Work Text:
Singing
Katsuki couldn't contain the smile. He tried, really he did. But how could he?
Deku was fucking adorable. It was honestly infuriating, but he couldn't even stay mad about it. He wasn't even looking at him and the freckled loser had brightened his entire day.
"CUZ YOU'RE HOT THEN YOU'RE COLD,
YOU'RE YES THEN YOU'RE NO,
YOU'RE IN THEN YOU'RE OUT
YOU'RE UP THEN YOU'RE DOWN—"
In Deku's defense, he had no idea that Katsuki was here. As far as he knew, everyone had already left the dorms to go to the movies. That had been the plan, at least, until Glasses had chose the stupidest fucking movie on the planet.
So, Katsuki had stayed behind. Izuku had already opted to stay behind because his mother's birthday was tomorrow, and he'd wanted to bake cupcakes for her and her coworkers.
Clearly, since he'd thought he was alone, he'd opted to listen to music while he baked because now he was in the kitchen, belting Katy Perry at the top of his lungs.
Badly.
Deku had a lot of good traits. A lot of skills that Katsuki would probably never compliment to his face. But singing was not one of them. In fact, it was probably the thing he was the worst at. More often than not, he sounded like a drowning moose.
But when he thought he was alone, he'd get so into it. Katsuki had only caught him singing three times before. Once in the locker room showers, once in the gym at five in the morning, and once when he was vacuuming his mom's apartment.
He'd put in his earphones and dance around while he belted a Top 40 song at the top of his lungs as far off key as he possibly could, and Katuski couldn't help but be charmed to death.
This time wasn't any different. He crept into the kitchen, watching from the doorway as Deku whisked his egg whites and jammed out to 'Hot n' Cold.' It was like he physically couldn't contain his horrible singing—the song was so good that he had to yodel along with it.
His cheeks were flushed and he was nodding along to the rhythm. Katsuki was pretty sure that if he wasn't holding a mixing bowl, the dork would be head-banging. Katsuki wanted to squeeze the life out of him.
Or kiss him, but he'd need permission for that or some shit.
He grinned when Deku finally spotted him, cutting off with an undignified squawk and dropping his mixing bowl as his face turned red. The nerd spluttered and yanked out his earphones.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking adorably mortified. "Oh my god, no. You heard me singing? No. Seriously, how long have you been there? What are you doing here? I thought you went to the movies—"
"Robo-cop picked a shit movie, so I didn't go. And I've been here since the first chorus," he snickered. Izuku groaned, hiding his burning face in his hands. "And I've heard you singing before."
His head shot up. "No, you haven't."
"Fuck yeah, I have," he teased. "What's the big deal, nerd?"
"I suck!"
"It's not like you're trying to be a musician," he shrugged, still painfully amused. "Who cares?"
"I do! God, I sound like a whale!"
"A cute whale, though," he offered. "Like...I dunno. What's that one with the giant bump on it's head?"
Deku dropped his hands, staring at him in disbelief. He looked like a tomato. A freckled tomato. He really liked Deku's freckles. Wow. "A beluga?!"
"Yeah. That."
"Can you go? I need to crawl into the oven, and I don't think you need to see that."
"Deku, your ass will not fit in that oven. Your thighs won't, either." The nerd gaped at him, and he bit back another laugh. "Tell you what. Go out with me tonight, and I'll pretend I never heard you."
His eyes widened, bulging out of his pretty little head. "Go out?"
"Yeah." Hey, they'd been dancing around it for ages. Might as well take the plunge.
"Like a date?"
"Like a date."
He blushed even deeper, hiding his face again. He couldn't hide his ears though. He was pretty sure they were redder than IcyHot's left side. Probably letting off more heat, too.
"Okay."
"Good. When are you gonna be done?"
"Uh...another hour or so," he mumbled behind his hands. "Gotta clean up."
"Great. Half an hour to get ready, so...3:30?"
"Sure."
Katsuki walked up to him, tugging his hands away. Izuku looked into his smirking face, looking alarmed as fuck. "Wear something nice, dork."
He tilted his head, curious despite his embarrassment. "Where are we going?"
Katsuki grinned wider, and Deku's gaze grew apprehensive.
"Karaoke."
His jaw dropped. "Kacchan, no!"
Freckles
He should have known his week was gonna be garbage when Pinky and Cheeks dragged Deku through the common room. They looked excited, and so did Deku, even if he seemed a little overwhelmed.
At the time he hadn't questioned it. It was a Saturday and he didn't have plans with the nerd until later, so he hadn't minded that Deku was being kidnapped. It happened often enough. Everyone fucking loved him.
Sure, he'd rather have his boyfriend close by. It would have been nice to go to the gym with him or have lunch together. But whatever. He didn't own him. He could share.
And he definitely didn't sulk in the common room until they got back. He was a hero. An adult. He didn't sulk. And he didn't need to be attached to Deku's side just because they were dating. That was stupid. He wasn't stupid.
"Hi, Kacchan!"
His head didn't whip around like an eager puppy when Deku came back, either. In fact, he was calm and collected—barely turning his head to acknowledge his arrival. Sure, it was mostly so the pork cutlets wouldn't burn, but nobody else needed to know that.
"Nerd."
"Are you making Katsudon?" he asked, standing on tiptoe to peer over Katsuki's shoulder.
"No. Katsu curry."
"I was craving curry!" he cheered, wrapping his arms around Katsuki's waist. "You're the best, Kacchan."
"I know."
"Aww," he cooed. Katsuki bristled as Izuku picked up on his mood. "Did you miss me?"
"You were gone for like three hours, not for a year," he snapped. "Fuck off with that."
"So, you had a good day?"
Katsuki paused. He decidedly did not have a good day. His day had been fucking boring. He scowled when Izuku started giggling, whirling around to give him a piece of his mind. Then, he stopped in his tracks—expression going blank as his eyes swept over the nerd's face.
He frowned when Deku shifted anxiously under his stare. "Kacchan?"
"What's wrong with your face?" he barked.
Deku flinched, and Katsuki nearly kicked himself. "Oh. You don't like it?"
"Didn't fuckin' say that," he replied. "S'different. What's different?"
Izuku gave him a hesitant smile. "Um...I was watching Mina put on makeup? And I told her I liked how it made her skin all glowy? And she offered to show me some stuff. And I liked it, so they took me shopping to try out some more."
"You're wearing makeup."
"Yeah," he said, studying Katsuki's face. "Just some uh...foundation? And eyeliner."
The eyeliner looked good. It made his eyes look all wide and sultry.But the foundation...covered his goddamn freckles. Discomfort churned in Katsuki's gut. He loved Izuku's freckles.
Izuku, however, did not love his freckles, and Katsuki knew it.
Don't get him wrong, Deku looked good. His skin looked soft and smooth, and his eyes looked like they were glowing. He was beautiful. He was always beautiful, but he was a different sort of beautiful now. Like a landscape painting rather than the landscape itself.
But his fucking freckles were missing.
"What do you think?" Izuku asked, playing with his fingers.
"Looks good," he murmured, still inspecting him carefully. "Your face looks all smooth and shit. Do you like it?"
Izuku beamed, and Katsuki knew he'd said the right thing. Who cared what he thought? If Deku felt more confident like this, then he'd get with the program. Even if he liked to count the nerd's freckles like stars to help him fall asleep.
"I really do," he said excitedly. "I wanna try out more, too? Not for every day, but I think I wanna try out something more complicated for our next date night. Mina said something about highlighter? And Ochako wanted me to try on mascara but I was nervous about letting her near my eyes with something pointy. And there was this guy wearing this shimmery eyeshadow at the shop—it wasn't super in your face or anything but it looked really good on him!"
Katsuki cupped his cheek, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. "Go wild, nerd. Can't wait to see what you come up with."
Thus began the most frustrating two weeks of Katsuki's life. Deku's first action every goddamn morning was to smear foundation over his freckles and it made him so fucking happy.
Katsuki was glad that he was happy. He didn't hate makeup on principle, and even if he did—it was Deku's face, he could do whatever he wanted with it. It's not like the nerd was putting makeup on for him. He was doing it for himself, and honestly, Katsuki was proud of him for trying something new that he seemed to enjoy.
He just fucking hated that it took covering a part of himself up to make him confident. He could see it in the way Deku carried himself—head high and shoulders back. His confidence was hot, but so were his goddamn freckles.
Katsuki missed them. He knew Deku wasn't actually a different person, but it felt like he was looking at some hastily formed illusion of him—a pretty one, of course, but one that was clearly missing the finer details.
"Kacchan?" Deku asked, prodding his arm. They were on a date—some frilly café that the nerd had been talking about for weeks— and he'd been zoning out on Deku's face for who knows how long. He looked so goddamn pretty, but the missing freckles were fucking with him. "Are you listening?"
"Something about Cheeks' new gravity stabilizer," he muttered, still frowning at his cheeks. "S'not working as well as she hoped."
"Yeah," he said, eyeing Katsuki in concern. "Are you okay?"
"M'fine," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "Sorry. I'm distracted."
He tilted his adorable head, brow furrowing. "By what?"
Katsuki chewed his lip for a moment. He was pretty sure that bringing this shit up on a date was some sort of minefield, one that was heavily rigged against him.
"Your freckles," he finally responded. He frowned when Deku's hands immediately flew to his cheeks.
"Are they showing?" he demanded. "I thought I covered them—"
"You did. They're not showing. Don't get me wrong, you look great and I'm glad you're having fun learning to do your makeup, but you always cover your freckles."
His hands dropped. "Uh, yeah. That's kinda why I started experimenting with makeup in the first place."
He nodded. He figured that was the case. "It's just...new. I'll get used to it." If it made Deku feel good, who the hell was he to interfere with that? But Deku frowned at him anyway, considering him carefully.
"Do you...miss my freckles?" he asked. Katsuki shrugged, which they both knew was as good as a yes. His expression turned incredulous, and Katsuki fought the urge to shake him. "Why?"
"They're a part of your face. Whenever I look at you it feels like something is missing. And if you feel better without them, then it's whatever. I'm not dating you just because of your looks, so it doesn't really matter. But I fuckin' love them. S'like there's a fucking galaxy on your face or something," he shrugged.
The tips of his ears were burning, and he took a sip of his coffee so he'd have something to do aside from waiting for Deku to realize how whipped he was.
"They look...like dirt."
"They look like fucking freckles, nerd. Freckles are hot. I count your goddamn freckles when we go to sleep."
Izuku gaped at him, and he felt like drowning himself. "You do?!"
"Whatever."
He covered his cheeks again, but this time to cover his blush. Not that it was necessary, because Katsuki couldn't see his blush through the layer of foundation he'd put on today, which was a fucking shame.
Izuku stared at him, and Katsuki could feel the wheels turning in his head. "You really like them?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah," he said, as though it was no big deal. It was. "I really fuckin' like them."
His heart stuttered the next morning when Izuku came down the next morning—face bare and smile wide, freckles on full display.
Muttering
"Midoriya, could you stay behind for a moment?"
Katsuki scowled at Ectoplasm, pissed that he had the goddamn audacity to interrupt their lunch plans. Deku needed to fucking eat—he'd missed breakfast because he slept in—and Katsuki had fucking cooked for him. He wouldn't get to fucking taste it if the stupid specter took too long—he'd have to horf it down like a barbarian.
"It's okay, Kacchan," he said, squeezing his shoulder and playing him like a cheap kazoo. "It probably won't be long. I can't wait to try what you made for me." Katsuki ignored the butterflies in his stomach, because fuck them.
"I'll wait for you in the hall," he said rising from his desk.
"You can go get lunch!"
"No. Hall."
Izuku rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Fine. Wait for me in the hall."
"Don't tell me what to do!" he barked over his shoulder, already making his way out the door. He had to move fast or else both his boyfriend and his teacher would see him blushing like a bitch, and he wasn't down for that.
Deku was right—whatever Ectoplasm said to him hadn't taken long. In fact, he was barely in the room for a minute before he came out, brow furrowed and lips pursed.
"You good?" he grunted. Izuku looked up at him, his face an open book. Something was bothering him. But instead of saying so, he gave Katsuki a jerky nod. Color him skeptical as fuck.
"M'fine. Let's go."
Katsuki frowned, but followed Izuku as he moved—stepping on his shadow as they made their way to lunch. He was oddly quiet throughout their meal, even as he seemed to lighten up, and that carried into their next class, too. In fact, in class it was worse.
Deku was fucking silent.
Normally, he could clock every moment of the nerd's presence, but it was so fucking quiet behind him that Katsuki had to glance back to make sure he was still there. The soundtrack to his entire goddamn life was missing and by the end of the day, Katsuki felt wired—completely alert and on edge. Something was wrong.
"You studying with me tonight, Freckles?" he asked, draping an arm over the nerd's shoulders as they walked. It was too fucking quiet. Normally, Deku would be talking his goddamn ear off about everything they'd learned in class, but his lip was fucking zipped and Katsuki wanted to shake him, just so that he'd make a sound.
"Sure," he muttered, barely loud enough for Katsuki to hear him.
He came to a stop in the middle of the walkway, jerking Deku to a halt as well. Behind him, Denki squawked, nearly colliding with his back.
"What the hell, dude?"
"Keep walking, Spark Plug," he barked, tightening his grip on Izuku's shoulders. The greenette looked at him inquisitively but Katsuki waited until Denki and Hanta skirted around him. When they passed out of sight, Katsuki turned to Izuku and looked him in the eye. "What's going on?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to shrug it off. Katsuki wasn't fucking having it.
"You've been quiet all goddamn day, you've barely spoken a full fucking sentence since lunch. What the hell is wrong, nerd?"
"It's not a big deal," he insisted. "Ectoplasm said my muttering was disruptive, so I'm just...trying to curb the habit. I mean, it's just in class, but if I don't work on it outside of class I won't exactly make much headway. It's one of my worst habits—"
"No, it isn't. Jumping in front of moving cars is one of your worst habits, dumbass. Nobody gives a shit about the muttering."
"Ectoplasm does—"
"Ectoplasm's a dusty old fuckhead who clearly needs to work on his attention span if some mumbling bothers him," he sneered. "He's a fucking hero, if he can't focus without background silence, he should fucking retire."
"It's not that big a deal, Kacchan. It's like when Thirteen asked Denki to stop popping sparks during class."
"She asked him to stop popping sparks because he kept hitting Airpods with stray sparks and she'd fucking yelp every time," he sneered. "You don't gotta change shit, Deku."
"Kacchan—"
"Seriously. I like it."
Izuku fell silent, blinking up at him with wide eyes. After a moment, he said, "You do?" There were tears gathering in the corners of his precious little crybaby's eyes.
"Yeah," he chuckled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "It lets me know that you're right behind me, and I like knowing that you're there."
Scars
It had been eight months since he and Deku had started dating and through that time, Katsuki had realized something horrible. It was possible—probable, even—that he loved Deku more than he loved himself.
He kept finding ways to pick at himself—to erase the little details that made him stand out—only accepting them once Katsuki had contradicted his distaste.
It was maddening, even if it was slowly getting better. He'd hum under his breath when they cooked together—a compromise of sorts so that Katsuki could hear it while he could stifle his embarrassment. He'd still go silent, though, if he heard anyone coming.
He was wearing BB cream instead of foundation now, just so that Katsuki could see his freckles. He still caught the nerd staring at them in the mirror through, frowning as he turned his head this way and that to inspect them.
He'd been quieter during classes and movie nights, only letting himself make noise if he noticed Katsuki getting tense and falling silent again as soon as someone looked in his direction—terrified of distracting or irritating his classmates.
He was freer when it was just Katsuki, but he was still tense—like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now, they were in class and Izuku was quiet as a mouse, but he was tapping his toe against the back leg of Katsuki's chair. Another compromise, and nowhere near as satisfying.
He wanted the nerd to be himself, unapologetically. Proudly. Sure, he knew that Deku wasn't exactly the poster boy for self love and care, but being so close to him...it was amazing to be near him, but it felt like the man he got to see behind the curtain was barely holding it together sometimes.
"Remember," Aizawa said as they packed up to leave for the day. "Tomorrow you start your individual PR consultations. The worksheets I gave you last week are to be handed in to the PR rep you're paired with so that you can develop your desired public image under guidance."
He'd forgotten about the fucking PR meetings. If you asked him, he'd say he was doing just fucking fine with his image—everyone knew who he was, and everyone knew what he was worth. He didn't need some shitty ass-kisser to tell him how to behave.
"Ahh, Kacchan my appointment is in the first block," Izuku whined. Katsuki scoffed, throwing an arm over his shoulders.
As if the dork would need any PR help—he was care and kindness personified. Civilians fucking loved him—buying his coffee if they saw him in line at a café or taking selfies with him when he was on patrol. A few fans had even slipped their phone numbers into his pockets when he stopped to talk to them.
"You'll be fine," he said, ignoring the way his heart flipped the fuck over when Deku nestled into his side. "It's just PR. What's the worst they can do?"
At first, he didn't notice that anything was wrong. Deku came out of his PR appointment with a thoughtful look on his stupid freckled face, and Katsuki had taken it in stride because he didn't look upset or frustrated.
"It was mostly advice on how to lighten up in interviews," he said later, easing Katsuki's few lingering concerns. "You know how stiff I can get."
"Constipated concrete," the blonde agreed. Izuku punched him, and he grinned. "That's it? I got a thirty minute lecture on how kids are impressionable so I shouldn't swear. Fuck that."
Izuku snorted. "Like anything could stop you from swearing."
"It's good for my fucking blood pressure."
He smirked when Deku laughed harder, his little nose scrunching adorably. He was relieved, too. That weird look on his face had disappeared, and that seemed to be the end of it.
That is, of course, until a month later.
Summer was starting to bear down on them, and it was hot. Like, hot enough that even Katsuki was uncomfortable despite the fact that he was born for heat.
And yet, Deku was wearing a long-sleeved hoodie as they walked to the mall. Briefly, Katsuki wondered if he was fucking insane. I mean, he obviously was—just looking at his choice in boyfriend was enough to confirm that—but this was a different kind of insane. He just kept smiling and laughing, even though there was sweat beading on his forehead and he kept wiping it away with his sleeve. Katsuki was dying just looking at him.
"If you're so fucking hot, take off the goddamn hoodie," he snapped as Deku wiped his face with his sleeve again. Honestly, it was kinda gross—a patch of his sleeve was dark from where the sweat was saturating the fabric and he kinda wanted to burn the entire thing.
"Nah, I'm fine," he said. "It'll just be annoying if I have to carry it."
Katsuki rolled his eyes, but conceded as the nerd linked their pinkies like a fucking loser. It couldn't be that bad if he was still smiling and laughing and being sappy. He even waved at a few fans who'd turned their phone cameras toward them, flashing fucking peace signs and posing with Katsuki as he beamed. He'd be fine, right?
Wrong.
They were halfway to the mall when Deku stopped in his tracks. Katsuki stopped too, turning to look at him with a frown—just in time to see the nerd sway on his feet.
"You good?" Katsuki asked. Deku looked at him with glazed eyes, blinked once, then collapsed. Katsuki barely caught him as he went down, swearing under his dead weight.
His heart pounded as he lay Deku on the ground, hands fucking shaking as he checked the nerd over for injuries. "Fuck, Deku wake up, what the fuck?" he uttered, checking his pulse next. He could feel himself panicking—the entire world narrowed down to just the two of them as he tried to remember his field training.
He nearly collapsed with relief when his stupid ass eyes fluttered open—staring dazedly at the sky. "Fuck, you scared me," Katsuki breathed. "Are you injured? What the fuck happened?"
"Got lightheaded," Izuku groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "Sorry, Kacchan. I didn't mean to scare you."
His face was pale and dripping with sweat and frankly, passing out was the last fucking straw. "Take off your sweatshirt, you need—"
"No."
Katsuki stared at him and slowly, it narrowed into a glare. "Yes, shithead. You just passed out and it's the temperature of the fucking sun today. Take off the sweatshirt."
"No," he insisted, opening his eyes and jerking his chin toward something behind him. Katsuki turned, startling at the small crowd that had amassed behind him.
"Here, I have a water bottle," one girl said, stepping forward when Katsuki made eye contact. He took it from her and shoved it into Deku's hands, barely remembering to mumble a thank you through his concern.
"What the fuck do extras have to do with you not dying of heat stroke?" he snapped. "Take off the fucking sweater, Deku!"
"No, Kacchan!" he yelled back. He sat up, pausing and closing his eyes. If Katsuki had to guess, his head was swimming and the idiotic nerd was fighting off vertigo. He handed him the water bottle, watching like a hawk as he unscrewed the cap to take a sip. "I'm fine, I didn't eat enough or something. Let's go to the mall—"
"I'm not going fucking anywhere until you take off the goddamn sweater," he snarled, jaw clenched. Izuku cast another nervous look at the people around them—cameras pointed their way, undoubtedly taking pictures of Deku while he was down. "Would you fuckers back off?" he barked at them.
The closest ones lowered their phones, somewhere between sheepish and offended. They only stepped back when Katsuki's eyes narrowed further, glare burning through them.
"Don't berate civilians," he mumbled, just loud enough for Katsuki to hear. The blonde's scowl deepened. "I'll take it off in the bathroom or something, just get me out of here."
There was a pit in Katsuki's stomach—a horrible feeling that only got worse as Deku stood, swaying on his feet. He looked pale, and Katsuki was tempted to carry him the rest of the way to the mall. the only reason he didn't was because it would attract attention. They were UA's best, and they hardly needed 'Hero Student Deku, Too Frail For Hero Work' to be the next HeroStar headline.
It took them fifteen minutes to get Deku enclosed in a bathroom stall, and then Katsuki tugged at his sweater insistently, forcing it up over the nerd's shoulders until his arms were free. He watched as Izuku took a deep breath, seeming to relax as he was freed of the fabric. But if it had been so goddamn constricting, why the fuck was he wearing it?
He waited as patiently as he could while Deku collected himself, leaning his head back against the cool tile wall. But he wasn't a very patient person.
"What the fuck, Deku? Why wouldn't you just take the goddamn sweater off?"
"People," he uttered, eyes still closed. "Cameras."
Katsuki stared at him like he'd grown an extra head. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
He sighed, letting his pretty green eyes flutter open. "The PR rep who visited us. She said that overall, my public image is really good. I'm a strong hero, and I'm friendly and approachable. But my scars...they freak civilians out. She told me to keep them covered as much as—"
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Katsuki snapped, cutting him off. "You got fucking heat stroke because of some shitty high school PR rep? We're heroes, we all have fucking scars, Deku!"
"They're...they're ugly, Kacchan. I hate them. They're proof that I'm reckless—that I don't think before I act. They make people—"
"Fuck what other people think, Deku! The only thing they should give a flying fuck about is the fact that you're saving their asses!"
"But they don't!" he cried. "And neither do I. I feel...I feel better when they're covered, Kacchan. I hate looking at them."
Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to be patient. "You can't put yourself at risk for something as stupid as vanity, Deku. I thought something was seriously wrong."
"Sorry, Kacchan. I'll get a thinner sweatshirt—"
"Listen!" he snapped. "I get it, alright. I get that you're self conscious about your scars, and if you really wanna cover them up, I'll help you. I will. But don't do it because some shitty dickhead PR person spewed crap about your public image. If it makes you feel good, then go for it or whatever, but be fucking responsible!"
Izuku opened his mouth to say something, but Katsuki was on a roll. "I don't get why you think you have to hide shit," he snapped. "I don't fucking get why you hate your scars so much. Don't think I didn't notice last week when you tried to stop me from holding your hand, fucker. I'm not gonna tell you how to feel, but it drives me fucking crazy!"
"What does?"
"I like your scars, dumbass! I don't fuckin' know, I was there for all of them! I can see how far you've come—how far we've come—because of them! And shit, they're proof that you're a survivor or whatever! That you constantly do the fucking most to keep people safe! Fuck, they're hot!"
Izuku was staring at him now, mouth agape. "What?"
"They're hot, Deku. I've almost licked the one on your fucking bicep in public like three times. Hot."
His face was turning red—a sharp contrast from the pale and shaky vibe he was fucking with a minute ago. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh. I like your scars, I like your shitty singing because it means you're happy, I like your starry-ass freckles, I like your dorky ass muttering because it means you're right next to me. Fuck, I like everything you do. It's annoying as shit."
"So...I'm not annoying...but that annoys you."
"That's what I fuckin' said."
"Oh. That's...kinda sweet."
"Fuck you, you little turd, I'm sweet as fuck. The only thing I don't like about you is how fucking horrible you are to yourself. I don't give a shit if you cover your scars or your freckles if it makes you more confident, but fuck I wish you liked yourself as much as I do."
He bristled as the nerd stood, clearly still shaky—only settling when he wrapped his freakishly muscular arms around Katsuki's waist, burying his face in the blonde's neck.
"Thanks, Kacchan."
"Whatever," he muttered, hugging him back. "Just don't get fucking heat stoke again, I nearly shit myself in public."
He could feel Izuku's smile against the curve of his neck.
"Okay, Kacchan," he mumbled. "I'll do my best."