Work Text:
Katsuki enters their home feeling like a ghost. He doesn’t feel entirely real. It was like today was yet another day of pretend living. He’s expecting a long, quiet night, some mediocre food, and sleeping early if only to stop being awake.
But there’s red shoes kicked off at the entry, not tucked away like they should be and actually, there shouldn’t be any red shoes, Deku’s working a double. Standing there, Katsuki absently closes the door behind him, eyeing the shoes.
“Oh! You’re home!” Izuku’s voice chimes brightly from the couch. Staring at him, Katsuki blinks, the headache he’s been fighting all day blooming high in his forehead, aching straight to the back of his skull.
“So, don’t get mad,” Izuku coaches, picking up on a ramble that seems fueled by the paper coffee cup on the table, “it’s just a small break but Doc said I did something to my tendons so I have to be off my feet for a few weeks. But I’ll be right out there after! Quirk healing could only do so much and he said the muscles are on their way to better already, so uh…here I am!” His grin is bright, but Katsuki’s eyes are only for the walking brace that clamps around his leg, the crutch leaning against the couch on his side, and the bright orange bottle of meds on the table.
He looks back to Izuku, who’s still somehow talking though Katsuki can’t hear a word. His hair is longer, it’s getting into his eyes. He needs a trim. A burst of freckles on his chin seemed new, or perhaps it was a bruise, Katsuki can’t tell from this far away.
He’s not sure he’s seen Izuku while the sun was still out for…nearly two months. Had he changed so much in that time? What had Katsuki been doing? What was the most important thing? What did he fill his day with, fill his night thinking about? Work.
Work.
Work.
Izuku is smiling and pointing at something on his pad device. The midday sun streaming through the window turned him a beautiful warm yellow, his green seemed ever brighter.
Something vital inside of Katsuki cracks. It crumbles, turning to dust, and he felt the oddest sensation of falling, like the foundation he’d built his life on was nothing but ice, cracking and melting and leaving him shivering. The weight of his gym bag slips from his fingertips. His whole entire being misses Izuku despite the man being right there in front of him. Katsuki aches with an odd kind of grief, and it overwhelms his senses.
“—aachan?!” Izuku’s voice penetrates the odd fog in his ears. “Kacchan, talk to me!” He’s hobbling as fast as he can towards him, and Katsuki feels shorter suddenly. Or, no…
He’s slumped against the door and slid down, now on his ass on their disgusting entryway carpet and watching with an uncharacteristic dullness as Izuku drops the crutch and crawls the rest of the way. He kneels on his good leg, other stretched out due to the brace, and cups at Katsuki’s face. Bemused by the conflicting confusion and concern on Izuku’s face, Katsuki can’t even muster the energy to be annoyed.
“I’m fine, Deku.” Katsuki grunts, though he certainly doesn’t feel fine. His red eyes are on the brace, a black thing with many legs and teeth, some kind of medical monster eating Izuku’s strongest appendage from outside his stupid khaki shorts.
“You’re not, what’s wrong? Are you injured? What happened today?” Izuku asks, patting at him, checking him over. Katsuki captures his hands.
“I’m fine, I promise. It’s just…” Katsuki’s mouth dries up, his throat swells. He doesn’t know what he’s gonna say until he actually says it. “I’m just so tired of this.”
Izuku freezes.
“Tired…of what?” He asks hesitantly, careful. Shuffling him, Katsuki tugs him forward so he’s half sprawled in his lap. It’s a little awkward, being almost the same size. There’s nothing that could encourage Katsuki up from the floor at the moment. “You’re not acting like yourself, Kacchan.”
“I’m not, huh? No, I guess not.” Leaning his head back against the door, Katsuki wonders at how dull the world was. How even the comforting weight of Izuku in his lap had been poisoned by this feeling, this…exhaustion.
“Kacchan.” Izuku cups his cheek, nestling in. He’s worried, it shines right out of his green eyes. Katsuki mocks himself inwardly once more, gone and made your lover worry, haven’t you? Can’t fucking handle it anymore. Can’t handle anything.
“I’m tired.” Katsuki says, working at the lump in his chest until it breaks free, bloody and hurting. “I’m so tired. I… I saved a woman’s life yesterday. But when she was thanking me, she was crying, and I was just thinking… you might die tomorrow, why are you happy now? I couldn’t feel a thing about it. I was fucking nice to her, obviously, but I was staring into her eyes thinking how useless this all was.” His palm covers the injured leg’s knee, gentle about it, wondering at how his fingers could just let off a blast and injure Deku further, cripple him, and then he’s disquieted at having the thought at all. “We go to work, we do the job, we come home, eat, sleep, and do it again. It doesn’t end. There’s no…there’s no winning against that, there’s always another fucking day to do the same fucking thing and I… I don’t want to…”
“You don’t want to what?”
Katsuki stares but doesn’t see anything.
“I don’t want to be a hero.” He says, and while it doesn’t feel like a confession, or a release, he says it and looks at the words and thinks…yeah. It’s true.
Izuku is silent.
Mind flying, Izuku can think of a lot of things to say but doesn’t let any of them out. They don’t seem right to say, not with Katsuki actually collapsed against their front door. How long has this been going on? How long has Katsuki felt this way? It’s true, they have been working rather hard, a lot of shifts open up it’s like there’s never enough on duty. But this. It feels so wrong, so wrong, to hear him say that.
I don’t want to be a hero.
They’ve spent their lives fighting for this. They’re whole lives, dedicated to it, to this path. Was this how Katsuki felt all along? No way. Izuku knew him better than that. But this, this…suffering had been going on far too long, or else Katsuki wouldn’t be lying here, unshowered, beaten down, cynical. He’s not bracing himself either for Izuku’s response, there’s a terrible lack of spark in his eyes. It seems like he has given up, in so many ways, and Izuku…Izuku feels sick that Katsuki’s been brought so low.
He’d said he was so tired of this. For a moment, Izuku had thought he meant him, them, their life together, but that wasn’t it. Tired. He’s so tired of working, of being a hero, of saving people and saving more people and not getting anywhere. Izuku had never thought about it that way, about winning having an end. Once you won, you…you’re supposed to have won and that’s it, right? You’ve won. But Katsuki…
His Kacchan.
I don’t want to be a hero.
There’s only one thing to say.
“Okay.”
Katsuki blinks, life returning. His ass hurts sitting on the floor with Izuku’s weight over his legs, his back still feels bruised from that morning’s rough and tumble with a villain, and his head still ached. It was too bright and sunny today to match his mood.
Okay.
Okay?
He’d been expecting… hell, he doesn’t know what he’d been expecting. Perhaps some rendition of the words and accusations he’s been spewing at himself all week, all month. All year. This is your dream. You’re the #3 hero. You should be able to do it all.
But of course, Izuku would never. His soft eyes were kind, his smile gentle. With his thumb working against his cheek, Katsuki swallows and feels the way it forces the lump in his throat down to make room.
“Okay?” He replies, confused. Okay what.
“Okay.” Izuku says simply. “We’ll figure things out, Kacchan. You’re burnt out.”
That…that doesn’t seem right.
“But…it’s only been like… I can’t be.” Katsuki says, arguing for the sake of it, because it shouldn’t be easy like this. It was supposed to hurt. Why wasn’t it hurting?
“Ten years.” Izuku tells him, petting over his hair, brushing it back from his face. “You’ve been in the top ten rankings for ten years, Kacchan, you work harder than anyone. And that’s even after our school years. Of course you’re burnt out.”
“But…you’re not. And All Might was—” Katsuki glances around, searching for something.
“All Might,” Izuku stresses, ducking his head to get that eye contact back. “Nearly killed himself with work. He says it himself. Heroism doesn’t work the same as it did then, we and our friends and our coworkers all did that. The world doesn’t need a single hero anymore, Kacchan. We’re people too. And me, well, my quirk is different to yours, I go on different patrols, on different missions. You’ve always been where the fighting is thickest, where the losses are biggest. Where you exhaust yourself fighting. Kacchan, of course you’re tired. You’ve never had a real break from it.”
Izuku leans forward and kisses him, and when he pulls away the kindness and love in his gaze is too much. That thing inside of Katsuki, that had cracked? It had felt cold, but now it heats up so terribly it’s like it’s trying to smelt itself back together from Izuku’s love alone.
“Okay.” Katsuki chokes out, hiding from the world, from his own headache, from Izuku’s warm fucking eyes. Curse the man. Perfect, amazing Izuku.
Izuku allows him this privacy, leaning against him and shuffling to make them both a bit more comfortable.
“We haven’t had a day off together for a while, huh?” Izuku says companionably, letting Katsuki deal with his high-strung emotions in peace.
“Since Valentines.” Katsuki throws back. “We took it off and ordered pizza.”
“Oh, we did!” Izuku blinks in surprise, then his mouth drops open in dismay. “Oh my god, Kacchan, it’s June now.”
Katsuki snorts.
“Well, I guess this will be an opportunity. Let’s call Miruko and get you on leave, then we’ll have a few weeks together to do whatever we want. And we can figure things out, okay?” Izuku says so agreeably and patiently, and Katsuki’s pieces are held together only by scarred arms curling around him the way they’ve done for years and years.
Digging his face into a strong shoulder, shuddering, Katsuki clutches him back and nods.
“Okay. Okay.”
…
…
…
Izuku, despite being the actual injured one, fusses like a goddamn hen. It gets frustrating, but then whenever Izuku looks at him, taking him in, making eye contact, Katsuki has this terrifying feeling of being perceived, and all his annoyance bleeds out of him in favor of uncertainty. For confusion about how to act, how to behave. He doesn’t have to hide it anymore, Izuku knows now, but shame and embarrassment bear down over Katsuki’s head until he has to look away from Izuku’s loving eyes.
It’s unpleasant.
But that very night, Izuku curls close to Katsuki with a hot promise in his eyes and he just can’t help himself from accepting it.
“This is for you,” Izuku promises him, kissing along his collar bone and squirming his way down the bed. His leg juts out awkwardly, but he makes it work. “Just for you, Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s head falls back and his eyes lid, focused so much on the touches Izuku gave him, the wet cooling line of his mouth over his sensitive belly, tongue drawing lines from his belly button to where his cock lay thickening at his hip.
It’s careful, and thoughtful, and Katsuki feels at once too horny to handle it and a little shaken by how much he likes it. Likes being the very centre of Izuku’s attention. Likes having it all to himself.
Izuku is slow about it, gentle, absolutely meticulous.
Wet mouth, drooling for a smoother ride. Scarred hands, one on his lower belly, petting his vulnerable stomach, the other at the base of his cock and massaging. Sometimes Izuku pulls off to kiss and press himself against Katsuki’s skin, his hip, his thigh, his balls, and every now and then he can catch the brush of eyelashes. It all collides together inside of Katsuki, his body exhausted, not having more than sloppy hand jobs for the last month or two, and here he was, shuddering beneath Izuku with his hands clutching tight to his pillow.
Soft suckling.
Katsuki’s fucking toes curl as he comes, unloading into Izuku’s mouth with a groan that rattles the picture frames on the walls. He’s drifting, Izuku fusses around, and by the time Katsuki sways back into wakefulness, Izuku is leaned up against him and snoring, cuddled under his arm, the both of them wiped down.
In amidst the hurt and fear, Izuku hadn’t changed. His love for Katsuki hadn’t shifted even an inch. Katsuki found himself utterly beyond thankful, beyond blessed. He presses his lips to Izuku’s head and some distant, kindling feeling of determination starts. He’s going to get through this. For Izuku. For them.
…
…
…
The morning dawns bright, sluggish, and Katsuki has a call to make.
“I need to go on leave. Not medical, or anything but…mental. Wellness. That shit. Whatever.” Katsuki rubs his face with his palm, feeling stupid, and worthless and tired despite the amazing sleep he’d just had. A full ten hours, nine of those with Izuku in reach or in his arms, warm and breathing. “Please.”
All the work Izuku had done to relax him last night feels like it’s been ruined.
She’s silent for a long moment. Katsuki can only just make out the din of the office beyond her, the interns and sidekicks and administrators.
“Good for you, Katsuki.” Is what she finally says, and Katsuki, despite being in the bedroom, miles away, blushes at the pride in her voice. He blinks at the easy acceptance. “I’ll get the leave set up this morning.”
“What, that easily?” Katsuki half squawks, “What about the schedule, my patrol? Fuck, the fucking public?”
“If hero society isn’t ready for our best and brightest to go on a bloody wellness break, they deserve what they get.” She snorts, disparaging. “I’ve been in this industry since you were born, do you know how difficult it was to get maternity leave? It’s time we get the ball rolling again and you are the best option I could ever, ever hope for. You’re taking your health into consideration. That’s excellent, kid. You keep an eye on that boy of yours, I’ll call again in a month or so. Or you call me to quit so you can start a cabbage farm, I don’t know.” She laughs, loud and proud.
“You’re ten years older than me, shut the fuck up.” Katsuki mutters. ‘Since he was born’ his ass. “I…yeah. Thanks.”
“Oh, a please and thank you all in one day?” Miruko’s gleeful and her voice warm.
“Fuck off hag.”
“Peace out, blasty-boy.”
When he slams his thumb on the end button, Katsuki is absurdly enamored with the sudden silence in their bedroom. Izuku is in the kitchen, limping around, stirring what might be quick-oats porridge for something easy to eat and…
Katsuki doesn’t have anything to do today, except hang out with Izuku and figure out what the hell “healing” means.
…
…
…
‘Healing’ apparently means taking a step back from pressures and taking a further step back from his own expectations. Izuku’s the one to show him the ‘How to deal with burnout’ article, and it’s got numbered suggestions and everything.
Right now, they can treat it like a vacation. Izuku makes the case for a no-news day, so they don’t turn on the TV, or check their phones. It’s too tempting for pro heroes, too guilt inducing, to see shit going on and have to stay home. To not help. So, to combat both their restless energy, Izuku decrees a technology free day, and digs out a massive box full of All Might comic books he’s been needing to organize.
Strong-armed into helping, which just turns into several hours’ worth of reading comic books that are in mint condition, Deku, what the fuck these are twenty years old, and they while the day away talking about the old All Might medias and what was better or worse. Katsuki throws together a snack plate instead of an actual lunch, and they doze for a bit, Izuku still reading and Katsuki busy combing his fingers through his rat’s nest of hair.
Curiously, Katsuki is okay with the day’s lack of activity. It barely feels like a day has passed, when they get to dinner time.
He would have thought the lack of productivity would get to him, but he’s so buried deep in his exhaustion he just doesn’t care.
He’s serving up dinner, hot and fresh, when Izuku’s ancient stereo croons out some soft, slow music. It’s to neither of their tastes, so Katsuki’s a little interested in where he actually found a cd like this.
A man’s low voice, the soft piano, all the telltales of romantic music.
And Izuku finds a dusty bottle of red wine Katsuki’s old hag of a mother had brought when they first moved in. Neither of them drink often, but this was…hmm.
Katsuki turns on his heel as Izuku pours a few glasses and comes back out of their second bedroom with two misshapen candles. He lights them with a puff of his quirk (a fancy little use of it that took ages to get right), and Izuku smiles so brightly at him, so excited to have a romantic meal, that Katsuki just, melts.
They eat one handed, because letting go of each other’s fingers is just impossible. Playing with knuckles on the dining table, Katsuki absently circles the circumference of Izuku’s ring finger. They never wore rings for one another, they punch too many people on the daily.
But the shine of Izuku’s eyes, cheeks bulging with the meal Katsuki cooks, that’s enough. That’s all he needs.
In the background, the song changes from one slow waltz to another, and Izuku is waved back down when he tries to take the dirty dishes to the sink.
“Your leg, stupid.”
“You take good care of me, Kacchan.”
He takes good care of Katsuki, too.
It’s nice to do the dishes. Methodical, it’s one dish after another. Then the kitchen counters are clean of dishware, dripping dry on the mat, and Katsuki thinks they deserve to clean up a bit too.
“Tomorrow’s job is to clean the house. We need to mop.”
“Yes, Kacchan.” Izuku is standing up, hip on the table, and reaching out for Katsuki with his hands. Taking them, Katsuki wonders where he wanted to go, but all Izuku does is wrap his arms around Katsuki’s neck and rests his head against his shoulder. His weight shifts with Izuku’s, and he’s…swaying.
The music croons lowly in the background. The candlelight flickers mingling with the reds, purples, and oranges of the sun moving its way down between their neighboring buildings shine through the large living room windows that Katsuki had bought the place for.
Izuku would happily live in a basement if it meant he was with Katsuki. That’s what he’d said when they were looking.
Anywhere you want, Kacchan, I don’t need much else than you.
Katsuki slings his arms around Izuku’s middle, rests his head against green hair, and listens to the low music, the way Izuku sighs happily into his skin, and focuses himself on this very present moment.
Katsuki can almost imagine he’s fine. That everything’s perfect. This was so perfect.
Abruptly, he thinks of work. He doesn’t want to. But he thinks about it, stupidly, like he should be going back to work tomorrow despite knowing he’s on leave. That he has paperwork to fill out, that every day he’s away the more is piled up. The sidekicks need direction, Miruko needs someone on hand for when she’s on the field. The despairing weight of work-is-waiting almost drags him out of this good feeling, this moment of happiness. Angrily, he shunts the thought to the side, burying his face in green hair and squeezing Izuku closer.
He loves Izuku. That’s it. Izuku.
Romantic dinner. Slow dancing in the candlelight.
Izuku draws designs on his shoulders.
That’s all he needs to think about.
Izuku is the first to pull away, but he doesn’t go far. He blows out the candles, leaving them in darkness. A hand that’s been broken so many fucking times it shouldn’t be functional clasps with Katsuki’s.
He’s led down their hallway, slow because Izuku limps and needs the wall to walk, but Katsuki’s not going to rush.
Katsuki undresses Izuku from behind, kissing the back of his neck and urging him onto the bed without pause. The bedside light flicks on.
Determined, Katsuki undresses himself and climbs onto the bed to join him, crawling up between his legs to put his lips on freckled cheeks, and then he just doesn’t stop kissing.
“Kacchan, oh,” Izuku giggles when he finds a ticklish spot on the side of his neck.
Izuku squirms, and it’s hot, and Katsuki revels in the pace they’ve made. It’s unrushed, unhurried, so unlike their usual that it’s better just by being uncommon. Izuku obeys his unsaid wish to take control and Katsuki assumes his spot between his legs like it’s been waiting for him.
Katsuki’s lips were starting to tingle with numbness, kissing every inch of Izuku’s skin, his hands careful on his hips, sliding up and down just to feel him.
He finds Izuku’s belly, and here he nips. Light, it just makes him jump and laugh and attempt to wriggle away.
“You’re not going anywhere, nerd,” Katsuki says into his skin, somewhere between hip and interested cock, and Izuku hums deeply, content and comfortable and enjoying it so much Katsuki feels thrill of success. Of a job well done. Achievement.
It’s odd, because that feeling has been missing form his life for fucking months and here he finds it when he wraps his lips around Izuku’s dick.
“Kacchan, that’s good, so good, baby.” Izuku murmurs thickly, voice low in the soft space around them.
Katsuki works at Izuku’s cock, sucking and licking and mouthing around the head just to tease. It’s actually, a bit meditative, Katsuki was feeling pretty zen.
The taste of Izuku is mostly clean, sweaty, musky like any male. With a palm spreading his thighs, Katsuki finds his balls and cups them lightly, aware Izuku wasn’t one for any kind of pain there (other places however are very fair game). He mouths the base of Izuku’s cock, bumping that standing cock with his cheek and loving the groan he gets in response.
“Kacchan, I can’t---” handle it, take any more, hold back. But he can. Katsuki knows he can.
In comparison, Izuku was losing his mind. Twitching and squirming, Izuku wavered between moaning in appreciation and moaning in impatience, his hands flitting from Katsuki’s hair to his shoulders to the pillow beneath his own head.
Enjoying the way Izuku’s legs flexed with his every move, Katsuki decided to take pity when he feels the cock in his mouth actually flex, Izuku’s stomach tensing.
He speeds up.
He focuses on the spots where he knows Izuku likes.
His hands cup at the strong thighs, gripping tightly.
His head moves faster, and faster, and he relishes the half-gasps Izuku was giving off, unable to move, just accepting when Katsuki gives him and wow, yeah, Katsuki feels good, he feels strong and sexy and capable and like he can do anything if he can manage to turn Deku, his beautiful strong Deku into this pleading mess of a man and—
Izuku comes with a shout, twisting in Katsuki’s hold, spurting into his mouth. He whimpers out of it, through the aftershocks, gasping at every little swipe of Katsuki’s tongue cleaning him up, awed and reverent.
Katsuki is smug. He puts his smirk to Izuku’s thigh and nonchalantly bites him there, hard enough the splayed man grunts and smacks at his forehead.
When he releases, there’s the brightening marks of his teeth in the flesh and yeah. He felt good. His throat was a bit sore, he tastes semen, and his tongue ached at the base, but yeah. That was good.
“That was…” Izuku puffs, arms and legs splayed, sweat cooling on his skin, “that was revenge for last night, wasn’t it?” His head flops to the side, arm falling over his eyes like a distressed maiden.
Mightily pleased, Katsuki stands and cracks his back. His cock stands proudly, still hard, but he actually doesn’t give a damn about it right now. He enjoys Izuku’s hot, hungry gaze of course, but it’s almost better to turn around and deny him than to get off.
“I’m going to shower.” He announces, absurdly defensive against the world. He’s in a good mood. Nothing is going to spoil it tonight. Nothing!
Izuku mumbles, starved of his Kacchan’s cock, but agreeably joins him for a nice, slow shower with his brace off and his weight generally held up by Katsuki. They both give Katsuki’s erection some space, an Izuku can’t keep his mouth away from Katsuki’s wet skin.
It’s nice having purpose. Even if that purpose right now is to care for his tired boyfriend-husband-partner.
A first day of healing, and all it took was time spent with his one person.
…
…
…
Good days don’t always last.
In Izuku’s physio he’s supposed to go on longer and longer walks. Katsuki’s stupid how-to-fix-burnout article says he should attempt his old hobbies again, without expectations or pressure of success.
So, they go on a hike.
It is utterly unsatisfying.
Katsuki can’t seem to get out of his head, Izuku keeps trying to go faster than his leg can handle, and it was bug season. No matter how much spray they doused themselves with, each came home with about twenty or thirty new itchy bites. The hour and a half drive back home was spent in tense silence, the both of them keenly aware that the wrong word here or there would start a worthless fight they wouldn’t actually mean.
It was a sign of growth that they both could recognize when not to push.
Still, that left them in a tight tense silence that weighed on shoulders, and Katsuki’s mood darkens by the minute.
Too bitchy to share one, Katsuki showers first, and takes a long time toweling himself off, listening to Izuku shower in the meantime.
He sits on the edge of the bed and feels like a failure. (‘feel your emotions’ yeah, fuck that noise, he feels like shit, and he’s been an ass all day).
Can’t even do a proper hike. He remembered enjoying it, enjoying every moment of the burn in his legs, the smell of the trees, the stretch of nature ahead of him. He’d go with his dad when he was younger, but now he doesn’t remember the last time he even hung out with his dad, let alone the last hike.
Feeling low, Katsuki hasn’t moved by the time Izuku comes out of the shower, dry but with dripping hair.
Izuku pauses, and clearly deliberates.
Tempted to snap at him to take a picture or leave, Katsuki bites his tongue and stares at the ground. He’s supposed to be feeling better, to get better. This was supposed to work.
Without a word, Izuku clambers awkwardly onto the bed behind Katsuki, and he’s right about to snap about his fucking injured knee goddamn it when a damp towel is dropped over his head.
It’s damp and claustrophobic and he doesn’t like it, why would Izuku do this, it’s just making him madder—
Izuku sits behind him on the bed, leg on either side, and starts towel his hair dry. Careful and slow, Izuku does it the way Katsuki likes, which is with scrunching motions, patting rather than rubbing. Each side of his head is given especial attention, and hands take care around his ears, his neck.
Katsuki puts his hand to Izuku’s knee, the uninjured one, and looks at the contrast of their skin tones rather than contemplate what the fuck he’s feeling right now. Instead, he luxuriates in the closeness, in the feeling clean after a long day.
“We should visit the parents.” Katsuki says abruptly, almost surprised to have actually said it instead of just thinking it.
Izuku doesn’t even pause.
“That would be nice. Maybe this Sunday? If we go early, you and Masaru can go on a longer hike up that mountain you like, while me and our moms go to that farmer’s market nearby. I shouldn’t walk at your guys’ normal hiking pace, and you can spend a few hours with just your dad.” Izuku combs through Katsuki’s now barely damp hair with his fingers. Then he lays a kiss at the nape of his neck. Leaning back into him, Katsuki feels grateful for someone who knows just what to say, when to accept.
It’s not always easy, but fuck. Even the bad days can be okay.
…
…
…
Inevitably, the old hag asks after work.
It’s a normal question, one basically everyone asks. Work is such a large part of everybody’ lives, it takes up so much time, its where so much achievement and success and growth is centered. It’s doubly worse for a hero who saves people’s lives every day.
In this instance, Izuku isn’t nearby to save him, chatting in the lounge with Masaru and Inko.
Katsuki has the words ready to answer his mother, has them in his mouth, but he’s looking at her, at her actually interested, proud face, and that same feeling of fugue creeps up on him.
Anything he says is going to taste like dust.
I saved this many lives. I took down this criminal. I evacuated this disaster scene. My hero standing has never been better, my approval rates have shot up, I’ve won this award.
Katsuki’s staring, holding the wet plate in his hands from dinner, and Mitsuki’s face is slowly falling.
He can’t even muster a bark, or a smirk, or an insult.
Nothing to deflect.
Instead, Katsuki’s rough and sharp-tongued mother takes this long look at his face and removes the plate from his hands. She reaches up for him with her wet palms and tugs him down to her the few inches between their heights. She kisses his forehead and puts her arms around him in an uncharacteristic act of affection.
But she doesn’t say anything. Nothing that Katsuki would have expected from her, from a woman who worked every day of her life, weekends and all, bursting onto the fashion scene and refusing to be moved from day one.
Katsuki’s surprised his head drops down to her shoulder. He’s surprised that his body is relaxing despite them not being a touchy-touchy family. He’s surprised that they just stand there hugging, listening to the lightly running water, the voices of their family in the background.
When it’s time to let go, when Katsuki’s touching patience reaches its end (or maybe her own), Mitsuki lets him go and levels him with the same look she would when he was a stupid teen and saying something stupid that she knew he would regret.
“You’re doing great, baby.” She says, the childhood name coming as easy to her as it always had. “You’ve done great things, and you will do great things. Whether you’re a hero or not.”
It strikes him something sensitive in his chest. Without reacting, Katsuki merely returns to the dishes, as does she, and they finish it all in silence.
You’ve gone great things and you will do great things.
Maybe he can. Hero work…Izuku had said it. They’ve been heroes for over a decade now, including the disasters of their school years.
“Kacchan!” Izuku calls from the living room. “Can you bring me my meds? I should have taken one with dinner.”
“Dumbass, keep them in your pocket then!”
“I don’t like them in my pants pocket, it gets all bulky!”
The pill canister is in Izuku’s messenger bag, right next to what looks like three full quirk analysis notebooks and a bundle of dandelions. The dandelions had come from a small child that recognized them that morning on the train and ran up with his ‘bouquet’. He thanked them for being heroes and asked for a picture that they were glad to give. Katsuki hadn’t smiled, but he had posed in his signature ‘Die!’ pose with the curled fingers and bent knees, much to the boy’s delight who had mimicked him at his side.
You’ve done great things…
When he rounds the kitchen island, he finds his family.
Izuku reaches out to him and shows off the picture with his other hand. Beaming, the familiar mouth is moving at the familiar rate of speed and Katsuki’s not really catching anything other than the sparkle in his eyes. Beside him, Inko is shuffling through the photo box that Masaru had clearly dug out of the closet, because the dust layer on top is thick as hell. Like son like mother, her green eyes fill with sudden tears at another baby picture, this one of just Katsuki with his bare fucking butt out there in the world, as Mitsuki laughs raucously and Izuku reaches out to drag him closer by his beltloop.
Shoving the pill canister at him, Izuku barely pauses talking to swallow the pill dry (like a fucking animal), but Katsuki gets a stroke of his hand in thanks.
As he bites out something fittingly Katsuki-like, he catches his mom’s eye.
You will do great things.
…
…
…
Katsuki hits the inevitable end of his rope in the most innocent of places, because of the most innocent of gestures. Why was this what kicked him over the edge into understanding? Into releasing?
Sitting on the couch, Izuku’s cuddled to his side and wrapped around his left arm. While Katsuki watches some ridiculous movie about asteroids and Bruce Willis, Izuku’s scrolling and muttering down at his phone, likely on his borderline dark-web quirk analysis forums that he thinks Katsuki doesn’t know about.
Surfacing, Izuku blinks around at the TV and the now dark night scene out their tall living room window. Humming, he shuffles himself a bit, getting cozier, and then turns to lay a sweet, soft kiss on Katsuki’s bare shoulder. Placing his cute, freckled cheek there on the imprint of his lips, Izuku turns back to his phone, closer to Katsuki than ever and content.
And Katsuki is now staring through the TV screen. That was it. That little, tiny loving gesture, something that Izuku probably didn’t even think about before doing, didn’t even bother to consider anything other than that instant, of loving Katsuki and wanting to kiss him.
The fugue that had overtaken Katsuki’s life crashes around him, torn apart by the sudden tsunami wave of emotions that rose up to swallow him whole. It was terrifying. His composure was shot to shit, his face twisting with the sudden urge, powerful and uncompromising, to sob his goddamn heart out.
He turns off the screen, turns and wordlessly throws himself into Izuku’s lap, digging his face into his sternum so hard it likely hurts a bit but it was the only way to muffle his first, loud sob.
Izuku stiffens, then his phone drops to the floor when hands clutch to Katsuki’s hair, his shoulders. At first there’s warbling panicked words, asking what was wrong, but the longer Katsuki just dug his face into Izuku’s stomach and cried, cried harder than he ever has in his life, the more Izuku just holds him back, tightly, quietly, holding him together with all the strength of his many, many long years of love.
Honestly, crying fucking sucks.
Katsuki’s head aches, his eyes sting, he feels like he’s just lost eighty percent of his body’s water content. His mouth is thick and dry, and he can’t breathe without his chest hitching.
After an undetermined length of time, though, Katsuki finds he was sniffling, head plopped right on Izuku’s chest to hear his heartbeat, feel it, even.
Crying was shit, but Katsuki actually felt…well…he felt a bit better.
Or, more like, he was so tired he couldn’t feel any of the other stuff he’d been struggling with, the frustration, the sadness, the despair and hurt. Right now, with Izuku’s stubby fingers moving through his hair, he feels alright. Like himself.
Like he’s his whole self again, and not that terrible shadowy version.
“Love you, Kacchan.” Izuku says quietly. Lips press to his head, and Katsuki feels the swell then fade of his emotions. Rock bottom, but it’s fucking solid ground again instead of mist.
“Love you too, nerd.” He grunts, and eventually he’ll get up to get some water, some headache pills and they’ll go to sleep, maybe with some kissing and canoodling but mostly to feel close to another person. To their other person. Other halves.
Katsuki needs to reestablish himself. Find his feet on this rocky ground once more. Remember who he is.
No, to learn who he is now.
It’s been too damn long.
…
…
…
“Hey, can we talk?” Katsuki says, rubbing at the back of his neck and grimacing at the journal prompt in this stupid blog post on his screen.
“Talk, or talk-talk?” Izuku answers, legs crossed on the couch and wearing a pair of reading blue-glare glasses for his laptop. His leg’s all healed, as is his hip, and the Doc had let him out of the office with a full bill of health. Six weeks of healing under Katsuki’s excellent and unforgiving eye. Katsuki had merely kissed his forehead and dragged him for ramen. At the moment, he’s probably doing some of that hero analysis writing he’d always talked about. Katsuki plans to read it, but yeah…
“Talk-talk. I figured some shit out but it’s better to do it with someone. After, after that whole blow up the other night, if you could listen, and not talk that’d be…” It’s hard to get words passed his tight throat. Honestly, he wants to pretend he never said anything and keep it all locked up, as though it would eventually stop bothering him.
But, he sees what that does, now. Fuck that stupid therapist in high school, she was right.
Izuku puts his laptop aside immediately, popping up to his feet and getting up in Katsuki’s space, wrapping him in his arms. The physio had done its job, his legs were as strong as they ever were, no sign of a limp or grimace at all.
Katsuki presses his lips to Izuku’s eyelid in a wet kiss, smirking at the wrinkled nose.
“Gross, Kacchan. Tea?”
“Yeah, I’ll start the kettle.” He tosses his phone, ‘recovering from Burn out’ shining at the top into Deku’s lap for a review, and fixes two cups of tea the proper way, not the awful burned dusty teabags Izuku favors.
Katsuki stops him before he gets to the couch and takes a moment to kiss him. A serious kiss, one with firm pressure, not a weak ass peck or brush of lips but a forceful, needy kiss.
“Right.” He clears his throat.
Izuku sits on the couch, bouncing into place and shamelessly holds his arms out for Katsuki to come rest against his chest. He’s gotten spoiled the last few weeks. Now he’s been able to cuddle his Kacchan all he wants, he’s never going to let it go. Sighing, only a little for show, Katsuki lays down on his back and lets Izuku coddle him.
“What’s up, Kacchan?” Izuku starts it for him, knowing of course that it was hard for Katsuki to open up to start with, he needs an opening.
Right. Okay.
“We know I got burnt out. Stilettos says I have a complicated relationship with heroism and the job, which I didn’t fucking understand for the longest time.” Katsuki starts. Stilettos was his therapist, a no-nonsense woman who lives her life in six-inch stiletto heels because it helps her spine alignment (she’s got some kind of bug quirk). ”I grew up from the first fucking day knowing I would be a hero. You were fucking there. The best hero. And I did. I became a hero and did hero work and that’s what I fucking was.”
He doesn’t feel like he’s explaining shit, but Izuku’s still nodding with him, upside down to Katsuki’s gaze.
“I guess the complications or whatever started when I kept feeling things that weren’t me being the best or being a hero at all. Like.” This is where things get stickier. He grabs his tea for moral support. Izuku continues to listen, sipping his own in solidarity. “Like I had no feelings of winning, or success whenever something went right, not like I had before. Like when I took down a villain, I’d just be tired and not…not bored but fucking…” He’s frustrated with the lack of words.
“Unenthusiastic?” Izuku offers, always one for the synonyms. “Apathetic?”
“Indifferent.” Katsuki finds. “Like the work I did every day, that I’d…I’d spent my life trying to do, reaching for, like it wasn’t worth it. Like I could do it all in my sleep even though each day I should be on my A-game and ready and take it all seriously. I never fucking, I never fucked up, I wouldn’t slack or anything I’m not like—”
“I know Kacchan, you’d never allow yourself to fail. Especially with lives on the line.”
Katsuki swallows, because that was an entry to a side of his new realizations that Izuku probably wouldn’t like to learn.
“I didn’t think I was a failure. But I would…I would start looking for ways I could…not fuck up but do the minimum, in a way.”
Izuku doesn’t twitch, his face remains open.
“Like…press conferences.” The easier answer. “I’d leave earlier and earlier. I’d answer quicker. I wouldn’t bother with a lot of it.”
“Disengaged, right? Detachment?” Izuku says, petting his knuckles down the side of Katsuki’s face. “I noticed you weren’t as often pictured in the news.”
“Yeah. I got really bad with the PR team. The worst happened when I uh, when. I started thinking how to get just enough injured that I had to stay home for a few days.” Katsuki admits, avoiding Izuku’s gaze. “Something that wouldn’t last too long but was serious enough it would take me off the sched. Even a workout that pulled the wrong way, fucking up a set or something. That’s about when I thought I might be…having…trouble.”
“That sounds awful, I’m sorry I wasn’t paying enough attention.” Izuku’s expression turns down, his eyes get glossy, then his face spasms with guilt about being a martyr and ‘taking Katsuki’s space for his own issues’. That’s how he’d worded it a few weeks ago. Katsuki glowers up at him.
“Don’t give me that, just pet me some more, dickhead.”
“Yes, Kacchan, sorry Kacchan.” Scarred hands in blonde hair.
There’s no teaching some people.
Clearing his throat, Katsuki puts his hands behind his head, curling under Izuku’s thighs to grip him. He kicks his feet out over the opposite couch arm and thinks, finding his train of thought. He focuses on the slow soothing movement of Izuku’s fingers through his hair, sometimes dipping to wipe over his eyebrows and down his nose.
It’s enormously soothing.
“When I got home that, that day.” The day he’d sat in the entry, had said the words. “I just found out I had won another one of those achievement awards the Commission sends out yearly. Ranked and all. And I didn’t fucking care, not even a tiny bit, nothing. Saved lives. Didn’t fucking care. I wasn’t…I didn’t feel like a hero because hero work was just, fucking, worthless now…I…”
Katsuki rolls, overcome, and puts his face in Izuku’s stomach again.
“I didn’t want to be a hero anymore. I didn’t want to be anything. I barely felt like life was livable.” The crux of it. The hurtful part. His lifelong dream, his job his goals, everything.
He didn’t want to be a hero anymore. Not then.
“That sounds hard.” Izuku offers, to keep the conversation open, to connect. His voice is tight, though, and Katsuki knows the little empathetic shit is probably crying. “So, what do you feel now?”
Good question.
Katsuki contemplates. He breathes in their laundry soap, breathes in Izuku who’s worn this shirt like three days in a row the dirty freak.
“I’m going back into heroics.” He announces, and Izuku twitches with surprise.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Sighing, Katsuki wriggles upwards so he’s sitting, leaned sideways with a leg over Izuku’s lap and the other under him. With Izuku wrapped all around him, he’s cuddled and their faces are close together. He was right, there was a suspicious glowy look to Izuku’s face (remnants of tears), but the gaze was clear. “Yeah. I am a hero. I still want to be a hero. I’m fucking Dynamight.” He smirks, sharp, the familiar savage grin he gives for marketing his image, for villains who want to try taking him down.
And a sheen of familiar hero worship takes over Izuku’s face. It feels good.
“King Explosion Murder Hero God Dynamight.” Izuku says, and Katsuki feels the title fill him up.
“Fucking right.” He leans over and kisses Izuku. Deku. His Deku. “I don’t know if it’ll be at the same capacity as I was. I’m not risking that happening again and everything says it takes fucking years to fix burn out.”
“I’m so proud of you Kacchan. Katsuki.” Izuku says, and he levels his best Symbol of Hope, sweet, beautiful Izuku smile at him. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Fuckin’, guh, don’t.” Katsuki flusters with it, eyes darting away. He gets lips pressed to his jawline, and he moves his chin to catch that mouth.
Izuku groans dirty, because Katsuki immediately fights his tongue through those lips and sweeps through his mouth like a claim.
Katsuki’s hard in an instant, which is another factor he deeply enjoys. Their sex life had gone down the fucking tank during the last year or so with how busy they both were, these last six weeks have reignited the voracious need they have for one another.
Finally, he can feel aroused again and actually reach orgasm. Just yesterday, he’d ridden Izuku into the ground and not stopped until the poor thing had come twice in his ass. Then he’d tugged his cock and came all over that ripped belly and chest, smearing it across the skin in a rare moment of sex-driven messiness.
Fucking amazing.
And today, right now, after this whole horrid emotional talk, Katsuki has plans.
“I’m gonna make you cry on my dick.” He announces to the nerd, who huffs a laugh, spluttering.
No, no, Izuku, no laughing at the inevitable.
Katsuki hops to his feet and then yanks Izuku up and off the couch, throwing him over his shoulders and marching down their hallway.
‘;Kacchan!” Izuku laughs.
And he’s still laughing when Katsuki strips him of clothes, still laughing when he puts his fingers in him, and still laughing
“Oh, I love you,” he coos around an excited smile, holding his leg out of the way and gripping Katsuki’s shoulder with his other hand.
Seriously. Fucking the person you’ve been with for nearly a decade. You’d think it would get old. No, never.
Katsuki puts his mouth to Izuku’s and breathes through his nose, finding where his fingers are inside the man with the head of his cock and in one smooth switch, takes his fingers out and stuffs his cock inside.
“Guh—Kacchan,” Izuku mutters into his kiss, eyelashes fluttering as he adjusts.
“Fu-ck, Deku.” He answers. Eyes lidding as the grip of Izuku’s body sheathes his cock in lubed, warm, tightness. The sensation of his cock is matched by the way Izuku’s legs wrap around him, how his arms reach for him, how he pants and opens his mouth for him, always wanting more of his Kacchan.
“Fuck me good, Kacchan, fuck me, come on, don’t wimp out on me now,” Izuku urges lowly with hot, hot eyes and Katsuki grins at him, thrilled with the orders, thrilled to be told what to do.
His middle school self would be combusting, but pro-hero Dynamight loves getting Deku so hot and bothered that he commands his cock.
He starts moving, pulling back to snap inside, tilting Izuku’s hips just right.
“Fu~uk yeah,” he groans.
The green head flings back into the pillows. It gives Katsuki access to his neck and his throat and his chin. He licks, he bites, he fucks, and Katsuki goes wild with the hot drag around his dick, with the strong fingers that can crush concrete without using the quirk digging into his back.
“Oh-ah!” Izuku whimpers when Katsuki finds the right swerve in that catches his prostate on the way. It’s perfect, he’s trembling, he’s jerking with each more direct thrust. Wide green eyes snap to red ones, and yes, there it fucking is. The overwhelmed look, the shine over those irises.
“That’s right, Deku. That’s my fucking Deku, come on. Cry on it.” Katsuki mutters, grunting with the effort. Their hips clap together on a good round of thrusting, until Katsuki wriggles his way back from Izuku’s grasping hands, clenches his hips tight in his dangerous palms, and snaps his cock inside at the perfect angle.
Izuku cries out louder, arms throwing themselves above his head for leverage, to give Katsuki something to fuck against.
“Fuck yeah, Deku!” He snarls, fingertips digging in hard. Pleasure zings through him, through his legs, his stomach. The curl of heat in his dick grows.
“Oh, Kacchan!” Izuku moans through wet, kissed lips, eyes lidding and lashes started to gather wetness.
“Fuck, ‘s good,” Katsuki groans.
“Kacchan’s the only one who can, who has ever made me feel like this, has—” Izuku works his hips in Katsuki’s grip as best he can, to take it better, “gods, Kacchan, I don’t know how I can still want you so much but I do, I do, I do, I—” he breaks into a wordless cry, because Katsuki’s flattened his palm to his red aching cock. There are tears now in his eyes. Rolling back across his temples to his hair.
“Look at me.” Katsuki barks. Green eyes snap open to find his, hazy and lust filled as they are.
Katsuki feels something recenter inside himself.
“Kacchan!” Izuku gasps, head falling back, shivering. Katsuki’s grip on his cock turns into a massage, buried in his ass he presses just right to his abused prostate, and Izuku is almost, almost flying over the edge.
Katsuki comes first, orgasm sneaking right up on him so he groans loudly, hips trying desperately to keep churning but his load dumping impressively deep inside of his lover.
“Fu-fu-fuck!” Izuku’s hand slaps down to grip around Katsuki’s on his cock, and he’s coming without even a tug, just the pressure of it, hips revolving around to feel as much of Katsuki’s flexing orgasm as possible. He comes up his own belly, little spurts of white that smear when Katsuki drops down to his elbows to kiss him, panting.
They cool off, Katsuki sliding over to land on his side, their legs thrown about one another. They lay panting for several long moments.
“That was good, Kacchan,” Izuku murmurs in satisfaction.
“’Course it fucking was.” Katsuki answers in his best well-fucking-duh tone.
Izuku snorts.
“’course it fucking was,’” he repeats in a snotty voice. “’I’m Murder God Dynamight and I know how to fuck my boyfriend the best, extras!’” He continues and scrunches his face in his best imitation of Katsuki’s trademark snarl but can’t quite do it with his chubby cheeks.
Slowly, Katsuki turns his head to stare dangerously at his partner.
“I thought fucked all that attitude out of you.” Katsuki muses, controlled.
Izuku, eyes bright with the threat of it, merely pokes his tongue out at him.
With a snarling bite, Katsuki rolls back overtop of him in a flail of limbs, pillows and blankets.
Izuku laughs helplessly, squealing when his body is pressed down tight to their mattress with a firm hand to his chest. Izuku’s legs immediately clasp around Katsuki comfortably, their naked bodies rubbing all sorts of vile fluids between them. Katsuki growls down at him playfully, snapping his teeth like an animal because otherwise his grin would be breaking his face to match his partner’s.
He’s on top of the world.
And the world was a short green haired man, with smiling eyes and freckled cheeks.