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Katsuki drags his heavy feet behind him as he stalks over to the giant pool of people gathered together, forming a smaller nucleus in the middle. The cameras flash and their clicks echo through the air, fueling his headache. Small drops of blood trail behind him, seeping from somewhere near his abdomen? His thigh? Hell, he doesn’t know.
He gets closer and hears someone’s clear booming voice, “Hero Deku! What exactly happened just now?”
“Wait, sorry sir, excuse me,” Deku’s voice. Always apologetic and round around the edges. Katsuki doesn’t control the small grin crawling onto his face, a sharp pain tugging at his split lip. “I have to—”
“Deku,” He calls as loudly as he can, which isn’t very loud because his back and his stomach and his legs are absolutely killing him and his consciousness is slipping through the gaps of his mind as the seconds tick by.
The giant blob of people starts mushing and squirming around as protests are heard from within. The outer circle parts, opening up a small exit. Green curls peek at the top of the crowd as Izuku squeezes out sideways, one hand placed in front of himself to open up the path.
“Sorry guys, sorry! Just squeezing through,” He mutters, amiable smile on his scratched face and his head whipping back and forth as he hurriedly speaks to people on both sides. Deep frowns melt into entranced smiles and dazed eyes as they witness the glowing young hero of the decade pass by them in such close proximity. Katsuki sees even from a distance that every arm, hand or shoulder that brushes against Izuku’s is electric. He kind of gets it, maybe.
“Kacchan,” Izuku frees himself from the atom of people. His smile widens impossibly as a thin stream of blood slide down from his forehead.
“Always the golden boy, huh?” Katsuki raises his eyebrows, nodding his chin upwards. He inches forward, hand pressing on his stomach.
Izuku slow jogs towards him, laughing at his comment, before his expression morphs into panic, and Katsuki barely has time to wonder why before his eyes roll to the back of his head, the last thing he sees being Izuku’s arm extending impossibly long in his direction.
“Kacchan!”
—
“Well, well, well, who knew you guys would be so good at this?”
“Can you have some fucking sympathy.”
Their manager looks up from her iPad, peering at the duo from under her glasses, looking so severely uninterested in any of Katsuki’s opinion.
“You fainted, yes, very unfortunate indeed,” She continues, her smile icy and fake. “But all’s well that ends well. You see this?” She flips the device towards them. Katsuki squints from his seat which is admittedly still not enough to see what she's trying to show them but he decidedly does not give a fuck and would not show her that he does. Meanwhile, Izuku leans forward and swipes through the tablet.
“Wow,” Izuku breathes. Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Our plan is actually working.”
“You mean your shitty ass plan.”
Izuku pointedly glares at Katsuki for a short second, all bark and no bite. Katsuki grins at him, shit-eating. It’s fucking addicting to tease him ever since Izuku’s evolved into his adult-form, and though he’s always had a backbone, it sticks out even more stubbornly now. He’s like, a chihuahua with crazy hair, it’s cute when he's not annoying the fuck out of him.
“Be grateful because without this who knows when your next mission's gonna be?” Izuku retorts easily after a moment, smile sickly sweet and so goddamn infuriating as he turns to look at Katsuki. Should have known smart-mouth Deku was coming up with a stupid reply the moment he glared at him.
“Deku, you—”
“The incident happened last week but it’s still trending at #10 in real time now,” Their manager starts loudly. “That photo is plastered on every second tweet, blown up all over TikTok. 86% positive engagement. The power of the WonderDuo, DynaDeku, Bee-Kay-Dee-Kay—”
“You don’t have to read out all our fucking ship names or whatever the hell people call them,” Katsuki clicks his tongue, vexed.
Their PR manager pays him no heed and continues, “Accident or not, the people love it. They think it's very cute. Some even think it's real, as they always do, and that is the main objective of our project.”
The photo in question — the series of photo, actually— is of Izuku running forward, almost bouncing with the help of his suit, body stretched, one long arm reached out for Katsuki who went limp and falling. A video originally, even though Katsuki has no fucking idea how did anyone even get this on tape because it had happened so fucking fast even he didn’t see it coming, was screenshotted, the most signicant photos making their rounds through social media.
The most popular one: Izuku barely makes it, big hand under Katsuki’s head just at the right angle, right moment. He hates to admit it but the photo looks cool as shit, for Izuku anyway. The craziest thing is that people are going insane over it for all the wrong reasons.
“Deku’s face oh my god he loves Dynamight so much. Did you guys see the worry in his eyes? Deku’s gentle hands saving Dyna just in time I can’t make this shit up,” Manager says in the most deadpan tone ever known to mankind Katsuki fantasizes about cracking open her skull to find a computer chip inside.
“This is what people are saying,” She looks up in finality. Izuku’s face flames. Katsuki’s surprised this bitch even knows how to be embarrassed anymore.
“Fuck it, give it to me,” Katsuki snatches the iPad over. He’ll see it for himself just what the fuck—
He stops, hand hovering above the screen uselessly.
An entirely different photo, probably the aftermath of Izuku catching him. He’s in Izuku’s arms, hands and legs like a doll's, head would have been thrown back too if Izuku hadn’t been supporting it from behind. Deku’s other hand is on his cheek, and he can tell even from the digital display how soft the touch is, how delicately Izuku is holding his face. He doesn't remember any of this obviously. He then shifts his gaze to Deku in the photo, brows furrowed and eyes wide, mouth mid sentence, concern decorating his face.
He slowly turns over to Izuku, who’s kind of trying to shrink in on himself. He looks back at Katsuki from under his lashes, sheepish? Scared that Katsuki’s gonna whack his ass for even suggesting they start a fucking fanservice plan to boost brand reputation? Also, why was that not the most popular photo?
“Deku, are you in love with me?”
Stupid Izuku and his stupid stupid wide eyes at twenty-five.
“Uh…No?”
“You—” Katsuki narrows his eyes at his friend, his maybe best friend.
You’re too fucking good at this then, he bites back the urge to say it out loud.
Turning back to their manager, who’s now smirking at them because of god knows why, he says—
“Okay, what’s next? This better fucking work.”
“It already does,” She smiles, uncanny.
And when the two hero catches each other’s eyes, Izuku stifles a laugh and Katsuki hates to admit he actually, against all the common sense in this world, does not hate the plan at all.
—
Their manager said they were good, but somehow, they get even better.
Variety shows, university talks, aftermath interviews; not that they didn’t use to do them together, but compared to before, they are invited to and frequent these places so much more now as a pair, as partners.
Izuku still teaches casually at UA, when his schedule allows him, and when he does, Katsuki sometimes go too, just to hang around lunch or wait in his thirty-six degree car in summer, glasses slipping down his nose as he reads new cases from the Commission, until Izuku comes, always late and always surrounded by eager students.
He doesn’t miss the way students stare at him these days, in awe obviously because he’s the fucking god of explosion but also with little bitchy knowing smiles as he scowls at them from inside his car; or when they elbow each other as he strolls down the UA halls with Izuku next to him, yapping away at whatever new fascination he has. And of course, Izuku’s stupid little innocent brain does not catch any of that. Or maybe he’s pretending. In that the case, Katsuki really needs to give him a standing ovation for how much of a cunning asshole he is.
Fuck everything. His brand reputation better hit top three next season and be higher than Deku’s. Innocent, smiley, freckled Deku.
“Put on your seatbelt,” Katsuki tells Izuku as he stumbles into the front seat, taking off his backpack and trying to balance the twenty-thousand fan letters and is that a rose? in his arms without spilling. He fails.
“A student asked about Kamino in my last class and that promptly set off an entire chain of discussion of almost every single battle we did during our first year in UA,” Izuku’s cheeks are a faded red from the heat as he rambles on, chest still heaving slightly from the run. He twists to the side to get the seatbelt across himself. “They kept asking about you too. They say you’re always here now.”
“They should mind their own goddamn business.”
His friend turns to smile at him, slow and relaxed. “Don’t be mad I’m late, Kacchan.”
“Since when were you ever on time,” Katsuki mutters in return, trying to tamp down his smile from seeing Izuku’s wild hair and disheveled suit.
“We’ll make it though, yeah?”
“Who cares about some goddamn radio?” Katsuki revs the engine loudly and presses the convertible roof switch. He admits its all ego and pride when he got his car, but it’s also always good to see Izuku’s soft curls flowing too and hear his excited whoops like he’s on it for the first time as they speed towards the city center.
They step foot into the recording booth two minutes before call time because Katsuki’s a winner. The venue bustles with around twenty staff, prepping the equipment and tending to the host and now the two young heroes who have arrived. Izuku does a quick outfit change into something other than his suit and tie. He comes out of the dressing room in an oversized strippy dress shirt tucked into wide black pants that reached his ankles, exposing his bright yellow socks.
Izuku sidles up to Katsuki from behind, looking over his shoulder into the booth. “Boo.”
Katsuki turns his head around, a freckled face up at his own point blank. He quickly surveys Izuku’s new clothes, noticing how the stylist has ruffled Izuku’s hair so his usual side part is gone. It’s almost like how he used to look back when they were still in highschool, only now his baby fat has long dissolved, his jaw and nose chiseled and slim, eyes longer. But still, Katuski reels a little from how similar the man in front of him looks like high school Izuku.
“You don’t look so bad. Better than how you usually dress,” He says, looking away.
“And your hair looks fine when you actually comb it,” Izuku returns without hesitation, smoothing down his shirt one last time. Katsuki barks a quick laugh at his response, and he turns back to see Izuku looking up at him, pleased with himself.
Katsuki clears his throat. “Hey, did you want to—”
“Dynamight and Deku! Look over here please!”
He whips his head up to a camera to their right, the man behind it knees bent and ready. Katsuki stops in his tracks, taken back momentarily by the guerilla photo, but Izuku grabs his left hand by the wrist and raises it swiftly, smoothing through Katsuki’s palm with his own calloused fingers so his hands now display a victory sign.
“Smile, Kacchan,” Izuku says under his breath, chin on his shoulder. Katsuki glances down in surprise, a soft exhale escaping him. The flash goes off before he snaps his attention back to the photographer. He musters his best smile this time. The camera flashes again.
“Thank you, heroes!” Izuku waves at the camera person, who bows and bows as he scurries away.
“Being this slow on the battlefield will get you killed, you know.”
“Shut up, Deku,” Katsuki shoots back on autopilot, Izuku’s Smile, Kacchan still hot on his neck. He reaches up his nape and slaps it quick once instinctively. “He came out of nowhere, what was I s’pposed to do? Thought you were the genius here.”
“Hey, be more humble, yeah? Maybe people’ll be more helpful around you,” Izuku says, making a face. He reaches for a bottled water on the side table.
“Okay then, sensei,” He leans in, crossing his arms. “How should I go about now to trick the world?”
Izuku chokes on the water. His pupils darting to the upper corner of his eye as he most probably, pretends to think. And to think he was supposed to be the one who knew what they were doing. He lowers the bottle and tightens the cap.
“Uh,” He starts very intelligently. “Now we go in. Yeah, yup. And we walk reeaal close to convince everyone that, uhm, we like each other?” The last words he says goes impossible high-pitched. Katsuki starts snickering despite himself.
“Do we like each other?” Katsuki pretends to be lost and furrows his brows.
“Okay, not like, maybe—I dont know, we have a crush on each other. Or that we enjoy each other’s company, whatever,” Izuku rolls his eyes and waves his hand beside his head like that’ll clear his jumbled thoughts. “Shit, I don’t know, Kacchan, come on, just go in already.”
Katsuki’s shoulders are still shaking when Izuku loops his arm through Katuki’s and drags him towards the recording room. He pinches the bridge of his nose to still his thoughts and calm down. Hell, making fun of Izuku’s so fucking funny, who knew he’d still be such a dumb little nerd after all this time.
“What, so is pretending to like me just a little really so hard for you?” Izuku asks as they near the brightly lit room, fluorescent bulbs lining the ceiling. His arm now loose and low on Katsuki’s.
“Everybody position! Two minutes!” Someone behind them yells.
He sucks in a smile. Throwing a quick glance at Izuku, he knows he’s unsuccessful from the playful glint in his friend’s eyes.
“Probably.”
Izuku lets go and smacks his back hard. He stumbles forward, whisper-shouting an Ow, Izuku, what the fuck! and then his culprit is chuckling and it sounds clear like a spring morning and Katsuki thinks, with a clouded mind, how he probably had no other choice but to thread his hand through Izuku’s and pull him along.
These fucking DSLRs better be recording this shit in 8K.
—
The day at the radio had seemed like a break in the dam. Katsuki finds his own pace in the midst of this, and afterwards realizes the project didn’t actually have to take up all his energy and that it could be easy. Hanging out with Deku on their day-offs is easy, touching Izuku is easy because the other man leans into it habitually. The bad part is, Katsuki hates to admit it but Izuku smells good. It makes him feel like a creep every time he catches himself leaning in for that extra sniff of sun-dried soft cotton.
It’s the shampoo he swears. There’s no way it came from just his body; nobody smells like that on a daily basis. Unless Deku’s been using perfume. No way. The thought of Izuku taking his time to sample and choose a scent leaves Katsuki’s mouth parched and tasteless.
“Oh my god, it’s Dynamight and Deku!”
Izuku’s face splits into a huge grin as he looks up to the squealing fans from the table. They’ve been sitting in the outdoor area of a patio cafe. It was a good day; no ulterior motives. One day after work Izuku had ran up to Katsuki, pulling out his long long list of cafes which he had wanted to try. See, it was easy, easy like walking, like setting off mini bombs, to say yes to him. Maybe it’s always been that way, he had realized belatedly as Izuku chewed his ear off with his unnecessary cafe analysis. Since when did he forget about this?
“Hi! Did you guys want us to sign something?”
The girls, probably in high school, physically melt into a pile as they nod their heads fervently. Tripping over each other, they dig into their bags for the items they wanted a signature on. Reaching into his own backpack, Izuku pulls out a black sharpie.
“You bring that shit on you?” Katsuki raises a pale brow, nudging his chin towards the pen in Izuku’s hand. The green-hair hero bites on the cap and uncaps the pen.
“Yeah,” He dramatically rolls up his sleeves on his dominant arm, exposing a history of deadly fights. “Useful, aren’t I?”
Katsuki scoffs and leans forward, snatching Izuku’s coffee and chugging it to hide the tug at his mouth.
He rests back into the chair, casting a quick glance at the group. The girl who has Izuku signing her phone case is now animatedly chatting with the hero, both of their hands flying around. Feeling a stare, he switches his attention to the rest of the group, all of them waiting patiently for their turns, hands clutching their items, and all of them seemingly biting back smiles. Two girls at the back giggled after whispering to each other.
He’s never gotten too close to any large group of girl friends, but he swears he’s seen this before back when he was in UA and the bottle landed on him and Izuku for seven minutes in heaven. Right, fucking Mina and Jiro did the exact same thing to him.
Irritation and something else he can’t put a finger on gnawing, he grits his teeth and remembers the objective of their plan is to improve public perception.
“I’ll sign after Deku.” He shoots a grin at them which definitely felt more like a grimace.
After some nudging from her friends, a girl with straight bangs and a high ponytail comes forward like an officially nominated spokesperson of the group.
“Bakugou,” She starts, using his real name, which is rare but not something he doesn’t welcome. “I hope this isn’t rude or anything, and please feel free to ignore us if this isn’t something you want to tell.”
She pauses to look back at her friends, who are all covering their mouths with their sweater paws. They give her a nod, and she turns back with a sheepish smile albeit excitement bubbles underneath.
“How long have you liked Deku?”
He feels his face turning to stone while simultaneously boiling to a hundred degrees. He whips his head to Izuku, who’s still blissfully in a deep conversation about hero merch with the girl. Fuck, they haven’t talked about this.
“Uhm,” He starts, fiddling with the condensation on his glass. “Long.”
Better be good enough, shit.
“How long?” She seems to teeter over the edge of the unspoken physical boundary between them. Her eyes sparkle, and all her friends now crowd around her, leaning over.
“Since,” He sucks in a breath. His eyes dart over to Izuku once more. Seeing that he’s not paying attention, he is unsure why he feels so relieved. “High school?”
“Really?” They all squeal under their breaths. One of them slaps a hand over her mouth when Izuku glances over, a puzzled but happy look plastered on his face. “So, UA?”
“Maybe before that. Okay, stop asking now,” Katsuki smiles through his teeth. That seems to be enough for them, as they all nod feverishly again, blush coloring their faces.
They both finish signing for the fans, Katsuki’s signature an almost ineligible scrawl across their textbooks or phone cases, earning a scowl from Izuku. The girls bid them goodbye and hurried away, talking wildly amongst themselves.
“So what happened just now?”
“Hm?” Katsuki lazily leans into his palm, elbow on the table.
“When you were all screaming over something. Seems like they were your fans,” Izuku cocks his head to the side, another one of his puzzled smile on his face.
“I wasn’t screaming,” Katsuki deflects, turning his face into the center of his hand, gazing off at some diabetic-level couple sharing a strawberry cream frappe with one straw. He wrinkles his nose, he hates that shit.
“So what were you guys talking about?” Izuku pushes, one hang shooting out to grab the one Katsuki has resting on the table. Katsuki stares at him now, silent for a while. The other boy, a damn menace, waits for him. He wipes his face down and groans. He thinks about their shining eyes and How long have you liked him, Bakugou?
This is all Deku’s stupid fault.
“You’re so fucking annoying sometimes, Izuku.”
“What? Can’t ask anything, huh?” Izuku says, incredulous. “Keeping secrets from me now, Kacchan. You’ve really grown up I see.”
“We were just talking about you, nothing special.” Just tell him the goddamn thing, the fuck. “Happy?”
“Me?” Izuku perks up then, grin spreading bigger across.
“Yeah, you,” Katsuki replies, softer. He’s not sure why he’s lying at all. “And your suit. They always love hearing about the mechanics. You know how it is.”
—
Another week of mind-blowing fame and absolute devotion of the “government ship” of heroes from the public. It gives Katsuki the heebie-jeebies if he thinks about the mechanics behind it, but the tabloids really are everywhere, at any time. Their little date — no, not date, friendly hangout, as Katsuki insists every time he catches himself get influenced by the stupid internet — is captured on some thirty-eight hundred by twenty-one hundred resolution Canon with an eighty-millimeter zoom.
Hah, this is so fucking insane, he sighs down at his phone. He can almost see every single one of his blue green veins snaking on his hands from the photo.
And of course, Izuku’s scars dancing on the rugged back of his hands, through his fingers. Long healed, still visible. It’s beautiful, and you’ll never fucking catch him saying this out loud, but his hands. The gods have carved it themselves. He zooms out a bit, staring absentmindedly at the way his friend has his hands over his, gripped tight. He wonders how many of them out there wished they were in his position, hand held so tightly and softly by the Deku.
The Deku. Stars in his eyes when he looks at him. He thought he knew what Izuku looked like, but it slams onto him like a weight to see it third-person, his body leaning forward, mouth opened excitedly mid sentence. Must have been when Katsuki told them they were talking about him. What a little idiot. He looked so happy.
He rubs a hand down his mouth when he catches himself smiling at the screen like some freaky paparazzi after getting the most invasive photo ever. Gross.
What grosses him out even fucking more is when he looks at himself. Nope, fuck that. He flings his phone into the corner of his bed and gets up, slamming the door like that will clear his mind.
Forget it. Fuck.
Storming out of his apartment, he bangs his door, earning him an annoyed yell from some other apartment on the level. Fuck off.
Later, when he stands in front of the cereal aisle, trying to decide between the protein boost and the fiber special, he thinks of himself again. The ghost of a grin peaking on the edge of his mouth as he stares back at talking Deku. Not a scowl, grimace, half smile; a goddamn smile irrefutably, undeniably plastered right across his face. He can’t play this off. Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t smile, not like that anyway. And Izuku knows he’s no world-class actor, he’ll figure it out.
Fuck. He shoves the protein boost into his basket. He can only hope uselessly Izuku doesn’t read into this. It’s gonna be so fucking awkward.
But he will. Because he’s Midoriya fucking Izuku and Midoriya fucking Izuku reads into everything a few hundred times more than anyone. Katsuki wants to strangle himself.
The next week, he finds out seeing Izuku all the time was very easy, but turns out avoiding him was too. And because he really is the biggest genius out there, he does exactly that. He thought he’d grown up. Probably not.
After a week, people will forget about it. There are new stuff everyday, hell, every other hour. A new villain here and there, some actor cheating on a pop singer with three other women all at once. The world really doesn’t disappoint. And other than kind-of-fake-dating Izuku, he does have an actual real job. He’d almost forgotten.
Almost forgotten amidst all the fucking hand holding and cotton scent and starlight eyes. Bakugou Katsuki is so fucking pathetic. He’s so ashamed he doesn’t even stare at the mirror for two hours trying to fix his insane hair every morning now.
He is not in love with Izuku. He’s not. He hasn’t been in a long time. There are battles you don’t win.
And so he keeps repeating that like a mantra, hoping it’ll work like witchcraft, and one day woke up to his phone blowing up. His phone has been blowing up almost every day ever since he and Izuku started this fan service thing, but this time it wouldn’t stop.
He rolls lazily to his side as his phone buzzed every other second insistently, patting blindly next to his pillow until he touches cold metal. It really pisses him off when his sleep is disturbed on a day-off, and he couldn’t believe out of all things it had to be because of fucking fan service with Deku as if the plan itself hasn’t fucked his mind up enough.
So when he sat up, unlocked his phone, scrolled through his notifications, and saw what blew up, his heart lurched in his throat.
A tweet reads, guys so this confirms it right…like im insane but this is lowkey not me being insane anymore…right…
The heck? What confirms it?
Katsuki’s brows knit together as his thumb swipes overtime, looking through all the tags and posts. What the hell happened this morning? He hadn’t seen Izuku in two weeks. Almost two weeks.
He continues clicking through all the reposts and quotes until he found it, traced it all back to the original post that blew up. The photo in that post was of such shit quality he initially didn’t even know what he was looking at. The post reads Deku’s wallpaper, followed by hashtag bkdk, bakudeku. He taps into the photo and sees that it is so blurry probably because it was zoomed in and cropped from another bigger fan photo with its exposure dragged all the way up.
“The fuck?” He mutters to himself, heart thrumming in his ears as he tilts his head to try and figure out what the hell Deku has as his phone wallpaper and why the fuck it is related to him. He clicks out of the photo and checks out the replies instead.
Another tweet: I TRIED ENHANCING THE PHOTO GUYS WHAT THE FUCK I’ve never been so good at using canva in my entire life omfg
The media attached is a photo of arguably much better quality than the one in the original post. Katsuki’s heart sticks like hot glue to his throat as his eyes disassemble the photo and his brain catches on.
Undeniable messy blonde hair. He’d tried to forget it, when the ramen and beer came and Izuku said smile Kacchan! and he was forced into a grimace of a smile as he turned sideways to look at the camera.
He’s really starting to hate seeing himself in third person. He doesn’t remember looking like that. Happy and content and heart for eyes, the fuck. He slaps a hand to his forehead. Not another one, and worst of all, as Deku’s fucking wallpaper. So now he definitely knows.
The original photo, a regular picture of Izuku walking down the stairs of a cafe, phone casually down in his hand. He tries to look away, but instead he zooms in on Izuku, and stares and stares because he feels like a few hundred years has passed since he last saw him, his freckles, the curve of his eyes when he smiles. He’s so royally fucked up.
But the most fucked up thing might be his photo on Izuku’s phone. He doesn’t know why; they haven’t agreed on it. And if there is one thing he hates the most other than his heart stuttering like a vintage broken stove right now, is when he doesn’t understand Izuku.
“That son of a bitch,” He growls, almost crushing his phone, Izuku’s grin still bright on his screen.
—
“Kacchan!”
He whips around. Izuku comes running towards him, green curls bouncing under the low street lamps.
Against all reason, Katsuki feels the anvil lift off his body seeing Izuku again, happy and normal, like nothing has changed. Maybe it can be like that, like they’re normal, like Izuku is still his friend and nothing else.
“You’re so early,” Izuku says when he reaches, hands in his puffy hoodie, looking so cozy and warm in the early winter chill.
“And you’re not,” Katsuki tells him, hiding his face in his loose turtle neck.“Let’s go.”
He steps into the izakaya, not waiting on Izuku. He holds up two fingers for the waitress at the front, whose face visibly lights up as she looks past him and sees Izuku ducking into the store through the fabric dividers.
She guides them to a closed off corner car seat, and Izuku thanks her for her consideration with his thousand bucks smile. She sways a little when she walks away, telling them to take their time with their orders.
“The atmosphere here is really good,” Izuku looks around, head bopping to the old school pop songs playing. “I haven’t been to an izakaya in so long.”
“Better not have,” Katsuki grumbles under his breath as he reaches for the menu, flipping through it excessively.
Izuku raises a brow at him. “Did something happen?”
“No?” Katsuki doesn’t stop flipping. “I’ve decided what I want. You can look now.”
He slides the menu across. Izuku catches it before it slips off the table.
“Why are you so grumpy?”
“Why do you smile at fucking everyone?”
“So I’m pissing you off,” Izuku peers at him, hesitant and slow. “because I smile at everyone?”
Katsuki narrows his eyes at Izuku but he doesn’t look away. He hasn’t for a long time now.
After a while, Katsuki sighs and leans back into his seat, rubbing his face.
“Whatever, no,” He lies. “I’ve just been working a lot. Shouldn’t ‘ve taken it out on you, this is fucked up.”
Izuku keeps both of his brows raised, unimpressed albeit a slow grin spreads across his face.
“You’ve gotten old now, you used to be able to do a whole month without whining,” Izuku leisurely looks through the menu, face resting on the center of his palm, speaking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Beer’s on me, then.”
“Beer’s on you because you’re fucking late, not because I’m whining, which I’m not.”
“‘Kay, Kacchan.”
Katsuki glowers at his friend. As if all of this isn’t because of you, he thinks.
The food comes, skewers that soothes Katsuki’s ball of nerves in his stomach, which had been rotting and infesting inside of him until he becomes a younger Katsuki again, desperate and hungry for Izuku with no cure in sight. He had come such a long way, to not care anymore, to shut off that side of him, that soft and wrenching part that ached to be baptized by the rugged hands of his best friend.
Then the beer, which they keep it coming. Free beer is always good beer, especially if Katsuki wants to shoot himself in the head every time Izuku laughs at what he says. He damn well knows he’s not that funny. But as the alcohol finds its way through the nooks and crannies of Katsuki’s head, he relaxes and his cramping muscles loosen. Maybe tonight doesn’t have to be so bad. Maybe he won’t go back to that agonizing maze he’d made for himself.
At the end of the meal, Izuku asks, “Did you see it?”
“See what?”
“My homescreen,” Katsuki almost chokes on his chicken soft bone. He starts coughing violently, and Izuku widens his eyes in alarm. He quickly jumps up and scoots into Katsuki’s side of the booth, clumsy and tripping, patting his back hard until his breathing turns smooth again.
“So silly,” Izuku berates, shaking his head. Katsuki imagines that’s how he talks to his students. He chugs a glass of water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“My homescreen,” Izuku continues, fucking insistent when Katsuki heard him the first fucking time. “It’s you. Did you see it?”
Of fucking course he saw it. Katsuki turns to look at him, because maybe seeing Izuku’s face now will give him an answer to why he did it. Another stupid joke, for their stupid plan that means absolutely nothing to Izuku and everything to Katsuki.
But Izuku, his eyes are wide as he stares at Katsuki from under, face lowered. For once, he’s not smiling, instead looking like puppy who’s knocked over every single vase in the house, waiting for his owner’s verdict. Momentarily, he’s mad at himself for hating Deku for anything at all. It’s not his fault, not his fault that Katsuki’s so stupid and still so in love.
“I did,” Katsuki swallows hard, feeling all the alcohol rush to his head. Izuku looks so young in front of him, so boyish, his curls falling softly against his flushed red face.
“Not too much?” Still cautious, like dipping his toes in the bath.
“No, good job,” He tells him again, quiet and low. He reaches out, touching the back of his knuckles to Izuku’s flaming face. “That’ll do it for them.”
Izuku’s brows melt into a relieved curve, familiar smile coming back. His own hands go up to hold Katsuki’s, sending Katsuki into cardiac arrest, his arms falling limp. Izuku curls his fingers into Katsuki’s palm and brings their hands down, resting them on his thigh lightly.
“Sorry for not telling you before I did it,” Izuku looks down at their conjoined fingers. “I couldn’t reach you.”
Katsuki’s still frozen in his touch, hands on fire. “My fault for not checking messages. You’re fine.”
His friend doesn’t lift his head up, seemingly being consumed in his own thoughts. That happens often, but Katsuki knows it’s probably ‘cause they drank.
“Oi, Deku, don’t sleep here,” He pats Izuku’s face softly a few times. He lifts his head up by the chin then, and is surprised by Izuku’s half-lidded eyes. Sleepy but not closed all the way yet. His head is heavy in Katsuki’s hands.
“I’m not sleeping,” Izuku says.
“You’re not,” Katsuki agrees, lazy smile growing. So he does miss drunk, slow Izuku, eating with Izuku and talking about everything and nothing at all. He can admit this much.
Suddenly Izuku draws in close, grabbing onto Katsuki’s sleeves. His breath fans low on Katsuki’s face. “Wait, you hear that? They’re onto us again.”
“Who?”
“The paparazzi, of course.”
“You’re so drunk,” Katsuki scoffs a laugh. While he doesn’t doubt that people are probably snapping away at their booth, he isn’t a big fan of when Izuku starts acting out soap operas and musicals when he’s drunk. So. “Come on, Deku, let’s get you home.”
He throws Izuku’s arm over his shoulder, and together they stagger towards the cashier. He digs into his wallet for some cash, tipping generously for any ruckus they might have caused, which he’s pretty sure had been close to none, but it really doesn’t hurt to be nice now. If anything, for the sake of his reputation. For the sake of the plan.
They stop at a bus stop so Izuku can sober up. Though he hates to think about it, Katsuki’s a ligher weight than Izuku. He must have drank a hell lot more than Katsuki did to get to this point. He closes his eyes as he leans back onto the plastic shelter, laughing to himself as he remembers Izuku promising to pay.
“What’s so funny?” Izuku looks up at him from his seat, blinking a bunch of times.
“Thought you were paying,” Katsuki snorts.
“I will pay you back,” Izuku replies, worrying his underlip.
Katsuki plants himself down next to Izuku with a huff, shoulders touching.
“Shut up, when did I ever care about this shit? Especially not with you.”
“With me,” Izuku repeats slowly. Katsuki can tell he’s thinking, mind always going into overdrive. “Do you hate it? This stupid plan with me.”
“‘S not stupid, Izuku,” He says. “It works. I think.”
Izuku eyes him from the corner of his eyes, smiling quickly and bumping his shoulders into Katsuki.
“If it still doesn’t, then I’ll make it work,” Izuku said it like he has some real stupid plan up his ass, which he probably does, knowing Izuku.
“‘Cause I’m crazy,” He grins lopsidedly at Katsuki, wiggling his brows comically.
“You think you’re so edgy and cool.”
“Cooler than you.”
Katsuki’s laugh is quiet and low, cautious to not disturb the mellow night and thin line of peace between them right now.
“You know,” Izuku sucks in a breath, continuing. “I never thought you’d agree to this.”
“I never thought you’d suggest it.”
“What?” Izuku laughs into the night. “Why?”
“You’s so morally correct,” Katsuki looks at him like it’s obvious. Izuku, always right, always the better hero between the two of them. “Kacchan we should report this, Kacchan you have to be patient with the elderly.”
“I don’t talk like that,” Izuku makes a face. Katsuki huffs a laugh at his reaction.
“You don’t feel bad, I thought you would.”
It’s not exactly lying, what they’re doing, but not the whole truth either. Katsuki isn’t a bad person. He doesn’t even think he’s morally grey. but here he is, thanking the gods Izuku somehow came up with this god awful plan that allows him to do things with him he otherwise never would have.
“I don’t know,” Izuku finally says, looking up at the sky, nose outlined by the remaining street lights at eleven.
“Wayyyy too crazy and out of my mind to feel bad now.” He drags out his words like when they would sit in front of a fan and talk into it.
“You’re still so fucking drunk, Izuku, I can’t believe this,” Katsuki bursts out laughing, sharp and clear, resisting the itching urge to lean forward and fall endlessly into Izuku’s puffy red bruised cheeks and lazy words. “How much did you even drink?”
“Enough to make out with you,” Izuku says. His head lolls sluggishly to the side as he stares at Katsuki, amusement dancing in his big eyes, the shadows of his long lashes falling under. The most innocent-looking man saying the most perilous thing Katsuki’s ever heard in the history of knowing Midoriya Izuku.
Katsuki sucks in a breath sharply. He realizes Izuku's being serious.
“What do you think will happen? If we made out. Wouldn’t that be insane news?”
The ends of his lips are quirked up, like he genuinely think this is a good idea.
Insanely bad fucking idea.
Fuck, Izuku is actually insane. Katsuki knew, but now he knows. His best friend is one crazy bitch.
“You’re actually out of your fucking mind,” Katsuki breathes, and despite hating Izuku so fucking much at that point, hope and expectation licks dangerously at his heart. Like he’s ten feet underwater, he hears nothing but his own breathing, ragged and uneven.
Izuku scoots closer now, and Katsuki doesn’t fall back. He yells at himself to lean back, stand up and run away, not tread closer, hands snaking around the back of Izuku’s nape like the world’s biggest fucking loser.
“The tabloid’s been following us the whole night,” Izuku’s mouth is right in front of him, soft, beer infused breath landing on his cheeks, his eyes. He talks like he’s telling Katsuki a secret, like he used to when they stole their moms’ fresh baked cookies off the kitchen table and ran off into the backyard. Katsuki’s eyes dart down to Izuku’s lips, slick and wet as the boy quickly swipes his tongue over it. He looks back up, seeing the roguish glint in green eyes, how Izuku’s eyes rake over his face almost in a hungry craze.
“We’ll give them a good show, right, Kacchan?” Izuku laughs quietly, now close enough that one of his hands are on Katsuki’s thighs again like how they were back in the restaurant, Izuku’s body warmth seeping through his denim pants. Something ugly and long forgotten grips the base of Katsuki’s stomach.
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Katsuki tells him again, voice low and trembling, head tilting treacherously close.
“We’ll make headlines, Kacchan,” Izuku drawls, even closer now, gaze held low on Katsuki’s lips. He’s gonna die.
And just like that, the wind is knocked out of his own lungs as he lunges forward, that few centimeters, palm on the back of Izuku’s neck pushing his face forward to himself, smashing their mouths together in a mad rush.
Izuku gasps like he had not been the one asking for it. But fast as always, he returns with eagerness not even a moment later, tilting his own head to the side to slot better with the angles of Katsuki’s face, mouth hot and both hands shooting up to grab his face, squeezing them tightly in his calloused hands, rough and soft all at once. Like he had been waiting, practicing. The thought alone drives Katsuki crazy.
Parting briefly just to breath, they go in again, and Katsuki tongues at Izuku’s mouth, which gasps open with barely any prompting. His hands slide down Izuku’s back, holding him in place so he doesn’t fall over as he eats away at Izuku, chest pressing against his, forcing his friend to lean back. Izuku lets one of his hand fall away from Katsuki’s face in favour of supporting himself, while his other palm reaches under and grabs ahold of Katsuki’s chin and jaw, grip so tight Katsuki is scared he’ll break.
But he hopes Izuku breaks him, lets Izuku eat him alive, tongue swirling in his mouth, hot and searing, his cotton scent sending Katsuki into overdrive any time he swishes his hair. This isn’t fucking real. His head is whirling, and when they break apart, a thin line of saliva stringing, Izuku is looking at him with his goddamn half lidded eyes, just like all the times he had haunted Katsuki in his lonely queen-sized bed, waking up right before their mouths touch like a world-class creep.
“Was I good?” Izuku mutters, eyes glazed over, fingers still holding on tightly to Katsuki’s face.
“Yeah,” He croaks, voice hoarse and foreign in his throat. “Yeah, good job, Deku.”
Izuku grins, all crooked and like he’d done absolutely nothing wrong, and slumps down onto Katsuki’s front.
“What the actual fuck,” Katsuki looks down at the bird nest of hair, fucked up and touseled from his own fucking hands, holy fucking shit. He ruffles Izuku’s hair once, twice. He doesn’t budge.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” He groans, dragging his nails through his hair, rubbing it all over until he’s sure he looks like an unrecognizable mad man.
There should be some kind of wiki-how out there or fucking reddit post written thirty-four years ago telling him how to deal with this shit, right?
Because he’d really done it this time. Fucked up real, fucking, bad.
—
His worst predictions melt into reality like a pool of dirty, sewage water.
He has drank enough times with Izuku to know how much beer and how many shots it’ll take for him to completely black out and lose his memory. The answer is an unknown number because it has not happen yet. It’s insane how high his tolerance is, and that’s also how Katsuki knows Izuku definitely remembers what happened.
So there they are, two people who can probably recall every single crevice the other’s tongue has been at in their own mouths, trying to work and be together without losing their goddamn minds.
Katsuki and Izuku still talks. Izuku acts normal, or tries to be. He tells Katsuki Good morning and grimaces at himself. Katsuki fucking hates it so he leaves the room. And as a by-product, their project comes to a halt, though only known to the two of them. When their manager asked, he simply said sick, before he’s on his feet again, rushing somewhere else. Somewhere preferably without Izuku. Izuku and his stuttering words, like he’s scared of Katsuki; like he’s disgusted by what they did.
Katsuki sometimes still checks up on their tags on social media, and it’s just fans mourning and whining about the lack of interaction after the whole fiasco of them allegedly making out. The tabloids were indeed on their asses that night, photos of them hanging out in the restaurant flooding the internet. People freaked out over it, seeing their alcohol infused faces and clingy limbs. That set of photos were all anyone could talk about for weeks. It made headlines that's for sure.
He took one look at the shot where his unmistakable blonde hair blocked off half of Izuku’s face at the bus stop, the other man’s eyes shut closed, and turned off his phone with a click, shoving it deep into his pockets. It’s over now anyway. People can complain all they want but it’s fucking over. Izuku hasn’t even attempted to contact him.
Boy does he fucking hate this, an unending cycle of being stuck in a limbo of proximity and alienation with Izuku. Reaching him seems so impossible now. Just like Sisyphus, he grows closer to his childhood friend just to end up right where they started. But it’s okay. He had learnt to live like that for a while now. It is all Izuku’s fault for pulling him into the eye of the storm and then escaping it himself.
Awkward or not, they have to work together still.
They get called in for an armed robbery, eleven hostages in total kept in a bank in Shinjuku. Fucking Shinsou out of everyone got called in too, and Katsuki has nothing against the guy but he always looks like he needs to sleep on clouds for a few hundred years and that pisses him off.
Yeah no, he’s definitely just being a bitch now.
The robber doesn’t seem very smart albeit quiped with quite a useful quirk. Hey was all Shinsou had to say before he growled in reply and got brainwashed. Wow, Katsuki was so glad for him at that moment. He can get off early and probably not talk to Izuku? What a fucking score.
Wrong.
He presses his in-ear. “Dynamight’s going in.”
A muffled crackle comes on. “No, don’t, he’s got bombs lined up in that place. And we don’t know where it is.”
Fucking Izuku. Katsuki seethes and weighs his option. What are the chances he can just sneak in from the ceiling right now and bound him up without Izuku yapping his ear off and smacking his ass later?
As if that little bitch can read his mind, a page comes again. “Dynamight, I’m serious, please don’t.”
“Haven’t even done shit, yet, Deku.”
“No yeah, he’s got Telekinesis, that’s definitely going to counter my quirk. We don’t know how much longer we have.” Shut the fuck up, Shinsou.
“The hostages are out already, we should wait for backup,” Izuku chimes in, his voice annoyingly high in Katsuki’s ears right now he just wants to rip his in-ear right off. He swears he’s a team player. He fucking is.
But this is all Izuku’s fault. Right from the beginning.
“Since when were you such a coward?” He sneers into the intercom. Silence falls, his tinnitus humming dimly at the back.
Then, “It’s about doing the right thing, Dynamight.”
The way Izuku says Dynamight has Katsuki’s blood boiling and spilling over. Like he’s childish and stupid and impulsive. Like he’s a fucking stranger. He feels something snaps in him as he swings himself up to the top.
Trying his best to peer into the frosted glass, he locates the robber staring mindlessly at the sky, right in the middle of the room.
“So fucking easy,” He mutters to himself, unlatching a window. In his mind, he repeats three things: Arrest him, go home, avoid Izuku.
“Dynamight!” The cracking static creeps up again, Izuku’s voice urgent and stern. Katsuki grins to himself. He jumps and drops to the ground without a thud, stalking closer to the robber, feet light and quiet, careful not to disturb the liminal peace in the lobby of the bank.
“Kacchan, get out!” Izuku yells in his ears.
Katsuki pauses in his tracks, thrown off by the name. They rarely stray from their hero names at work. It’s more convenient that way, being detached and impartial. It’s always better to be indifferent.
The robber’s head snaps back down at that exact moment, sensing movement behind his back, the brainwash broken. Katsuki takes off into mid-air, hands stretched out, ready for close combat, when the man in front of him whips around, points a finger gun at him, closes one eye and aims.
Piuu! The robber shoots his imaginary gun, and Katsuki barely has time to dodge before the bombs behind his head go off like fireworks. He whirls around in the air, explosions running off his palm to push himself away from the chaos, body dropping low to scoop the thief up in one hand, blasting away to put distance between them and the explosives previously disguised as surveillance cameras. The heat burns and peels at his arms.
“Kacchan, shit!” Is the last thing he hears before his in-ear pops and he lands on the floor, roughly rounding up the criminal with the handcuffs slung on his belt.
—
Later, he’s sitting in a half-opened area in the ER section, a quiet nurse wrapping the grazed skin on his face and his burnt arms in gauze and antiseptic. He hears him before he sees him, the angry stomp of his metal boots etching closer and closer before the curtain he was hiding behind is yanked straight across with a jarring screech, revealing a very pissed off Izuku.
“Why’d you act so reckless?”
“Got it done, though,” Katsuki doesn’t look at him, top suit off for the nurse to sanitize and rub medicine over his burns.
“You know I hate it when we don’t communicate properly,” Izuku crosses his arms in front of Katsuki, stature looming over them, unbudging.
“And you’ve just been doing the most amazing job at that, right, Deku?” Katsuki shoots Izuku a quick glare before returning his attention to the nurse, who seems to be dabbing the gauze extra meticulously across Katsuki’s wounds.
Despite their cold war, Izuku somehow still reads his mind. He leans down at the nurse, and after mustering his wide fat smile, he says, “Excuse me,” He eyes her name tag. “Takeshima. Is it okay if me and Dynamight step out for a bit? We won’t be long.”
The nurse widens her eyes and nods her head. Izuku throws a shirt at Katsuki and orders him to put it on. With Izuku promising her ten minutes, he then takes Katsuki’s wrist in his as tightly as he can without ripping off Katsuki’s delicate arm and drags him outside, away from the main rotating doorway. They stop at a seemingly deserted carpark two minutes away from the hospital.
“Something’s up.”
“Nothing is, you smartass,” Katsuki bites back, taking two steps back from Izuku.
“Then why are you trying so hard to go against me today?”
"If you can get your big head out of your fucking ass for a sec and realize not everything is about you, maybe just now would have went better,” Katsuki snaps, a hand roughly gesturing to behind him.
Izuku’s expression grows darker, mouth pressed into a deep scowl.
“Be very honest, Kacchan,” Izuku says, brows set in a hard line. Katsuki scoffs in annoyance at the nickname. “Is this about the kiss?”
“The fuck?” Katsuki narrows his eyes at him. “If this is what you wanted to talk about, fuck it, I’m outta here.”
He turns to leave. Izuku’s hands shoot out and hangs onto his wrist just before he can slip out of the shade and back into the sun. He hisses quietly at the contact.
“Shit, sorry, Kacchan, sorry,” Izuku says in a hurry, briefly out of his irritation. His grip on him loosens. Katsuki looks back at him, brows tight on his forehead.
“Look,” Izuku swallows, wringing his fingers together, feet awkwardly wide apart. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I kissed you, it’s too much even for the project or whatever. I won’t do it again, so… just don’t be mad, okay?”
Katsuki seethes silently. “What, you’re sorry now?”
“Yes, Kacchan, I mean—”
“So you fucking regret it.”
Izuku whips up his face, eyes wide in surprise. “No, what? That’s not what I’m trying to say.”
Katsuki barks a laugh. “Wow, a liar now, too. It would have been better if you pretended you were so fucking drunk you didn’t remember what happened.”
“What the hell?” Izuku frowns deeply. “I regret it only in the way I wish I hadn’t ruin it between us. Because now you won’t talk to me. When was the last time we had a proper conversation?”
“I won’t talk to you?" Katsuki snaps at Izuku, chest puffed out and stalking closer. “The way you act so disgustingly careful around me tells me everything I need to know. What a goddamn coward, Izuku.”
“And you are so open and willing to talk about it now,” Izuku retorts, stalking closer to Katsuki, resting his hands on his waist. “You seem hella mad at me half the time, and the other times I don’t even see you at all! And when we work together you don’t tell me the plan, ignore everything I suggest, and do everything by yourself like we’re sixteen all over again! It’s not like I can just come up to you and say hello!”
Right, sixteen year-old Katsuki. Just barely alive again before realizing he actually can’t afford to lose Izuku in his life for the first fucking time. How does Deku manage to bring out his best and absolute worst all the fucking time?
He can feel his whole body pulled taut like a rubber band stretched, just the tiniest nudge to set him off. He balls his fists, the vexation and frustration racing through his blood with no outlet. What does Izuku know? What the hell does he know about hating yourself so much for ruining everything when you fell in love with your most important friend, all the sleepless nights just asking yourself why, why, why out of everyone it has to be him?
“If you hate me, hated what I did, talk to me. You gotta tell me, Kacchan. This is why— why we’re always stuck on things, things between us. Because we don’t talk! we never freaking tell each other things,” Izuku lashes out, voice shaky and coarse despite all the bravado in his words.
“Just what the hell do you want me to talk about?” Katsuki yells at him, scrubbing harshly all over his own face, trying to clear his mind and not go insane from all the pent-up exasperation.
“‘Cause you suggested it, Deku, what the fuck!” He steps into Izuku’s space, scrunching up the neckline of his shirt harshly. “Everything! Is this all just a fucking joke to you? Aya showed me your October brand ranking, it’s at ninty-six point seven eight!”
Izuku stares at him, hands helplessly limp on both sides of his body as he lets Katsuki grab onto him. They’re eye to eye, distance between their faces less than an inch. Izuku’s neckline is loose and bunched up, exposing bare skin that makes Katsuki want to wrap his hand around and sink his teeth deep into it. He has really fucking lost it.
“You didn’t need this,” He continues, heaving. “You suggested it knowing FULL well you didn’t need any of this and you also knew I don’t give a single shit about what the stupid public thinks of me.”
“That’s not true—” Izuku desperately tries to retaliate, face red and eyes hard like a defiant child.
“And now it’s all gone to shit just because we fucking kissed— fine I can’t blame it on you, I went for it first— “
“Gone to shit not because we kissed but because we don’t talk about how we fucking feel!”
“And that is only my fault?” Katsuki growls at him. He lets go and pushes Izuku away. “You’re acting so fucking weird and skittish and careful around me it’s honestly driving me insane! You idiotic coward, if you knew you couldn’t handle it then you shouldn’t have fucking suggested anything from the start!”
“Me? I can’t handle it? You were the one who looked like I forced you to eat raw seaweed when I first proposed the plan to you. Remember? When you got banned from that civilian rescue, so you’re welcome.”
“Your hair is raw seaweed,” Katsuki deadpans, instantly wanting to slap himself from how immature he can get when he’s arguing with Izuku. Goddamn infuriating.
“You’re still so stupid, Kacchan,” Izuku glowers, coughing up the word stupid like he meant it more than one way.
“I didn’t wanna fucking do it in the first place, Izuku, maybe you shouldn’t have pushed when I said no,” Katsuki snaps at him, jabbing a finger close to Izuku’s chest. “You think it’s so fucking funny, seeing me act like I’m so in love with you. You’re actually sick in the head, fuck my ass. If this is some kind of twisted revenge to make me look stupid—”
“Do you think about me that way?” Izuku cuts in sharply, and Katsuki realizes only then that his eyes have glazed over and glistens like how it does whenever Izuku would cry. He knew from how much of a crybaby his friend is, crying when he trips, when he watches movies, when his friends love him so much on his birthday he doesn’t know what to do with himself. But he doesn’t cry so much now, and certainly not because of him.
“I don’t, Izuku, ‘course I don’t,” Katsuki croaks out weakly, the pit of fire in him suddenly gone damp and blown out. “But just what the hell am I supposed to think?”
“I don’t know anything when it comes to you, Izuku,” He says after a while, quiet and low, the tips of his fingers shaking. “Never did.”
“Same to you,” Izuku replies, wrapping his arms around himself, looking so small and frail despite his big arms and shoulders.
“What does that even mean,” Katsuki asks dryly, because he is, and have been so obvious and frank when it comes to how he feels about Izuku. Begging, asking him to stay, finding excuses to rotate around the shining star just a little longer before all the other planets eventually overwhelms and kicks him out of Izuku’s orbit.
Izuku sighs and slides down to the floor, squating, his arms straight and thrown over his knees as he talks to the ground.
“I hate that you’re right this time, Kacchan. It’s so selfish, what I’m doing. Just trying to keep you here with me. Playing pretend and hoping that somehow things will work out.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Izuku?” Katsuki gnaws at his bottom lip, nerves in knotted clumps, fingers itching to do something, anything at all to stop the spiders crawling all over his chest. That’s his fucking line, dumbass. Playing pretend, convincing himself that maybe an ounce of this is real. He had dared to hope.
“I was so sure back then just after high school, for a while at least. Every time you smiled at me I was just like There it is, the confirmation I needed. But then you pulled back out of nowhere, retreated into your own shell like before, and then I didn’t know.
“I was so sure back then, so so sure. It makes me feel so self centered and stupid when I could feel that you were running away. Izuku you’ve done it, finally scared you away now that you’ve caught on.”
Katsuki face twists harshly, despising the Izuku who spoke in codes and riddles, so endlessly frustrating and so damn confusing.
“You can’t fucking scare me away from anything.”
Izuku keeps his head down, shoulders moving up and down slowly. “I have. You know it, don’t you?”
Katsuki’s brows shoots to the root of his hair. Gawking and genuinely so ready to move on from guessing what Izuku is trying to fucking say.
“I don’t have a single fucking clue what you’re trying to tell me right now,” He sighs. “Deku, please, just— Fuck, I don’t even know. What do you want? To terminate the project? For me to forget what’s happened? Because fuck, if you don’t tell me, how the hell—”
“You asked me if I feel bad about the plan,” Izuku cuts in. “Yes I do, of course I do, it feels like a bunch of lies just to get people to like us but I was willing to do it for entirely different reasons. I’m such a bad person, Kacchan. All I wanted to do was get you back. Maybe turn it around so it can be like how we used to be.
“You were just so close that night, so relaxed and easy, I made a mistake. And you ran off again.”
“Doesn’t have to be a fucking mistake,” Katsuki mutters, biting his lip from the mention of that night again. Memories of Izuku’s face flood in, clouding his logic, all sleepy eyes and lazy smile, lips red and swollen just from that few minutes. It’ll ruin them but he would do it again. “Did fucking insane numbers on socials now.”
Izuku scoffs, tired. He shakes his head to himself. “Don’t care about them.”
“Izuku, the hell, just look at me, please,” Katsuki kneels down in front of his friend, staring at the crown of his head. “We’ll talk properly, ‘kay?”
They both stay there for a while, Izuku keeled over like an ostrich, face buried between his legs; and Katsuki, down there with Izuku, lost and tired and still so in love.
“Watching you pretend to be in love with me, hah. Wasn’t funny at all, don’t worry,” Izuku laughs after a while, humorless. “Did make me feel very happy though.”
Katsuki sucks in a breath.
“What?”
“Didn’t know you were going to be so good at it. Fooled the world, almost fooled me too,” Izuku says, words shaky and wet, muffled in his sleeves. Katsuki widens his eyes. “I thought maybe this could go on forever.”
“Wasn’t pretending,” He blurts out, feeling the uncomfortable lurch of his stomach as the confession rolls out of his dry mouth.
Izuku raises his face sharply, usual bright eyes now tired and red, cheeks streaking with thin lines of dried tears.
“Huh?”
Katsuki just kneels there, sun behind him, hot and harsh on his back, a single bead of sweat rolling down his undershirt despite the winter air. He opens his mouth, then closes it again.
“I wasn’t faking it. Being in love with you.”
Izuku’s eyebrows shoots up, his mouth dropping wide and open with a clank.
Katsuki’s heart cartwheels in his throat, dizzy and sick from the implication of Izuku’s monologue just now; at what he’s about to tell him. He admits he’s insecure and slow when it comes to Izuku, but what Izuku had just told him— that much, he can decipher.
He stands up abruptly, putting distance between them, head piping hot.
“So much harder pretending I wasn’t, all this time.”
“All this time?” Izuku repeats, standing up slowly and wobbly.
Katsuki doesn’t reply, just nods curtly, face on fire and eyes tracking every one of Izuku’s moves. His staggering gait, his trembling eyes and his unsure hands as he stumbles forward and latches onto Katsuki’s arms. His own hands finds their way to Izuku’s too, gripping it tightly on instinct, aching to touch any part of him again after what feels like a long bad dream.
It’s on fire, the parts of him that connected with Izuku. He understands now, he always had, the looks of awe on passerbys when Izuku drifted close. To be touched and held by an angel.
“What do you mean all this time? Like when? From when?”
“Since we were friends again.”
“Were we ever not friends?”
“Deku, you know what I mean,” Katsuki scoffs.
“I know,” Izuku replies, urgent. “But when? I never knew, I always thought—” He blinks and blinks again, trying to set his thoughts straight.
“UA, whatever, shit,” Katsuki rambles, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. “Fuck. I can’t believe I said it, fuck.”
He swivels away from Izuku, turning his face towards the sun. He covers his mouth. This is a fucking fever dream.
“How did I not know?” Izuku wonders quietly behind him, sounding out of breath.
“‘Cause you’re stupid. Which I already knew. But this really sets a new fucking record of stupidity from you,” Katsuki says roughly.
Izuku walks forward and touches his arm gently, pulling him around. He turns back, hesitant, afraid, scared to ruin the moment.
“Don’t cry, Kacchan.” So gentle, so soft. What a fucking blessing to be talked to like that by Midoriya Izuku.
“’m not,” He sniffs. Izuku’s eyes grows into crescent moons. Then he throws his arms behind Katsuki’s neck, pulling his head into the crook of his neck. Katsuki takes a deep breath and lets Izuku’s musky cotton scent fill his head. He wraps his arms around Izuku’s mid, feels the heat kissing his arms. He knows if he gets any closer he will die.
“I thought you found out back then that I liked you, that’s why you started distancing yourself,” Izuku murmurs, puffs of breath fanning his damp, matted hair. He strokes Katsuki’s hair with just the tips of his fingers, careful.
“Thought you liked somebody else,” Katsuki says back, burying his face even deeper into the crook of Izuku’s neck. For the longest time after school, it had felt that he was only ever looking at Izuku’s retreating back, his eyes turned towards someone else. He thought he’d finally lost him, the golden boy in his life, just like how he always thought he would.
But Izuku. Always a miracle.
His miracle backs away momentarily, surprise evident.
“No,” Izuku shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re crazy, Kacchan. Only you.”
“Only you too,” Katsuki rasps.
Hearing that, Izuku smiles wide and big, the genuine kind that Katsuki likes to think that he reserves for no one else but him. It takes the anvil off his chest, knowing he doesn’t have to share the sun-kissed Izuku with the rest of the world; that he would never be kicked out of the orbit no matter how crowded it gets.
“So you never ran away? It was all in my head?” Izuku mutters, eyes searching.
“I tried,” Katsuki huffs a short dull laugh. “Only time I’ve failed in my life.”
“Damn egoist,” Izuku says, slapping his chest lightly. Katsuki takes it in his own.
“Guess you and your stupid plan worked.”
“Guess my plan’s not stupid anymore then.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes, humor tugging on his lips.
“So,“ Izuku eyes him slowly, eyes big and mischievous. “Another kiss?”
—
Izuku laughs in his kind-hearted manner. The lights shine bright on him in the studio, where he talks with his hands flailing around him, drawing shapes into the air.
“It’s all good fun, I know. But sometimes, maybe it’s better to not throw mindless speculations into other people’s relationships. Dynamight and I, it’s fine, you know, we’ve known each other for so long.”
“How did you and Dynamight handle it before then? it was all the craze before it died down,” The host looked to the audience dramatically, then, “Which looks like it didn’t even! I’m assuming you guys are just more lowkey about your tight friendship now, right? But yes, did it ever put any pressure on you two?”
Izuku smiles, crooked and cheeky. “Well, can’t say it didn’t. but me and my boyfriend, we talked about it. We don’t mind people saying things about us. More like he doesn’t care anyway.”
The host’s eyes budge right out of his sockets, quickly doing a sweep around the room and towards backstage to make sure everyone heard it right. Murmurs flow from the spectator seats. This is off-script. Hero Deku has never said anything about a boyfriend before tonight.
“Your boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” Izuku’s grin widens, ear to ear. “Dynamight, who we were talking about tonight. Me and Kacchan, we’re dating.”
The hall erupts in astonished gasps and whistled cheers, with Izuku bursting out in laughter and the host’s own mouth stretching slowly as he realizes how one sentence had just single-handedly pushed his show’s viewership all the way to the top probably for the next few weeks.
“Is Dynamight watching now?” The host sits forward, pearly whites on display.
“Probably,” Izuku says. Then he turns to the first camera in front of him and waves. “Hi Kacchan, did I do a good job? Just like we discussed!”
Somewhere in Tokyo, a groupchat of six high school girls starts pinging nonstop the entire night.
—
“Whatcha watching?” His keys jangle as he yanks it off the door.
Izuku’s head turns from where he is on the couch, sprawled all over, long limbs hanging off. He grins.
“Come, Kacchan, you’ll like this.'“
Katsuki drags his tired feet behind him, throwing his backpack somewhere to the side. Then he walks over to behind the couch, squinting to see what Izuku has blasting at full volume on the TV.
“What the…” He starts as the big titles at the bottom of the video comes into focus.
“BakuDeku top ten moments! Yes!” Izuku squeals and throws his head back, cackling like a hyena.
“You are so fucking geeked out you’re watching this shit,” Katsuki says. “I can’t believe it. Who even has the time to be making this?”
Izuku clicks around on the remote. “Uhh.. BakuDekuLuver4ever.”
Katsuki scoffs but rounds the couch, letting his feet go limp and plopping himself right behind Izuku’s stretched out legs.
“Ow!” Izuku complains. Katsuki ignores him and snatches the remote over. He sticks his tongue out to the corner of his mouth, pressing around.
“Let’s see what the top moment is,” He leans back, long holding the forward button.
Izuku barks a laugh. “I already know.”
“You think you know everything.”
“I actually do know everything.”
Katsuki hits pause on the video, then turns to Izuku on his right, who is lying down with a hand behind his head, smug look slapped across his face.
“Okay, what’s the top one?”
“Kacchan Bakugo.”
“You actually suck at this,” Katsuki turns back to the screen, ready to play again.
“What’s your guess then, genius?” Izuku frees his legs from under and swings them over Katsuki’s lap.
“When we fucking kissed maybe?” Katsuki waves the remote in front of him like duh ‘cause isn’t that fucking obvious?
Izuku raises a brow at him and says, “Okay, play it now, Kacchan.”
It is Kacchan Bakugo.
“This is rigged as shit,” Katsuki yells in exasperation, groaning as Izuku hugs his waist from the side, giggling from the high of the smallest, dumbest victory. “How is that a BakuDeku situation when it’s literally just me?”
“It’s cute, what do you mean! Everyone thought it was like a declaration of love after they found out where the nickname came from. Me.”
Izuku points to himself proudly. Katsuki goes silent, pursing his lips before eyeing Izuku. “It was though.”
Izuku’s eyes go wide. His bottom lips shakes, and he leaps onto Katsuki.
“Aw, Kacchan!”
Extra
“Did anybody else know?”
“Uh,” Katsuki starts intelligently, hands going behind his ears to fumble with his helix. “Some high school girls, I guess.”
Izuku chokes out an ugly burst of cackle. “What?”
“The girls from the cafe,” Katsuki lets out slowly as an explanation.
Izuku nods quickly, body tilted forward, eager. “But we weren’t together back then.”
Katsuki rubs the back of his neck. He sighs. “Told them anyway. That I liked you.”
Ever so slowly, Izuku’s face stretches and stretches until there is no space for anything else except a big fat loving smile.
“You’re so cute, Kacchan, so cute,” He falls forward into Katsuki’s arms, fingers finding the blonde’s cheeks. “Shit, I love you so much.”
Katsuki’s face burns and he pushes Izuku’s looming face out of the way. '“Shut up, they asked! It’s not like I’m going around spilling my shit!”
“But you can now!” Izuku throws his hands up in celebration.
“Fine,” Katsuki relents, snaking his body away from under Izuku. Izuku grabs onto his waist, impish grin handsome and magnetic.
“And you will!”
Katsuki stares at Izuku for a bit, so close and in reach. He sighs happily and pecks his forehead real quick. “Yes, I will.”