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the nerd squad thinks I need to check on you. do I?
on my way, get ready
you there? been knocking for ten minutes.
Izuku
open the door or I will
Katsuki had his left hand on the doorknob, palm already heating, when he felt the deadbolt slide back. He pushed the door open and glared preemptively at the general elevation of the nerd's face, but instead, he was met with a dark genkan and a blanket-wrapped figure beating a shuffling retreat to the bedroom.
He flipped on the entryway light and immediately wrinkled his nose.
The front room was a disaster, reeking of stale sweat. Shreds of fabric and pillow stuffing gathered in drifts around the room — and Shouto and Izuku's new thirdhand sofa was missing.
"The hell, nerd, did you explode your couch?" Katsuki called, then immediately regretted raising his voice. He rubbed at his chest, pushing down the urge to cough.
Kicking off his shoes, he stepped further into the apartment and nudged a half-tied trash bag with his foot. The smell of rotting citrus peels wafted up from the plastic.
What a fucking mess.
Katsuki picked his way through the obstacle course, dodging a spilled laundry basket and several more trash bags, until he reached the hall and Izuku's bedroom. Not bothering to knock, he pushed the door further ajar and leaned against the frame, hands shoved into his pants pockets.
"What," mumbled the lump of blankets on the bed.
"What's wrong with you?" Katsuki said, then winced as it came out an accusation instead of the question he intended.
"What isn't?"
Oh, so it was like that, was it. Katsuki grimaced.
"Your witty repartee seems fine," he drawled. Habit told him to cross his arms, but practice stopped him before it could tug at the still-painful skin over his sternum. "C'mon, nerd, time to get up. Half-n-Half's coming home in two days, and you gotta pick up your shit, 'cause I sure as hell can't do it for you. Put that freaky tentacle quirk to work."
The blanket-lump flinched, and Katsuki's eyebrows rose. He crossed the bedroom and pulled one knee onto the bed, sitting sideways on the mattress. He was close enough now to hear Izuku sniffling into his (visibly disgusting) pillow.
He tried again, deliberately softening his tone. "Hey... Izuku, hey." This was so goddamn awkward, he was never gonna—
"...Kacchan," Izuku whispered, curling closer to Katsuki's hip.
Katuski sighed and reached out to pat what he thought was Izuku's shoulder. "We gotta quit passing this 'pathetic bastard' card back and forth, nerd. Let Glasses take a turn."
This earned him a watery huff, and Katsuki relaxed a little. Not too far gone, then, if he could still laugh.
"So, did you eat the couch, or what?"
Another huffed half-laugh, and then a louder sniffle. Against his better judgement, Katsuki reached out to comb his fingers through Izuku's hair — and, yep, it was greasy and sweat-matted, the curls tangling into snarls as he tried to pull them free. He would have to shove Izuku into the shower later. Now wasn't the time to mention it.
"I, uh. Took a nap on the sofa. A few days ago... I think." Izuku's voice was a watery croak that could give Tsuyu a run for her money. "Had a nightmare, I guess," he whispered, "about... you know." Katsuki didn't know, actually — leave it to the nerd to rub it in that Katsuki had been dead to the world (hah) for large swaths of Izuku's nightmare fuel — but he could guess. "I woke up when I hit the floor. The couch was in splinters; I guess Black Whip tore it to pieces. Haven't really been able to sleep, since."
"Were you hurt?" Katsuki asked, gently palming Izuku's skull, then clarified: "And I mean 'injured at all,' not 'injured bad enough to need healing.'"
Izuku shook his head.
"Good. Your stupid bones giving you shit?"
Another headshake. Negative.
"For once. You eaten today?"
A shrug.
"We'll work on that—"
"I don't want you to cook for me, Kacchan." Izuku's voice was soft, but the words stabbed right through him anyway. Katsuki bristled.
"What the fuck, Deku, you gotta eat."
"I don't want Kacchan to tire himself out for me—"
Oh, hell no, not this bullshit again.
"No, you bastard, I'm feeding you—"
"Okay, Kacchan, but... please order something, at least. I don't have any groceries."
...well. Izuku had him there. Katsuki could cook or go shopping today; not both. Not yet. And given the state of the living area, Izuku was likely going to need help with the cleaning, instead.
Maybe in another few months he'd be able to do it all, again.
"Tch. As long as you eat. And shower." Katsuki leaned forward to get his feet under him, preparing to stand, but Izuku's hand curled in the hem of his cardigan, stopping him. When Katsuki looked down, Izuku's huge eyes peered up at him, more life in their green depths than Katsuki had seen since he first came in.
"Thank you, Kacchan." His voice was still watery-soft, but the rasp in it that came from prolonged silence was starting to clear. Katsuki swallowed past the tightness in his own throat.
"You'd do the same, Izuku. Have done the same. Don't fuckin' mention it, just get your freckly ass in the shower." He heaved to his feet with a grunt. "You need a hand in there?"
"If... only if you don't mind."
"Would I offer if I did? I'll be there in a minute. Get the water warmed up."
Izuku was beginning to extract himself from his cocoon, so Katsuki headed for the kitchen, already pulling out his phone to text Iida and Uraraka with a status report.
nerd's down a couch, but not injured. he'll be alright
and thanks