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Izuku stood under the harsh spray of water in the agency locker room. Katsuki had been nice enough to let him use his agency for storage and training. The suit was perfect, or nearly, and he was so grateful. Truly, grateful in ways he could not express. Right now though, well, right now Izuku felt pummeled. Beaten and bruised, struggling to keep his feet under him as he braced his shaking arms against the wall across from the nozzle. Izuku did not bother to try and catalogue all the injuries. He had been a bit more than reckless again and if Katsuki found out he would likely get an earful. He just felt so weak. Izuku grit his teeth and tried to put the self-pitying thought aside.
He was grateful, damn it. So very, very grateful. And so goddamn torn.
The suit was perfect, it was. The problem lay with him, he was not training hard enough. He just needed to push harder. The daily training he had been doing for years, the training he had never stopped even as he had felt the last of the embers blow out, it just had not been enough. He was not going to make excuses for the fact that his strength had faded a bit, or that his flexibility had lessened. Izuku spent his days in classrooms and his nights grading, planning the next set of lessons and now training. There was great pride in that, in training the next generation of heroes, in being a hero. And now he was playing catch up. His gnarled fingers balled into tight fists against the wall, his head coming to rest on the cold tile as well. Then why could he not get the hang of the suit? Sure, he had only had it for about a month. It had been built for him though, right? With his measurements and specifications taken into consideration. It should have been easy, or easier at least, to make it work. To understand all the mechanisms and options, it was not. It was like learning to control his quirks, learning to use One for All all over again, from the beginning. He was back to being the scrawny middle schooler on the beach. Quirkless, nearly useless, and so weak. The suit was there to make him strong again, allow him to be useful and get back to saving people. It was supposed to give him his dream back. Katsuki had worked so hard to give him a chance.
Izuku knew Katsuki would have been more than just financially involved in the suit’s creation and design, even if they had not spoken about it yet. Katsuki was amazing, and he would have worked with Hatsume to make sure the suit was as close to duty ready for Izuku as possible. There was not a world in which Katsuki would have accepted less before giving it to him. The time and commitment that Izuku could guess went into the suit on Katsuki’s part had to be enormous. Katsuki avoided the discussion however, more than happy to talk about the suit itself, but the last few years of preparation, of sacrifice, he steadfastly refused to discuss. Izuku was growing more and more frustrated, because not talking about it meant he could not truly understand what Katsuki had been through. He wanted Katsuki to know that when Izuku said ‘Thank you’, it was for all of it. Katsuki, who wanted Izuku back on patrol, kept reaching out now outside of their usual weekly chats and classroom visits. Katsuki, a steadfast presence and constant pressure from behind, moving Izuku forward toward a future they had promised each other before they were old enough to really understand the cost, the toll it would require.
Izuku pushed that thought away as well. There were days he could think about the war, when he could not help but think about it. Today though, it was late and he needed to move his sore body along. He had to get home, finish some grading, and adjust his plan for the next day. The email he had read right before training had said the gym would not be available for his students; damage done by another class earlier in the day needed to be repaired first. He washed sloppily, the agency provided soap harsh in his nostrils. Scalp stinging even though he had not rubbed very hard. Everything hurt, every muscle screamed. Even his eyelids stung and his eyes felt strained. There was a headache on a slow build in his temples and the base of his skull. He dimly remembered a pulling/yanking sensation earlier during training, probably pulled a muscle in his neck. Turning off the water and grabbing his towel from the hook just past the low shower wall, he barely managed to brush the worst of the water from his skin before wrapping his hips. He shuffled more than he walked. Feet scuffing the floor in tired inches. The locker he had been assigned was towards the back, in a corner, it gave him a sense of privacy. Something that he was also grateful for.
So damn grateful, for everything, really.
Water was still dripping from his curls. His shoulders, chest and back were wet again. Izuku pulled his locker open, reached in and grabbed the sweatpants that hung from a hook on the right. They were old, worn and faded from a pitch black to a bleached dark gray. The logo over the left hip faded to a near invisible blur. They were some of his favorite comfort clothes. Once they were on, he grabbed his shirt, a t-shirt that said ‘training shirt’ across the front. Nearly new and still somewhat stiff, a present from Todoroki after he had received the suit from All Might.
He did not pull it on right away. Sinking down to the bench, towel around his neck and back hunched with his arms resting on his knees. Izuku let his head hang, his neck hurt something awful now. More aches making themselves known the further from the adrenaline-fueled training session he got. There was a purpling bruise on his left bicep, his shoulders ached too.
Izuku just wanted to be in bed. The thought of having to walk to the train or catch a bus had him grimacing. When he had first started training again, he had walked from the school to the agency, something he still tried to do. Then walked home, reasoning that the distance was not that far and it would help him improve his stamina. Katsuki had suggested training three days a week to start but Izuku, being Izuku, had insisted on training every day. Katsuki had firmly told him no on the weekend, and Izuku had promptly started going to his local gym to work out there. It was not the same as training with the suit but it kept him gaining ground. Or that is what he told himself.
He replayed the moment in training earlier, when he had attempted to use Blackwhip to maneuver away from a simulated attack by one of Hatsume’s ‘babies’. It had not gone well. The bruise on his arm attested to that. It had been years since he had used Blackwhip but his muscle memory was still there. It was just that, the suit was not an exact replica of the quirks. In part because he had not been able to give input until now. Hatsume was more than happy to work with him to make adjustments. To make it feel more like the real thing. Even if Izuku knew it never could. Part of him did not really want it to. Still, he kept trying to use the suit like he would have the quirks themselves and it just was not working.
Lost in his thoughts he did not hear the door open or the footsteps approach. The rustle of clothing or the small ‘Tch’ sound behind him.
There were fingers threading through his curls, and even though it hurt his neck, Izuku let his head be tipped back meeting red eyes.
“Hi Kacchan.”
Blonde brows rose and the fingers left his curls, tangling slightly as they did, tugging a bit. Then the towel was pulled from his neck and dropped over his face. Izuku sat up with a quiet yelp and reached up to grab it, but Katsuki was already sliding it back over his hair and scrubbing roughly.
“Why is your hair still wet? Why aren’t you dressed?”
Gruff tone, sharp words, rough scrubbing. Izuku’s mind immediately started to quiet, all the worries and doubts sliding to the back behind the happy warmth of Katsuki behind him, drying his hair. It was Kacchan flavored kindness and Izuku let it soak into him. Let it light up the parts of him that always waited for Katsuki to be there.
“Izuku, why is there a fucking bruise on your arm?”
Katsuki’s voice was even gruffer, dropping low into an almost growl of annoyance. Izuku winced a bit and reached up to pull the towel from his now mostly dry (and frizzy) curls. With a shrug that hurt more than he wanted to admit, he rose and pulled his shirt over his head. By the time he turned around to face Katsuki the taller man had his arms folded over his broad chest and was glaring at him. One blonde brow twitched; eyes squinted just enough to lend the look menace. Izuku liked to think he was immune, having faced that look in one iteration or another since he was barely four years old. When Katsuki took a thumping step forward, Izuku found that it was not entirely true. He shrank back towards his open locker, let the bench be a barrier between them for a moment before Katsuki simply stepped over it and pressed closer. Then Katsuki reached out and slid his fingers along the bruise, a deceptively gentle touch, tracing the outline. In a tight, still deep voice, he asked,
“Did you turn off the compensators again? Dumb Deku.”
The last was almost a whisper, Katsuki close enough to Izuku in the space afforded between the bench and lockers that there really was not any space at all. Izuku drew in a shaky breath and nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the v dip of Katsuki’s sweater. There was a huff above him and then the fingers closed around the bruise a little tighter, still too light to hurt.
“They are there for a reason, Deku. We put them there because we knew how reckless an idiot you are, that you won’t be careful with yourself. Do I need to have Goggles override your ability to turn them off or will you leave them alone until you are ready to go without?”
Izuku bristled a bit, he had not done anything wrong and he was not an idiot. He was a teacher, a hero (or he used to be), he was going to master the suit like he had mastered his quirks and he did not need Katsuki scolding him anymore. Even if he understood that this was concern, not belittlement. Even as Katsuki’s hand slid up the length of the bruise, sliding underneath the edge of his t-shirt.
This was new too, new suit, new affections. Or, new for Katsuki that was. Izuku was used to rough affection, with even that slow in coming over the years. After crying in Izuku’s hospital room after the war, Katsuki had started spending more time with him. Kept a careful eye on Izuku as the embers ebbed and fluttered in his chest, flaring, and then receding. Izuku had nursed them along, tried to prolong the inevitable just as All Might had. Pressing against the deepest heart of him, watching the light dim, acceptance taking hold. Izuku had shifted his focus to teaching, after long discussions with his mom, All Might, Aizawa and Katsuki too. He had decided to see it as another path that would let him be a hero of a different kind. The thing was, Izuku was happy with it, he loved his students and teaching. If he could not be an active hero, teaching seemed to fit him best. His analytical skills and quirk knowledge (not to mention his fanboyish nature when it came to heroes) meant that he was often consulted for his analysis by various agencies. He was not completely removed from the realm of heroes, just peripheral to it.
There was a small part of him though, that hurt and never healed. Then All Might had presented him with the suit, and Katsuki had reached out his hand, called him Deku again. Izuku could not say no, could not resist trying. Katsuki was there, always supporting. Rough affectionate touches, ruffling his curls and light swats and punches, tugging him to his feet. Now though, there were other touches, a hand on his shoulder squeezing, a hand on his back to press him forward. A gentle hand checking injuries. Almost as if Katsuki had not wanted to handle him with kid gloves before, had not wanted Izuku to feel like he was looked down on. Now though, the remaining barriers were falling. There was something there, below the surface. Izuku was smart enough to see the signs, and maybe push the limits.
“I can handle it, Kacchan.”
“Tch, of course you can. That’s why you have a bruise that covers half your upper arm and you won’t look up. Did you sprain your neck again, Nerd?”
“...No, maybe. ‘M fine.”
Katsuki’s hand left Izuku’s arm, sliding back down and away. Then he moved away, giving Izuku space. The air was cool afterwards, brushing against Izuku’s skin and raising goosebumps. He watched as Katsuki shoved his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, looked away and grit his teeth, angular jaw popping.
“Whatever, fine. You want food or not?”
Izuku thought for a moment, let all the aches yell at him. Let the tiredness make him really consider. Thought of his grading and then discarded it and nodded. He turned to grab his jacket from his locker, slipped his feet into familiar red sneakers and closed the locker door.
“Yea Kacchan, let’s eat.”
The walk from the locker room to the exit was quiet, late shift in full swing. Katsuki stopped at the desk to check on anything he might need to know about before they left and then they were out in the cool night air. Izuku let Katsuki lead, following just a pace behind his left elbow, occasionally brushing against it with his own arm. Katsuki kept glancing at him and finally huffed under his breath.
“Do you have anything edible at your place?”
“Um, sure. I think so. I went shopping the other day after you yelled at me.”
There was a tense pause.
“That was a week ago Izuku.”
“Oh, well….”
Katsuki’s hand came up to rub at his eyes, and Izuku flushed. So, he was not always on top of groceries. He was busy, and he was trying. Katsuki glanced at him again and then looked away.
“Change of plans, we’ll grab take out on the way. Indian?”
“Sure Kacchan.”
Katsuki already had his phone out, pulling up the app, usual order going in. Izuku pressed closer, looking past him to double check Katsuki had not upped the heat as punishment. It had happened in the past.
Thirty minutes later Izuku was sliding the key in the lock of his apartment door. It was small, mostly bare. One bedroom down a short hall, bathroom to the right (tight but he was not complaining), and kitchen with a dining table and enough space for four to six people to the left. Past that was a small living room with a well-used couch, TV and walls that were covered in all his hero memorabilia. His bedroom was just as bad, not that Izuku cared if people were bothered by his collection. Izuku slipped in past the door and slid his shoes off, setting them neatly to the side and stepping out of the way for Katsuki to follow behind him. The blonde kicked his shoes off, but did not bend to straighten them and Izuku smiled at the small act of continued rebellion. Katsuki was ridiculously neat usually, but he always left his shoes a mess.
“You get comfortable Kacchan, I’ll get what we need and meet you in the living room.”
There was a grunt behind him and he heard Katsuki moving up the hall.
Izuku grabbed utensils, glasses of water and napkins just in case the restaurant had forgotten them again.
When he stepped through the doorway of the living room Katsuki was sprawled on the left hand of the couch, phone in his hand, scowl on his face.
“Something wrong Kacchan?”
“Goggles says you popped the mechanism in the left glove, the bruise was from the backlash of the adjuster plate.”
Izuku stopped and stared at him.
“You told on me?! Kacchan!! Hatsume is going to lock me out for sure now, she threatened me last time. I thought you were just lecturing before.”
The blonde man looked up at him, red eyes darkening to crimson in the low light shed by the covered bulb on the ceiling.
“I was, but I also wanted to know what happened. Even with the compensators off, you shouldn’t have been bruised that badly. There are safety mechanisms in the suit to pad backlash that should be separate. But the gloves are not perfect, they need adjustment apparently. The calculation for the force adjustment was off. Impact is different from…are you listening Deku?”
Izuku had been. Right up to the point when Katsuki had said the suit was not perfect. It was, this was all Izuku’s fault. He had messed with it when he should have left it alone. He was too weak to do this, too slow and he -
“Deku!”
Hands closed over his, warm and gentle. The drinks and utensils were taken and set aside. Izuku’s inner monologue cut off by the abrupt movements. Then those warm hands were back. Catching at his upper arms, gentle. Katsuki dipped down, height difference accounted for and red eyes caught green.
“You are not weak, Izuku. You’re not.”
Izuku realized he had started to mumble, and had spoken his thoughts aloud. He shook his head, lips parting to argue.
“Damnit, you’re not! You have been training for a month with the suit. Do you really think you could get it that quickly? Give it time and stop fucking hurting yourself!”
Izuku blinked, wincing, shrinking back a bit. Not because he was scared but because the words were the same, he had tried so many times over the last month to tell himself (minus the swearing). It did not mean he believed them yet, though it helped coming from Katsuki. He nodded, small movements of his head, twinging his injured neck. And then Izuku did something he rarely did, usually happy to accept physical affection but afraid to push for more. He touched back, twisting his hands around to catch Katsuki's forearms. He met the red gaze in front of him head on and then leaned forward to press his forehead to Katsuki’s. Taking comfort where it was offered. Hoping that with the small steps forward, with the new affection, this would be alright.
Katsuki pressed forward without hesitation, forehead rocking back and forth on Izuku’s for a few seconds then holding still. He began to straighten. Izuku followed, raising the barest bit up on his toes to keep the contact, eyes sliding shut. Katsuki hesitated then, freezing in place.
“Thank you Kacchan, for everything.”
There was no response, no words, just a slight shift of forehead on forehead. And Katsuki waited, waited for Izuku to pull back. Only then, he released Izuku’s upper arms as Izuku let go of his forearms and they moved together to the couch. Food was unpacked, utensils passed, drinks set before them and without further discussion they began to eat.
Katsuki was the first to break the silence. Most of the food was gone and he turned to Izuku, brows furrowed and concern plain in his eyes.
“Is that what you really think? That you are weak?”
Izuku looked away and set aside the food he had been eating. The spice still lingered on his tongue and he felt the burn in the back of his throat. Slowly he nodded, then held a hand up when Katsuki opened his mouth to speak again.
“I know Kacchan. I know you don’t think that. I know that the rest of our friends don’t think that. I know, okay. I do.”
Izuku leaned back heavily, letting his head rest on the back of the couch as he slid down in his seat. The position felt awful, not restful at all, he did not care. He kept his eyes off Katsuki and pushed forward.
“I just feel it. It is like starting over, like none of it ever happened. I am right back at step one. Quirkless, trying to be something, have something that is…well, it's not mine.”
“What the fuck Deku? Of course it is. We built it just for you. The suit is yours, and it’s not a quirk. That does not matter, it’s not meant to be one. It’s meant to be a support item, that’s all. You are a hero, and a lot of heroes use support items.”
Izuku’s eyes jerked to the side, mouth falling open. Katsuki was looking at him, expression soft.
“Dumb Deku, it doesn’t matter if you have a quirk. It never did.”
Katsuki reached out and slid his hand over Izuku’s where it had clenched against his thigh. Red eyes falling to follow the movement, watching, waiting. When his fingers brushed over Izuku’s knuckles, too many times broken and healed knobby, fingers scared and slightly crooked, Izuku turned his hand over and tangled their fingers together. There was a flush creeping up over his cheeks, Izuku could feel the heat. He watched as a matching flush colored Katsuki’s cheeks as well. There was a deep breath, a rush of air past dry lips and then Katsuki finished, squeezing his fingers.
“You have always been a hero. Since we were kids, you were a hero. Nothing changes that, nothing could. Alright?”
The last was just above a whisper and red eyes were back on his. Izuku felt the tears gathering, his throat growing tight around the burn of spice and he could not answer. Just could not push the words out. There was no way to express the struggle, the doubts and fear. He could see that Katsuki was right, he had been trying to treat the suit as a replacement for the quirks he had trained so hard to master. It was not perfect. He was grateful, but he was also scared. The suit could fail, it could break, it could be taken. Izuku realized he was trembling.
“Kacchan, I….”
So many new things lately, this was new too. The lips on his were soft, not chapped like he had often imagined. And it lasted less than the time it took for his brain to process it had happened.
“Sorry.”
Katsuki was sitting back, leaning away, one hand running rough through his hair, face flaming pink. He tugged lightly on the hand still grasped in Izuku’s and Izuku refused to let go. There was less surprise than he had thought he would feel. Really, it felt more natural and normal, it felt right. After so many years of watching, following, and letting his heart fall more and more each year. Izuku had never fought the fall.
He was moving before he had consciously planned to, a small sound coming from the back of his throat. Katsuki looked back up, eyes widening at the look on Izuku’s face and then Izuku had closed the distance and their lips were touching again.
Izuku did not know if it could even be called a kiss. It was more a press and hold, a desperate need for contact. He had miscalculated the distance. In his haste to make sure that Katsuki knew he had nothing to apologize for. He was overbalanced, one hand pressed to the couch cushion between them, the other still tangled with Katsuki’s. Izuku’s wrist was twisted, twinging and pinging with pain. He ignored it. Another sound pulled from him, sounding desperate and pleading even to his own ears. Then there was a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back a bit but not a total separation. Katsuki shifted, turning, and pulling his knee up to press to the back of the couch, hand sliding up from Izuku’s shoulder to the back of his neck. There was another tug on their twined fingers and finally Izuku let go, turning fully as well. He braced his newly freed hand on Katsuki’s knee and tilted his head. Let his lips soften, pulled back on the pressure. His eyes were closed now, tremors sliding up and down his limbs. Other hand rising to grip the fabric of Katsuki’s hoodie over his broad chest. Katsuki responded by gentling the contact as well, his other hand catching at Izuku’s wrist above his knee. Then it was a kiss. A real one, precious and delicate. Izuku had always imagined their kisses being rough, sharp, and hurried.
Izuku opened his lips after a few gentle kisses and let his tongue brush against Katsuki’s closed lips, a silent question. The feeling of building tension in him, the want for more, it was starting to itch across his skin. He wanted to feel something new. So many new things, and Katsuki had given them to him, was still giving. Izuku felt the hand on the back of his neck tighten for just a moment, pulled muscle twitching, before the hand lifted. There was a series of nearly silent pops, a bare impression on heat, and then the hand was back. Warmth sank deep into the base of his neck, hand tightening and releasing in a rolling massage of the muscles there just as Katsuki took the invitation to deepen the kiss. Izuku pressed closer, back arching in pleasure and relief. A small groan slid out between kisses, tongues tasting, breaths growing short.
After a short time of adjusting to the new sensation of those deeper kisses, Izuku shifted again. Shuffling closer, breaking away to slide his knees up onto the couch. And Katsuki moved with him, shifted to slide one leg along the back of the couch, other leg still down, foot resting on the floor. Izuku felt Katsuki’s hand leave his neck, the muscles now much more relaxed. Endorphins were probably helping, the pain from his various hurts slipping to the background as he shifted further. Izuku pressed his hands to Katsuki’s chest and leaned back further. This position was not going to work for him to get closer, and he wanted so much to be closer. Sitting there on his knees between Katsuki’s legs and there was a new more urgent tension starting to spread through him. Warmth in the pit of his stomach, muscles tightening in anticipation. There was hesitation now as well. How far should they go, how far did Katsuki want to go? Maybe this was far enough for Katsuki even if Izuku wanted more. More contact, more kisses, more comfort.
Before he could do more than furrow his brows and begin to ask, Katsuki surged up and into him. Mouth rougher, tongue pressing in while he pressed Izuku back and over. Izuku landed on the soft cushions behind him. Legs falling open as Katsuki followed him down. There was a moment of relief that Katsuki wanted more as well. Then Izuku slid his arms under Katsuki’s where they bracketed his head grabbing handfuls of hoodie over Katsuki’s back. Katsuki’s hands slid into his curls, tugging on the remaining tangles, and combing through them to ease the way to Izuku’s scalp. Another small massage had Izuku turning his head, mouth pulled away to gasp and shiver. Then there was a mouth on his neck, kisses turning into bites, nips followed by the warm wet of a tongue. Then lips slid up the column of his throat to press behind his jaw, mouth leaving him only to return pressed behind his ear. Izuku jerked, full body twitches, and pulled until Katsuki dropped his full weight down on top of him.
The sensation of being covered, protected, and wanted settled into Izuku. Katsuki’s mouth slid across his cheek, seeking his and Izuku met him. The full press of their bodies removed the lingering doubts in Izuku’s mind that Katsuki might not be interested in more. The hard pressure of Katsuki’s arousal to his own had him rolling up and into the man above him. An answering shift from Katsuki slid them against each other. There was another groan creeping up Izuku’s throat but Katsuki beat him to it, and the sound that left the blonde man rumbled through his chest. There was less room for thought at that point. A shuddering roll of hips and hands roaming, gripping hard. When one of Katsuki’s hands found his ass and the other moved to cup the back of his head. Izuku pulled his mouth from Katsuki’s and moaned. There was a building fire in his gut, an aching pressure that told him he would not last much longer.
“Kacchan, wai….” He tried to warn the man above him but Katsuki bit into the side of his throat and he choked on his words. The hand on his ass pressed him up and Katsuki rolled his hips down. Izuku cried out, his own hands reaching down to grip Katsuki’s ass in return. Katsuki arched back, rolled against him again and their eyes met for the first time since Katsuki had settled over him. Katsuki was flushed, red streaked across both cheeks and the bridge of his nose. They were both sweating, clothes damp with it. A distance thought flitted across Izuku’s mind that they were going to finish without even touching each other’s skin. Another harsh roll of their hips, eyes still watching each other and Katsuki curled in on himself, shuddering and shaking hard enough to make Izuku’s eyes widen in shock. Katsuki pressed in close, head dropping to Izuku’s shoulder before shifting again. The sudden lack of motion had Izuku whimpering, rubbed nearly raw in his sweats and underwear, so close but left stranded at the edge.
Then there was a hand on him, deft fingers sliding under his waistband and curling around him. Katsuki shifted to get enough room between them and began to stroke. Izuku bit off a tight surprised sound and arched into the motion. A moist breath against his cheek, a mouth against his neck, tongue tasting.
A deep rumble against him, “Izuku, come on.”
Teeth on his lower lip, and a deep kiss and the world sparkled behind his closed eyelids. Sparkled, and then whited out. He arched hard, body tensing and his throat locked. Katsuki’s touch turned light and gentle immediately, easing him through it but not wanting to rub over sensitive skin any more than necessary.
A moment later and they were still. Katsuki pulled his hand from Izuku’s sweats, curled to keep the mess from the cushions beneath them. Without needing to speak, they shifted to get more comfortable. Katsuki’s back braced against the couch, Izuku laying curled on his opposite side. With it all done, Izuku expected to feel some embarrassment, some trepidation but there was none. Just quiet warmth, comfort settling over him. Katsuki’s arm rested over his waist. His fist still closed but pressing light circles into Izuku’s lower back.
Silence for long enough that Izuku started to dose. Then a huff above him, lips pressed to his temple.
“Don’t go to sleep yet, Nerd. We need to get cleaned up and off this couch. It sucks to sleep on, and you will regret it tomorrow.”
Izuku glanced up, “Should we talk after we clean up?”
A wicked smile from the blonde above him, “Do we need to?”
Izuku smiled back, a laugh bubbling up in his chest. “I guess not.”
A quick peck to soft lips, “Love you Kacchan.”
“Yea, I know.”
A deeper kiss in return, “I love you too Izuku.”