Chapter Text
“Hey, guys! Sorry I’m late!”
Izuku reached the table slightly out of breath, still trying to recover after practically sprinting the last two blocks.
It was the first Friday of the month, which meant that, by some miracle, they had all managed to be in the same place at the same time. The tradition had started almost a year ago, after Mina decided that, if they left it up to university life, they would all end up graduating without ever seeing each other outside a classroom.
Since then, they had made it a point to meet up once a month to eat, drink, and complain about the exhausting reality of being university students.
Izuku hung his coat over the back of the empty chair beside Uraraka.
“I was just talking to Aizawa about a few things for my summer project.”
“Izuku, finally!” Mina broke into a huge smile. Judging by the slight flush across her cheeks, she had already been drinking for a while. “You were the only one missing.”
She rested her head against Kirishima’s shoulder. He barely seemed to notice, far too invested in what appeared to be a surprisingly heated discussion with Todoroki about different kinds of soba.
Jirou, sitting on Mina’s other side, calmly reached over and took away the cup of sake Mina had been about to bring to her lips.
“Hey!” Mina protested.
“You got here just in time.” Kaminari pointed toward the table with his chopsticks, his mouth still full of rice. “The food just got here.”
“Kaminari, please finish chewing before speaking,” Iida said.
“I’m literally fine.”
“You are spraying rice across the table.”
Kaminari rolled his eyes.
Izuku pulled out his chair and sat down. It was only then that he noticed Katsuki across the table, looking thoroughly uninterested in the conversation going on around him.
Without even looking at him, Katsuki pushed a plate of okonomiyaki across the table in his direction.
Izuku paused.
“You ordered for me?”
“You get the same fucking thing every time.”
“That’s a lie. I changed my order last time.”
Katsuki finally looked at him.
“Yeah, and you fucking hated it.”
“I didn’t hate it,” Izuku said, offended.
“You ate three bites.”
“I was full.”
“You stole half my food ten minutes later.”
Izuku opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“Fucking liar.”
Izuku picked up the chopsticks beside his plate, ignoring the smug little smile beginning to tug at Katsuki’s lips. The worst part was that he was right. Izuku did order the same thing every time, and right now, he was far too hungry to keep defending a lie even he didn’t believe.
He had spent practically the entire day on campus dealing with the last bits of paperwork for the summer project. Not that he was complaining. After two years of trying to earn a spot on Aizawa’s research team, signing half a dozen forms seemed like a ridiculously small price to pay.
Ever since he had first heard about the project during his freshman year, Izuku had been obsessed with the idea of being a part of it. The lab focused on developing low-cost assistive devices, adapting solutions that would normally cost absurd amounts of money into something more accessible to the people who actually needed them. It was exactly the kind of work that had made him choose bioengineering in the first place: taking something that existed only as sketches, calculations, and hypotheses and turning it into something that could make someone’s life just a little bit easier.
A light elbow to his ribs pulled him out of his thoughts.
“So...” Uraraka started, already smiling. “Does that mean you got in?”
Izuku couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face.
“Officially? Yeah.”
“Oh my God, Izuku, that’s amazing!” She threw an arm around him in a tight side hug. “So you’re really staying in Tokyo all summer?”
“That’s the plan.”
Katsuki looked up from his phone.
“The dorms close in August.”
Izuku turned toward the blond.
“They do.”
“Where the fuck are you staying?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
Izuku said it with considerably more confidence than he actually felt.
There were only a few weeks left until the end of July, and he still hadn’t found anywhere he could afford without practically wiping out everything he had managed to save during the semester. The dorms would be closed throughout August, and going back to his mother’s place would mean spending hours every day switching between trains just to get to and from campus.
There was still the option of finding a temporary job. A few night shifts at a konbini, maybe. It wouldn’t exactly be ideal trying to balance work, research, and sleep, but Izuku had survived worse schedules before.
It was already past eleven when some of the bar lights began to switch off, a not-so-subtle indication that it was time for them to leave. By then, Mina and Kaminari had long since crossed the line between pleasantly drunk and completely useless.
“BYE, GUYS! I LOVE YOU GUYS!” Mina shouted from across the parking lot, practically hanging off Kirishima’s back as he carried her toward his car.
“We know,” Kirishima laughed, bending down slightly as he helped her into the back seat. “You’ve told us, like, six times already.”
“BECAUSE IT’S TRUE!”
“Yeah, yeah.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face before closing the door. “Just don’t throw up in my car.”
Mina slapped a hand against the window, looking deeply offended.
“YOU’RE SO MEAN TO ME!”
Kirishima only laughed before turning back toward the rest of the group.
“Text when you guys get home, alright?”
“Love you too, bro,” Kaminari replied, giving him a thumbs-up.
“You weren’t included.”
Kaminari pressed a hand dramatically to his chest.
“What the fuck, man?”
Izuku laughed as Kirishima shook his head and made his way around to the driver’s seat.
“See you guys later!”
The car had barely left the parking lot when the horn sounded and Mina stuck half her body out of the window.
“I LOVE YOU!”
“MINA, GET BACK INSIDE THE CAR!”
Izuku’s laughter mixed with Uraraka’s as the car disappeared around the corner.
Beside them, Jirou was fighting an entirely different battle.
“Denki. Get in the car.”
“I can walk.”
“You can barely stand.”
“That’s not true.”
Kaminari took one step backward and immediately tripped over his own foot.
Jirou caught him by the arm before he could hit the ground.
“Compelling argument.”
“I meant to do that.”
“You tried to unlock a vending machine with your dorm key five minutes ago.”
“It looked like a door.”
“It had Pocari Sweat written across it.”
Kaminari narrowed his eyes, apparently trying very hard to come up with a defense.
Iida let out a deep sigh beside the car, keys already in hand.
“Kaminari, I strongly advise that you stop resisting and enter the vehicle. You are clearly in no condition to return to the dormitories by yourself.”
“See?” Jirou pointed at Iida. “Listen to the responsible adult.”
“We’re the same age.”
“Exactly. Embarrassing, isn’t it?”
Kaminari muttered something incomprehensible under his breath but finally allowed Jirou to shove him into the back seat.
Todoroki, who had been silently observing the entire ordeal beside Iida, frowned slightly.
“Why did he think the vending machine was a door?”
“I don’t know, Todoroki,” Jirou replied. “And I’m afraid to ask.”
Uraraka laughed before turning toward Izuku.
“I’m heading out too. Toga’s waiting for me at the station.”
She pulled him into a quick hug.
“Don’t stay up all night working again.”
“I don’t do that.”
Uraraka pulled back just enough to stare at him.
Izuku looked away.
“Okay. Not that often.”
“Sure.” She smiled, clearly unconvinced. “Text me when you get back.”
“I will.”
After saying goodbye to everyone else, she headed toward the station, leaving Izuku with Katsuki, Iida, Todoroki, Jirou, and a nearly unconscious Kaminari slumped in the back seat.
“Midoriya,” Iida called as he opened the driver’s door. “Would you like a ride as well? We are returning to the dormitories.”
Izuku was about to accept when he remembered his notebook.
“Oh, right. No, thanks.” He gestured with his thumb toward Katsuki, who stood a few steps behind them, looking at his phone. “I left my research notebook at Kacchan’s place. I need to pick it up.”
“Of course you did,” Katsuki muttered without looking up from the screen.
Izuku turned toward him.
“You could’ve reminded me.”
“I fucking did.”
“You sent me a picture of it with no context.”
“So you’d know where the fuck it was.”
“That is not the same thing as reminding me!”
Katsuki finally looked up.
“Not my fault you’re an idiot.”
Izuku rolled his eyes.
Iida looked as though he was considering intervening, but wisely decided against it.
“Very well. In that case, please ensure that you return to the dormitory safely afterward.”
“I will. Thanks, Iida.”
Todoroki opened the passenger door, then paused before getting in.
“Good night, Midoriya.”
“Good night, Todoroki.”
He turned his attention to Katsuki.
“Bakugou.”
“Half-and-half.”
Todoroki nodded, apparently satisfied with the exchange, and got into the car.
Jirou opened the back door only to find Kaminari already slumped against the window, eyes closed.
“He’s asleep.”
“I’M NOT,” Kaminari mumbled without opening his eyes.
“Sure.”
She climbed in beside him and shut the door.
A few seconds later, Iida’s car pulled out of the parking lot.
Izuku watched the taillights disappear down the street before the sudden quiet around him finally registered.
For the first time that night, it was just him and Katsuki.
Katsuki could have left at least ten minutes ago. His car was parked nearby, and he had already said goodbye to Kirishima. Still, he had stayed, scrolling through his phone while Izuku finished saying goodbye to everyone.
Izuku didn’t think much of it. Kacchan was probably just impatient for him to get his notebook so he could finally go home.
“Come on,” Katsuki said, already heading toward his car. “I wanna get the fuck home.”
Izuku smiled faintly and followed him.
He climbed into the passenger seat and, without asking permission, connected his phone to the car’s sound system. A few seconds later, the opening chords of Walk by Foo Fighters filled the car.
Izuku rested his head against the window as the city slipped past outside. Katsuki didn’t complain about his choice of music, which Izuku decided to count as a victory.
They didn’t speak for the first few minutes.
Izuku liked that.
With some people, silence created a strange kind of pressure, an urgency to find something, anything, to say just to fill the empty space.
With Katsuki, that never happened.
Maybe it was because they had spent far too much of their lives together to still feel obligated to fill every empty space between them.
Or at least, that was how things were now.
Izuku had left his research notebook at Katsuki’s apartment two days ago, when he’d stopped by between classes to get a second opinion on some of the mechanisms for his project. He hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten it until Katsuki sent him a picture of the notebook abandoned on his table.
He needed it back before Monday so he could finish some additional research before meeting with Aizawa.
A light flickering across the dashboard pulled his attention away from the window.
Call from Mitsuki.
Katsuki made absolutely no move to answer.
“Auntie Mitsuki’s calling.”
“I can fucking read.”
“Are you gonna answer?”
The blond kept his eyes on the road, a familiar crease forming between his brows.
A few seconds passed before the call dropped.
Five seconds later, Mitsuki’s name lit up the dashboard again.
Izuku looked at Katsuki.
Katsuki looked at the screen and let out an irritated huff.
“She’s gonna keep calling.”
“I fucking know.”
The light ahead turned red. Katsuki brought the car to a stop and hit the answer button with enough force to make Izuku wonder what the poor thing had ever done to personally offend him.
“What is it now?”
“Is that how you answer the phone when your mother calls?”
“You wouldn’t stop fucking calling.”
“Because you didn’t answer the first time, genius.”
Izuku covered a laugh with his hand.
There was a brief pause.
“Is that Izuku?”
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed as Izuku leaned slightly toward the dashboard.
“Hi, Auntie Mitsuki.”
“Oh, hey, darling! See, Katsuki? That’s how a civilized person answers someone.”
“Don’t fucking encourage her.”
“How are you, sweetheart? How’s your mother?”
“She’s good! She’s actually—”
“Why the fuck did you call me?”
Katsuki cut him off before he could finish.
“Hey, don’t be rude! Anyway, next week is the company’s anniversary reception. Your father already told you about it.”
Katsuki let out a long, heavy sigh.
Izuku didn’t even have to look at him to know exactly what kind of face he was making. Katsuki treated anything involving his family’s company as if Mitsuki had personally summoned him to a public execution.
The light turned green, and Katsuki accelerated toward his apartment.
“And?”
“And you’re coming.”
“Wasn’t planning to.”
“I’m not asking, Katsuki. It’s the company’s thirtieth anniversary. Your grandparents are coming, your uncle is coming, your father wants you there—”
“Then you already have enough fucking Bakugous.”
Izuku bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.
“Very funny. You’re still coming.”
“Anything else?”
“Actually, yes. We’re having the Yoshidas over for lunch on Sunday.”
Katsuki’s frown deepened.
“Who?”
“The family I told you about. We’re finalizing that partnership with their company.”
“Congratulations.”
“Don’t be a smartass. Their daughter is coming too.”
Katsuki went quiet for a moment.
Izuku slowly turned his head toward him.
He knew that silence.
“No.”
Mitsuki didn’t miss a beat.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were fucking going to.”
“I was going to say she’s your age.”
“And I don’t give a shit.”
“Katsuki, would it kill you to have lunch with a girl? I’m not asking you to marry her. Just talk to the girl.”
The blond went silent for only a second, but somehow, that second seemed to stretch much longer than it should have.
“I’m not interested.”
“You’re never interested.”
“Yeah. Figure it out.”
“God, when was the last time you even went on a date?”
Izuku could practically feel Katsuki getting closer to exploding with every word that came through the speakers.
“You used to date in high school, at least.”
Izuku’s heart gave an unwelcome little jump at that, and he turned his attention back to the window.
He remembered that much better than he would have liked to admit. Katsuki had always drawn attention in high school: tall, good-looking, good at practically everything, with that infuriating confidence that seemed to attract people even when he went out of his way to push them away. Girls, especially.
And Katsuki had dated quite a few of them.
Izuku had learned, back then, not to think too hard about that.
He had always assumed it would continue once they got to university. Between parties, bars, and all the events that came with being a college student, it wasn’t like Katsuki lacked opportunities.
Strangely enough, though, Izuku couldn’t remember hearing about a single person Katsuki had been with in the three years they’d been at university.
Not that he kept track of that sort of thing.
Obviously.
“Now every time I ask if you’re seeing someone, you act like I’ve insulted your entire bloodline.”
“Because you don’t know when to mind your own fucking business.”
“So you’re not seeing anyone.”
Katsuki’s grip tightened around the steering wheel.
“Who said I’m not?”
Izuku’s eyes widened, his head snapping toward Katsuki so quickly it almost hurt.
On the other end of the call, Mitsuki made a strange sound somewhere between a gasp and a choke.
The silence that fell inside the car was so complete that Izuku had the ridiculous thought that he would have been able to hear a pin hit the floor.
Then Mitsuki broke it.
“...Excuse me?”
Katsuki kept his eyes fixed on the road.
“You heard me.”
Izuku continued staring at his profile.
“Katsuki.”
Izuku knew that tone. It was the exact one Mitsuki used when she knew, with absolute certainty, that her son was full of shit.
“What?”
“Are you seriously telling me you’re seeing someone?”
“That’s what I fucking said.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you?”
Katsuki’s jaw tightened.
One second.
Two.
Izuku watched his fingers curl just a little tighter around the steering wheel.
Ah.
He was lying.
“Why the hell wouldn’t you?”
Mitsuki let out a short laugh through the speakers.
“Because I’ve known you for twenty-one years.”
Another pause.
“Fine. Who is it?”
Katsuki froze.
His mouth opened.
Closed.
And for the first time since this conversation had started, Katsuki looked genuinely lost for an answer.
“Well, that’s what I thought.”
Izuku saw the exact moment something shifted in his expression.
It was subtle. A slight twitch of his jaw, the faintest pull of his brows. Maybe someone else wouldn’t have noticed the difference.
Izuku did.
He knew that expression far too well.
Mitsuki had turned it into a challenge.
And Katsuki Bakugou was physiologically incapable of walking away from a challenge.
Oh no.
“Deku.”
Izuku blinked.
“What?”
“WHAT?” Mitsuki echoed through the speakers.
Katsuki turned his head for only a second.
Red eyes met his.
And something about the way Katsuki looked at him made Izuku’s stomach drop before his brain had even managed to understand what was happening.
Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.
Katsuki turned his attention back to the road.
“I’m seeing Deku.”
Silence.
Izuku stared at him.
“You’re what?”
“Izuku?”
Izuku opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then looked at Katsuki.
Katsuki shot him a look that somehow managed to communicate don’t you fucking dare with impressive clarity.
Izuku felt an equally impressive urge to open the passenger door and throw himself out of the moving car.
At least they were almost at Katsuki’s apartment.
“...Yes?”
“Is my son having a stroke, or are you two actually dating?”
Izuku took a deep breath.
Then another.
“Actually, Auntie Mitsuki—”
“Yes,” Katsuki cut in.
Izuku whipped his head toward him.
“Kacchan.”
“What?”
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
“You’re fucking talking to me.”
“Privately.”
“We’re in a fucking car, Deku.”
“Your mother is on the phone!”
“I can still hear you, you know.”
Izuku stared at the blond and felt an overwhelming urge to strangle him right then and there.
“I’ll call you later,” Katsuki said.
“Katsuki, don’t you dare hang—”
Click.
The call disappeared from the dashboard.
For a moment, Izuku simply stared at Katsuki.
He could feel his eye twitch.
Katsuki, apparently possessing some deeply flawed sense of self-preservation, continued driving as though he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the middle of Izuku’s night.
Izuku took one slow breath through his nose.
Then he spoke.
“You have thirty seconds to explain why you just told your mother we’re dating before I kill you.”