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Katsuki’s arm is throbbing.
The pain’s become something of an additional component to his person. One that he even looked forward to, when he watched All Might on his screen. Battle scars, he thought, were points of pride as a hero. But in practice, it’s all turned into an exercise in self-discipline that even Katsuki wants to tear his hair out over.
He grunts, the deep, thrumming ache of a nerve in his forearm stopping him in his tracks. He drops his hand before he can shut the locker door, letting it hang limp against his side while the pain recedes.
Izuku, for his part, whirls around the moment he hears Katsuki. “Are you hurt?”
Katsuki peers at him out of the corner of his eyes. Izuku has—the very definition of the battle scars Katsuki used to dream of. If Izuku is in pain because of them, he’s better at not showing it. Then again, Izuku had been wearing compression tops since their first year of UA.
“Did you iron that shirt?” Katsuki mutters. “It’s all wrinkled.”
Izuku blinks. He looks stupid with his face all blank like that, but the only word Katsuki can muster looking at it is cute. “But it’s going to be under my suit?”
Katsuki closes his eyes. The first warning that he’s not at his best. A normal day would have Katsuki snapping right back that that’s not the point, pinching Izuku’s cheeks until he started whining. It was a whole thing. Routine.
Not today, though.
He bites back a sigh. The other thing about the pain, no matter how present it feels in that moment, is that it’s exhausting. Eight years, and Katsuki still has to compensate for the stiffness of his right arm with additional stretches before every workout.
“You didn’t answer me yet,” Izuku says, and the knowing in his voice carries no subtlety in it whatsoever.
Katsuki huffs. “It’s nothing. Arm’s acting up again.” With his other hand, he gestures aimlessly at the doorway. “It’s raining, so.”
Izuku’s brows furrow. “Oh,” he says. He doesn’t ask if Katsuki wants to sit out his shift to manage the pain. Good. Would make him a fucking hypocrite if he did. “I get it.”
Katsuki still manages to scrounge up enough conversational energy to ask, “How’s it for you?”
Izuku hums lightly. He stretches his arms above his head. “I feel it, too. But it’s manageable.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki says.
“I’ll take it easy if you do, Kacchan.”
Katsuki flexes his arm, opening and closing his fist as smoothly as he can manage it without agitating his nerves and muscles even further. He eyes Izuku again, and rather than feel annoyed at Izuku’s look of worry, the most Katsuki can muster is exasperated fondness. “I’ll put a heat pack on it later,” he says for Izuku’s benefit. He shakes his arm out one more time. “Hurry up and get dressed. We’re already running late.”
“Okay, Kacchan,” Izuku says, and quickly pulls the rest of his hero suit on.
-
Katsuki’s quirk control has always been a point of pride for him. After the age of five, he’d never blasted someone without meaning to. Even his small micro-explosions, the ones he sometimes lets out when his palms are too sweaty were made that way on purpose, forcibly molded into something small and harmless, even though his quirk had wanted a larger, more explosive release.
That had changed after the war.
It was more than just relearning how to use his quirk; Katsuki had had to relearn how to use his fucking arm. Writing, holding objects, even his fucking balance was all wrong when half of his body felt like lead and his chest randomly convinced him that he was having a heart attack in the middle of the night. It had been the most impossible, frustrating year of his life. Even though Katsuki had known rehab was waiting for him, the moment he continued to use his wrecked arm in the fight against All for One, he hadn’t been prepared for the harsh realities of it just to return to his baseline of normal. In his weakest moments, the thought of being excited for this—for the battle scars and everything that came with it—made him want to vomit. Then, he’d remember what he had done it for, and he’d feel like Deku. Heroic. And the frustration would slowly, eventually reside for the time-being.
As it is, his quirk still doesn’t work like it used to. The explosions on his right arm, once sharp, detonating with pinpoint accuracy, are… rounder now. No less impactful, but dispersed over a wide area rather than shot straight at a target’s weak point. And even getting to this point had taken hours upon hours of practice with Izuku. Izuku, who had volunteered to run around setting up test dummies for Katsuki to practice shooting at in his agency’s training facilities, even when he had no reason to be there.
Izuku is—another point of pride for him.
Izuku, back to heroism. Because of Katsuki.
Even though it’s not a full-time gig for Izuku anymore, it’s still something.
Without his permission, Katsuki’s heart swells at the thought.
-
The fight is harder than Katsuki expects it to be, for what was only mean to be a lower-scale villain. Then again, the ability to create soil-based projectiles from your fingertips, something that can turn into mud when wet—Well. Katsuki can see how it could annoy the fuck out of someone, at the very least.
Fuck. He sounds like Deku.
He grunts as another burst of explosion from his quirk makes the pressure mount on his arm. Still, he grits his teeth and keeps himself airborne.
He’s lost Izuku at this point of the fight, too focused on the villain in front of him that he can barely make out with how much the rain’s increased. But Katsuki trusts him instinctively. That had been true even before they started dating.
(Which, that whole thing is… new.
A few days old.
Katsuki thinks so, at least. Izuku had leaned in after dinner and kissed him on the mouth, which Katsuki privately thinks is the first time Izuku had been able to land a hit on him in three straight weeks of sparring. Izuku had smiled softly at him, and Katsuki had tried not to smile back to give him the satisfaction.
So there. Dating.)
The only hitch in their fight occurs moments later, when Katsuki’s arm suddenly jerks back from the recoil of his explosion. He curses loudly, vision whiting out as the pain overtakes any rational part of his brain. The explosions in his other hand stutter, dropping Katsuki in a brief free fall before he manages to catch himself against the side of the building and haul himself up with one hand.
He hears Izuku shout behind him.
“I’m fine!” Katsuki yells back, before Izuku can drop everything to catch him, leaving himself open to an attack in the process. “Don’t come here! Keep fighting!”
Izuku says something else, but the rain combined with the burning of his arm muddle the sound. Still, he hears the fighting resume, just as he manages to jump back into the thick of it.
Luckily, the fight doesn’t last much longer than that. Soon enough, the villain is tied up, and the EMTs and police force swarm in to take care of the fallout.
Katsuki lets out a sigh, trying to cradle his arm to give it a break.
“Dynamite? How is your arm?”
A medic waits behind him when he turns his head. “What?”
“Deku let us know that you might have hurt your arm during the fight,” the medic says.
Of course he did. “Is Deku uninjured?”
The medic says, “He was still standing when I left him.” A non-answer as far as comments related to Izuku’s health go.
He looks around, just as the medic starts to gently prod at his bicep in search of an injury that had occurred almost a decade ago. “Where the fuck did Deku go, anyway?”
-
The hospital, apparently.
“How.” Katsuki had expected Izuku to turn up at some point in the middle of the medic’s triage. When that hadn’t happened, he had been sure Izuku would somehow appear next to him as the medic applied the last butterfly bandage onto his cheek. Then, he was absolutely certain that Izuku would materialize as Katsuki walked himself to the street corner, a healthy few meters away from the hustle of the first responders, and the two could make their way back to their agency together.
All that waiting, only to be told at the end that the only way to see Izuku was to take a ride back with the medics themselves, who had somehow transported Izuku to the fucking hospital without his knowing.
Izuku smiles, sheepish. The reassurance he’s clearly trying for doesn’t land when he’s trying to communicate it from a hospital bed. “Don’t worry too much, Kacchan. I just had a bad fall.”
“I was with you the whole time,” Katsuki says. “When the hell did you fall so bad you needed a hospital visit?”
“Towards the end,” Izuku says.
A realization comes to Katsuki. “You tried to run after me, didn’t you?”
“What?”
“When I told you not to! I told you to hold your position and keep fighting!”
“I—Oh-Oh! Yeah!” Izuku laughs awkwardly. “I’ll listen to you next time,” he says.
“Izuku,” Katsuki says.
“I will! I just—instinctively, wanted to go to you,” Izuku says.
And, well. Katsuki can understand that. His frustration melts away like water. Like rain.
“What about you? Your arm? Did the medic say everything was alright?”
Katsuki makes a face. “Twisted it weird. Probably just strained it too hard this week and it decided to flare up at the worst possible time.”
Izuku makes an empathetic noise.
“When do you get out?” Katsuki asks.
Izuku shrugs, then grimaces. “Soon-ish? The doctor will probably discharge me whenever he makes his rounds again. Maybe in an hour or two?”
Normally, this is the part when Katsuki will nod, leave to take care of the paperwork or the police interview or whatever the hell he can do to get an advance on the work while he waits for Izuku to be released. That’s his job as Izuku’s hero partner.
But.
Izuku isn’t just Katsuki’s partner on the field anymore. He’s Katsuki’s partner in—life, if things go as they are now. His boyfriend, though the word tastes juvenile in Katsuki’s mouth. He should… stick around, shouldn’t he? Wait for Izuku and go back together?
“I’ll stay with you,” Katsuki decides, dropping himself down on the seat by Izuku’s bedside.
Izuku, bewilderingly, starts to protest. “Ah, Kacchan… actually, I don’t mind if you want to leave without me. I know you don’t like when things get in your hair.”
And—Izuku isn’t wrong. Katsuki does hate it. And the mud that’s been sitting in his scalp for the last hour is starting to make him feel itchy.
“’S fine,” he says anyway. “It’s not like I’m in a rush.”
Izuku’s eyes widen. “Are you sure?”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, no, not at all,” Izuku responds hastily. “I’m just—Kacchan, are you sure? I don’t want to keep you if you have something else you want to be doing. Or—or! A heat pack! Did the medic give you on to put on your arm? I know you have some patches in your apartment…”
Katsuki frowns. “Why are you acting weird?”
“I’m not acting weird!”
“What, did you get hurt somewhere embarrassing or something?” The blanket is pulled up to Izuku’s chest, which leaves a lot of options for potentially embarrassing bruise locations hiding somewhere underneath. Maybe his dick got bruised or something. Can that even happen? Katsuki is pretty sure Izuku wears some sort of jockstrap, but—
He cuts off the train of thought before it can go any further, focusing instead on Izuku.
“Yes,” Izuku is saying, voice relieved. “I did. And it’s—super embarrassing.” Izuku flushes. “And I, uh, is it okay if we meet up later?”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow. If that’s all it is, then whatever. Izuku doesn’t want to show his dick bruise to Katsuki. Fine. “You’re not hiding anything else?”
It’s something that Katsuki is insistent on asking, in every situation he can manage.
Even before Izuku had kissed him, even before the suit. All the way back in their second year of high school, Katsuki had made Izuku promise that he’d never lie to him again.
Katsuki had poked Izuku roughly in the chest and said, “You disappear like that again, I’ll kick your ass back to Mount Fuji myself.”
Izuku had only smiled back. A little sad, if anything. “I promise, Kacchan. I won’t lie to you again.”
Katsuki knows that Izuku hasn’t exactly kept his word since then, if the years of I’m totally fine! that he had spouted repeatedly from age eighteen through twenty-three meant anything, but Katsuki had let it go. He can tell Izuku had tried to keep it, at least. Katsuki was the first person Izuku had come to when the embers had finally left him for good. Even before All Might. He was the first one Izuku had opened up to about the distance, the loneliness, from the rest of their class and their heroic starts, and how much he missed One for All, even if there were times Katsuki had had to force him into confessing.
But Katsuki trusts—hopes, at least—that Izuku will tell him the big stuff. The life-altering things.
A dick bruise, and it’s equivalent, is something Katsuki doesn’t have to push on quite yet. But it won’t stop him from keeping an extra careful watch over Izuku for the next several days.
“I’m not hiding anything,” Izuku confirms.
Katsuki nods.
Izuku looks at him hopefully. “So… I’ll see you later then?”
“Fine,” Katsuki says. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he reaches for Izuku’s hand and squeezes the scarred fingers in his own. He ignores his heart rate picking up. “I’ll text you later. If you’re up for it, I’ll make dinner.”
“Aw,” Izuku says. He grins, squeezing Katsuki’s hand back.
-
Izuku isn’t up for it. Katsuki expected that. He had known that when he offered.
Izuku had told him only a few days ago that he was neck-deep in exam prep with his students. It was probably the first thing on Izuku’s mind from the moment he learned he’d have to waste time on a hospital bed rather than make lesson plans back at home. Maybe—that’s why he wanted Katsuki out. There wasn’t an embarrassing injury at all, and Izuku just needed a gentler excuse to tell Katsuki that he was too busy to spend time with him.
Katsuki isn’t offended or hurt by it. This isn’t his first time witnessing how Izuku gets during exam weeks. It’s always felt a little ridiculous to Katsuki, considering Izuku is somehow more stressed than when he was an actual student taking these exams, but whatever.
He still feels a little annoyed when his text of Did you make it back home? doesn’t get a single response.
-
It’s not the end of the world that Izuku continues to ignore his messages for two fucking days, what with Katsuki set to give a lecture for Izuku’s class anyway. He’s a familiar face with the latest students of UA, but he still sees the occasional first year or gen ed student gape when they spot him walking down the halls.
The only bright side is that the pain in his right arm is back to its normal state before he has to face Izuku again. That is, he’s not at risk of it failing him when he least expects it. The pain is back to feeling dulled, sore deep inside his muscle and skin, rather than distracting him every ten seconds.
Katsuki glances at the clock nearby. He’s early. Izuku has a free period now, and Izuku always spends his first free period in his classroom rather than the teacher’s lounge.
(“I get distracted when the pros are there,” Izuku says sheepishly.
“The other pros,” Katsuki replies.
“Hm?”
“The other pros,” Katsuki says again pointedly. “You’re a pro, too.”
Izuku’s face reddens. “Oh! Right, right. Aha, thanks Kacchan.”)
Izuku’s classroom is four classrooms down from where 1A’s homeroom is, and Katsuki is wholly unsurprised to see Izuku bent over his desk, head so close to his notebook that his nose nearly brushes the page.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
Izuku jumps, quickly snapping the notebook shut. “Kacchan, you’re early! Did patrol end already?”
“Didn’t have patrol today,” Katsuki says, and points at Izuku’s shirt again. “Now explain that.”
Izuku laughs. “You’re telling me you don’t love my shirt? My students had fun with it.”
Katsuki grimaces, feeling his cheeks heat up when he catches sight of the shirt again. He’s the one who had teased Izuku for wearing a suit to UA every day when Sensei was their example of how a homeroom teacher should act. Then, Katsuki had actually seen Izuku in the suit, and—
It’s fine. Katsuki’s just used to seeing Izuku in a suit, now, at least in the context of UA. The only exception is when Izuku sometimes wore his hero suit, or when he dressed up for the Culture Festival. Though, that has nothing on what Izuku’s wearing now.
A gag shirt for tourists, white with bold text printed in English: “I LOVE GREAT MURDER EXPLOSION DYNAMIGHT!”
Love.
Katsuki scoffs in an effort to dispel the flustered feeling taking over his cognitive thought. Love. “Why’d you even buy this garbage? They didn’t even get my fuckin’ name right.”
“Because it’s funny, Kacchan,” Izuku responds patiently.
Izuku doesn’t mean it how Katsuki’s reading it. The length of their official relationship is still short enough to be counted on his fingers. Izuku sees it as funny.
Katsuki clears his throat. “Yeah? And why is it two sizes too big, then?”
“It’s comfortable!” Izuku defends. The collar of the shirt swoops down to Izuku’s collarbone. It would have been scandalous, had Izuku not also been wearing an equally baggy long-sleeved shirt underneath.
“You look ridiculous,” Katsuki says.
“To you.”
“To everyone.”
“Ha ha,” Izuku says, just as his first student walks into the room.
Katsuki doesn’t remember his name. His quirk has something to do with noise, not like Jirou’s, but not not like it, too. Whatever.
Out of all the students at UA, Izuku’s students, both former and current, are unsurprisingly the most familiar with him. As a result, they are also the least likely to worry about asking up his time after the lecture ends. Katsuki’s learned a thing about patience over the years, and teaching the next generation of heroes and all that cheesy crap Izuku talks about when he’s telling Katsuki about his job as a teacher. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Izuku give him the occasional thumbs up.
Encouraging, Katsuki thinks dryly.
After, when the students head off again for their lunch break, Izuku says, “That was really good today!”
“I’m always good.”
“Ha,” Izuku says, shifting his body to the side.
Katsuki frowns. Now that he looks closer, Izuku is sitting… stiffly. Seeing the shirt had distracted him from it earlier, but Izuku is—leaning.
“What’s with you?”
Izuku shifts a bit. “Nothing, nothing. I was just sitting weirdly.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. “I told you not to crouch over your desk so much,” he grumbles. As if Izuku doesn’t have enough body aches.
“Sorry, Kacchan.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to yourself.”
Izuku laughs again.
Katsuki waits for a moment, then raises his eyebrow. “Are you not going to stand up?”
Izuku looks at Katsuki with wide eyes. “What?”
“Are you just gonna sit there while you talk to me? If you’re sore from sitting, then get up and stretch your legs.”
“I still have to work, Kacchan,” Izuku says, half-amused.
Katsuki squints, walking over to Izuku to stand over him. “No other excuse you want to give me?”
“It’s not an excuse! I told you this was a hectic time. I barely have enough time for l—Ah, I mean,” Izuku finishes weakly when Katsuki gives him a hard look.
“You’re not eating?”
“I am!” Izuku says quickly. “I am definitely eating. I make my own lunch! Breakfast too!”
“And dinner?”
Izuku clears his throat.
“Izuku.”
“I eat!”
“Uh huh.” Katsuki is about to lean over and poke Izuku in the forehead, when—
Izuku suddenly pushes his chair back, fast enough for a wheel to slam on the wall behind him.
Katsuki whirls around to stare at him. “What the hell was that?”
Izuku waves his hands rapidly. “Sorry! I’m a little jumpy today.”
Katsuki stares at him. “You’re jumpy,” he repeats.
Izuku looks off to the side. “Just— my shoulders have been a bit sore today. So I’m, uh, feeling a bit sensitive about it.”
“What did you do to them?”
“Oh, you know,” Izuku says.
“Right,” Katsuki says.
-
Katsuki isn’t stupid.
He knows something is different with Izuku lately.
First, Izuku shows up to their patrol shift already dressed in his hero costume. Because apparently, Izuku had impromptu decided to teach his students about the historical evolution of his own hero costumes. Even though Katsuki could categorically prove this false because:
- Izuku hates talking about himself during class, and
- Katsuki was the one who Izuku had brainstormed his lesson plans in the first place. Katsuki had even been the one to review it for typos before Izuku had submitted it to UA for review. As a result, Katsuki knows that they’re still on their Early Age of Quirk and Costume Synergies. When would discussion of Izuku’s costume even come up?
Then, during patrol, Izuku insists that his shoulders hurt, even though Katsuki is almost certain that Izuku had shoulders made of stainless steel.
“I thought it was your arms,” Katsuki says over the comms.
“It’s new,” Izuku insists, voice crackly over the speaker.
Katsuki frowns. He’s not sure why the fuck sore shoulders or arms are even relevant right now, when Katsuki’s original question was why Izuku was so far away from him. Every time Katsuki tries to come close, Izuku just runs off, like he would fucking prefer to speak over comms even when there’s no active threat.
“Whatever,” Katsuki says, though he still makes a mental note to check up on Izuku’s shoulders later. “Just stop running off on your own.”
“Will do, Kacchan!”
Finally, after:
“I’m going to head out,” Izuku announces. “I think I can just take a shower at home today.”
Katsuki gives him an incredulous look. Sure, they don’t have to take a decontamination shower this time, but— “What? You’re already here. Just wash yourself off before you leave.”
“Aw, Kacchan,” Izuku—whines, for lack of a better word. “I forgot to bring a change of clothes. I don’t want to wear my costume again after showering.”
“I can lend you my spares,” Katsuki starts, but Izuku is already shaking his head.
“No, no. It’s just easier if I just go home now.”
“…If you’re sure,” Katsuki says.
“I am,” Izuku insists right back.
-
Day ten of their relationship comes and goes, and Katsuki can count their relationship milestones on one hand: First kiss, and that’s about it. Technically speaking, they’ve kissed once as children, but it doesn’t count. Same goes for all the hugs Katsuki has foisted on him as grade schoolers, and the times Katsuki had held his hands for hero work. They haven’t yet done any of those things as boyfriends. Izuku doesn’t even fucking send him a ten-day anniversary message.
Not that Katsuki was expecting one, but he had thought Izuku would be that kind of boyfriend. Do the whole nine yards that Katsuki had assumed that Izuku had at least tried to attempt with Uraraka.
But maybe not.
It’s not like Katsuki was privy to every detail of Izuku’s past relationships. For all he knows, Izuku acted this distant and confusing with her, too. Maybe Izuku was just warming up to dating someone new. Maybe he wasn’t much of a romantic at all, and Katsuki had been the one who had gotten deluded notions by stereotyping Izuku into an image that didn’t fit.
Or—
-
The facts: Izuku is avoiding him. Obviously. Izuku is coming over less often. He answers texts less often. He’s acting strange on patrol. He’s all—jumpy. The last time Izuku had started to act like this, he had fucked off on a suicide mission to hunt down All for One.
This time, though—
Katsuki can read between the lines.
Izuku is going to break up with him. He must have thought about his own ridiculous decision to kiss Katsuki, realized he regrets it, and can’t figure out a way to let Katsuki down easy.
As if Izuku hadn’t rejected him before. Katsuki had asked him to his face if he’d want to join Katsuki’s hero agency, to really make Izuku’s dream of being a hero come true, and Izuku had given it up. Katsuki hadn’t fought the decision because—He gets it.
There’s—baggage between the two of them that a lesser person would have never bothered with. Too much baggage.
Even more than there ever was with Uraraka, and she and Izuku didn’t even make it to their first anniversary. Katsuki had been at Izuku’s side then, too, plying him with desserts and company for weeks until Izuku had come to the realization that Katsuki had known as truth weeks prior: That there was nothing he could have done, that there was not a single action of his that had caused their breakup, and sometimes two people were only meant to be close friends.
Katsuki hadn’t made a move on Izuku then, nor any time after, even though he’d already crossed the threshold between making Izuku’s hero dream come alive and falling deeply in love with him. It’s whatever. Unlike Izuku, Katsuki was great at burying the truth. He just chose not to do it often. Plus, back then, he had told himself that he and Izuku were ill-matched, anyway.
They had similarities, sure, even taking out the fact that they had spent the better part of two decades in each other’s life. Same goal in life, sure, the same admiration of All Might, but they were fundamentally different people at the end of the day. It had taken Katsuki nearly sixteen years to learn how to be soft with other people, when it felt like Izuku had known to be gentle from his first day on Earth.
The two of them not being together would have been anyone’s rational assumption after spending even five minutes with them. Izuku wanting to distance himself after coming to that very conclusion isn’t—shouldn’t be a surprise for him.
But—
Katsuki hadn’t felt like he had the right to fight the decision when Izuku rejected him, and he as definitely not going to say anything when Izuku was still reeling from his first breakup, but what about now?
Katsuki is Izuku’s boyfriend, just as much as the reverse is true. Someone as earnest as Izuku definitely thought about it that way. Then, does Katsuki not get a say in how their relationship pans out? It’s not for lack of trying that Katsuki has barely been able to get any time of Izuku’s in the last few weeks.
If Katsuki was still working off of the same mentality as a decade ago, this would have been the point where he would storm to Izuku’s apartment to blow up in his face. He’d break up with Izuku first and spare them both the bullshit and dancing around each other. Or he’d demand Izuku fix things himself, maybe.
He’s not sure what to call it, that even with a decades-worth of growth, realizations, apologies, and overall maturity, he doesn’t do much differently as he would at seventeen. Broadly speaking.
He does at least recognize that it would be unfair to try and confront Izuku when he has to deal with rowdy teenagers the next day, so he waits until Friday, after school has let out, when he knows Izuku will be home and having dinner—Allegedly.
Regardless, it’s another thing the two of them have in common: A desire to stick to their routines, though Katsuki had always been more sensitive to things getting in the way of said routine.
Izuku opens the door on the sixth knock. “Kacchan? Did I forget you were coming over?”
“Spit it out.”
Izuku blinks. “I’m not eating anything?”
“Not that,” Katsuki says. “Whatever the hell has you so distracted lately. Spit it out already.”
On the drive over, Katsuki had already ruled out every other possible option. There’s no way in hell Izuku would be cheating, so it doesn’t even come up as a factor. It can’t be a secret underground hero thing because Izuku would never commit to something that took him so completely away from teaching. If it was a surprise for someone else, Katsuki would have been involved. If it was a surprise for Katsuki himself, it wouldn’t exist because he hates surprises, and no one knows that better than Izuku himself.
And so, Katsuki is here. To—To get fucking broken up with in person, or something. Either way, Izuku promised him honesty.
“Ah,” comes Izuku’s honest response. “I’ve been… distant.”
“So you know.”
Izuku leads Katsuki inside, towards the couch in his living room. “The kids have their exams…”
“You know this is more than that,” Katsuki says.
Izuku’s responding wince only confirms it.
“So it is something else.”
“It’s not that, Kacchan. I promise it wasn’t intentional! And, and definitely don’t won’t do it any longer.”
“It’s been almost two weeks,” Katsuki says, a little pathetically.
He had thought that their first few weeks of dating would have looked a little different. Izuku was the one who kissed him first.
“Ah—Has it really been that long?” Izuku runs his hands through his hair. A sign of his anxiety.
Good, Katsuki thinks, then feels bad about it. He can see the bags under Izuku’s eyes easily. Even if it wasn’t the root of the issue, it wouldn’t be right to say that his work at UA wasn’t additive to whatever was already going on. The end of the semester is coming, regardless of Katsuki’s interpersonal issues.
“Sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku adds. “I’ve been… forgetful.”
“No shit,” Katsuki says, doing his best to keep his voice from getting too agitated. “This isn’t something that’s gonna kill you?”
Izuku waves his hands. “No, no! Nothing like that!”
Katsuki purses his mouth. “Is it me?”
“What?”
“Did I just fuck something up?”
“No!”
He makes a determined face. “I won’t let you feel ignored anymore!”
Katsuki rubs the back of his neck. Izuku has his reasons, apparently. Seems sorry enough about the consequences of getting distracted. It doesn’t mean that Izuku won’t break up with him. But… maybe not yet. He sighs. “Are you gonna be free soon, then? We can, I don’t know. Hang out.”
Izuku perks up. “Is Kacchan asking me out on a date?”
Katsuki reddens. “Don't fucking say it like that,” he mutters. After exhaling roughly, he adds, “We haven’t been on one yet, so.”
“I want to!” Izuku says, eager. “When?”
Before he can put a clamp on his own mouth, Katsuki hears himself say, “Tomorrow?” Fuck. Sooner than Katsuki has time to prepare himself for. But he’s not a fucking coward.
“I have some grading to do, but I can finish it in the morning. Does that work? We can wear disguises!”
Katsuki nods. “We can do lunch. Or dinner at one of our apartments.”
“Or both,” Izuku says. “We can eat out for lunch and do dinner at home. We can go to the mall, too.”
“We’re not high schoolers,” Katsuki says. “What would we do at the mall? Buy our disguises there?”
Izuku rolls his eyes. “Just wear your sweater and sunglasses like you usually do. And at the mall, you can help me pick out a new jacket!”
Katsuki huffs. “You want to go on errands?”
Both he and Izuku know it’s not a real complaint. “I can pick you up,” Izuku says, giving him a small smile.
“With what car?”
“We can take the subway to the mall, Kacchan,” Izuku chides.
Katsuki rolls his eyes.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” Izuku says, cheerful.
-
The date itself is nothing special, but “nothing special” is enough to nearly choke Katsuki with relief that he and Izuku were fine. Presumably. They do exactly what they planned to do. They hold hands on their walk to the mall, and Katsuki watches Izuku try on every coat that fits his budget. Katsuki critiques every winter coat Izuku picks out until they land on one that’s stylish enough to appease Katsuki and warm enough to keep Izuku from catching a fever during the winter months.
It’s the kind of first date Katsuki would more likely read about in a manga than experience in real life. It was—nice.
Normal enough to put the worst of the doubts in his mind at rest. Izuku isn’t acting like he’d rather be doing anything else, isn’t checking his phone every few minutes. He isn’t even making any side comments on how much work he has waiting for him at home in an effort to get Katsuki to speed the date along.
It’s the opposite, in fact. It’s Izuku who makes them late to their lunch reservations, with his insistence on pulling Katsuki into every other store in the mall that caught his attention.
(“Kacchan!” Izuku holds up a pair of jeans.
Katsuki barely spares it a glance. “No.”
Izuku pouts. “You won’t even try it on?”
“I already saw the hearts stitched onto the ass cheeks. The answer is no.”)
It’s on their walk to lunch where things go south. Katsuki pulls his hand gently away from Izuku’s to instead place it around Izuku’s waist. It’s more—publicly romantic and cheesy than Katsuki had ever thought he’d be willing to do but—
If Izuku wasn’t going to act how Katsuki had assumed he would as a boyfriend, then—
He just has to meet Izuku halfway. Even if Izuku doesn’t do it, there’s no doubt Izuku would enjoy it.
So he tries.
Tries being the operative word.
Before Katsuki can fully curve his hand around Izuku’s back, Izuku flinches, pushing himself back far enough from Katsuki’s reach completely.
For a moment, it’s completely silent between the two of them.
Even Izuku looks surprised by his own reaction, covered quickly by nerves.
Katsuki hasn’t decided how he should feel. He can’t manage to isolate a single thought in his brain suddenly, and it leaves him bereft. Empty.
Izuku just flinched at him. Because Katsuki touched him. When was the last time that had happened? Their first year at UA? Is there anything Katsuki can think right now that doesn’t set their relationship back even more?
“People might see,” Izuku explains weakly, before Katsuki can even question him. “I know Kacchan probably doesn’t want all the media attention if we get caught.”
“That’s what the disguise is for,” Katsuki says, but his hands are back at his side. His baseball cap suddenly feels like it’s weighing down his head. His arm hurts suddenly. He looks down. Oh. His fist is clenched too tight. He tries to will his brain to loosen it, but it feels like his arm is disconnected from his rational thought. “We were just holding hands.”
“I know,” Izuku says haltingly. “I just—”
“Never mind,” Katsuki says.
He had—hoped the date would have made him feel better about how Izuku had been acting. Remind him that Izuku was the one who kissed him first and started this whole thing. And it did, at first. Until this.
Slowly, Izuku takes his hand again. Katsuki lets him, but he can tell it’s less about actually wanting to, and more of a peace offering for shutting Katsuki down earlier.
Izuku doesn’t say anything about how sweaty Katsuki’s hands get, and Katsuki doesn’t say anything about how Izuku keeps his body angled just far away enough that Katsuki can feel the heat of Izuku’s side near his, but can’t feel their bodies press together.
“Do you want to come to mine for dinner?” Izuku asks after a long moment. Another peace offering. “I can cook, and... you can stay over, too.”
“Fine,” Katsuki says, even though Izuku doesn’t eat dinner and he turned down Katsuki the one time he had asked about the same.
-
Still, there’s one other thing he can do.
-
Katsuki kisses Izuku as soon as the front door closes. It’s not Katsuki’s first time kissing like this, deeply and messily and completely unlike the one Izuku had planted on him. Those honors had gone to one Kaminari Denki years ago, during a long night of fooling around right before they had graduated UA. Kaminari had been working up the courage to ask out Jirou, Katsuki had just come back from an argument with Izuku about coming to terms with the reality of One for All nearly being gone for good, and—
It had been what the two of them had needed at the time.
Since then, Katsuki’s only had a handful of opportunities to practice his skills in kissing again. And he’d never gone any further than that, either. He had no time, and his hand served well enough when Katsuki was at his most desperate.
Izuku kisses back near-immediately, making a surprised noise as he blindly kicks his shoes off somewhere behind him.
Their second kiss, Katsuki thinks faintly, before letting his brain turn off instead, giving up his cognition for the feeling of Izuku’s hand, solid on his nape.
Izuku doesn’t sound like he’s not into it, judging by the noise he’s just made into Katsuki’s mouth. So. Again, Katsuki doesn’t know what to think. Maybe Izuku just doesn’t want to do anything more romantic with Katsuki beyond this. Fine. If it comes down to it, Katsuki can be okay with just this.
At least Izuku still wants this, even if he doesn’t want the rest of Katsuki.
Quickly, Izuku presses him against the wall, raising his hand from Katsuki’s neck to the back of his head, keeping Katsuki’s head from hitting the wall harshly. Izuku licks into his mouth, his other hand rubbing Katsuki’s ear, pulling on his earlobe.
Katsuki moans loudly and reaches for the bottom of Izuku’s shirt. His fingers touch the warm, soft skin on Izuku’s side.
Again, Izuku cringes, and Katsuki’s heart sinks into his chest. Izuku drops a hand onto his arms. “Sorry,” he mumbles, kissing Katsuki one more time before pulling back. “I took it too far. He sounds sheepish, like Katsuki wasn’t giving him explicit fucking permission to take it as far as he wants. “Can we rain check?”
Katsuki catches his breath, misery and humiliation swirling together deep in his chest. So— Never mind. Izuku doesn’t want this, either. He wishes Izuku would just rip the band-aid off if he didn’t want it anymore. At the same time, he hopes Izuku will avoid the situation until they both croak.
“Okay,” he says, feigning a calm he doesn’t feel. Then, because he’s pathetic, he says, “Am I still staying over?”
Izuku wouldn’t break up with him now. It would be too awkward, especially right after he had already turned Katsuki down for sex. Izuku doesn’t do awkward, at least not on purpose.
Just as he suspects, Izuku does look hesitant about it, but doesn’t reject Katsuki again. “Sure, Kacchan. I can make dinner today. Do you want to wait in the living room?”
Before they started dating, Izuku would have asked them to cook together. Katsuki wants to laugh. He couldn’t even make this last a month. How fucking ridiculous.
“Whatever,” he says instead, and goes to sit in the living room.
-
Katsuki’s mood for the rest of the night is obvious. Even Izuku picks up on it eventually.
“Kacchan, is everything okay?”
Katsuki glares at the wall. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You just seem stressed about something,” Izuku says softly. He puts a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki doesn’t shove it away, but it’s a near thing.
“Tired,” Katsuki says, just to get Izuku off his back. Izuku will be off of his everything soon enough.
Izuku makes a sympathetic noise. “Want to talk about it?”
Katsuki clenches his jaw. “No,” he says curtly.
“Maybe we should just go to bed,” Izuku tries.
“Maybe,” Katsuki says.
His heart should be thrilled at the thought, no matter the familiarity of having shared a bed with Izuku tens of hundreds of times prior, but all he can feel is dread.
-
Izuku’s turned away from him when he wakes up.
Of course he is.
Izuku is more than just turned away; he’s completely curled up towards the wall, feet tucked in close to his chest.
Katsuki shifts to face him, watching Izuku’s broad back slowly expand and contract with every breath. This will probably be one of the last times he gets to see it like this, whenever Izuku does decide to bite the bullet and break up with him. He shifts slowly, shuffling forward until he can press himself against Izuku’s back.
Pathetic, he reminds himself.
Izuku feels warm. Katsuki can feel the heat of his skin through his shirt. He’ll back away before Izuku wakes up. He’ll get out of bed in a minute and make breakfast and wait for Izuku to break up with him and continue acting none-the-wiser in the meantime. But for now, he leans his forehead into the center of Izuku’s shoulder blades, and places a hand on Izuku’s side.
Then, Izuku flinches, even more than he did the first time when Katsuki tried to touch him at UA, squirming away from the hand Katsuki had tried to place on his ribcage.
Katsuki frowns. It can’t be that it’s Katsuki’s touch that he’s avoiding; Izuku isn’t even conscious right now. And at UA, Izuku had told him that his arms had been sore. He didn’t say anything about his side hurting. Katsuki hadn’t seen Izuku get hurt there at all. So then, what—
He props himself up on one arm and pulls Izuku’s shirt upward.
A healed-over scar runs up Izuku’s midsection. Katsuki stills. He doesn’t recognize this injury. When the hell did Izuku get something like this without him noticing?
Or—
No, Katsuki realizes with growing dread. No. Katsuki does recognize it. At least, he knows what the scar looks like. It looks like a—
A burn scar. A bad one. Second degree, but healing.
(A battle scar, a childish voice in the back of his mind says, instinctively.)
What the fuck?
“Izuku.”
Izuku mumbles something under his breath, batting at Katsuki’s arm blindly.
Katsuki shakes Izuku’s shoulder. “Izuku. Wake up. Right the fuck now.”
Katsuki’s mind races. Things start clicking together quicker than he can make sense of it. Izuku starting to avoid him. His reluctance to have Katsuki touch his side. Not wanting to take off his shirt near him. The flinching. All of it starting that day Katsuki’s arm had acted up. The day Katsuki had lost control, for just a brief moment.
Izuku groans. “Wha- wuh?”
“What is this?”
“What’s what?”
Katsuki isn’t mean enough to poke the burn scar. He also isn’t nice enough to wait for Izuku to wake up and get with the program.
“When did you get hurt? Don’t fucking lie to me.”
Then, Izuku seems to realize what’s going on. His eyes fly open, grabbing for his shirt just as quickly.
Katsuki grits his teeth. His grip is tight on Izuku’s shirt. “Did I do this?”
Izuku’s answering expression is an answer of its own.
Katsuki is the one who did this. He burned Izuku with his quirk.
He feels sick. “Is this— Is this why you were avoiding me?” Katsuki thought Izuku had been pulling away out of a lack of interest. Or— Or Izuku’s brain had finally turned on and realized that choosing Katsuki of all fucking people was as big of a mistake as he could have possibly made.
Katsuki wasn’t wrong, clearly, but he hadn’t grasped the severity of it until right this moment.
“It’s not what you think,” Izuku says immediately. His hands are up in a pacifying gesture. “I wasn't scared of you.”
Katsuki laughs disbelievingly. “Oh yeah? Cause you were acting pretty fucking scared to me.”
“I— I was avoiding you,” Izuku admits. “That’s true. But it's because I didn't want you to notice!”
“Because— Because why? I’d remember what the fuck I was like and realize I wanted to beat on you again?”
Izuku huffs, sitting up in bed and pulling his hoodie back down. “Kacchan, listen to yourself! Of course that’s not why!”
Yeah. Katsuki knows he’s being ridiculous. He knows Izuku’s been over that for over a decade. But his breath is already coming out in rough pants, and his heart physically aches from how hard it’s beating. He feels like he’s fifteen again, instead of twenty-seven. His control over his emotions is just out of reach, and Izuku bears witness to it like he did every time before. “You think I’m too weak to apologize for it?”
“Kacchan,” Izuku says sternly. “We’ve talked about this before. I’ve never, ever thought that of you.”
“Yeah, you know what else we talked about?” Katsuki spits back. “Being honest.” There. The heart of the issue. “You lied to me.” His face feels hot all of a sudden. “And now you’re gonna break up with me.”
Izuku gapes. “What— I, what?”
“You think you were being subtle? Fuck you.”
“Kacchan— I lied to you, you’re right about that, too. But I don’t want to break up with you! Why would you think that?”
Katsuki bites back, “Why do you think?”
Izuku winces. Good. He’s at least self-aware enough to understand what his actions have looked like all week. He rubs a hand down his face. Quietly, he says, “I’m sorry, Kacchan. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Lot of good that did.”
“I wanted the worst of it to heal before you saw it. That’s all.”
“So— what? You’d rather make me think that you were going to break up with me instead of— talk. I would have, fuck.” Katsuki runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I would have apologized for it.”
“I don’t want to break up,” Izuku says. “And I don’t need you to apologize for anything. That was the whole point, Kacchan. I didn’t want you to feel bad about this.”
“Screw you,” Katsuki responds. He can’t parse through his emotions fast enough. Anger. Worry. Sheer relief that Izuku isn’t going to leave him. Annoyance that he should have guessed it sooner. Izuku was always going to be a liar, whether he promised Katsuki of the contrary or not, but he’d never been a good one. Not in Katsuki’s opinion, at least.
“Don’t cry,” Izuku says, breath hitching. His fingers skate up Katsuki’s arm, still fisted into Izuku’s shirt. They land gently against Katsuki’s neck.
“You’re the one crying, idiot,” Katsuki croaks back.
Izuku takes a deep breath. “Kacchan, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Yeah, well.”
“Do—” Izuku braces himself. “Are you— Kacchan, I would understand if you didn’t want to—”
“Spit it out.”
“We haven’t been dating for that long,” Izuku says. “So if this— If this showed you that you didn’t want to do this anymore—"
Instead of poking Izuku’s burn scar, Katsuki pokes Izuku’s forehead as roughly as he can.
Izuku makes a pained noise. “Ow, Kacchan...”
“Are you stupid?” Katsuki asks.
Izuku rubs his forehead. “I just wanted to offer—”
“Your offers are stupid, too.” Katsuki lets go of Izuku’s shirt to wipe at his own face roughly. “You’re so dumb.”
Izuku peers up at him from underneath his eyelashes. “Then, then Kacchan doesn’t—?”
“No,” Katsuki responds simply. Izuku fucking wishes. “Lie to me again and I’m going to murder you.” He doesn’t expect Izuku to keep his promise. Izuku will probably lie to him again. It’ll definitely be for a reason like it was this time. A way to martyr himself when he didn’t have to, because he thinks that it’ll protect Katsuki somehow. Izuku was predictable like that.
Izuku gives him a small smile. “Okay.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“I don’t want you to break up with me, either,” Izuku says. “I’ll never want that.”
Katsuki hums. “You’re so cheesy.”
Izuku kisses him then, pulling Katsuki in closer until he’s practically straddling Izuku’s lap. His mouth tastes sour, but Katsuki ignores it. “Kacchan,” he says, “I hope you know, I’m going to marry you.”
Katsuki nearly slams his head into Izuku's in surprise. “What is wrong with you?!”
“Lots of things,” Izuku says dismissively. “I’ll marry you today, if you want.”
“I’m still pissed at you,” Katsuki reminds him, deciding that for his own sanity, it’s best if he ignores Izuku’s words completely.
“I know,” Izuku says. His voice is soft, like the fact that Katsuki is mad at him is fucking endearing or something.
“When does it heal?”
“It’s practically healed already,” Izuku says. “I have to rub a cream on it for two more days, I think.”
“Burn marks take longer than that to get better,” Katsuki says.
“I’ll still have the scar,” Izuku acquiesces, “But the worst of it will have passed.”
“…You’re sure this time?”
“Positive.”
Katsuki stares at him for a moment longer. Then, he grabs Izuku’s cheeks and tugs.
Izuku’s eyes widen. “Kacchan?!”
“Punishment,” Katsuki says. “Deal with it, or else.”
“Or else what?” Izuku says through the warped shape of his mouth. Brat.
“Or else I confiscate the mini chocolates you have hiding in your desk.”
“Kacchan!” Izuku says, but he’s laughing.
All his shaking forces Katsuki to let Izuku’s cheeks go before it actually does hurt him. The pinching had left light splotches of red in Izuku’s cheeks.
No scarring, Katsuki thinks, and feels his heart soften with the thought.