
Izuku watched, scent held close and in-check against his body.
Katsuki wished he would let go of his control. Let his scent mingle. All of their scents belonged together. They should permeate the entire apartment, drive out the weird smell all apartments that had sat empty for any amount of time possessed.
"Papa?" Katsumi whispered sleepily, eyes remaining closed, "Did you have a bad dream again?"
Katsuki hummed, heat pressing in at his eyes as he held her tiny hand between his.
"It's okay. I'm safe. Go back to sleep." She reached out her other hand, stroking his hair in return and quietly hummed a familiar tune. "Daddy's here now. Nothing can go wrong anymore."
Tears trickled down his face, and he pressed it into her blanket until her hand stilled and fell away. With a sniffle, he stood, laid her hands across her stomach, and left.
Izuku was slow to follow, but eventually, his weight sunk down onto the edge of the mattress in Katsuki's empty bedroom. The room was darker than the living room, but he felt every single aspect of Izuku there at his side like a fire on a cloudy night.
"Are you okay?" Izuku's whisper sounded like a shout in the silence. Somewhere beyond the room, wood sighed and settled.
"Yes. We're used to it. Happens all the time." He didn't turn to look at Izuku, simply staring into the dark.
Izuku paused meaningfully. "That doesn't mean you're alright."
He was right, Katsuki knew he was. He was always right. So, Katsuki couldn't stop himself as he spilled all of his secrets. Eviscerated himself for Izuku's inspection. He told him everything. From the time he was a teenager to now. Every nightmare where he woke terrified Izuku had actually heeded his words and thrown himself from the school roof. Every sleepless night, gasping into the darkness when the weight pressed down just as soon as he started to fall asleep. Every worry, every shame, every regret he'd ever harbored. All those bottle feelings in his chest tipping forward to spread like an oil spill. He cried like he hadn't allowed himself to since the fight they'd had right after the Provisional Licensing exam all the way back in their first year at UA. Nearly nine years of tears burst passed carefully maintained dams in hot, fat droplets.
Izuku was a silent strength beside him, a hand on his knee.
When he was done, he was rung dry and exhausted.
Izuku drew him into his chest, lips pressed to his temple and then into the crown of his head. Instead of saying anything about what Katsuki had spilled -a blessing if there were any- he asked, "Do you need to take off your prostheses too?" Katsuki nodded tiredly and started to pull away, but Izuku stopped him. "Can I do it?"
Katsuki hadn't let anyone intimately touch him or his prostheses since he'd recovered enough to do it himself. And the removal of his prostheses felt like a very intimate situation. Only Katsumi had been allowed to help him, and only with oiling and cleaning, but never to remove or install them. Sheer need at the mere suggestion of familiar hands on him punched him right in the chest. Right in the gaping wound where his secrets used to be held. "Yes," he whispered, voice desperate with longing.
He stretched out his left leg and right arm, staring at Izuku as he moved to crouch between his thighs. Such easy intimacy. Intimacy he could never bring himself to find with anyone else because he didn't want anyone else. If it wasn't Izuku, he didn't want nor need it. He didn't realize how much he'd really missed his best friend.
Izuku slid his hands up his arm, and Katsuki imagined he could feel the sensation again. Skin against skin. Warmth against warmth. But it was just that, his imagination. Only driven home when Izuku found the edge of the synthetic skin sleeve and peeled it back to reveal the titanium beneath.
"This is amazing. It's beautiful." He ran his fingers over the arm, studying every screw, every joint, every fiber. "Where do I-" But he found the switch without Katsuki's instructions, a slender flush piece that had to be pulled up with the edge of a fingernail. Meant to prevent accidental or purposeful disengaging during battle. He flipped it without warning.
Katsuki grit his teeth against the cry of pain as the nerves disengaged, digging his heel into the hardwood beneath him. Panting, it took him several breaths to realize Izuku was peppering kisses across his shoulder and the crook of his neck. When his breath finally slowed again, jaw unclenching, Izuku moved down to his leg.
He lifted the leg over his shoulder, pressing kiss after kiss in the wake of his hands until he met Katsuki's skin close to the crease of his hip beneath his shorts. A shorter expanse of skin than Izuku had been expecting that he worshiped almost reverentially before finally moving to the leg sleeve. He repeated the same process as the arm; sleeve, inspect, memorize, switch.
Pain. Katsuki would never get used to the pain. Everyday, it was like he was experiencing the pain of connecting and disconnecting nerve endings for the first time. It was necessary though. He could sleep with the prostheses installed, but eventually without proper disconnection once a day, the artificial nerves would burn out. Prostheses were expensive, more expensive than even a hero's salary could cover if he didn't take care of them. Engineers could fix metal, add plates for strength, replace screws, but artificial nerves required a whole new unit. They were cultivated from samples of already existing nerves from the patient to promote optimum assimilation and mobility. They were infused and grown into the metal and wiring. That took time, money, and massive amounts of quirk energy. All of which were scarce for Katsuki, especially with two other prostheses to add to the bill that had to be modified every couple of months to keep up with Katsumi's growth. Not to mention upkeep, oil, and the cleaning solutions to keep them operating properly. At least they never had to worry about corrosion.
Izuku stayed between Katsuki's thighs, laying the prosthesis carefully to the side. He rested his head against Katsuki's leg, eyes closed. "I missed you, Kacchan. I don't want you to leave again."
"'s not part of my plans."
"Good." Izuku smiled then, opening his eyes. "Let's go to bed. You've got a long day, and I've got a shift with Todoroki to take for Burnin."
Katsuki groaned. "Fuck, that hag is still around?" He allowed himself to be pushed back into the bed, Izuku blanketing him with his body. They were both bigger now, bodies more filled out and different from before, but they still fit together perfectly. Just like they always had. Like they were two halves of a single whole.
"She's going to live longer than any of us."
Another groan. "God, you're right. Can't believe I'd ever say I'm thankful for working for Best Jeanist. I'd take that Levi's wearing motherfucker any day over her."
"You're only saying that because it's been so long since you've directly worked under him. Who was your boss in America?" Their conversation petered off quickly, and they fell into sleep easier than they had in five long years.