Work Text:
Katsuki’s first impression of Iida Tenya is that he’s got a stick the size of a California Redwood lodged up his ass. The fucker’s loud and obnoxious and a stickler for the rules in a way that’s the second most annoying shit that Katsuki’s ever had to put up with (first being Deku’s entire fucking personality). More than that, he enjoys nitpicking just about every aspect of Katsuki’s uniform: his ruffled collar, his loose pants, even the scuffed toes of his shoes. Who in the hell pays attention to scuffs? Iida fucking Tenya, apparently.
This first impression, surprisingly, shifts after internships.
The thing is, Katsuki doesn’t tend to change how he sees someone. There’s no reason to. He’s got good instincts, tends to get that shit right the first time around.
But Iida surprises him.
One moment he’s marching off to his internship with some low-ranked hero (Manual, literally called the Normal Hero, how fucking tragic is that?) and the next… Well. News travels quickly in their class.
Katsuki sees Iida in a new light after that.
It’s easier to handle Iida once he knows what he’s capable of. He nitpicks the same amount but it’s… funnier, getting ragged on for not wearing a tie by a guy who went rogue with the goal of wrecking the Hero Killer’s shit. Katsuki’s too busy laughing on the inside to be irritated by Iida nagging him for saying the word “pussy” in class.
Turns out, he’s not the only one who starts looking at their Class President a little differently.
Iida chops his hands, ordering them to stand for attendance, and everyone stands up a little quicker. He yells, earnest in his efforts to congratulate them for doing well on a test and some of his classmates flinch.
Iida’s not fucking stupid. He notices. Katsuki knows he does because he watches him quiet down. Watches him step back and let Ponytail take control of pep talks. Deku’s inundated by requests for tutoring. Aizawa’s forced to get off his ass and prod their class into beginning role call.
In all honesty? Katsuki doesn’t fucking get it. Their class is full of weirdos. Deku threw his raggedy backpack at the Sludge Villain. Katsuki almost killed his dumb ass during their first battle trial. Invisibitch kept breaking the punching bags in the weight room to the point that Aizawa had the freak in Support make her custom ones. Iida’s not the only one who’s a little fucking quirky.
Still. It’s kind of pathetic, watching someone so loud curl up into himself. It’s like he’s a little kid, ashamed of being scolded. Iida hadn’t gotten any disciplinary action for Hosu. His isolation seems to be working to rectify that.
Katsuki’s the only person Iida still nags. Seems like he’s picked up on the fact that Katsuki simply does not give a shit that he’s tried to kill someone. He’s not special for having murderous tendencies. Katsuki’s the CEO of that shit.
It’s… cute. Watching Iida perk up when Katsuki enters homeroom. The spark in his eyes when he demands that Katsuki tucks in his shirt because it’s too long and unbecoming of a U.A. student to be worn the way that it is.
Here’s the thing. Katsuki’s a piece of shit. He likes seeing how far he can go. How far he can push people.
“Too long, huh?” He drawls. Doesn’t say anything else. Sits down in his seat, legs spread. Shirt decidedly untucked. Watches Iida open his mouth to say something. Quiet down when Aizawa walks up to the podium.
The next morning, Iida’s standing up the second Katsuki kicks in the door. It’s not the only reaction his uniform gets but it is the only one he’s paying attention to. Dunce Face wolf whistles. Shitty Hair yells out a “looking good, bro!” Aizawa takes one look at him and sighs. This is a common occurrence with him.
“Bakugou–”
“C’mon, Pres, weren’t you the one saying my uniform was too long for your liking?” The class has gone quiet. Iida’s jaw is working a little and his hands are tight around his desk and Katsuki’s not moving. Silent standoff. Head cocked, eyebrow raised.
Katsuki genuinely does not give a shit what his uniform looks like. He does give a shit about Iida looking like a kicked puppy just because he’d tried to murder some anemic dickhead.
He’d taken a pair of scissors and done a quick little crop job. The hem of his shirt ends right above his abdomen now and, really, Kirishima’s dumbass hero costume is more revealing than this shit, so it’s not like Katsuki’s doing anything outrageous here.
“That’s not what I meant,” Iida says finally. He looks defeated. It’s… it’s not what Katsuki was going for. Iida’s hands aren’t even doing a tiny little chop.
Katsuki doesn’t say anything else. Just snorts and sits down. Aizawa begins the lesson and the class gradually moves on.
Iida doesn’t say anything the entire fucking day. He doesn’t say anything in the hallways where there are no teachers to reprimand him for ragging on Katsuki’s uniform. He doesn’t say anything when Katsuki’s slacks slip down further and his boxers poke out from above them. He doesn’t even say anything when Ponytail coughs lightly and motions for Katsuki to pull them up.
It’s stupid. It’s stupid and it makes no fucking sense because Iida was comfortable telling Katsuki how to act and it’s not like Katsuki was ever going to listen but if this fucker thinks that he’s scared, if he thinks that Iida’s unhinged or dangerous or something that Katsuki feels unsafe around, then he’s got another thing coming.
Katsuki handles the issue the way he handles most things in life: unbridled aggression in the form of immediate confrontation.
Cornering Iida at school is fucking doable but it won’t hammer in the message that Katsuki’s tired of his stupid melancholic act the same way that confronting him at his house will. Mind made up, Katsuki buys the ticket in last period class. The train ride from Musutafu to Tokyo is an hour long. Enough time to finish his English homework and maybe get a head start on math.
He’s not worried about seeing Iida on the train because the fucker runs the entire way home as a workout. Katsuki can respect that. Iida’s quirk is fucking basic but it’s strong. To be faster than a bullet train is fucking insane. Convenient too.
The real question comes when the train ride ends and he makes his way to Iida’s stupidly huge mansion. How the hell is he supposed to get inside? If he stands by the gate and waits to be let in, the fucker’s bound to know that he’s there and will probably zoom away before Katsuki can talk to him.
Stealth mode, then. He can do this. With quiet, muted explosions, Katsuki powers himself over the gate and tumbles into a blessedly soft hedge. He army crawls across the property to the base of the house. At this point, he has two options. Ring the doorbell, enter through a back door, or climb in through a window. Iida’s bedroom is most likely to be on the top floor. Window entry it is.
Katsuki’s rock climbed enough that climbing up Iida’s dumb fancy house is a piece of fucking cake. He shimmies up a wooden beam, clambers up onto the roof, and peeks inside the nearest window. It’s clean and minimalist, with an entire shelf dedicated to glasses.
“First try,” Katsuki mutters, smirking. The window’s open, too; Iida’s practically asking for an irate classmate to break into his bedroom. Dignified as anything, Katsuki hooks a leg over the windowsill and lands inside. It’s empty but there are measured footsteps quickly approaching the door.
Katsuki leans against the wall, arms crossed, posture easy. Not like he’s got anything to hide. The door swings open.
“Bakugou,” Iida grits out, “why are you in my room?”
Katsuki shrugs. “Your window was open. This is on you.”
Iida hand chops so aggressively that the loose papers on his desk flutter. “My window was open because it’s a nice day out and I wanted to let the air in, not because I was inviting you to break in–” He pauses, hand falling loosely to his side. “How did you even get inside?”
“Climbed.”
“You– of course you did.” He sighs, looking exhausted. “Do you need anything?”
Katsuki’s struck by the realization of how well Iida embodies his role. The class president immediately defaults to asking what Katsuki needs, ready to help in whatever way he can. This realization is shot down by Katsuki's mounting irritation.
“Yeah, actually, I’m here to ask why you're being so fucking weird.”
Iida blinks. “I'm being weird.”
“I don't know what's fucking wrong with you,” Katsuki hisses, sinking into his anger. “Everyone’s on edge because of your stunt in Hosu. Whatever. Instead of talking to your friends about it like a normal person you're isolating yourself and walking around looking pathetic. Fine. But if you think that I’m dumb enough to feel the same as those fucking extras, I need to make something very, very clear. I’m not scared of you, dipshit. I don't get why you think you did this huge awful thing when most people would do the exact same shit. And if you think you can get away with treating me differently because you think I can't handle you after your little foray into rebellion–”
“Sorry,” Iida says, looking so confused that Katsuki huffs and waits. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re all… weird, now,” Katsuki says, gesturing vaguely. “I fucked around with my uniform and you gave up. You never give up.”
Iida frowns. “You’re angry because you're failing to provoke me?”
“Oi,” Katsuki snaps, “I’m not failing shit, you're the one who’s–”
“My apologies,” Iida says, a funny little smile on his face. “I’ll yell at you properly next time.”
Iida isn't wearing his glasses. His hair is damp and it looks dumb, sticking out from his scalp like a fledgling’s downy feathers. He’s got big eyes. They're a bright shade of blue.
“Did you– You were in the shower,” Katsuki observes. Iida’s eyebrows raise a little.
“Have you finished your homework?”
Katsuki squints at him. “Not yet.”
“Would you… like to work on it together? Now?”
“You just miss your fucking tutoring group,” Katsuki deduces. Iida huffs. Crosses his arms. His biceps flex under his sweater and Katsuki wonders why he hasn’t sparred with the fucker yet.
“I would like to study with you.” And his voice is soft in a way that it doesn’t tend to be when he’s yelling over the rest of their class. It doesn’t bother Katsuki the way Iida’s recent bout of silence has.
He rolls his eyes and plops down on the floor, rifling through his backpack for his binder. “Whatever, Mic says we need peer reviews for this shitty essay anyway.”
Iida’s eyes light up. “Will you go over mine as well? Which novel did you choose for the essay?”
“Fine, it better not be shit. Chose ‘The Housekeeper and the Professor’ by Ogawa Yoko.”
“Same as me,” Iida says, smiling. “Give me a second.” He rummages through his backpack before he comes back to sit in front of Katsuki, vibrant highlighters in his hands. “I have a system,” he explains, a proud little grin on his face. “I’ve found that colour-coding helps me make sense of the ideas.”
And there are a lot of things Katsuki could say to that. Notably, why would I give a shit about your system and for a rich boy you have shitty highlighters. But Iida’s looking at him like a puppy who just heard the word “walk” and it’s the most alive he’s looked in weeks.
Katsuki says: “What’s the system for?”
“It’s better if I show you,” Iida says, reaching for Katsuki’s essay. “I edit by reading aloud, is that alright with you?”
“It’s fine.”
And Katsuki fiddles with the math homework as Iida reads aloud in his low voice, measured tones rolling over him like an ocean wave. Explains that pink is for grammatical errors, blue is for points that he’d like to see expanded upon. He’s steady and methodical and barely ever makes mistakes. It’s dumb that Katsuki’s the only one who gets to see that now.
“Ah, shit,” Iida mutters. Katsuki’s eyes shoot open. “You used that comma correctly actually, let me make a note to ignore the suggestion.”
“You swear,” Katsuki says. Can’t help the delight creeping into his tone. Iida looks up. Flushes.
“You’re hardly in a position to judge.”
“Never heard you do it before,” Katsuki says. “Sue me for being a little surprised.”
Iida chuckles and the sound of it is laced with arsenic. “Figured it would be better not to add another thing to the list.”
“The list of what?” Katsuki demands. “The list of why you did a fucking normal thing? Anyone who gives you shit for it is a hypocrite.”
Iida sets the essay down. “Stain wasn’t initially going to fight me. I demanded that we did because I needed to avenge my brother. The reason he decided to fight me was that he believed I did not possess a hero’s values and therefore deserved to die.”
Katsuki doesn’t hesitate. “And you believed him?”
“Excuse me?”
“You, class president, who’s ranked top in almost every fucking evaluation we’ve had this year,” Katsuki says. “You are listening to the shitty opinion of a humanoid period stain.”
Iida chokes. “A what?”
“It makes no fucking sense for him to have that kind of high horse,” Katsuki continues. “Absolutely fucking none. He’s out here murdering people left and right and he wants to ride your dick about coming after him after he hurt your brother? That’s bullshit. If someone hurt Auntie, Deku would kill their ass. You’re not less of a hero because you love someone.”
“There is a difference between love and vengeance,” Iida says quietly.
Katsuki shrugs. “Only difference is that you had the power to do something about it. If most people were faster than a fucking bullet train and strong as shit to boot I’m sure they’d go out looking for revenge too.”
“Bakugou,” Iida says, “are you trying to make me feel better?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki bites out. “I’m trying to shove some sense into your square fucking head.”
Iida laughs. It’s loud and full and there’s nothing bitter at the edges of it. “Consider that sense shoved,” he says, grinning. “I’ll get back to your essay now.”
“Took your sweet time,” Katsuki grumbles. He leans back against the wall and lets Iida’s steady voice wash over him.
It keeps happening.
“We have a front door,” Iida says, reaching out his hand. Katsuki smacks it out of the way and clambers through the window by himself.
“This is faster.”
“Because we’re so pressed for time,” Iida murmurs. “Actually– Would you mind coming downstairs for tea? My brother wants to meet you.”
Katsuki cocks his head. “He’s out of the hospital?”
“He is,” and Iida’s smiling. He’s got dimples. They’re barely noticeable when he’s talking. Easier to see when he’s grinning like the fucking sun.
“And he wants to meet me,” Katsuki clarifies, because he keeps staring at the dimples and it’s muddling his critical thinking skills.
Iida’s expression twists. He looks at the floor and his dimples are gone and Katsuki wishes he’d spent more time paying attention to his actual fucking words because Iida looks the way he does in class and that’s not allowed here.
“He can’t leave the house,” Iida says quietly. “And you’re the only one who comes here. And I speak highly of you.”
Nothing he’s just said is something Katsuki feels remotely comfortable responding to.
“Let’s go now, then. I have shit I need to finish.”
The smile’s back. Katsuki can’t help feeling a spark of pride.
“Thank you,” Iida says, bowing deeply, arms at his sides. It’s not the ramrod straight thing that had further cemented Katsuki’s California Redwood theory. Rather, it’s a graceful motion and Katsuki can’t help smirking at the little spiral at the crown of Iida’s scalp. There’s a story about that, he remembers, something about boys with spirals in their hair being troublemakers. He’ll mention that to Iida when he’d done wallowing over Hosu.
They head downstairs. It’s the first time Katsuki’s seen the rest of Iida’s stupidly fucking huge house and it’s as awe-inspiring as he would expect of any old money hero family. Iida fits in with the beauty of the place, Katsuki thinks. He’s got broad shoulders and a strong jaw and a resting smiling face, a tiny upwards curve at the corners of his lips. The image of luxury suits him.
“He’s making an incredible recovery,” Iida says, admiration lighting up his voice. “The doctors were gushing to my parents about how he’s a model patient. Don’t tell him I told you that, though, he gets embarrassed whenever we mention it.”
“You’d think he’d be used to it by now,” Katsuki observes. He side-eyes Iida. Smirks a little, lets him in on the joke. “You talk about him pretty often.”
“Of course I do,” Iida replies. “He’s important to me.”
Katsuki doesn’t know that he’s ever had anything be so important to him that he felt the need to talk about it all the time. He runs his mouth, sure, but it’s not to talk about what he has or who he knows or the people and things that he loves. He knows the hero Ingenium– his stats are solid and he’s got a good public persona. But the person? Iida Tensei must be pretty damn special to be hero-worshipped by his own little brother.
As it turns out, Iida’s older brother is a decent guy. He’s more laid back for one, but Katsuki can see Iida in the way that Iida Tensei easily breaks down the basics of modern prosthetics advancements and earnestly offers to show Katsuki around the lab when he’s back on his feet. He talks about Iida almost as much as Iida talks about him. It settles something inside Katsuki, to know that Iida is being valued by the person he values.
“Your brother’s a lot like you,” Katsuki notes, later, when they’re back in Iida’s bedroom. “Talks more about you than himself.”
Iida frowns. “You mean that I’m like him?”
“No,” Katsuki says, rolling his eyes. “Why the fuck would you be like him? I met you first. You’re the one I’m looking at.”
Iida freezes. He looks cute when he’s startled, red flush creeping down his collar, blue eyes wide behind his glasses, big arms limp at his sides.
“You can’t say that,” he blurts out.
Katsuki rears back. “Hah? I’ll say whatever the fuck I want! Enough with your fucking superiority complex, dipshit, you call me over to your house because you’re fucking lonely, you learn to fucking deal with me. Understood?”
Iida stands there for a moment, looking almost like he’s mentally-rebooting before he shakes his head and his mouth stretches into a happy little grin.
“I don’t know that I’d call it dealing with you.”
“You’re right,” Katsuki huffs. “I’m blessing you with my presence.”
Iida barks out a laugh. Reclines against his bed, long legs stretching out across the floor. “Thank you for being my friend, Bakugou.”
Which is fucking stupid for a lot of reasons, because Katsuki would know if they were friends and they’re not, he just goes to Iida’s house after school a couple of times a week and trusts him to go over his work and doesn’t mind hanging out with his family–
Holy fucking shit.
“Fucker,” he breathes, “you tricked me into being friends with you. This is coercion.”
Iida tilts his head. “Aren’t you always saying you don’t do anything you don’t want to do?”
Which is just– Well. Katsuki examines the facts. Iida knows him well enough to be a massively annoying piece of shit. A massive annoying piece of shit who’s only being this annoying because his other friends are scared of him.
“I’m not your fucking consolation prize,” he says, finally. “If you want to be friends with me, you gotta be all in with that shit.”
“No better way to be,” Iida agrees and Katsuki, in that moment, feels like he’s done something right.
(No better way to be, Iida says, and he means, I’m ride or fucking die. He means I’ll break out for you, I’ll disobey orders for you, I’ll disrupt the highest profile fight of the year for you.)
(You gotta be all in, Katsuki says, and he doesn’t know what he means. Iida, slowly shrugging off the funeral veil of Hosu. Iida, back on speaking terms with his friends. Iida, carrying heroes through the sky to help them reach Katsuki. Katsuki doesn’t know what he means but he knows that Stain was wrong about Iida because Katsuki said you gotta be all in and Iida followed through.)
(It’s selfish. Katsuki likes putting himself on a pedestal, giving himself room to shoot down anyone he doesn’t want to see close to him. He tells Iida to be all in and waits like a hunter in a forest, ears pricked for the sound of a branch cracking. It never comes.)
(Katsuki is not like Iida or his older brother. He does not love something simply because he finds it important. Katsuki values what values him back. He sits in the police station after Kamino and he decides that he is fully, irrevocably, all in.)
The annoying thing about the dorms is that they refute any notion of privacy. Iida is absent for a few hours and the entire class is buzzing with conspiracy theories. Katsuki, who’d received a text from Tensei telling him to keep an eye out for his idiot little brother, is already mentally running through the ingredients for his father’s signature spicy miso soup.
Rice noodles, vegetable broth, shiitake mushrooms, miso paste. They don’t have Thai chillies but Katsuki can improvise. Everything else should be there.
“Iida has a cold,” Aizawa says dryly, before dismissing them for the day. “He’s requested for you all to leave him alone in order to reduce the probability of infection.”
“That’s our Class Prez for you!” Shitty Hair says, laughing. “Still thinking of us even when he’s sick in bed.”
“Has he had anything to eat?” Round Cheeks worries. “We could make him something… like a get-well-soon gesture!”
“I’ll do it,” Katsuki grumbles. Rolls his eyes at the sudden silence but grudgingly explains. “My quirk kills viruses. I don’t get sick. I’ll make him a soup so spicy he cries out the cold.”
Kermit tilts her head, tapping a finger to her chin. “I’m not sure that’s how it works, kero.”
Deku shakes his head. “Trust me, Asui– Tsu. It’s a miracle cure.”
Katsuki smirks. Of course it is. His old man’s a fucking genius.
It’s strange, using the door, instead of the window. He almost misses the fun of it, stealthily crawling across the property for no reason other than Iida’s bemused smile when he opens his window to see Katsuki perched on the roof.
One hand carefully cradling the bowl of soup, he lightly knocks on Iida’s door.
“Please don’t come in,” Iida rasps faintly. Katsuki grumbles.
“It’s me, dumbass.” He can almost hear Iida’s flu-addled brain doing the math. Katsuki’s quirk. Katsuki’s subsequent resistance towards gross shit that has no business fucking up his immune system.
Iida mumbles something that sounds like a weak protest for Katsuki to stay outside “just to be safe” which is dumb, so Katsuki just walks inside, too tired to wait outside his door like a loser any longer.
“Brought you soup,” he grumbles, setting it down on the nightstand. “Can you drink it yourself or do you need me to feed it to you?”
“I’m not… I’m fine,” Iida says, trying valiantly to push himself up in bed. His cheeks are flushed and he’s curled up in the fetal position, cheeks squished against the bedsheets. Katsuki forgets, sometimes, that Iida’s the same age as everyone else. Still curls up like a kid in bed when he’s sick.
“I’ll feed you,” he says softly. “Don’t make it a big deal.”
“I can do it–”
“Let me do it,” Katsuki says firmly. “I made the fucking soup so I get to feed it to you. You’re sick. Let someone do something for you for fucking once.”
Iida looks up at him, eyes half-lidded and glazed over. He looks exhausted. He looks like someone who deserves cold towels on his forehead and warm soup and anything else Katsuki can give him after he’s had to spend all day alone in bed.
“Not true,” Iida whispers, voice so quiet Katsuki has to lean down to hear it. “You do so much for me.”
“Sure,” Katsuki says, extending a spoonful of broth. “I’ve got tissues for when your nose starts running. It’s spicy.”
“Spicy miso,” Iida murmurs. “My grandmother makes me the same thing whenever I’m sick.”
“Should have stayed home instead of coming here,” Katsuki snaps. “Your brother knew you were sick before you left, yesterday.”
Iida shakes his head. “I can’t afford to miss any classes.”
“Yeah? How’s that working out for you? You’ve been alone all day when you could have been at home actually being taken care of.”
“You’re here.” Iida’s eyes flutter shut, a low sound escaping him as he savours the soup. “If I had been at home, my mother would have kept me there for days. I wouldn’t have seen you.”
He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s sick, he’s out of it. He’d say the same thing to anyone who brought him soup.
“Stupid,” Katsuk reproaches. “I would have come anyway.”
“Wouldn’t be able to open the window,” Iida says, sounding almost sad about it.
“I’d figure it out.”
“You would,” he shifts, curling tighter. “You’re smart. Good hero.”
He’s sick. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He won’t remember any of this. Katsuki still feels the impact of the words like a knife in his chest.
“You’re good, too,” he admits. “One of the best.”
Katsuki’s still learning what it means to take care of people, how to take their hands when they reach out. It’s easier, sometimes, when it’s people like Kirishima. But Iida doesn’t discriminate. He helps whoever needs it.
Their quirks are different, Katsuki knows, but he wouldn’t have been able to run away from USJ if someone had told him to. Iida had listened.
“I have things to learn from you,” he confides. “But you’re learning from me, too, so it’s not complete shit.”
The spoon clinks against the bottom of the bowl.
Katsuki raises his eyebrows. “You finished. Good job.” He sets the bowl aside.
Iida’s pretty eyes are closed. His dark eyelashes fan out against his pale skin. There’s a stray eyelash resting on the soft jut of his cheekbone. Katsuki reaches out his hand. Gently brushes it away with the pad of his thumb. Iida doesn’t move.
He finds that he can’t bring himself to leave. Iida’s been alone all day, it won’t kill Katsuki to sit by him for a little while longer.
Though, after twenty minutes of sitting in the dark and watching Iida sleep, Katsuki starts to feel a bit like a creep.
Carefully getting up, he slips out the door and heads for his own dorm. At this point, it’s become second nature to do his homework with Iida, even if the other boy’s asleep. His presence is grounding and, though he reminds Katsuki to take breaks, he’s just as hard on himself when it comes to striving for perfect marks. It’s refreshing to study with someone who doesn’t see Katsuki as being too intense.
He lugs his backpack back to Iida’s dorm. The click of the door closing sounds behind him. Iida’s eyes are wide open.
“Shit,” Katsuki mutters. “Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep.”
“You left,” Iida chokes out. His eyes are glassy and his big hands are clutching the covers so tightly that Katsuki can almost hear the seams ripping. “I woke up and you weren’t here.”
Light sleeper, Katsuki thinks, cursing. He should’ve known.
Iida’s naturally high-strung. It makes sense that he wouldn’t be able to let go of that, even in his sleep. It must be annoying as shit. When Katsuki’s asleep, he’s asleep. Iida, on the other hand, is in a perpetual state of stress.
Right now, though, he’s beyond stress. He’s struggling to get out of the bed, voice slurred, keeps repeating “you left me,” almost like they’d been in a fight. There’s the possibility that he’d woken up from a nightmare bad enough that he worried for Katsuki’s safety. To be fair, he would have plenty of material.
“I’m fine,” Katsuki says. Slowly. Clearly. “Just went to get homework.” And he lifts up his backpack. “See?”
Iida’s still struggling to get up. Says again, “you left me,” and he sounds like he’s going to cry.
Katsuki does not look like Iida Tensei. Inwardly praying, he asks, “What’s my name?”
“Bakugou,” Iida answers, slurring over the syllables. “You left me.”
Oh.
“Iida,” Katsuki says, “did you want me to stay?”
And Iida, tired, sick, ridiculously pretty Iida, blinks his wide blue eyes like that should have been a given and says, so softly: “Yes, please.”
“Alright,” Katsuki says, sitting beside the bed, backpack knocking against his knees. “Not like I’ve got anywhere to be.”
Iida hums. He flops back into bed, sheets rucked up around his hips. He’s curled up in a ball again, strong shoulders bunched up beneath the soft fabric of his pyjamas. His hair’s probably messy as anything underneath his cute night cap. Katsuki kind of wants to take it off just to see. Maybe later, when Iida isn’t soft and sweet like a baby bird, saying “you left me” in a tone that implies that the leaving, that Katsuki leaving, was something that would have hurt him.
With the covers off, Katsuki can see very clearly that Iida is shivering. Micro-tremors wrack his body and his forehead is burning up but he keeps curling up tighter and the shivering doesn’t stop and Katsuki’s not built to be able to sit and ignore that.
He’d climbed into Iida’s bedroom during a rainstorm, once, and Iida had demanded that he change into one of Iida’s warm, fluffy sweatshirts and a comfy pair of joggers. He’d had to cuff both and still ended up looking ridiculous, drowning in the fabric. Iida hadn’t asked for the clothes back, looking almost surprised when Katsuki had washed and returned them.
“You’re shivering,” Katsuki says, like he can’t see that with his own two fucking eyes. Iida makes a small sound.
“‘M cold.”
And that’s. That’s it.
Katsuki crawls into bed and Iida, moving like he’s starved for it, curls up against him, knees bumping against Katsuki's back, forehead pressed to his shoulders.
“Thank you,” Iida whispers. Sick and barely-lucid and he still remembers his manners. It’s inevitable, falling for someone like that.
Iida is quiet. His breaths even out. Someone announces lights out and the hallway lights are shut off. Katsuki lies very, very still and thinks about Iida sitting up in bed, voice shaking like a grieving pallbearer’s hands.
I woke up and you weren’t here.
Quietly, he makes a promise to the boy whose lips are pressed against the ridge of his spine and, finally, closes his eyes.
Katsuki wakes up to sunlight in his eyes and an arm slung over his waist.
“Good morning,” Iida says, early morning voice pleasingly low. And then, so achingly fond that Katsuki’s cheeks flush from it: “Thank you for staying with me.”
“No point in leaving,” Katsuki grunts, just awake enough to inwardly cringe at how easily Iida must be reading him. “Feeling better?”
“Yes! My colds never tend to last long, I’m sorry if I made you worry.”
You left me.
“Shut up,” Katsuki drawls. “I wasn’t worried.”
Iida is quiet for a moment. He taps Katsuki’s waist, the beat of it almost uncertain. “Turn over?”
Katsuki sighs. Grumbles. Obliges.
Iida’s arm brings him closer, big hand pressed flat against the planes of his back. The night cap is presumably somewhere else on the bed and Iida’s uncovered hair sticks out from his head, looking dumb enough that Katsuki can’t help reaching out a hand to flatten it. It springs up the minute he moves back. He keeps his hand there. Cards his fingers through the strands.
Iida huffs, eyes crinkled. “Are you finished?”
“Why? You got something you wanna say?”
“Yes, actually.”
Iida’s eyes are so, so blue. Katsuki’s never understood the idea of drowning in someone’s eyes. Iida’s gaze makes him feel in control. Grounded, secure.
“Last night…” Iida hesitates, brow furrowing. “I had a nightmare. And I woke up and you were gone. And I… panicked. I apologize, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Katsuki shrugs. “I figured that’s what it was. You didn’t scare me.”
Iida smiles, looking pleased. “Of course it didn’t. Nothing scares you, does it?”
“Haven’t found anything that does,” Katsuki says honestly. “Why? You got shit that scares you?”
“Training Camp,” Iida replies. “You weren’t there and I was scared for you. Not– Not that I thought you were incompetent,” he rushes, at the scowl on Katsuki’s face, “but because you are…”
“I’m what?”
“So important to me,” Iida breathes. “You are so, so important to me and I need you with me. You make my mind feel calm.”
“I calm you down,” Katsuki repeats, bemused. “I’ve literally never calmed anyone down before.”
“Then I’m the first,” Iida says, steadfast. “You make me feel calm and safe and I… wanted you to be safe as well. I needed you to be. So I was scared.” He bites at his lip before exhaling. “You are the one who climbs through my window day after day. Just once, I wanted to come to you.”
Katsuki is not like Iida Tenya. He was not built to be earnest and kind and sweet and everything that makes Iida a textbook hero. He is selfish and possessive and he has his hand in Iida’s hair and he’s already pulling him closer.
“Come to me again,” he demands.
Iida laughs, so close that his lips brush against Katsuki’s. “Gladly.”