Chapter Text
“You’re sure it’s this one?”
Katsuki eyes the vent in the ceiling with some distrust. The sounds of the party are muffled from inside the women’s bathroom he’s standing in, and when Denki’s voice filters through he can finally hear him a lot more clearly.
“I’m sure,” Denki says over the intercom. “You’d better get up there right now, though. I can see a group of girls making their way over to where you are right now. They should be through the door in ten, eight- wait I forgot nine. Where was- okay it’s eight now...”
Katsuki grumbles a little, but clambers on top of the toilet anyway. He works quickly on opening up the bolts on the vent with the device in his hand, not hesitating in the slightest when he hears the sound of the bathroom door opening. Once one side gives way, he hauls himself up into the vent quickly and swings it back into place.
“Ugh.” Katsuki immediately crawls away from the grate as quietly as he can. “Dunce Face, where am I going next?”
There’s a slight pause. “Okay. Turn around, take a left, a right, and another right. Then keep going straight. You won’t be able to miss the office – it looks pretty identical to our renderings of it.”
“Copy,” Katsuki grunts out, and attempts to crawl inside the confined space as quietly as he can. He fucking hates missions like this, but this mission is important enough for him to grit his teeth through it. Instead of dwelling on the grime that’s now coating his very expensive suit, he mentally plans out his next steps as he makes the turns Denki directed him to.
Get into Nagant’s office, but check for booby traps first. Find the archive of company names affiliated with the League, it should be on Nagant’s computer. Denki will walk you through it. Sneak out through the window, get the hell out of here. It’s not complicated, so he isn’t worried about—
He stops moving. After a couple of seconds, Denki says, “What happened?”
“I hear someone,” he whispers.
“Huh? But you’re not above—”
“Not below me. There’s someone inside the vent.”
There’s a brief pause, before Denki lets out a low whistle. “Oh. Do you think it’s—”
Katsuki doesn’t answer, just shuffles forward with more vigour. He can already feel the anger rising up in him, and he has to reel it in lest he punch a hole right through the metal. There’s only one person on this goddamn Earth who would do the exact same thing Katsuki is doing.
At the last right turn, the cold press of a gun to his head doesn’t come as a surprise. In fact, he anticipated it to the point of pressing his hand right over the head, before sending a fierce glare at the person attached to the other end of it.
Even in the semi darkness, those wide green eyes seem to light up the entire environment.
“Kacchan?!”
Katsuki can hear Denki burst into laughter on the other end, so he lowers the volume of the transmission by thumbing at the controls on his wrist bracelet. Once Denki’s donkey laugh is muted enough, he thrusts a hand out to grab at this dickhead’s shirt.
“What the fuck,” he hisses out, “are you doing here, stupid Deku?!”
In this cramped space, the both of them are uncomfortably wedged together on their sides. That doesn’t stop Katsuki from leaning up as far as he can to strangle the fuck out of this goddamn stupid leech—
“Kacchan, wait!” Izuku whispers frantically, hands coming up to grab Katsuki’s wrists. “You can’t kill me just yet! I didn’t know you were gonna be here, I swear!”
“That’s what you said the last four fucking times you went and sabotaged my missions!” Katsuki growls, his hands still making grabby motions in Izuku’s iron grip. “My missions! How is it that you always end up barging into my fucking jobs and not anybody else’s from Yuuei Agency?! Fucking weirdo, following me around ever since you left Yuuei to do whatever the fuck vigilante justice—”
“Seriously, Kacchan, wait.”
They both stop pushing against each other when voices drift into the vent from the grate just a few metres away from them. Spy instincts kicking in, the two of them lean their ears down to the metal and listen carefully.
The voices below are too muffled to comprehend, but there’s the sound of keys locking a door and then footsteps walking away. Once the coast is presumably clear, and since neither of them were advised otherwise, Katsuki shoulders past Izuku with renewed determination.
“Wait, let me go first!” Izuku says, and before Katsuki can snipe at him, the bastard is climbing over Katsuki and wiggling his way forward.
“OI!” Katsuki sputters out, just as Izuku’s ass slips over his head and crushes his mouth against the metal. Once Izuku has finally crossed over, Katsuki grabs at his ankle and yanks it backward. “WHAT THE FUCK, DEKU?” If he didn’t have to be so quiet he would’ve fucking blasted this tiny twerp into orbit. Who does he even think he is?!
Izuku looks over his shoulder at him, and upon seeing the murderous look on his face, he seems to pale a little. “I’m sorry, Kacchan! I just need to check if Miss Nagant’s office is booby trapped first. And before you say it, I know that you were going to do that too. It’s just that I invented the perfect gadget for this scenario! I call it Smoke Screen. Basically, it’s a capsule that releases invisible smoke which can disturb the sensors and disable them. It took me a while to make, because the initial smell was so repugnant. But now I managed to make it mostly scentless, except for a hint of frangipani, which is my mom’s—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Katsuki releases Izuku’s foot from his grip. He crawls on top of him, feeling smug when Izuku mutters out a pained, ‘Oof’ as Katsuki’s weight flattens him from above. “Spare me the Ted Talk, Inspector fucking Gadget. I can do this shit without your amateur ass getting in the way.”
“I alweddy d’opped the pill thwew the vent,” Izuku manages to garble from under Katsuki’s chest. “Give’t a few seconds.”
Katsuki ignores him, attempting to squat over his head as he unscrews the bolts on the vent again.
Once all of the bolts have been unscrewed and the grate is pushed aside, Katsuki rights himself ad hunches his knees in on either side of Izuku’s hips. “Get outta the way, fuckhead. I’m going in and then you’re backing the hell out of here, got that?”
“Oh! Use this!”
Katsuki looks down to see Izuku swinging what looks like an abnormally long rope over the side of the vent. How Izuku was even able to manoeuvre his arm around to get a hold of that is beyond him. “It’s a little sticky ‘cause it’s still a prototype, but it should hold your weight just fine!”
It’s only because of their cramped situation and Katsuki’s urgent need to get out of Izuku’s space that he snatches the black rope out of Izuku’s hand. “If this shit breaks on me, I’m gonna break your fuckin’ back next.”
“Oh,” Izuku squeaks, ducking his head down so that his face is obscured. “That’s– um. I mean. Like, I wouldn’t be oppo–”
“What?”
“Nothing! Ow ow ow, watch the head, Kacchan! You’re stepping on my hair—”
Katsuki hoists himself around Izuku and lowers himself down the rope. It’s not necessarily sticky, but the texture is weirdly slippery. “This shit feels like tapioca, Deku. What the hell is this?” He plops down on the ground and looks up at him.
Izuku peeks out from the edge above, a grin on his face despite the unimpressed look Katsuki’s giving him. “I call it Black Whip! It’s able to curl in on itself after you use it, so you can make a quick escape if need be. Basically, it’s a really strong piece of–”
The rope snaps. They watch as it flutters to the ground and lands gracefully by Katsuki’s feet.
After a beat of silence, Izuku says, “Catch me—?”
“Nope,” Katsuki says gleefully. “You can starve up there and die.”
“So mean…”
Ignoring him, Katsuki turns on his heel and scans the room for a bit. There’s not much in here, save for a large chair with a coat hanging on it, a desk, a closet of some kind, and a couple of shelves on the wall with manilla folders stacked messily on top of each other. It all looks exactly like he expected, and he might’ve considered this a lucky day if Izuku’s presence wasn’t the biggest fucking omen on his life.
Just as he’s made his way to the desk, Izuku whispers, “Okay, well I’m coming down anyway!”
Katsuki doesn’t remember where he learned how to teleport, but before he can even register his own movements he’s thrusting his arms out to catch Izuku in his arms. When he lands, Katsuki grunts with the effort of not letting them both topple to the floor.
That is, until Izuku blinks innocently from where Katsuki is carrying him bridal style, and smiles up at him knowingly. “Thanks, Kacchan! I knew you would catch me!”
Katsuki drops him unforgivingly. The fucker knew he wasn’t going to let him fall and let Izuku jeopardise his mission, and that pisses him off beyond comprehension. “Once we’re out of here,” he threatens, looming over Izuku with a menacing snarl, “I’m going to shove this data so far up your ass that you’re gonna be speakin’ in binary for the rest of your fucking life.”
Katsuki doesn’t give him a chance to answer when he spins back around and stomps back to the desk. There’s a single laptop sitting innocuously on it, and Katsuki tunes back in to Denki.
“Fuck Face, you sure this shit won’t explode on me when I open it?”
“Were you really not listening to a single thing I was saying just before?” Denki whines back. “Actually, since Midoriya is here, I don’t know what else I was expecting…”
Katsuki tenses at this. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Nothing, nothing. Anyway, I’ve already sent a code to your bracelet. All you need to do is download it - it only takes a couple of seconds - and place your wrist over the-”
Katsuki doesn’t hear the rest of it because Izuku is opening the laptop and plopping himself down in the chair as if this room doesn’t belong to one of the biggest underground criminals. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” Katsuki hisses, slapping Izuku’s hands away. “This isn’t a game—”
“Kacchan, it’s okay,” Izuku says calmly, logging in quickly as if he’s done it a million times before. The rope is tied around Izuku’s waist now, and Katsuki finally notices the absolute gaudy ugliness of Izuku’s too-big brown suit jacket and black striped pants. “I’m friends with Lady Nagant! I already guessed her password and stuff. It’s kind of a shame, actually, because me and Hitoshi recently developed a really good password bypass and it would’ve been awesome to test it—”
“Whaddaya mean you’re friends with—” Katsuki cuts himself off. “Dunce Head, did you hear that?”
“Yep,” Denki says casually, the sound of him typing at something in the background, “Apparently, in his relatively short career of being a Yuuei Academy dropout and a spy vigilante, Midobro briefly collaborated with the infamous Lady Nagant for a job! Pretty badass.”
Didn’t ask for your goddamn opinion, Katsuki thinks, teeth grinding harshly as he watches Izuku access random files, his scarred fingers moving across the keyboard at the speed of light.
“If you’re so chummy with her, why the hell’re you sneakin’ around then?” Katsuki grumbles, squatting a little to see what exactly Izuku is doing.
“We sort of weren’t meant to become allies,” he explains with a frown, keeping his eyes trained to the screen. “After we did a job together, she made me swear to not contact her in any way again. For my own safety.”
Katsuki scoffs, the urge to laugh suddenly overwhelming. “Your own safety,” he repeats, incredulous. “Like you ever gave a shit about that.” The fact that Izuku is here at all is proof enough of that, and they both know it.
Izuku pauses momentarily, turning to look at him with wide eyes. “Kacchan…” he starts, tone bordering on hurt, “I—”
“Shut up.” When Izuku flinches slightly, Katsuki scowls and looks away. He hates that expression. “It’s not— I can just hear someone coming this way, asshole. Hurry up.”
“Oh, crap, okay.” Izuku scrambles to download the data, and Katsuki grabs his wrist just as he hears keys click into place at the door. They’re stumbling into the closet and shutting the door behind them just as they hear two people walk inside.
Somehow, it’s even more cramped in the closet than it was in the goddamn vent. Katsuki has his chest pressed tightly against Izuku’s back, with one hand wrapped around his torso and the other hand clasped around Izuku’s mouth out of pure instinct.
“We seriously came back ‘cause you were cold?” a gruff voice says from inside the room. Katsuki catalogues it, recognising it as belonging to a man named Kai Chisaki.
“I get cold easily, asshat, you knew this,” another person says, female, and Katsuki can feel the way Izuku squirms at the sound. This must be Nagant. “Where did I leave my coat—?”
Her voice cuts off, and Katsuki can almost see her eyeing the half-closed laptop.
“Miss?” Chisaki questions.
After a beat, she says, “Oh, it’s right here.” There’s the sound of a chair being scraped against the floor. “Okay, let’s not keep the big man waiting. Out, now.”
After the sound of a couple of footsteps and a door clicking shut, Katsuki removes a hand from Izuku’s mouth but otherwise doesn’t move. They both stand in silence, waiting, just in case they’d be walking into a trap once the closet door opened.
It must’ve been at least ten minutes later that Katsuki speaks, except it’s not what either of them would’ve expected. “...Hitoshi.”
Izuku’s confusion is almost audible. “Huh?”
Katsuki regrets even opening his mouth, but it’s not like he can back out now. “Since when were you two on a first name basis?”
Izuku twists around in the tiny space, and Katsuki begins to realise just how close together they really are. He rips his arms from where they were placed around his waist as if he’s been burned, his heart rate picking up (from anger) in the way it always seems to do around Izuku (because he hates him so much).
“Me and Hitoshi? Hmmm. He asked me to call me by his first name about a month ago, I think.” He pauses. “Why?”
“I didn’t ask for your life story,” he snaps quickly. “Anyway- that was fucking Chisaki and Nagant, wasn’t it? She knew—”
“—that we were here, I know.” Izuku sighs. “The two of us actually developed a bit of a code. When she starts every sentence with the same letter, it’s because she wants to meet me somewhere in private.” Katsuki’s eyes have begun to adjust to the dim lighting, and his eyes latch onto the small smile on Izuku’s face from a sliver of light peeking in. “She’s gonna lecture me, for sure.”
He doesn’t look away from Izuku’s mouth when he says, “If she’s any good, she’d rip you into fucking shreds for being such an idiot.”
Izuku laughs at this, his face moving back into the shadows. “She probably will.” Katsuki goes still when Izuku takes his hand and presses something gently into his palm. It’s light, and cool like metal. It has the weight and feel of a USB, or something like it, and— Katsuki can already see where this is going.
“Take care of this, okay? Hitoshi’s inventions have a super fast download speed, so it should all be on there. You don’t have to tell Aizawa sensei— I mean, Aizawa-san— that I barged into one of your missions once again, by the way! If any of my other missions align with yours, I’m sure I’ll end up learning the same information anyway. For now, I’m going to go find—”
Katsuki catches his wrist just as Izuku opens the door. “Are you crazy? This whole place is swarming with criminals. If you knew what’s best for you, you’d forget about getting lectured by some no-name villain and just leave.”
Izuku is halfway out the closet door now. Katsuki’s words have fallen painfully flat in between them, and Katsuki can’t help but tighten his grip.
“I’ll be safe about it,” Izuku promises quietly. He pries himself away from Katsuki’s grasp and slips out, leaving him alone in the darkness.
The sharp edge of the device in his hand cuts bitingly into his skin.
Over the earpiece, Denki whistles lowly. ‘Again, huh? That’s just bad luck, Bakuboob.'
“Fuck off,” is all Katsuki says before switching off his earpiece and shoving it down his pocket. He needs to get back to Yuuei Agency and pound the living hell out of his Izuku punching bags. Which- it’s not what it sounds like, okay? He exercises better when Izuku’s stupid, ugly face is plastered all over his training equipment. Why does everybody think that’s weird? It’s not weird.
Katsuki realises he’s been mumbling as he ducks into the underground stairway leading into H.Q., and mutters out a soft, “Fuck.” He can’t keep picking up stupid habits from Izuku, of all people. Stupid Deku, who can’t do anything except make promises he can’t keep, and doesn’t have the basic fucking decency to- to let someone know that he’s—
He scowls at the thought, curling his fists painfully. It hadn’t always been like this. There had been a point where they were something close to friends, back when Izuku was still working at Yuuei Agency and they were each other’s first preference for partnered missions.
Well, maybe not friends exactly... but their rivalry was certainly more sustainable than how it used to be when they’d first started training as spies together at the Academy. It was probably the best it had ever been, even when they were little brats and Katsuki wasn’t self aware enough to keep Izuku as far away from him as he could.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter because Katsuki doesn’t care anymore, and this distance between them is good. Except for the times when Izuku manages to jump him out of nowhere to make his life just that much more difficult.
Katsuki enters a small alleyway and makes his way into a nearly inconspicuous dollar store, not even acknowledging the knowing glance of the shop owner as he makes his way downstairs from the back door.
He’s instantly greeted by cool, blue lighting and the sounds of people quietly murmuring in the main discussion room. This place was smaller than the ones they’ve inhabited before, and only really had a small kitchenette, a discussion area which often also turned into a general lounge area, a mini-gym, the weapons room, and a couple of sleeping dorms downstairs.
The whispering dies down when Katsuki lands on the last step, and he turns to glare at everyone who’s huddled around the discussion table.
Kyouka, Denki, Eijirou, and Tsuyu are all staring at him. Katsuki knows what they’re going to say before anyone else, but Eijirou beats him to it anyway: “Dude, he got you again?” He grins stupidly from his seat on the beanbag. “This is the 5th time now! We just marked it.”
“Midoriya is really good,” Tsuyu comments. “I have no idea how he still manages to keep up with Bakugou when he’s all alone like that.”
“Technically,” Denki adds, “he still has Toshinori as his boss. And he works with Shinsou too.”
Kyouka shrugs, a small smile on her face. “Still, he’s practically left to his own devices, working in a vigilante agency like that. Honestly kudos to him for managing to piss off Bakugou so much without even having the proper equipment to— Woah, is this guy actually steaming from the ears?”
God, he misses the days where his glares could make each and every one of these idiots cower before him. “Stop fucking talking about him.”
Eijirou just grins widely and stands up. “Aw, c’mon man don’t be like that. You need to learn how to stop letting him get to you every time, and just forget about him!”
Despite himself, Katsuki can’t help but bristle at this. Forget about Deku? Deku? Deku is in every one of Katsuki’s memories: even as a ghost, even as an afterthought. He lingers everywhere. Katsuki would sooner be lobotomised than forget about Izuku “Shitty Deku” Midoriya.
(As if he would ever want to. But that’s a different story).
He stalks past all of them without looking their way, snatches up a box of darts from the table which they’ve surrounded, and makes his way to the other side of the room where a large dart board hangs on the wall.
“Poor dartboard,” Eijirou laments.
“Rest in peace king,” Denki agrees.
“Deku is such a fucking—” Katsuki snatches up a dart and swings it violently at the board, “dumbass stupid nerd—” The dart sticks cleanly in the innermost triple ring, the sound reverberating loudly. “Thinks he can just barge into my business, like he always does, thinking that he’s fucking better than me because— what?” There’s a flurry of movement as he slams dart after dart at the board. “Because he’s not backed by a government agency? Just because he gets shit done by making his own shit? And then he has the audacity to—” Swing. “—throw himself into every bit of danger he can get himself into—” Thwack. “—because he doesn’t have a single preservation bone in his body. Where the fuck does he get off on that?” With a grand flourish, he swings an arm back and aggressively thrusts the last dart into the outer ring.
Chest heaving and darts expended, Katsuki lowers his shoulders from where they’d been raised by his ears.
“Dude,” Denki says after a prolonged silence, and Katsuki looks toward him. “You literally just made a portrait of Midoriya.”
Katsuki looks back to the dartboard, where the darts were arranged in a way that looked like Izuku grinning with his eyes closed, identical right down to the outline of his messy hair.
Katsuki, however, tilts his head at it. “The hell're you talking about, Dunce Face? Need to get your eyes checked?”
“We have a visitor,” a voice calls coolly from behind them.
Everyone composes themselves at the sound of their boss. Katsuki turns toward the sound to see Aizawa standing at the foot of the stairwell with none other than Izuku in tow.
In a split second, his instincts kick in as he gives Izuku a quick once-over for injuries. Apart from the addition of a nerdy fanny pack hanging on Izuku’s waist, he looks exactly the way he left him. Katsuki is almost surprised that the shithead isn’t covered in bruises from run-ins with random criminals in the short time he left him alone.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Katsuki growls at the same time the rest of the group coos in delight at seeing their beloved former colleague again. Denki even goes so far as to wrap Izuku up in a sudden hug.
“Yagi wants to collaborate for an upcoming mission,” Aizawa answers, despite the fact that Katsuki’s question was rhetorical and he would like nothing more than to kick Izuku back out into the streets. “In exchange for using our resources and tech, the All Might agency will share highly important information with us. Midoriya here says he met with the Nagant we’ve been tailing. Judging from that statement, however, is it safe to conclude that your mission was interrupted again, Bakugou?”
“What’re you lookin’ at me for?! Deku’s the one who can’t stay the hell out of my way!” Katsuki angrily whips out the tiny USB from his pocket and flings it across the discussion table, the device nearly skidding over the edge if it wasn’t for Kyouka’s quick reflexes. “Not that it matters anyway. I got the info.” Aizawa doesn’t need to know that this was just handed over to him by that dumbass over there.
“Oh, yes, about that—” Izuku steps forward, politely getting Kyouka to hand the USB to him, and casually plugs it into the side of the table as if he fucking works here all the time.
A hologram blinks into existence above the table, and a list of names sit next to each other in neat columns and tables before them.
The group immediately buckles down and gathers around the hologram. Aizawa settles for simply leaning against the stairwell and gestures for their guest to speak. Izuku breathes in deeply, and Katsuki physically cringes because he can already anticipate the upcoming onslaught of words.
“Um, as you all know, I left Yuuei after a mission went… awry… and I had to go underground so that my pursuers wouldn’t find any of you guys. Under All Might’s instructions, I went undercover in one of the League’s outposts in Indonesia, and uhh,” he pauses, fiddling with a loose thread in his pants. “That’s sorta how I’m friends— uh, acquaintances? with Lady Nagant. She was one of the League’s strongest footsoldiers over there before she broke away, but I trust her. She’s not like the others! She actually has a very keen sense of justice, which I admire! She even makes me rice cakes now and then, which is really sweet. Not sure why she took such a liking to me though, especially since I once nearly set off a trap mine next to her tent-”
“Can you get on with it already?” Katsuki barks suddenly, startling everyone in the room except for Aizawa and Izuku . “What did she tell you?”
Izuku brings a hand up to his lips and rubs at it worryingly. “I know it doesn’t sound very pressing, but it feels like bad news to me. Basically, we've been getting a lot of suspicious activity offshore. What's more, the waters have been unnaturally choppy lately and a lot of ship operators have been temporarily waiting it out, except for a few overseas shipments and some border security patrol officers. But uhh…”
Izuku reaches into the hideous red, yellow and blue fanny pack secured around his waist to pull out a pink envelope. “There’s this one Japanese cruise ship sailing to a ‘romantic getaway island’ which is allowed to dock for some reason? Lady Nagant gave this to me now- I think it’s an ad for the hotel on that island. The hotel is called ‘The Pink Rose’ which is apparently on this list here.”
“A romantic what?” Katsuki walks over to Izuku and snatches the paper out of his hands. Izuku looks momentarily startled by this, but occupies himself by typing in the name of the hotel into the holographic keyboard on the table.
It’s a pretty standard looking advertisement, if you ignored the pale pink paper and gaudy looking font. Couples can sign up for a three-day weekend stay at a love hotel that’s situated on a goddamn island which, apparently, isn’t large enough to even house a town. How rich do you have to be for your business to be the only building on a whole ass island?
There don’t seem to be any contact details except for a phone number, which has Katsuki raising an eyebrow. “Where the hell is this? I’ve never heard of this island before.”
Izuku thumbs his lips again, not looking away from the details of ‘The Pink Rose’ blinking down at them from the hologram. “It’s apparently 2500 kilometres from here. It should take about ten hours to get there, I think. The next departure is tomorrow evening.”
“Wait,” Kyouka pipes up, “Are you saying that the Pink Rose is affiliated with the League? Is that why this is suspicious?”
Izuku nods at this. “Yeah. I mean, it depends on the fact that the information on this drive is true. I trust Nagant, but even if I didn’t, I think I still have reason to suspect something is happening on that island. I’ve been tracking Tomura, who’s apparently made some appearances amongst some sea pirate gangs.”
“Probably acquirin' materials for the journey there,” Katsuki cuts in, eyebrows furrowing.
“I agree,” Izuku says, and Katsuki doesn’t get the chance to throttle him for pretending like they’re on the same side because Izuku continues, “I also think there’s something on that island that they’re trying to disguise. I would have checked the cruise and the island with Hitoshi, but he recently injured himself so he’s, uh, kind of out of the question.”
Katsuki pauses at this, and then rolls his eyes. “You must be desperate if you were considering going with that creepy fucker.”
Izuku matches Katsuki with a disapproving look of his own. “Seriously, what’s wrong with Hitoshi?”
“What’s wro—? He fucking dropped out of the Academy before you did! As if he’s gonna be of any use to you.”
“What? I’ll have you know that he’s a very capable spy and I trust him with my life!”
“Like that means anything!” Katsuki throws both arms in the air, ignoring the twinge in his chest. “You can't even trust yourself with that! You don't give a fuck what happens to you!”
There’s a heavy silence, and Katsuki's coworkers all shuffle awkwardly from where they're standing. Katsuki resolutely stares Izuku down, daring him to challenge it.
He doesn’t, just lets his eyes droop downward. “Why do you even care, anyway?” Izuku grumbles. He looks back up at Katsuki from the corner of his eye, and the gaze keeps him rooted to the spot.
Izuku is deceptive in his own way. He's got that soft appearance, all round around the edges and sweet, but his eyes could get so sharp and calculating. They see right through Katsuki and slice him open with every gaze. When Izuku looks at him, he bleeds.
Katsuki clenches his fists by his sides. He’s tired of having his heart spilled out and dissected in the open like this, for Deku everyone to see. I don’t care, is what Katsuki wants to say. But with the way Izuku is looking at him now, he knows he can’t. Instead, he just crumples a corner of the flyer in his fist and looks away.
Aizawa sighs, finally stepping in. “Bakugou. I’m assigning you to go investigate the island. If what Midoriya says is correct, this is suspicious enough to warrant a short initial investigation.” In his periphery, Katsuki can see the way Izuku deflates at hearing this. “I’ll get agent Kaminari to map out the general area where he can, but we’ll initially be relying on you to tell us what’s around.”
Katsuki, still reeling from all sorts of irritating emotions, can only manage to nod. “Fine with me. I’ll go find a character profile for a chef or something.”
Aizawa raises a hand, stopping Katsuki from retreating to his cabin. “You’re not going as a staff member. The next batch departs too soon and we don’t have enough time to replicate the proper documents and uniform so that we could slip you in unnoticed by other workers. The safer option is to go as a guest.”
“HAH?” Katsuki whips his head at the rest of the idiots sitting down before him. “Like hell I’m sucking face with any of these numbnuts!” He makes sudden eye contact with Izuku, and jerks his eyes away just as quickly.
“I can go instead,” Izuku offers too quickly, looking around at everyone else sitting next to him. “I’m good at slipping in unnoticed. Um, if you any of you guys are available—”
“No need for that, Midoriya. You’re going with Bakugou, and you’re going to pose as a couple together,” Aizawa says, and fuck he should’ve seen that coming. “You’re both just the best fit for this mission, and it's too late for anyone else to drop out of their own projects.”
“Old man…” Katsuki snarls warningly, at the same time Izuku stands up in a panic and squeaks, “Sir, I really don’t think that’s a good idea!”
“I don’t remember asking either of you for your opinion,” Aizawa says. “I’ll pull up some of our general civilian profiles for both of you to study. I expect you to get along with each other and handle this like professionals, otherwise I’ll have you both suspended for a month.”
Izuku, expectedly, stands his ground. “With all due respect sir, I’m not a member of Yuuei anymore. I could just as easily get in without involving anyone here.”
“Midoriya,” Aizawa sighs, surprisingly patient, “you can either waste time planning how to get in and miss the departure, or you can go with Bakugou and get some study in beforehand. It’s your choice. Besides, I may not be your supervisor anymore, but I’m sure Yagi will be understanding. We are collaborating on this mission, after all.”
Izuku hesitates when he looks at Katsuki, no doubt attempting to see if he’s on board with this. Katsuki doesn’t look back at him. There’s no changing Aizawa’s mind now, especially considering Katsuki’s violent disapproval would only make the old man pettier with his final decision.
"It's only for three days," Aizawa reasons when Katsuki doesn't budge.
Instead of arguing any further, Katsuki just exhales slowly, meets Izuku’s gaze, jerks his head to the left, and grits out, “Follow me.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply when he walks down the hallway leading to the room at the very end and spitefully kicks the door open. He turns the light on just before Deku and Aizawa walk in, and he can’t help but instinctively look to Izuku to catch his reaction to their impressive collection. He was expecting Izuku to freak out and go on those ear-burning rants about how cool their gear is (which would then lead to Katsuki smugly pointing out why their equipment was so much better than whatever amateur shit Deku was- whatever, that wasn’t the point).
Instead, Izuku just looks uncomfortable.
“I haven’t gone undercover in a while,” he says, somewhat blankly. It feels wrong.
“Are you fucking serious?” Katsuki looks at Aizawa and gestures wildly at Izuku. “You seriously still think this is a good idea?”
Aizawa heads for a small metal cabinet on the other end of the large room. “Actually, this is probably going to be one of my best ideas yet.” He digs into a drawer and fishes out what looks like two necklaces with round lockets dangling at the ends of it.
He turns around with a bored stare and gestures for them to come closer. “Commander Nezu created these two prototypes, which will only be officially recognised once they’ve been used on a real mission. You two, as you may have already guessed by now, will be my guinea pigs.
“We don’t know what the island is like, and some signals may be blocked from leaving or entering, or even being transmitted from within the realm of the island,” Aizawa holds up the two necklaces in front of them, the bronze objects glinting dimly in the blue light. “In order to keep you both safe, these devices will be connected with one another at all times. It does not require a satellite or any other wireless connection. Their connection is better explained as a magnetic pull. The lockets contain a compass which will enable you to find each other if one of you is to get lost. Right now, they need to be warmed up to each other’s presence, so I suggest you wear them and be in each other’s vicinity for the next thirty minutes.”
He suddenly chucks the lockets at them, and they both catch it one-handed. Once it enters the heat of their palms, a red light begins blinking in the centre of the heart, having been apparently activated. “Hatsume has dubbed them as a ‘Lover’s Compass.’ Frankly, I don’t care what you call them, but if you break even one of these I will have you both suspended for a month.” He sighs tiredly. “I’m going to sleep now, but I expect to see you both up and early in this room tomorrow morning.” Aizawa walks between the two of them, hands shoved into his pockets. “Midoriya, you can take the room opposite Kaminari’s.”
“Um, sir, I don’t have a change of—” Izuku starts, but the man has already left and shut the door. The silence slams into them.
Izuku coughs awkwardly as he turns back around, fiddling with the necklace he’s now worn around his neck. The red light continues to blink from between his scarred fingers. “Would you, uh, like to give me a tour?”
Katsuki looks at him distastefully, pocketing the locket. “Fuck is there to show you? There are spy suits in the glass cabinets over there, a bunch'a weapons over there, and cool-as-fuck gadgets over there. You got eyes, don’t you?” Before Izuku can say anything, he continues, “Besides, that Pink Haired Gadget Freak will be providing us with the weaponry tomorrow so we ain’t gotta do shit now. We gotta get profiles first.”
Again, he motions for Izuku to follow him toward a computer sitting at a desk. As Katsuki logs in, he feels the irritating presence of Izuku hovering behind him. “Oi!” he snaps, roughly thrusting his hand into Izuku’s face and shoving him away. “This is top secret shit! Look away, you nosy fuck!”
Izuku, surprisingly, snorts out a laugh. “I wasn’t peeking, Kacchan. But okay.” And like a child, he covers his eyes with his hands, even though Katsuki can still see him smiling.
Katsuki glowers and turns back around, covering the keyboard with one hand as he types:
User: expl0sionmurd3r
Password: DekuIsUglyIHateDeku15.07.
Once he’s in, he doesn’t take long to find two civilian profiles with sufficient documentation and prints them out without another word.
“I need to sleep too,” he says, chucking a stapled stack of papers at Izuku’s head. “Wake your ass up early tomorrow so we can study this together.”
Izuku frowns, probably because he was smacked in the face without warning. “You still sleep this early?”
“Yeah, ‘cause I have a proper fucking schedule, unlike your lazy ass! Now, piss off.” As Katsuki stalks away, Izuku reaches out to grab his wrist. Katsuki halts, glaring down at the hand.
Izuku retracts his hand immediately, almost apologetically, but stands his ground otherwise. “You heard Aizawa, Kacchan. We need to let the devices get used to the two of us, so we need to be with each other for a little longer. You’ll just have to bear it for now.”
Katsuki takes the device out of his pocket. “So take my one and have them kiss each other all night. I’m going to bed.”
“I know how these kinds of devices work,” Izuku says, frowning. “It has to be on you to activate. It isn’t just about the lockets recognising each other, it’s about the users too.”
As he says this, they both seem to tense at the implication of what Izuku has said. Katsuki’s heart does that thing again, where it begins to pick up and then slow down and pick back up again — like it’s confused about which direction to take. Still, he watches Izuku’s expression carefully, trying to pick out a hidden meaning.
Izuku blushes as the quiet stretches between them until, finally, he breaks eye contact. “I— I mean— Not necessarily, like, us personally. I— I just meant that it only works for those people who the devices recognise, you know?”
“I heard you the first time, Izuku.” Katsuki looks down at the device in his hand, turning it over in his palm to watch the red light.
Reluctantly, he puts the chain around his neck. “Whatever. I might as well show you to the dorms.”
He leads the two of them out the door and past another set of pristine white hallways. They silently take an elevator down, and are greeted with more silence as the doors open.
“Is nobody else going to sleep yet?” Izuku asks as they step out, his voice echoing in the empty space.
“They’re preparing for their own missions,” Katsuki says, leading them towards the men’s dormitories. “But they’ll be down soon.”
Katsuki pushes open the door opposite Denki’s room, flicking the light on to survey it. Every room looks about the same. A single black bed, a closet, a dresser, a long workbench on one side. This room hasn’t been used in a while, but it won’t need more than a couple minutes of dusting before it’s good enough to sleep in.
To kill time, he pulls out two dusters from the closet and throws one at Izuku. “Get to work.”
They work in silence for the next five minutes, until Izuku eventually says, “I think I like the older Yuuei headquarters better. It was more spacious.”
Katsuki grits his teeth and keeps dusting. “I like this place a whole lot better.”
Izuku sighs knowingly. “Because—”
“Because you’re not in it,” Katsuki finishes, not wanting to turn around but being unable to sneak a glance at Izuku’s face. The guy looks dejected at first, but then a small smile begins to grow on his face, which Katsuki instantly doesn’t like.
“But now you’re stuck with me, huh?” Izuku’s grin peeks out from behind his lip, tone teasing. “Who would’ve thought we’d get paired on a mission like this? You even walked me back to my room! Kacchan is already practising his romance skills!” He pauses to pretend to think about something. “All that’s missing now is a goodnight kiss…”
What the fuck? Katsuki stalks over toward him and throws his fist against the wall, right next to Izuku’s head. His eyes widen, but he otherwise doesn’t startle. “We. Are. Not. Dating. Don’t get any funny ideas just because we’re forced to do this stupid mission together, you fucking weirdo.”
For a second, Izuku doesn’t say anything. Just looks at him with wide eyes. Then, almost whispered, “I was kidding, Kacchan, but um, have you— have you ever kissed someone before, Kacchan?”
Katsuki falters, and would have stumbled back if Izuku’s wide, hypnotising eyes didn’t have him locked in place. “Obviously,” he says eventually, but he knows he’s taken too long to answer. “I was Dunce Head's fiance for a mission once.”
“Oh.” Izuku’s eyes drop downward, and seem to darken just a little.
“What about you?” Katsuki blurts out before he can stop himself. “How many people have you been kissing, shitty Deku?”
“Um, not very many… I could probably count them on one hand, honestly.”
I’m going to hack all of your ugly fingers off, he thinks instantly, but wisely does not voice out loud.
They continue staring at each other, until Katsuki’s mouth opens at the same time Izuku opens his: “We should practise.”
It’s odd seeing his words being mouthed back at him, and even Izuku blushes wildly at their synchronisation. “Practise for the mission,” Izuku clarifies hurriedly, as if there was a need to practise for anything else.
“Stop stealing my ideas, you damn copycat,” Katsuki barks, even as his face starts to heat up in tandem.
“I said it first!” Izuku says, childishly. Then, before Katsuki can counter that, Izuku closes his eyes tightly and leans forward quickly on his tippy toes.
Katsuki slaps a hand over Izuku’s mouth immediately, and his eyes fly open. “Oi! The hell do you think you’re doing? I’m going in first, bastard!”
To stop him from making a move, Katsuki presses one hand firmly on Izuku’s neck and moves his hand from the wall to smooth over Izuku’s cheek.
Katsuki goes still, unsure of how to proceed anymore. In Katsuki’s mind, there’s a white line dotting its trajectory from Katsuki’s mouth to Izuku’s. It’s something he’s perhaps subconsciously mapped out in his head before: the angle, the movement downward, the timing, the force of it. He only needs to lean forward just a little bit more, and the pull will drag him in like a bowstring snapping back into place.
Their teeth clack. The feeling is jarring, and Izuku whispers out a little, “Whoops.”
“Shut up,” Katsuki says instantly, tightening his grip on Izuku’s face. He closes his eyes and presses forward, allowing the gravity in between them to pull his lips to the corner of Izuku’s mouth. Izuku makes a move to speak, no doubt a comment about Katsuki missing the mark about to arise, but Katsuki moves in to press their mouths together and the words seem to dry up.
It’s hesitant, at first, just a soft exploration of lips against lips. Izuku’s lips are chapped, but his face is warm. Both of Katsuki’s hands reach up to cradle Izuku’s face as he tilts his chin up. Izuku’s shoulders hit the wall with a soft thump, and he wraps his hands around Katsuki’s wrists as if to anchor himself.
It’s barely even started, but Katsuki can feel how different this is. Before, the kisses with Denki had been clinical - as if they had been professionally designed to look real. But this is… It was as if every point of skin contact was flint striking steel, the sparks kept contained underneath Katsuki’s palms.
For a few moments, the only sound in the room is the quiet, barely audible smacking of lips. It’s only when he begins to feel lightheaded does Katsuki break away to breathe. His eyes are half shut as he pulls away, their lips grazing, still sensitive from the friction.
Katsuki’s eyes flick up to meet Izuku’s, whose cheeks are flushed deep pink.
“I’m sure we can do better than that,” Izuku whispers, voice scratchy.
“Yeah, no shit. You suck at this,” Katsuki replies, equally raspy, eyes already falling back down to Izuku’s lips. It's impossible to remove his hands from Izuku’s face, so he just adjusts his grip and dives back in.
This time, Izuku’s hands lace tentatively behind Katsuki’s neck as he pulls him down. Everything becomes slow, as if all of time and space had boiled and then melted down into this one moment. Izuku’s hands move cautiously as they trace themselves down Katsuki’s neck and rest on his chest. The movement prompts Katsuki to pull back slightly, drop his hands down to Izuku’s hips, and tug him forward by the waist. Izuku gasps as their hips collide, and it makes Katsuki fucking dizzy. He chases the sound, desperate to hear it again without even really knowing why; knowing only that he'd do anything to hear it again, and again, and again.
Katsuki almost loses count of how many times they paused and resumed altogether, and it only grows uncomfortable when the heat against his chest abruptly flares hot—
Izuku jerks backward, and Katsuki, momentarily dazed at the intake of fresh air in his lungs, looks down to find their lockets magnetised against each other with a green light emanating from between them. He brings up a hand to touch the conjoined entity, unflinching against its heat.
“Amazing…” Izuku mumbles, wiping away a trail of saliva from the corner of his mouth as he watches the lockets.
The green light disappears and the lockets disengage.
“Guess that means time’s up,” Izuku says, his voice unnervingly quiet, opening up his locket to reveal a small compass. The needle is pointing towards Katsuki, and, when Katsuki opens up his own, it is pointing towards Izuku.
“What a dumb ass contraption,” he grumbles, removing it from around his neck to stuff into his pocket. He can barely even hear himself over his heartbeat pumping in his ears. The necklace weighs heavily in Katsuki’s pocket. He doesn’t like the way they were stuck to each other. He especially doesn’t like the way he hadn’t even noticed that thirty minutes had passed.
“You’re, uh,” Izuku says, taking his necklace off as well, “a surprisingly good kisser.”
“Hah?! What the hell were you expecting?”
Izuku, for some reason, actually begins to smile at this. “I’m just saying you’re really good at this spy stuff, Kacchan! You could fool just about anyone.” He starts messing around with the locket by opening and closing it again. “I think we can actually make this mission work. Don’t you?”
The back of Katsuki's neck feels hot. “Whatever,” he mutters, shouldering past Izuku as he makes his way for the exit. His feet are unsteady. “Get up at 6am or I’m kicking this door down and then using it to beat your ass awake.”
Just as he’s stepped outside, Katsuki pauses with one hand on the doorknob as he faces away from the room. He turns the doorknob clockwise, and then anticlockwise. “You need to invest in some fucking chapstick, by the way.”
He slams the door shut with that, and stomps back to his own room. His hands are tingling; the phantom feeling of warm skin on his palms makes his fingers twitch, and no amount of clenching and unclenching his fists seems to make it go away.
Lying in bed, Katsuki thumbs the locket in his hands, scowling deeply at it. He doesn’t fucking need this. He doesn’t need a compass to find Deku. He doesn’t need any damn hi-tech equipment for that, and he never has. Deku is as attached to him as his own shadow, his reflection, the dust that settles on his skin.
Fuck. Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut and presses that damned necklace to his forehead. This is really bad.
In Katsuki’s world, all roads lead to fucking Deku.
