Chapter Text
Within their own bubble, Katsuki knew how to act. What to say. Where to put his hands. When encased in the warmth of her iridescent glow, the weight of his betrayal and selfishness were negligible.
All but forgotten.
Ochako was easy to get enveloped in. The fuzzy feeling blanketed over their relentless, self-imposed work schedule of 6:00 P.M. - 6:00 A.M. shifts, 6 days per week. It was tireless, but methodical.
Such a schedule allowed them to patrol during both the morning and evening rush hour, gaining them high levels of media visibility before they precisely snuffed out crime that sneaked out under the cover of night. When the midnight hour was quiet, they chipped away at the ever-growing mountain of paperwork, shoulder to shoulder at their shared desk. When their dispatch alarm screeched through the comfortable silence that settled between them, they helped wiggle each other back into their new hero costumes and blasted into the fray.
Their new design was partially inspired by his stealth suit. Not total departures to designs their fans had grown accustomed to, but a re-brand the exemplified cohesion. They were made to help them blend into the night, all gear from their gauntlets to her pressure point reducers. All blacked out, refined, sleek. Their costumes illuminated only by a signature splash of orange and pink.
Most importantly, their new costumes integrated Ochako's stated desire to fight in something with a little more protection than a glorified spandex catsuit. Who would have thought she'd be so thrilled by tear-resistant pants?
And fuck, did Ochako look good in them.
In the bubble, it didn't matter that his hands trailed up her exposed back when he zipped her into her top that she bulked by a built in bullet proof vest. It didn't cross his mind that slapping her amazing ass to signal that he was ready for lift off was not the co-worker-ly thing to do. He didn't think about the optics of holding her close, and pressing his lips to her forehead once he ripped her helmet off of her sweaty head after she subdued a villain without any property damage to report.
Staying in the bubble was easy. Since their debut at the Gala, villains came out of the woodwork to try to make a name for themselves by taking on the first two sidekicks to go Pro from UA's Golden Year. Two heroes who played pivotal roles in winning the war. Taking them out could disrupt the idea of peace that Japan was beginning to reacquaint itself with. It could propel a villain into infamy.
But these lame ass, wannabee, villains clearly forgot they were messing with Kilonova.
A Duo who spent an entire year of high school honing enough combo moves to fill up one of Izuku's notebooks. Who learned how to combine their strengths, play to their weaknesses, and create openings for each other to shine. Who came back together after their time as Sidekicks with new tricks and even better quirk control. Old moves that became second nature and an arsenal of new moves that were capable of taking down any bad guy.
Just after midnight, they answered a call about a burglary happening in their turf. Katsuki pulled on his new helmet before tossing Ochako hers. He laughed at the absurdity of neither of them wearing one before their redesign despite the insanely high risk of death that was associated with ripping through the skies at break-neck speeds.
Now that one of them being out from an injury meant both of the being out, they needed to incorporate protective gear into their costume designs. Sidelining wouldn't just cause them to fall into obscurity after being labeled as a Duo that burned fast and bright but ultimately couldn't hang.
No, it would fucking bankrupt them. They quite literally did not have the luxury to be injured. Their agency wouldn't survive. They couldn't afford to die.
But he shoved those thoughts to the far reaches of his mind. Katsuki had been mangled by fighting recklessly, and so had Ochako. Luckily, they lived to see the world they helped save. And now, they fought smarter, leveraged their partnership, worked together to take down villains so quickly that the thought of death that had once plagued his every thought wasn't even thought of in passing.
It couldn't be.
He had too much faith in Kilonova to concern himself with their mortality.
They were on the roof and rocketing off to the scene. According to the coordinates projected on the inside screen of their helmets, they were in hot pursuit of speeding car. One target.
"When we're close, I'll drop down and to remove the car from traffic. You stay airborne to catch any runners." Her voice rang out in his inner ear communication device.
"Roger that, Uravity."
The car appeared in the distance, leaving a mess of other vehicles run off the road in its wake. So far, no crashes, no injuries. Kilovona was going to make sure it stayed that way.
Uravity, snaked herself to his front, dangling off of him like a koala. She raked her hand under his collar to collect his volatile sweat on her fingertips. When her hand emerged, sweat droplets orbited her fingers, like little planets rotating around the sun.
"Just grabbing some ammo in case this plan goes south!"
They were gaining on them and fast. The target was heading for the exit out of the city.
"Damn Uravity, I thought you were Japan's Sweetheart. Shouldn't you buy a guy dinner before feeling them up?"
"Dynamight, haven't you read the news? Little ol' Uravity ain't so sweet no more."
She released her grip around his neck and kicked off of his stomach. With her gravity returned, Uravity dropped like a stone, falling along the parabola, directly towards the car. Dynamight set off a strong blast into the air in front of him to stop his forward motion. As she fell and flipped through the air to reposition herself face down and arms stretched out towards the car, she gradually returned some of Dynamight's gravity to help him apply his mid-air breaks and hover above the target.
In the instant before she crashed into the car, Uravity canceled her own gravity again as if she was deploying a parachute. Her finger tip skimmed the roof of the car, and it lifted from the highway.
Just then the passenger door slammed open, revealing a villain with a flying quirk. Undeterred by his weightlessness, he flew towards the roof, arms reached out to try to yank Uravity into the vehicle to hold hostage.
Dynamight didn't think, he just nose dived into the fray.
Before the villains grubby hands could even touch Uravity, she flicked the orbiting sweat droplets from her fingers, as if she was deploying a Deku-styled Delaware Smash. The droplets hovered between her and the villain, the trap set.
Uravity launched into a dropkick and activated her thrusters, setting off an explosion that sent that poor bastard flying right into Dynamight's open arms. Dynamight slammed that villain into the strip of grass beside the highway, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to be called out for excessive force. By the time he slapped a pair of quirk-suppressing cuffs on the assailant, Uravity had hauled the accomplice out of the drivers seat and up against the side of the levitating car.
Once they were both cuffed and handed off to the cops and the car was lowered onto the traffic island, they were ambushed by reporters spilling out of a media van that must have driven up the median strip to capture Kilonova's latest take down.
The fucking press.
They each tapped the sides of their helmets to lift the transparent face shield to give the camera an unobstructed view of their faces.
The mutualistic relationship between the media and heroes was undeniable. But it still felt parasitic. Good press made careers, elevated heroes up the charts. Bad press could ruin a hero's reputation before the metaphorical ink in a slam piece was even dry.
It took Herculean strength to resist the urge to chomp at the microphone that a reporter shoved in his face. The highway shoulder was no place for a fucking interview! He sunk his canines into his tongue to physically stop himself from reprimanding these newscasters for being so god damn reckless.
But as he readied himself to spit bloody venom, a calm hand on his shoulder manually lowered his hackles. He barely registered the irony taste that pooled in his mouth now that Uravity was back at his side.
"Kilovona! Your chemistry continues to amaze us. When did you know that you should pair up instead of going solo?"
"We've trained with each other since high school. Working together in one way or another was a no brainer."
The non-answer came out of her with an effervescent ease. She was good at that. Answering without giving an answer. But the answer still carried enough bubbly fizz to it that satisfied the reporter, who was too glamoured by Uravity to realize she completely dodged the point of his question.
It was a question intended to extract new information about their team up. Wanting to unearth whether the pairing was manufactured or authentic. Whether their closeness was professional or romantic. What the fuck were they.
And shit, Dynamight couldn't blame the reporter for asking. Speculation about them was everywhere.
And maybe, Katsuki wanted to know, too.
He wanted to know that the tension built between them every day for the last six months wasn't one sided. That falling asleep with her pressed to his chest was also the best part of her day. That she, too, was plagued with X-Rated dreams about him, the way he was about her.
Or he needed her to spell it out for him in big bold letters and read to him every morning to remind him that they were just the show ponies for the Hero Commission's mandate, sent to butter up the masses and make them hungry for other team-ups.
That they were strictly co-workers, roommates, business partners and nothing more.
That she was Deku's and he was nobody's.
"With the bi-annual Hero Rankings coming out, do you have any predictions for where Kilonova will debut on the charts?"
"Dynamight?" Uravity turned to him, backlight by the rising sun. "Has our goal changed?"
His lip twitched. Uravity looked like an angel, but she was just a little shit who relished in toying with the media and manipulating their perception of him. Of them.
The question was a test. Designed to make them come off as cocky assholes or overly humble kiss assess. Uravity teed him up for the response, and Dynamight was prepared to knock this question out of the park.
"Hell no. We're going to be Number 1."
"Top Ten debut's are extremely rare and a debut at Number 1 has never been done!"
The reporter's high, incredulous toned almost made him roll his eyes. Almost.
"Our community deserves the best, for us to be our best. We might not be Number 1 yet, but we sure as hell are going to be one day."
He kept his focus on the camera, showing an unwavering confidence in Kilonova while delivering a line that imparted just enough modesty to make any hater pause. The answer let people know that Kilonova's pursuit for Number 1 wasn't a selfish endeavor, but one born out of the desire to keep the public safe. That they acknowledged that there was room for improvement while still showing pride in their partnership.
Most importantly, it didn't actually answer where they thought they would actually land in the rankings. Honestly answering that question would have just lead to even more discourse about where people thought they deserved to be. And the public loved to humble the arrogant almost as much as it liked to crush the mediocre. Especially this close to rankings.
"That's right! We're working towards it every day!"
"Kilonova is everywhere right now, how do you make sure to relax when you're not working?"
"Well, we trust in the abilities of our peers to get it done, just like they trust us to do the same when they're off the clock. Besides, Dynamight and I are pretty good at keeping each other entertained."
The statement was dripping with a sexual undertone that soaked him to his bones. Her doe-eyed expression almost successfully feigned ignorance to the innuendo. But that gleam in her eyes, the one she got when she played this cat and mouse game with him, betrayed her innocence.
That look taunted his every waking hour as well as his every dream. He didn't dare look away when he told the reporter, "cops are trying to clear the scene, and I've gotta make sure this one gets to bed at a reasonable hour."
Uravity understood his evacuation signal. She hopped onto his back, making them weightless so they could float above the news crews' heads. Once they were safely out of blast range, his palms crackled to life.
"Get home safe!" She shouted before tapping the sides of both of their helmets to deploy their face shields, allowing them to blast off without the threat of wind burn.
They returned home a little after 6:00 A.M., air travel helping them avoid the early morning traffic that was beginning to trickle out into the streets.
Their post-work routine involved peeling each other out of their suits and throwing all washable parts directly in the washing to rid them of any nitroglycerin. The sight of Ochako in her underwear always sent him sprinting towards his designated bathroom down the hall, while he thanked whatever god there was that the construction team Mr. Uraraka connected them with had the foresight to install two showers in their loft apartment.
Katsuki never would have imagined that he would be jerking off more as a full grown adult than when he was a teenager. But without fail, every day after their shift ended, he'd find himself in the shower, tugging at himself, while he replayed whatever bad ass move she pulled off during their last shift.
And watching Uravity use his quirk today to blast that fuck ass villain was just about the hottest thing he'd ever seen.
"Fuck."
His breath came out in pants, completely desperate. At the mercy of her memory. Completely lost to the fantasy of what they could be doing together right now. How he could be praising her genius while worshiping her body.
But instead, he spilled onto the tile floor. Alone. Slightly cold despite the warm water that washed away the evidence of the desire that was becoming harder and harder to deny.
Which is why Katsuki kept himself busy.
Idleness allowed the world to seep in. It's when he left their bubble, that he lost his sure footing. The burden of wanting, of taking, more than he should came crashing down on him.
So he set his body to auto-pilot and let himself live in a fantasy world where he wasn't hoarding tidbits of information about Ochako instead of funneling it to Izuku to help him woo her. Little things like how she preferred to eat dinner foods after they returned from patrol, even though it was 7:00 A.M. That the smell of pancakes and a sickeningly sweet coffee was the only way to drag her ass out of bed at 3:30 P.M. That she chugged at least three mugs worth of chamomile tea to trick her body into sleep after every shift because it still hadn't really adjusted to falling asleep while the sun was awake.
Katsuki allowed himself to get lost in preparing their dinner while Ochako clacked away at the report from their earlier arrest. Let himself melt into the bliss of this hidden world. A world where he was permitted to enjoy even the most mundane things, like resting his sleepy head on Ochako's shoulder while she scrubbed the dishes. He let his ever-present, nagging guilt evaporate into warmth of domesticity.
Only to for it to rear its ugly head again when his phone rang.
Izuku.
Katsuki been dodging his calls for weeks. Months, even. Keeping him at arms length with short text replies so he wouldn't have to feel so fucking bad for having his arms wrapped around Ochako every night.
"Who is it?" Ochako asked, voice pitched just high enough to let him know that she knew who that specific ringtone belonged to. Her body now rigid in his hold.
Katsuki pried himself away from her and trudged his contrite, selfish ass to the phone. He needed to rip the bandage off. Talk to Izuku. His best friend. Let the shame flood back in and create an ocean of distance between himself and Ochako.
"Hey, Izuku."
Katsuki watched as Ochako's spine visibly stiffened. He wondered if she felt hot under his skull t-shirt. If she noticed how red their hands were whenever Izuku caught them teetering beyond what could be called professional. Or if she was just as oblivious to Izuku's feelings as he was of hers.
"Kacchan! You're still awake!"
Izuku was always so happy to hear from him. So thrilled to actually get in touch with him instead of playing the game of phone tag that Katsuki insisted on.
It was times like these that Katsuki wished Izuku would just call him on his shit. Free him from this life where he was damned to walk around with his tail between his legs like a dog who had been caught counter surfing, but would still go for the unguarded food the second Izuku's back was turned.
"Barely."
"Oh yeah, I bet you're exhausted after that arrest. I just saw the interview on the morning news. Great job handling those questions, by the way."
But Izuku never did scream at him for being a sorry excuse for a friend. Izuku wasn't programed like that. He just kept reaching out. Praising him when he didn't deserve it.
"Thanks. Those media bastards are always looking to start shit."
"Ha, yeah they're always looking for views. But your answers were great. Kilonova is well on its way to the top. You're all the students want to talk about these days."
Katsuki couldn't stop the reflexive wince that twitched across his face.
"Good to hear that the brats have taste."
He faked a yawn, loud and exaggerated, knowing Izuku's genuine empathy would override his compulsion to hero worship.
"Ah, sorry! I know you're tired. You're off tonight, right?"
Katsuki never could keep anything from Detective Izuku. No matter how hard he tried.
"You got our patrol schedule memorized or something?"
"I would if it had any real rhyme or reason. All I could tell is that you guys always take one day a week off, but its never the same day."
"Yeah to keep villains on their toes. So which hero do I have to beat up for leaking this week's schedule?"
"I have my sources."
"You're a shit liar. If I start listing names, you'll crumble and tell me before I even guess correctly."
Izuku laughed, as if Katsuki had the right to hear it. As if he was relieved that Katsuki still knew him so well to read him like that even though they barely talked anymore.
"You got me there. No one spilled. I figured it out because both Tokoyami and Shinso are both patrolling tonight and their agency schedules usually don't overlap unless Kilonova is off."
"Can't believe you're exposing my time off on a tap-able phone line like this. You trying to get me killed?"
Izuku snorted at Katsuki's put-on paranoia. Funny because Izuku would never risk hurting Katsuki. Not how Katsuki seemingly lived to hurt Izuku.
"Oh whatever. I'm basically doing you a favor. If I figured out your schedule, it was only a matter of time before a villain with a vendetta did, too."
"Took you six months."
"I know, that's why I'm calling to invite you and Ochako to dinner tonight."
His heart dropped into his ass. Palms instantly slick with explosive sweat. Blood sugar plummeting even though he'd just finished eating.
"Dinner? Tonight?"
Ochako's head spun around, exposing her ease dropping. He made a mental note that they'd never to work on spying skills if they ever accepted an undercover assignment.
"Please say yes! I haven't seen you guys in half a year and I want to see you both before the rankings come out and you get even busier!"
"Izuku . . . I don't know." He said, engaged in a staring contest with Ochako while Izuku begged for them to accept his invitation.
Guilt won, like it always did.
"Fine." Katsuki relented, too weak to push back on the pleading. "Let me ask."
He knew the answer was no, but he asked anyway. Needing Ochako to make the decision for them. To push them towards re-righting the ship and abandon whatever the fuck was happening between them.
"You busy tonight?"
Of course she wasn't. It was their rest day. Rest days consisted of a light workout, house chores, and staying up through the night by watching whatever weeks worth of television they missed to avoid fucking up their entire sleep schedule.
"Uh." She hesitated, clearly wracking her brain for an excuse.
Why, he wasn't sure. But it wasn't his place to ask. It was his place to play match maker, business partner, and friend, and otherwise keep his intrusive heartsick, horny thoughts to himself.
"No? I guess I'm not busy."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to force the image of himself third wheeling on this dinner out of his mind. It made him itch. But he knew he needed to see this. Needed to see them together. Enjoying each other.
A sick kind of exposure therapy where he forced himself to remember the whole purpose and B-plot of this team-up. This was a mutually beneficially business partnership where Uraraka and him could go Pro, make enough money to make Izuku a hero and support Ochako's Quirk Counseling program, and then get the clueless nerds together so that Izuku could live happily ever after. Their happiness should be enough. It was what they deserved.
Not him.
Never him.
He was just an undeserving little shit who needed to learn to stop coveting everything good for himself. He needed to let the good people have the good things.
And he could only learn that how do that if he let go of Ochako.
"Fine. We'll be there. Text me the time and address."
That was the first night since the Hero's Gala that they went to bed on the opposite sides of the superbed. Curled into himself, back towards Ochako, physically restraining himself from breaching the space between them.
He awoke to the tickle of hot breath on his neck and warmth cuddled into his back. And he'd be lying if it didn't hurt his mangled heart to tear himself from her comforting hold to get ready for this fuck ass dinner.
♡♡
The waitress showed them to an empty table in the back of the restaurant. They were early, unable to stay in the apartment anymore. Not when it was plagued by a palpable, uncomfortable silence.
"Wait," Katsuki called out to the waitress, who was leaving them to look over the dinner menus. "Can we also get an order of mochi and two coffees? One black and one latte?"
Ochako's cheeks flushed instantly.
"You don't have to—"
"You like your first meal of the day to be sweet." He grumbled, cursing himself for knowing all these little details about Ochako and still wanting to use them himself to make her day better when it wasn't his fucking place. He pulled out her chair for her, wishing he could blow up his own arms for suddenly developing manners.
"Besides, you'll fall asleep in your seat if you don't get your coffee."
The waitress returned with a the dessert, coffees, and an Izuku. He was a mess of green, still wearing his suit from work, apologizing profusely for being late even though he was technically five minutes early.
"I hope you guys weren't waiting for too long! I lost track of time talking with a student and missed the early train so we had to drive over but it's so hard to find parking around he—"
Katsuki cut in, needing to stop the onslaught of unnecessary apologies flowing from Izuku. "Since when do you have a car?"
"He doesn't, but I do."
Todoroki entered behind Izuku, nodding in thanks to the waitress who had just lead him to their table.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Izuku invited me."
Katsuki's eyes squinted at the remark, replaying the phone call in his mind. Izuku pulled out Todoroki's seat before taking his own across from Katsuki. He scooched himself closer to the table, cocking his head to the side with a look akin to concern. As if Katsuki was some feeble minded old person, prone to fits of forgetfulness.
"I told you Shoto was coming. Remember?"
"No."
But he did remember pulling the phone away from his ear, unable to stomach listening to Izuku beg him to come to this dinner in the first place.
"I'm pretty sure I did. I told you that we had something important to tell you. I thought that's what convinced you to ask Ochako if you guys were free tonight."
Mismatched eyes flickered across the table, darting back and forth between himself and Ochako.
"Oh, that's cute." Todoroki said, smirking into his water glass.
"Fuck off."
Stopping the teasing in its tracks, Ochako turned the attention back towards Izuku. Where it belonged. Katsuki sank in his seat.
"What's your big news, Izuku? Did you get a promotion at work?"
The two men shared a glance. Todoroki shrugged while Izuku's freckles disappeared under a rosy blush. Then, they naturally melded together with a comfortable closeness that neither Ochako nor Katsuki had seen them display before.
Todoroki shifted in his seat, stretching out his arm to rest on the back of Izuku's chair. Izuku placed a scarred hand on top of Todoroki's thigh.
"We're seeing each other." Izuku said, like it was some sort of grand announcement.
"Yeah, we all have functioning eyes. Now, what's your fucking news."
"Kacchan, no, me and Shoto are together."
Shoto?
His squint deepened so much that he could barely make out the men between the narrow slits between his eyelids.
"Like romantically. We started dating after your party, actually."
"Six months." Ochako's voice sounded distant beside him. Airy, but hollow. Like she also was struggling to comprehend this news. "You've been together for six months."
"I know, I know. I feel so bad for not telling you. It was just so new and we just wanted to exist in it all and see how it felt before going public. But I think I got so wrapped up in me and Shoto's relationship that I neglected my friendships with you both, so I'm sorry."
Katsuki's brain flat lined. This new information overwhelmed his mind, making him question reality.
The reality where Izuku loved Ochako.
The was a fact carved into stone, set the moment those nerds met at the entrance exam. Reinforced by every selfless act each performed for the other. By every longing glance, every radiant smile, every fucking fist bump and hand hold.
All of it played it a loop in his scrambled brain until the images were taken over by memories of him and Ochako. Every touch that sent 1000 volts of electricity down his spine like a lightening rod. Every instance where her sheer bad-assery stole the breath right out of his lungs.
Every time he almost kissed her, but held himself back because Izuku always wanted what Katsuki wanted and always deserved it more.
A squeeze, light but firm, grabbed his attention and yanked him from his racing thoughts and back to the table. It smelled like burn caramel corn.
Had his hands been smoking the whole time?
"Congratulations you guys!" To Katsuki's utter dismay, Ochako’s felicitations sounded genuine. Not hidden behind a front of happiness designed mask an internal crumbling that, for whatever reason, he was cursed with the ability to sense. But this time, he couldn't detect an inner sadness.
"No need to apologize. We've all been busy."
Ochako's phone screamed in her hand bag. She riffled through that bottomless pit of madness to find the ringing object.
"Oh.” Her brow furrowed. "It's Mina. She's been blowing up my phone. I'm sorry, everyone. Do you mind if I take this?"
"Go right ahead." Shoto responded for the group. Something Katsuki would normally berate him for, but this unshakable sense of overwhelm that plagued his being also seemed to render him tongue tied.
"Will you be okay?" Ochako asked, barely above a whisper. So quiet that Katsuki deduced that the question and the concern in her eyes were reserved exclusively for him.
Even though he was not sure why she was asking him that question. Not when it was her heart that had to breaking in this moment.
The love of her life was sitting across from them, hand and hand with one of her closest friends. The type of betrayal Katuski had been trying to avoid bestowing on Izuku.
It had to be gut wrenching. But she seemed . . . fine. And that did his head in even more.
At his nod, Ochako excused herself from the table.
The lovebirds blinked at him and Katsuki couldn't even bring himself to snarl back for so recklessly stomping over Ochako's heart. Not when they looked so fucking happy.
Thankfully, Izuku filled the silence with his endless ramblings. He provided updates about the life Katsuki missed out on while Izuku and Icy-Hot were busy playing house. While he was playing house with Ochako.
Katsuki could barely listen, Izuku's voice cutting in and out like a radio station that wasn't tuned to the right frequency to receive the broadcast. But a snippet caught his attention:
"It's so cool that you and Ochako were chosen to be the face of the mandate. Kilonova has really been showing that these compatibility analyses are super accurate."
"Shut it!" Katsuki's head swiveled around to see if any one at a nearby table was listening. "That's classified information, you damn nerd. Why the fuck do you know anything about the mandate?"
He whispered the loaded word, fearful that Hawks would drop down from the ceiling and give him forty lashes for discussing topics that were clearly marked and agreed to as "off-limits" in their lengthy non-disclosure agreement.
"It's my job?" Izuku answered, though it came out like a question due to his nervous energy. "I literally help write the files by analyzing potential compatibility match ups for my students."
"Ah." Katsuki supposed that made sense, since his own fucked up binder included data from his high school years. "Does it bother you that your compatibility dataset is . . ."
Katsuki trailed off, unable to finish the thought. The man in the suit before him transformed into a boy in a hospital bed. One who gave up his quirk, his dream, to save the world.
"Incomplete?" Izuku offered, shattering the illusion and returning to the healed man that had rushed into the restaurant just moments ago.
"No, actually the thought did cross my mind when I first started teaching and compiling data for potential matches. My data just kind of stops after our first year, so I'll never really know who I could have been partnered with."
The sad smile that ghosted Izuku's features disappeared as quickly as it came. Like the embers of One for All, coming and going in a blink of an eye.
"But the weirdest thing happened. The Hero Commission called me a few months ago, totally out of the blue, and said that if I ever wanted to go Pro, I could be a free agent."
It was his turn smirk. At least Hawks held up his end of the deal. And then some. Izuku wouldn't be left out in the cold with a supersuit that he could never use. He'd get to be Deku again.
"No shit."
"Yeah. The sentiment is nice and all, but without any embers of One for All left, I'm not so sure it's in my future."
Katsuki chugged his coffee to keep himself from spilling his plans for the suit. How they managed to get their class, Class B, and countless professors and Pros to donate to their fund. How Mei and Melissa were making progress every day towards something that seemed like a pipe dream, but was now maybe a year or two out from reality.
Todoroki took that moment to cock back and unload a lethal blow.
"How is it, dating your hero partner, Bakugou?"
Katsuki choked on his coffee. Black and bitter, burning his throat on the way down the wrong pipe. All he could do was stare at the source of his guilt, Izuku, while he mopped the dribble from his face. Izuku stared back, offering an easy smile, unburdened by the cards life dealt him.
Happy.
Happy for him.
And it twisted something sick in Katsuki.
He teamed up with Uraraka out of necessity. Needing to go Pro, make more money, and bankroll Deku's dream. But instead he lived as a ghost, haunting a life made for Izuku.
Not for him.
Never for him.
But staring at Izuku, it dawned on him. Maybe. Just maybe. Katsuki had been so blinded by this self imposed guilt that he couldn't see the obvious.
Izuku was living his own life. A happy life. One where he wasn't pining helplessly after Ochako, selling himself short, settling for scraps. That was not only Katsuki's projection, but his own reality. Where Katsuki was actually the chicken shit one who held himself back from happiness.
Izuku was good. He deserved good things. And he found those good things for himself, in Shoto, in his work. He found his own happiness.
Katsuki wasn't good.
Katsuki broke things, mangled them, made them cry. That's why he was living for Izuku instead of himself. If he sacrificed his happiness for Izuku, then his happiness couldn't be stolen. He'd never took risks, never bet on himself, outside of hero work.
But he already bet on Kilonova.
On Dynamight and Uravity.
So why couldn't he bet on Katsuki and Ochako?
Maybe he miscalculated. His math had been fucked from the start by misguided altruism. Variables that he thought he had accurately accounted for were actually incorrect. And if it wasn't an absolute truth that Izuku loved Ochako, then what else had he gotten wrong? What else had he overlooked?
When Ochako returned to the table, apologizing for stepping out, it was glaring apparent what he was overlooking before. His feelings, once an unknown, unnamed numerical value lurking in the background of this equation, now were loudly announcing themselves. Undeniable. Screaming to be accounted for.
He loved Ochako.
And maybe. Maybe. She felt something for him too.
Maybe that's why she melted into him at the end of the day, let him wrap her in his arms, and pepper her shoulder with kisses until she fell asleep. Maybe every innuendo wasn't an innocent blunder, but a Freudian slip that revealed everything she wanted him to do to her. Maybe she was just as scared as he was about fucking this whole thing up, because she was unsure how he felt about her.
Looking at Ochako, the risks that came from laying his cards on the table and giving this a shot seemed to outweigh the consequences of it blowing up and ending in a spectacular catastrophe. Yeah, he'd be jobless, homeless, and financially ruined, but what if it worked out? What if they could be happy?
In their bubble, he was happy. And maybe they could learn how to expand the bubble. To spread it, like her quirk, so that he didn't just have to settle for little stolen moments of bliss, but a lifetime of it. Or maybe, they didn't need the bubble. Maybe they could just be.
So instead of shying away, when Ochako sat down, Katsuki took a calculated risk.
He put an arm around her, like he would if they caught up were in their bubble. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because it was.
At first, her shoulders tensed, aware of the eyes watching from across the table. Just before Katsuki could pull away and mentally chastise himself for being a brain-dead fucking idiot for coloring in the lines now that he was blinded by a smallest glimmer of hope, she leaned back into his touch.
"Not sure," he replied, not looking at Todoroki but directly at Ochako.
"But I want to find out."