Work Text:
Katsuki slid a piece of paper across the desk to Izuku.
“Here,” he said.
Izuku took the paper, scrutinizing it, before saying, “Uh, I don’t really know what I’m looking at?”
Katsuki stared him dead in the eyes, expression serious as he stated, “It’s my heart.”
Well, that much seemed true. The paper, a thick glossy sheet, showed what was visibly an x-ray of someone’s chest, bones glowing white around an indistinct blob that lay where Izuku knew a heart would go. The question was less what? and more why?
“Why are you showing me this?” he asked hesitantly.
Had they found something wrong with Katsuki’s heart at his last exam? The thought sent a wave of panic through Izuku that he tried to suppress.
“I’m not showing. I’m giving,” Katsuki explained, like that made any sense.
“Giving me… an x-ray of your heart? Why?”
That made Katsuki groan in irritation, like he was frustrated that Izuku wasn’t understanding him.
“If you don’t want it, fucking say so,” he growled, tone edging into a dangerous territory that Izuku was familiar with. It meant he was reaching the end of his short fuse, and that was always followed by yelling and explosions, usually directed Izuku’s way.
“I do! I just… don’t really get it, Kacchan,” Izuku said.
“What’s not to get?”
His voice was growing loud, causing some heads to turn their way throughout the quiet of the campus library. Other students peered up from the reports on their desks pryingly. It wasn’t unusual, Katsuki always turned heads when his anger bordered on exhibitionary.
“I’m not a doctor, Kacchan, I’m not trained to understand an x-ray—”
“It’s not about the damn x-ray! It’s my heart!” he barked.
“Is there something wrong with it, Kacchan?” Izuku asked, panicked, “Did they find something?”
Memories of years ago floated through his mind, of Katsuki, pale and limp lying in a pool of his own blood, chest carved open so you could see right inside to where his heart was supposed to be beating. But it wasn’t. It just sat there uselessly. Would it happen again? Would Izuku have to face Katsuki’s lifeless eyes all over again? The prospect made Izuku’s throat feel tight, his body feel numb.
“They didn’t find shit, works fucking fine,” Katsuki answered, gritting his teeth.
Relief flooded Izuku instantly, fear making way for unabashed confusion.
“So then, why are you giving me an x-ray—”
“Forget the damn x-ray!”
“It’s an x-ray, Kacchan!”
“It’s. My. Heart.”
“Why?”
“Why the fuck do you think, moron?” Katsuki shouted, hands outstretched in front of him like he was ready to strangle Izuku.
Katsuki had been a handful lately and it was exhausting to deal with. Izuku just wanted them to be happy together, but something was always setting the other off and preventing that.
“Would you just tell me?” Izuku pleaded.
“Fuck you,” Katsuki spat, snatching the paper up and stalking away, palms smoking, which was how a lot of conversations with Katsuki ended these days.
Izuku wasn’t sure what it was, but Katsuki’s temper would flare at the drop of a hat recently. The number of times he had blown up at Izuku for some slight only he perceived had grown to numbers that rivaled their middle school days. It wasn’t as bad as back then, because there were still nice moments between Izuku and Katsuki that evened out the more negative, but it was aggravating nonetheless. Izuku didn’t know what Katsuki’s problem was.
Usually, it went like this: Everything was fine between Izuku and Katsuki, then Katsuki exploded over something unpredicted and confusing, Katsuki would storm off and Izuku would let him cool down, then Izuku would apologize, Katsuki would forgive him and everything would be fine again.
It had started around graduation, but Izuku wasn’t sure what, specifically, had sparked this sour attitude from the other man. Everything had been fine before then. Better than fine, even. The two teenagers had been inseparable since the war, borderline codependent according to Izuku’s friends and therapist. They still were, but Katsuki’s temper had come back with a vengeance that always seemed to find Izuku, and it tainted things a bit.
He had gotten mad at Izuku for anything ranging from looking at him wrong (how Katsuki had wanted Izuku to look at him was never stated), to forgetting a memory from their childhood that Katsuki had apparently deemed as very important to them. The moments always felt inane to Izuku, harmless and inconsequential, but clearly they meant more to Katsuki. It would just be nice if Katsuki would be straightforward about why they irked him so much, what the meaning behind it all was, instead of just yelling vaguely. Then maybe Izuku could avoid these outbursts to begin with, or at the very least, feel less guilty about his apologies feeling insincere on account of never actually knowing what he was apologizing for.
He was always actually sorry. Izuku hated to make Katsuki mad, hated seeing him upset, especially because of Izuku’s carelessness. It drove him insane, thinking about all the ways he had fucked up, all the little things that slipped his radar and sent Katsuki into a wild rampage of hurt. If it was up to him, he’d be perfect for Katsuki. But Izuku had no idea what Katsuki wanted from him these days and he just kept fucking up. So his apologies always sounded a little flat in his ears.
Still, Katsuki always forgave him. And Katsuki was always so nice once he forgave Izuku. Like a flipped switch, he’d go from red hot scowls and sparking palms to soft smiles and playful teasings. He’d melt for Izuku, gooey and sweet like burnt caramel, affectionate in a way a younger Izuku had thought was impossible. Whenever Katsuki was mad at him, Izuku longed for a return to the blissful peace they had once had, in which Katsuki would cling to him, nuzzle up against him in quiet moments they never talked about, look at him like Izuku wasn’t useless.
Izuku resolved to go over to Katsuki's apartment and apologize once he was done studying and Katsuki had hopefully regained some rationality.
He would love to go now, but if Katsuki was still worked up, he doubted much progress would be made. Plus, this midterm was due by the end of the night, and he was incredibly behind even though he’d had the last two weeks to work on it. It was just that Katsuki always seemed to want to hang out whenever Izuku had a free moment. Yes, he could have delegated his time better, but he had his priorities, and Katsuki always came first.
A few hours later found Izuku standing at Katsuki’s door, knocking away like he was worried Katsuki wouldn’t hear him.
After a short while, the knob turned and the door cracked open, Katsuki’s face pushing through to glare at Izuku.
His eyes looked a little puffy and bloodshot, like he’d been crying. Had Izuku made him that angry?
Kacchan looks so pretty when he cries…
Izuku shook away the thought, trying to compose himself.
“Fuck do you want?” Katsuki said in a growl that’s fierceness was undermined by the cracks in his voice.
“I want to say I’m sorry about earlier. Can I come in?”
Katsuki’s frown deepened, but he opened the door the rest of the way.
Izuku entered, taking off his shoes, and making his way to Katsuki’s living room. The two men sat down on the sofa, Izuku nervously wringing his hands as Katsuki glared through him, their usual dance.
“So?” Katsuki spat.
“I’m sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku breathed, “I didn’t mean to upset you. And I appreciate you trying to give me something, it isn’t that I don’t want it, I just… if you told me what it’s supposed to mean, I’d probably like it more.”
Katsuki’s expression didn’t soften, not that Izuku expected it to. These conversations were usually long and drawn out, getting to the bottom of what Katsuki was actually upset about through indirect words and figuring out the best way to placate him.
“You should already know,” Katsuki said bitterly.
“I know. But I don’t.”
“You’re supposed to get it, why don’t you get it?” he insisted, frustration mounting in his voice.
“All you did was give me a piece of paper and refuse to answer any questions. I want to understand it, Kacchan, but I don’t have a lot to go off of.”
“It’s my heart,” Katsuki said for the millionth time.
“Okay. It’s your heart,” Izuku nodded.
Katsuki raised his eyebrows like he was waiting for Izuku to put the pieces together.
“I’m sorry, I still don’t really understand.”
“You’re not that fucking dense, Izuku,” Katsuki spat, “You obviously don’t want it, so fucking say it.”
“I do want it!” Izuku defended, though he didn’t even know what it meant. He just knew Katsuki was upset that Izuku didn’t want whatever he was giving, and he didn’t want Katsuki to be upset with him.
“No you don’t!”
“Kacchan, I just don’t understand why an x-ray of your heart is so important!”
Katsuki groaned.
“It isn’t about the fucking x-ray!”
“Yeah, okay, you don’t like the word ‘x-ray’, I get it!” Izuku huffed, “Just tell me, Kacchan, I don’t want to fight with you!”
“It’s my goddamn fucking heart, Izuku!”
“We’re going in circles,” Izuku stated.
“Cause you can’t put two and fucking two together!”
“It’s your heart.”
“Yes.”
“You’re giving me… your heart?”
“Oh my fucking god, yes!”
Wait, what?! That couldn’t be what Katsuki meant, because it sounded like he was saying he was giving Izuku his heart, like, confessing his love for Izuku. But Katsuki couldn’t be in love with Izuku. That would practically flip the entire world on its axis! Izuku was lucky to even be in Katsuki’s orbit, to be in his good graces, so certainly he wasn’t the object of Katsuki’s affections. Katsuki would probably clobber him over the head for even considering that was what he meant!
“I still don’t get it, Kacchan,” he said nervously.
“What the hell do you not get?” Katsuki practically roared, and Izuku realized this apology was going worse than usual, “I am giving you. My. Heart.”
“Do you realize how that sounds?” Izuku asked, burying his blushing face in his hands.
“Do you think I’m stupid like you? Of course I know how that sounds!”
Izuku curled further into himself, squeaking, “It sounds like you’re in love with me!”
“I went through the fucking trouble of scheduling a doctor’s appointment, lying about chest pains, sitting through a goddamn x-ray, for you to not fucking get it! It sounds like I’m in love with you?” Katsuki barked impatiently.
“It does!” Izuku said meekly.
“No fucking shit it does, idiot!”
Izuku paused. Was Katsuki saying…
“Wait, Kacchan,” Izuku peeked through his fingers slightly to look at the blonde, face red with anger as he looked a hairpin away from just outright killing Izuku, “Were you— were you confessing your love to me?”
“Jesus Christ!” Katsuki tugged at his own hair.
“You’re in love with me?”
“Are you actually fucking stupid?”
“I can’t tell if that’s a yes or no,” Izuku said, silently hoping for the former.
The idea of Katsuki being in love with him, while being absolutely unbelievable, was thrilling. It made his heart flutter excitedly, his lips twitch with the need to grin, his eyes sting with hopeful tears.
“Get fucked!” Katsuki spat.
“Kacchan, please tell me,” Izuku all but begged.
Because if Katsuki would just say it, if Izuku just knew…
He didn’t know what he’d do. If Katsuki said he wasn’t, if Izuku had misread the situation, he’d play it off like he didn’t care and just let himself shrivel up and die internally. Probably go back home and cry into his pillow. It would likely send him spiraling, totally erasing any progress he’d made on, what his therapist deemed, his ‘desperation for approval’ from Katsuki. But if Katsuki was in love with him, if that was what all this meant, Izuku would have no idea what to do with himself. He didn’t know if he was supposed to cry like a blubbering idiot and confess his feelings right back, or kiss Katsuki breathless, or just fuck him into the couch right then and there. All of the above seemed like a good option to Izuku.
“You’re supposed to get it,” Katsuki growled.
God, why was Katsuki always so stubborn? It was one of the many things Izuku loved about him, but right now it was incredibly frustrating. Why was he making Izuku say it first? Making Izuku be the one to put a name to what was happening when Izuku didn’t know. He was paralyzed in self doubt, trying to figure out what an appropriate response would be, how to calm Katsuki down. He hopelessly wanted Katsuki to love him back, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. If he was wrong, Katsuki would get even angrier.
Still, he had to say something.
“You’re… You’re in love with me,” he said, trying hard not to tilt the statement into a question this time as he uncurled, like being bigger would make him more confident.
“Get out,” Katsuki glared at him.
Wrong answer.
“Wait, no— I didn’t— I’m sorry, Kacchan, obviously you’re not in love with me, I’m sorry I said you were, it was stupid, and—”
“Fucking hell, no!” Katsuki yelled.
So… he was in love with Izuku? Then why had he told him to leave? Izuku felt like he was getting whiplash from this whole conversation.
“I’m so confused right now, Kacchan.”
“I gave you my heart, and you didn’t get it so obviously you don’t fucking want it. If you did, you’d have got it, so fuck you. Fucking leave,” Katsuki spelled out for him.
Izuku’s mind spun as he tried to fathom what Katsuki was saying. He had given him his heart, a literal x-ray photograph of it, and Izuku didn’t want it. His heart. Because he hadn’t understood what Katsuki meant by it. Katsuki thought Izuku was rejecting him.
But that wasn’t true! Of course Izuku wanted his heart! He wanted all of Katsuki, always had. It wasn’t his fault Katsuki’s confession had been the most indirect, ambiguous way of going about things! How had Katsuki expected him to understand?
And moreso, Katsuki was actually in love with him? That alone was enough to make Izuku feel like he was losing his mind. He had spent his whole life believing Katsuki was unattainable, a god amongst men, nowhere within his reach! Only in the past few years had he even started to feel like a human being to Izuku, but still, Katsuki remained divine in some ways. Izuku had accepted the fact that there were parts of Katsuki he would never get to know, never be worthy of knowing. He would never get to see the way Katsuki looked after a ruinous kiss, his pink, swollen lips and lovingly dilated pupils, the way his voice would change when he told someone he loved them and meant it, the way he’d come apart under someone’s hands as they drove into him again and again until he—
“I love you!” Izuku blurted out.
Katsuki stared at him, dissecting him with those gorgeous, judgemental red eyes. Izuku held his breath, sitting stiffly on the couch, waiting for Katsuki to speak. To tell him he was fucking with him or something.
“No you don’t,” he stated.
“I— huh?” Izuku felt like there was no winning in this conversation.
“If you loved me, you’d have fucking understood.”
“Kacchan, I do love you,” Izuku insisted.
Why did Katsuki get to decide his feelings for him? Why did it only count if Izuku followed the script Katsuki had seemingly written for him in his head, and never told Izuku a thing about? Izuku loved Katsuki. He always had. He loved the way Katsuki teased him, loved the way he would go soft for him, loved the way he challenged Izuku. He loved his rough, gravelly voice, and his spikes of soft ash blonde hair, and his determined grin. He loved when he was a force of nature on the battlefield, how he slipped into tunnel vision when he cooked, how he was perfect at everything. He loved every thick, corded muscle, every cell of pale, scarred skin, every drop of sweat that dripped down his palms, every rhythmic beat of his heart. There was no doubt in his mind, and it wasn’t fair that Katsuki got to speak with such certainty on the matter.
“You don’t,” Katsuki spat at him, his face twisting and eyes welling with anger, or maybe something else. Izuku didn’t really know, because he could not, for the life of him, figure out what was going through Katsuki’s mind right now.
“Kacchan, please,” Izuku scrambled closer to Katsuki now, grabbing Katsuki by the shoulders and holding on until his knuckles turned white, “I love you, I really do, I’ll do anything to prove it, just say the word, Kacchan.”
Katsuki held his gaze, his breath hitching. He didn’t speak at first, just searched Izuku’s eyes desperately for something.
Finally, he croaked out a weak, “Kiss me.”
Izuku lunged forward, diving in like a man starved who had just been offered a full course meal. His lips crashed against Katsuki’s, devouring him. Katsuki’s lips moved against his own, just as eager, just as hungry. It felt like the world around them had stopped, nothing existing beyond the places where they met. Their faces smashed violently together, Izuku’s grip on Katsuki’s shoulders, Katsuki’s hands finding refuge on Izuku’s chest. It sent a scorching heat through Izuku, burning everywhere that Katsuki touched him. He yearned still to be closer, for their bodies to meet on every possible plain, for their atoms to overlap. Fuck, he wanted to swallow Katsuki whole, he wanted to fuse together, he wanted to be one with Katsuki.
His therapist had told him this wasn’t a healthy way to love someone, that he should value independence. He didn’t care, because Katsuki loved him back, and right now, burrowing into Katsuki’s skin and living there like a parasite seemed almost possible, and it was an amazing feeling, really.
Katsuki let out soft little moans against his mouth, and Izuku felt a shiver run down his spine at the pleasure those sounds gave him.
Then, Katsuki pulled away, and Izuku mourned the kiss. He didn’t go far, though, resting his forehead against Izuku’s as he caught his breath.
“You kiss everyone like that?” Katsuki panted.
“Never kissed anyone else,” Izuku admitted sheepishly, “They wouldn’t have been you.”
“Holy shit, that’s so hot,” Katsuki said in a coarse, ragged voice.
Izuku blushed. Katsuki thought he was hot! It made him shutter, made his mind reel. Katsuki saying he was hot for something that should have been embarrassing was like having a god on its knees for him. Probably better than that, even.
Katsuki grinned at Izuku’s flushed face, fisting his shirt and yanking him in for another kiss.
It was aggressive and messy, all swollen lips and prodding tongues sliding together. It felt like claiming, as though they were marking their territory with spit and bruises left by firm fingertips.
“Kacchan,” Izuku groaned, breath mingling with Katsuki’s as he spoke, “Kacchan, I love you.”
“Say it again,” Katsuki rasped.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” Katsuki said for the first time, and even though it had been pretty well established by now without words, hearing it out loud in Katsuki’s voice made Izuku dizzy. His tone was one Izuku had never heard him use before, breathless and devout and vulnerable. One reserved only for Izuku, the thought making a possessiveness pang throughout his chest.
“Have you—” Izuku muttered between more kisses, “With anyone else?”
“No,” said Katsuki, “Only you.”
Katsuki’s hands slipped down to his hips and he squeezed, drawing Izuku in closer.
“I’m yours,” Katsuki said.
Izuku nodded desperately.
“And you’re mine,” he continued, staring at Izuku’s lip.
Fucking hell, Izuku wanted to eat him. He wanted to hold Katsuki down and consume him, to prove he belonged to Izuku with every bite.
Izuku moved to nip at the skin of Katsuki’s cheek, then his jaw, his earlobe, then down to suck at the soft spot of his throat. Each possessive mark elicited a soft moan from Katsuki, like he wanted to be claimed.
He does, Izuku thought reverently, he loves me.
He left as many marks on Katsuki as he could, wanting to color every inch of skin in bruises shaped like his mouth.
“Fuck, ‘Zuku,” Katsuki whined, “You’re perfect.”
Tears started to slip down Izuku’s cheeks, slowly at first, but growing into a relentless cascade as Katsuki continued to ramble.
“Love you, have for so fucking long. You’re all I can think about. Dream about you, fuck myself and pretend it’s you. How you’d fill me up, make me feel so good, ‘Zuku.”
The affection swelling in Izuku’s chest was overwhelming. It was like Katsuki was wrenching his chest open and squeezing his heart in his fist. He sobbed, arms wrapping around Katsuki and pressing them together like he hoped he could just hold on tight enough to fuse them together into an alloy.
“K-Kacchan,” he sniffled, voice muffled as he buried himself into Katsuki’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong, ‘Zuku?” Katsuki asked, suddenly sounding unsteady, “Did I— was that too much?”
Izuku shook his head. Katsuki’s love could never be too much. It was perfect, just like Katsuki himself. It was just so wonderful, it made Izuku so happy, he couldn’t help but to blubber like a damn baby. It was like he was overflowing with all the love Katsuki was suddenly pouring into him, and all he could do was let it seep from his eyes in the form of tears.
“Not too much,” he whimpered, “Liked it. I liked it so much.”
Katsuki pulled Izuku up to face him, cradling his face in his hands, his thumb rubbing gently at the tears still falling down Izuku’s cheeks. There was a smile on his face that screamed elation.
“My damn crybaby,” he said fondly.
“Your crybaby,” Izuku agreed.
“All mine.”
“All yours, always.”
“I like the sound of that,” Katsuki’s smile widened, “Want you to need me like fucking oxygen.”
“I do,” Izuku rushed out.
“I know,” Katsuki looked over the moon, “And you have me, always.”
“Kacchan’s amazing,” Izuku said venerately.
“You’re amazing,” Katsuki said, planting a kiss on Izuku’s wet lips, “You’ve always been amazing. So perfect for me. It’s like you were made for me. I can’t believe you didn’t know I was in love with you, like there’s any other fucking option for me.”
For a moment, Izuku wondered if he was lost in a dream. Katsuki never spoke this openly about his feelings, it was like he was a different person.
But he wasn’t. He was Katsuki. Just, this was what Katsuki was like when he loved someone. Fiercely, honestly, completely. Of course he was like this. Katsuki was perfect at everything, including love.
“I was made for you,” Izuku told him, “I know I was.”