Archive of Our Own ^beta

In all the years he's known Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, somehow naively, thought that nothing can surprise him anymore when it comes to his childhood-friend-turned-bully-turned-significant-other. At this point in their lives, the time they've spent without each other even in the periphery is absurdly miniscule compared to the ones that do, to the point that Izuku honestly can't think of a life without Kacchan ever being by his side.

While not all-encompassing, the explosive blond has been the center of a lot of his firsts— his first friendship, his first surge of genuine admiration, his first hurt, his first real heartbreak. In the end, Bakugou Katsuki had been his first love, in all the ways that counted and mattered, and despite the common belief that this kind of love never lasts, Izuku had been determined to beat the staggering odds, too stubborn and hardheaded to do anything else.

Just as he never gave up on his dream to become a hero.

It's a long, winding, thorny road to his destination. And with everything that has happened to him, Izuku could confidently say that it was wholly worth it, accepting One-for-All from his hero, All Might, pursuing the same path as his idol, making new friends and reconnecting with old ones. He has gained more blessings than he has ever dreamed of in his life, alongside a heavy duty that he now must bear and see through for the sake of the world.

But not alone. Not anymore, not when he had his family, his friends, his mentors and allies.

Not when he has Kacchan.

The shift in their relationship is volatile, fast-paced, total, and overwhelming. Izuku would have been content just to be Kacchan’s friend again, to just have the blond look at him and acknowledge that he’s worth something. Not approval, exactly, but merely an acceptance of Izuku’s existence, of his abilities to stand on his two feet and remain at the other’s side as a comrade, as an equal. Izuku has never cared for glory or titles; he only wanted to save people, and is more than willing to let his once-boyhood friend lead them on that path, because Kacchan, at his very core, also wants to be a hero, more than anyone else Izuku knows.

Instead, what he gets is much, much more.

Dating is the period wherein a person gets to know someone else, in a better, more intimate setting. Izuku thought things wouldn’t really change once they started their own relationship, meeting the blond as a snot-nosed kid who didn’t know any better. But being the object of Katsuki’s affection is radically… different from being anything else in his life. The other gives himself wholly to anything he deems worthy of his time and effort, and once Izuku manages to shift into that category in the other teen’s mind, his interactions with his… boyfriend (and gosh Izuku would forever flail internally and squeal silently whenever he thought of Kacchan as… that) are still the same, but wildly new, at the same time.

Kacchan still butts heads with him. Still yells and sneers and curses when angered or provoked, but Kacchan also kisses and touches and holds him with such temperance and care. Now, he looks and acts as if Izuku is something to be cherished, and it still amazes Izuku all the time, to know that he can draw out Kacchan’s gentler, softer side that he keeps carefully hidden away and somehow manages to express so roughly.

This, in itself, doesn’t shock Izuku at all. His beloved might be rough and sharp at his edges, but ultimately, Kacchan is a good person. His bark is much worse than his bite, and slowly but surely everyone else is realizing that too. So when people exclaim in amazement that his boyfriend’s actually been so helpful to them, that he isn’t as bad as they think, Izuku merely smiles and beams in pride. He has always known that from the very beginning, even if it did, admittedly, take a while to get Kacchan to that point visibly.

But the things he is discovering about his boyfriend now… are so completely out of left field that even he has a hard time processing it completely.

Like most life-altering events, it happens on a typical, unremarkable day. It’s early evening, just after the end of the day’s classes, and Izuku and the rest of his classmates are back in or around the dorms, spending their free time the best way they know how. Since they all live together now, arrangements have to be made when it comes to activities and household chores in an attempt to learn independence and shared responsibility. Everyone is on a rotation doing all of the chores at least once a week, and admittedly, some days are better than others when it comes to meal times. But everyone has learned to look forward to the start of the weekend dinners since that’s the time when Kacchan and Satou are in charge of the dishes, and today is no different.

While his boyfriend is slaving away making them delicious, yummy food, Izuku is in the common room with his friends, opting to finish his homework sooner rather than later. He’s joined by a few people, and they are all appropriately quiet as they work on their respective subjects, speaking up once in a while to ask for help on something specific. Izuku likes these impromptu studying sessions when they happen, always willing to help and be helped in turn, and it’s always a nice feeling to bond with friends on a shared activity.

At the same time, Kacchan’s loud, distinguishable noises can be heard somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen, already hard at work, and Izuku hides a smile as he jots down an answer in his notebook.

Everything is normal. Quiet. Peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

“BABE!”

Izuku’s head jerks up, blinking, wondering if he’s heard correctly. A few people also raise their heads, jolted from their concentration, and everyone shares a moment of confusion as to what just transpired, until—

“Babe, come here a sec!”

Izuku’s jaw drops, pencil rolling away from his now equally slack fingers as his nearby friends whip their heads to stare at him, unnervingly in unison. The silence that enveloped the common room is pronounced, abrupt, with not one person moving a single inch.

No one dared to breathe, even as they all exchanged looks. Because they must be having a collective auditory hallucination, surely? They must have heard Satou calling out, of course, how obvious, despite their buff classmate recently expressing his single status after his brief but whirlwind affair with a General Course student. That has to be it, right?

Because the alternative, the other option, the actual truth, is absolutely, completely impossib—

“Babe! The fuck’s takin’ you so long?!”

Ashido manages to let out an aborted shriek before being tackled to the ground. Todoroki manages to speak afterwards, his wide, mismatched eyes and hoarse voice as he faces Izuku’s direction the only indication of his extreme shock.

“Midoriya… I think Bakugou’s asking for you.”

“M-Me?!” Izuku manages to answer, voice equally high and strangled, still not quite able to believe what he has just heard. His face is starting to burn from the combination of scrutiny and mortification. “Are y-you sure?! B-But Kacchan doesn’t really—!”

“DEKU!” His boyfriend yelled again, tone shifting from general annoyance to seriously pissed off this time. “Get your ass in the kitchen now!”

“Oh my gosh…” A floating tank top and shorts across from him starts to giggle maniacally, gloved hands rapidly gesturing, “did you just hear that?! Bakugou just called Midorin ‘bab—’!”

“I-I’ll go and see what he needs!” Izuku yelps, cutting Hagakure off as he scrambles to his feet, almost tripping on the table leg in the process. “Kacchan, I’m coming!”

“Not if you don’t get here within two seconds!” His boyfriend hollers back, and with that, the stillness and tension that has been steadily growing inside the room finally shatters.

The ensuing uproar feels like a physical punch to the gut, and Izuku escapes as fast as his legs can carry him, calves flickering briefly with the contained power of One-for-All as he leaves the chaos behind. Izuku has never felt more relieved to see the sight of the stove happily bubbling away with cooking food.

Inside, his boyfriend is alone, ladle in hand as he hovers over a pot, and Izuku makes a beeline for him immediately.

“Kacchan!”

The blond turns to face him, expression grumpy, but doesn’t look to be in a terrible mood. “Took you long enough. Here, taste.” He presses a small saucer to Izuku’s lips without preamble, already filled with a bit of soup. “New recipe. My tastebud’s fucked from all the chili for lunch earlier.”

Fingertips brush against the back of his boyfriend’s hand as Izuku automatically takes an obedient sip, the savory, tangy, salty taste of miso coating his tongue. He feels Kacchan studying his face closely for any change in expression, but as always, his boyfriend’s culinary skills shine through even on the first attempt.

“Mm! It’s really good, Kacchan!” Izuku beams at him, finishing up everything in the saucer. “It tastes like how my Mom usually makes it!”

“That so?” Kacchan returns back to the stove, but not in time, Izuku notices, to get rid of the small, upward, pleased quirk of his lips. “Thought I fucked up the ratio a little, Auntie Inko uses a lot more dashi in her broth—”

Something grabbed into Izuku’s chest, wrapped around his heart, and squeezed. “Kacchan,” he starts, voice wobbly, because really? His boyfriend would go so far? “Did you ask my mom for the recipe?”

“Stuff it,” the blond growled, the back of his neck turning scarlet. But he doesn’t move when Izuku throws himself at the other’s back, arms wrapping themselves around that lithe waist and holding tight. “I didn’t ask, nerd. She gave it to me. So might as well try it out since we have the shit for it and everything.”

“Kacchan, you’re the best.” Izuku sighs happily, placing a tiny smooch in the middle of his boyfriend’s back, just where the edge of his tank top meets bare skin. “Thank you. I miss Mom’s cooking a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off, this ain’t for you, shitty Deku.” The blond muttered, the glaring lie just making Izuku cling on that much more. But the ensuing comfortable silence just makes the ruckus still going on in the neighboring space that much more apparent.

And soon enough, Izuku feels the other turn towards the commotion.

“The hell’s happening outside? What’re the extras doing now?”

And it just reminds Izuku of the things his boyfriend has to answer for.

“You happened, Kacchan!” Izuku whisper-screams, quickly untangling himself and slugging his boyfriend in between his shoulder blades. He deserves much, much worse, but Izuku just can’t make himself punch enough to hurt. He would never hurt Kacchan deliberately. “Did you really have to say that in front of our friends?! Really?!”

“‘s not like the side characters don’t know we’re together,” Kacchan rolls his eyes, lowering the heat on the stove before facing him again, leaning against the counter, bare arms crossed on his chest. Izuku tries not to stare, bright pink brushing across his cheeks. “Fucking idiots makin’ a big deal outta everything. Like I don’t see a coupla them makin’ out on the staircase every other fuckin’ day—”

“It’s still your fault, though!” Izuki flails, starting to feel faint from the barrage of memories that decided to assault his mind. The heat of the kitchen isn’t doing any favors for his rising body temperature. “Did you really have to call me b-b-b-b-ba-bab—” God, just trying to say it out loud is enough to make Izuku fall into an aneurysm.

“What, you gotta problem with that?” His boyfriend deliberately straightens out and ducks his head down to bring his face down at Izuku’s eye-level. “You tellin’ me what I can and can’t do, dollface?”

“D-Dollface?” Izuku squeaks, face suffused with a dark blush and thoroughly distracted as his boyfriend’s handsome features completely fills his line of sight. First it was b-b-bab— whatever, and then another one! Izuku is seriously going to pass out. “W-What’s gotten into you? Are you serious right now? Are you making fun of me?”

“Haah?” An incredulous look on his boyfriend’s face. “Why the hell would I wanna make fun of you? Deku, if I wanted to, trust me, I’da done it way worse than this.”

And from previous experience, Izuku knows that to be a stone-cold fact.

“And ‘sides…” Kacchan continues, shrugging, “there’s no real reason. Just felt like it. ‘Cause you’re mine, and I can.”

As if his casual words weren’t making Izuku’s heart do crazy trapezes inside his ribcage.

Izuku wheezes. Or gurgles. Or maybe a combination of both. “Kacchan—”

Wine-colored eyes alight on his figure, taking in his red-hot face with the amused look of a predator playing with its food before it goes in for the kill.

“Your reactions too.” A hand comes up to pinch at his cheek, exactly over where his freckles are. “‘s cute as fuck.”

“Mean! So you are making fun of me!” Izuku cries, trying to breathe, to calm his heart down, and failing both miserably.

In response, his boyfriend merely draws closer, near enough for Izuku to inhale the familiar, intoxicating smell of smoke and nitroglycerin, close enough that Izuku’s eyes slip shut of their own accord, body tensing, anticipating. The hand on his cheek travels, a lone finger slowly tracing the curve of his neck from the tip of his ear to the top of his collarbone in a way that makes Izuku break out in a full-body flush.

Kacchan’s voice murmurs into his ear, hot and low and gravely, soft spikes of hair teasing the sides of his face.

Izuku shivers, goosebumps rising on his skin.

Then the finger on his chest gives him a solid push back, and just like that, the moment is broken.

“Come on, get outta here.” His boyfriend starts to shoo him out of the kitchen. “And the shitheads fuckin’ eavesdropping,” his boyfriend called over at Izuku’s shoulder, causing a domino effect of tumbling bodies, judging from the sound of it, “should go an’ make themselves useful by setting the goddamn table, dinner’s almost done.”

“You got it, bro!” Kirishima answers cheerfully from the doorway, not even attempting to hide their crime, and Izuku groans out loud, pressing his palms to his cheeks as he’s thrown out of the blond’s territory.

His face feels hot. He can’t even think, ears burning and knees weak as he stumbles into the dining room to help out the others with the utensils.

“Midoriya-san? Are you all right?” Yaoyorozu places a light hand on his shoulder, apparently having just arrived at the common room. “You look really flushed. Are you sick?”

(“Not my fault you can’t take a little teasin’, sunshine.”)

“I’m okay,” Izuku manages to cough out, categorically refusing to make eye contact with anyone else, especially those who are giving him teasing, knowing looks.

If mastering One-for-All doesn’t manage to kill him, then his boyfriend’s antics definitely will.

Izuku’s boyfriend doesn’t stop at the one.

“Kacchan, do you have a second?”

It has been a few days. Everything goes back to normal, and Izuku has mostly convinced himself that what happened is a fever dream that his mind managed to make up. His friends vacillate between letting it go and dying to discuss it openly, if the way Iida mouths the word-that-must-not-be-named every so often in Izuku’s presence. But in the end, they don’t bring it up during conversation (not in front of him at least), and Izuku is grateful.

Overall, their reaction is simply baffled, and honestly, Izuku doesn’t blame them. The ash blond has always been expressive orally, his opinions constantly heard and available to anyone who cared to listen. Negative sentiments are usually the norm, but then again, is it so hard to believe that Kacchan can also go to the other end of the spectrum and express his feelings about things he likes?

But then again, his boyfriend hasn’t done it like this before. Izuku still gets heart palpitations when he has his guard down and the memory surges back into his mind.

(And if he spent the rest of that night screaming into his pillow, giggling and kicking his legs giddily onto his yellow and blue All Might bedsheets, that’s for him and his limited edition figurines to know and for no one else to find out.)

Like most of his classmates, he’s working on his assignments for the day. People are always free to work in their own rooms if they want the peace and quiet, but for those who want a little bustle and the shared feeling of struggling together, they have blocked off a set of hours in the common room that’s dedicated to studying and tutoring so people will know when not to do anything that can distract the rest of the class. It’s a system that’s worked well so far, and Izuku takes full advantage of it, going to the table that the blond has commandeered as ‘his’ during these sessions, alongside the people Izuku affectionately calls in his head as his boyfriend’s squad.

Kacchan, who is in the middle of a lull after a long lecture to the group, glowering at their lowered heads, pauses and looks up at him. The rolled up notebook against his palm unfurls.

“Yeah, I got a bit. S’up, baby?”

In front of them, Kaminari starts to choke, and Kirishima starts thumping him on the back, heads whipping in Izuku’s direction so quickly he winces. He’s sure he hears a few necks crack, and Izuku feels like he should be concerned.

Ashido is almost vibrating out of her seat in excitement, and Sero trains his already larger-than-normal eyes on them, agog. Their silence is unnerving, and Izuku can feel the start of a blush creeping up his face. Seriously, when will Kacchan stop teasing him? With a willpower he doesn’t know he actually possessed, he forcefully pushes his feelings aside and ignores the peanut gallery to get to the matter at hand.

“C-Can you help me? I’m sure I’ve gotten the formula right for this section, but my solution’s coming up different every time.” Izuku’s okay with numbers, but only if they’re used in the practical sense. Theoretical formulas are just confusing to him. “You’ve always been better at Math.”

“Give it, it’s prolly you skipping a few steps again,” Kacchan leans forward at the same time Izuku places his notebook on the table, picking up his pencil. “Which one?”

“Here,” Izuku points at the section, and watches avidly as his boyfriend works through the problem set, bending over and setting his elbows on the table, unabashedly staring. It’s always a treat to see the blond up close and personal like this, completely focused on his task, and Izuku can’t help the small, dreamy, and most probably silly grin on his face.

“Aww, look, Midori’s so in love with him,” Izuku hears from Ashido, voice not as quiet as she thinks it is. Izuku manages not to splutter, heat blooming hotter on his cheeks at his obvious swooning.

“I know, so manly,” Kirishima sighs happily, beaming at them like a proud mother, and yeah, Izuku thinks as blood rushes through his face, he should really stop looking at Kacchan like that, shouldn’t he?

“Thought so,” his boyfriend says after a few minutes, glancing at him. He probably isn’t listening to the commentary, which is a relief. “You forgot to apply the formula on both sides of the equation, idiot.”

“H-Huh? I did?” Izuku slides closer to his boyfriend’s side to check, absentmindedly placing a hand on Kacchan’s broad back as he squints at his work. “Where?”

His boyfriend tilts his head up at Izuku then, clicking his tongue as a familiar scowl appears on his face.

“Stop hoverin’, motherfucker. Can’t fuckin’ talk to you like this, it’s irritating as shit. Come’ere, bunny.”

“Bunny,” Sero repeats in a way that suggests that he’s actually dying, and Izuku deeply empathizes. But whatever response he has to the new name is dashed away when a warm hand snags itself around his waist and tugs him sideways.

Right on top of Kacchan’s lap.

“Waah—cchan!” Izuku flails a little, now perched on one of his boyfriend’s thighs like a toddler. The chair surprisingly does not give, given the additional weights, but Kacchan is strong, taking in Izuku’s entire, bulked up mass without a change in expression. His muscles don’t even spasm under the weight. “What are you—?!”

“Listen up and take notes nerd, ‘cause I ain’t tellin’ you more than once,” Kacchan starts, the hand on his waist securing him in position as he taps at the notebook with the other. Izuku doesn’t think he doesn’t have any blood left in his body as the rest of it goes towards his head and face, fingertips tingling even as he tries to ignore the sudden clamor on the other side of the table. “So here’s where you screwed up—”

Izuku tries his best to pay attention, and surprisingly does. Kacchan is a good teacher if someone knows where to meet him halfway, and Izuku now has a better understanding on where he went wrong as his boyfriend patiently explains the correct process to him. The arm around him is grounding, keeping him alert and in the present, and Izuku, despite himself, leans against his boyfriend completely, nodding along as his mistakes are pointed out and corrected.

(Dimly he registers the sound of a phone camera shutter going off, and Izuku makes a note to ask them for a copy of the photo, after he gets over the wave of utter mortification that settles over him like a weighted blanket.)

“Oh, I get it now!” Izuku says once everything has been made clear to him. “Thank you, Kacchan!” He beams at the other male in gratitude. “I think I can finish it now.”

“‘s no skin off my back. I know you’re usually a klutz, but dammit Deku, this is elementary stuff. Check your lines and operations, shithead.” The fingers on his side squeezes in both reprimand and reminder. “Anything else, strawberry?”

Then the air that’s on the way to Izuku’s lungs suddenly encounter a major roadblock, and the sound he makes afterwards is definitely something no normal person can produce.

“No,” Izuku manages to squeak, while the rest of his boyfriend’s squad looks like they’ve been given a severe dose of whiplash. ‘Strawberry’… is probably a good moniker for how Izuku looks right now. “I’m good. Thanks again.”

“Good. Now fuck off so I can ream these motherfuckers out for not knowing the difference between art types and art periods.” A quick nuzzle to the back of his ear, and Izuku is unceremoniously displaced from his post, but not ungently. “We’ve got a long way to go before these idiots even get half of what I’m sayin’ right now.”

“Strawberry,” Kaminari states, utter delight dripping from every pore in his body, and Izuku takes the offered out, retreating quickly and strategically before the rest of their friends decide to pay attention to him instead.

He can still feel his heart pounding in his ears. A quick check in the window reveals Izuku’s face, skin so brightly red that he might as well be sunburned.

Some part of him still thinks his boyfriend is doing this to tease Izuku. Why wouldn’t he, when Izuku reacts like this, so openly and blatantly, unable to hide every emotion as it appears on his face?

Izuku knows that if he sincerely asks, Kacchan will stop. He isn’t that person in middle school anymore who disregards Izuku’s wishes and wants, and if it is truly uncomfortable for him, his boyfriend will go back to how he usually is, no ifs, buts or questions about it.

But the thing is… Izuku is far from bothered by it.

He shouldn’t be this happy. It feels wrong, somehow, to feel this elated, like he can walk on air the moment those casual, insignificant names escape the blond’s lips. It just feels so good, to have those small but tangible proofs of Kacchan’s affection for him, that what they are feeling for each other is reciprocated, as real as the sky above and as concrete as the earth below their feet.

Even now, Izuku sees as he looks at his reflection, he can’t stop smiling, cheeks already aching from the stretch of his mouth.

He shouldn’t get used to this. If he does there’s no turning back. Kacchan is… Kacchan. His words don’t matter as much as his actions do, and if Izuku lets himself get carried away there’s no saving his dignity and his self-worth, especially if his boyfriend decides to randomly stop one day.

Izuku would have to start taking meds soon. Perhaps go to Recovery Girl later for a check up, just to make sure?

Because he’s feeling a literal heartache right now, and his boyfriend will take a toll on his health and sanity if he doesn’t get a hold of himself.

But again, exceeding all expectations, once the fiery explosion that is Izuku’s boyfriend gets started, there’s no stopping him any time soon.

“What the fuck was that, freckles?!” Kacchan snarls over the communicator they were using for today’s Heroics class. For this lesson, it’s a joint training session with Class B at Ground Beta, and Izuku already regrets ever getting himself at this point in his school life. “I saw that pussy-ass attempt at a Manchester Smash! If you let Copycat Bitch take you out this early I’ll murder you myself, Deku!”

“Bit busy right now trying not to lose, Dynamight!” Izuku yells back, even as his classmates cooed and cackled and heckled over the shared communication line. The moment it catches on to the rest of their friends that Katsuki is, apparently, an endearment type of guy, they have never lived it down since, and have taken every spare moment to continuously remind them of it. “Please stop distracting me!”

Well, Izuku at least; his boyfriend doesn’t seem bothered by all the poking fun at his expense. In fact, he seems to take pride in it instead, deadpanning those who attempted to tease him that he likes, ignoring those that he tolerates, and flat out attempting to blow up those he doesn’t.

(“You chucklefucks are just jealous that I’m in a relationship and you’re not,” he crows smugly during one lunchtime when Kaminari tried to get a rise out of him again. “Get on my fuckin’ level, noobs!”

“Shit yeah, we really are,” Sero sighs in the end, glum, while at the next table, Asui is whacking Izuku on the back, trying to dislodge the piece of tonkatsu that suddenly made itself a home in his throat.)

“Bakugou, another word out of you about Midoriya and I will expel you,” Aizawa growls threateningly through the receiver, and Izuku wonders whether it’ll be too late to go and hurl himself at the side of the nearest building. Maybe the impact will help him disintegrate completely from the face of the earth.

Sure, All Might will be supremely disappointed in him, but he’s willing to take the feelings of crushing dismay and failure from his mentor if it means escaping this bubbly, embarrassing giddiness that’s spreading in the pit of his stomach.

“Oya, associating ourselves with the riff raff, are we?” Monoma simpers from the building across from where he’s perched on the window. That’s right, Class B can also hear everything that’s going on, and Izuku kind of wants to kick a hole on the concrete and bury himself underground for a few hours, at least until the intense urge to come up to his boyfriend and press kisses on his face completely disappears.

No, Izuku bad. He’s in class right now, training to be a hero and surrounded by a lot of powerful, destructive quirks. Monoma and his team deserve his complete attention, at least if he wants to win, and Izuku rushes forward.

“Please stop talking about Kacc— Bakugou like that, Monoma-kun.”

“There’s really no accounting for taste when it comes to you, is there?” Pale blue eyes roamed over his form, thin lips curled into a sneer of distaste as Monoma dodges.

Izuku, who has seen true hate on another person’s face before, barely flinches and readies another attack.

“A pity, Deku, that you choose to lower yourself with the likes of those will only bring an end to others because of their selfishness.” Monoma drones on, forehead twitching a little at Izuku’s non-response. “Bakugou should consider himself lucky he isn’t expelled. Or perhaps because he’s merely bidding his time before he finally switches over to the side of the villains?”

Izuku freezes. Distantly, he hears Shouji whisper into his microphone.

“Oh, shit.”

Izuku turns to the blond slowly, tendrils of teal-colored lightning skating down his thighs and biceps, the sudden surge of One-for-All throughout his body displacing the nearby air and turning them razor sharp as concrete cracked under his steel-toed boots.

“Monoma-kun, I’m sorry,” Izuku starts in a calm, cheerful voice, but his eyes are anything but as he considers his opponent carefully. Monoma can’t Copy his quirk, not completely, and during that first discovery Izuku has been nothing but relieved since it meant that the other isn’t in danger of losing his limbs anytime soon.

This time, however, Izuku would love nothing more than to have his quirk separate Monoma’s head from his body. Permanently.

He takes his stance, lowering his center of gravity and putting one foot forward as he directs Full Cowling towards his legs in preparation for his Shoot Style.

“But I’m going to stop holding back on you now, not until you take back what you said.” He doesn’t raise his voice one bit, but the cold fury in his tone is palpable, and enough to set off any self-preservation alarms.

And Monoma, bless his little black heart, has realized it too, based on the grimace on his face.

Because no one talks badly about Bakugou Katsuki in front of Midoriya Izuku and walks away.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, trying to provoke me like that, but it worked, Monoma-kun. If you want a fight, then I’ll give you one.”

“Problem child,” Aizawa sighs from the control room as Izuku launches on the offensive, “try not to kill him.”

“I make no promises, Aizawa-sensei.”

“Fuck yeah!” Izuku hears his boyfriend cheer on from the sidelines, and feels his chest grow warm. “That's what I'm fuckin' talking about! You got this shit, go kick his ass, doll!”

“Bakugou Katsuki!”

“Come on sensei, let Deku-kun protect his man!” Uraraka piped up, indignant. “If you talk shit, you get hit! Monoma has it coming sir, you can clearly see that!”

“See, Round Face gets it,” his boyfriend agrees, sounding smug, and Izuku hears the familiar slap of hands meeting in a high-five.

And no, he still doesn’t know how his boyfriend and once-crush became such good friends.

(“None of your damned business, Deku,” Kacchan answered rather severely when Izuku managed to ask. “Me an’ Round Face just have a lot in common, ‘s all.”

“That’s right,” Uraraka chirped, exchanging a meaningful look with the blond that made Izuku think that it was probably better to leave his questioning where it is.

As long as they’re not fighting, Izuku will accept it.)

“Heroes should not be provoked into attacking because of something someone said to them!” Aizawa growls back, but he still sounds like he needs to sleep like, a day ago.

“With all due respect sensei, what Monoma-kun is saying about Bakugou-kun is close to slander, and he doesn’t need to hear something like that from a future colleague.” Iida says unexpectedly, and Izuku finds himself a little touched that the normally stiff teen is making attempts to get along with his boyfriend. They would probably never be friends, their personalities just don’t get along that well, but Izuku is thankful Iida is trying, nevertheless.

“The fuck? I don’t need you speakin’ up for me, Four Eyes!”

“Still, I never thought I’d see the day when Bakugou is properly encouraging towards someone else,” Jirou comments lightly, sounding more than a little awed. “Midoriya’s a miracle worker.”

“Pipe the fuck down, Floppy Ears!”

“For the last time, it’s Jirou and I know you know that, Bakugou!”

Izuku… might have blanked out for the rest of it, concentrating on chasing Monoma and the rest of his teammates down. While he does want to win in general, now it’s an absolute necessity, because he will never let anyone speak badly of his Kacchan, no matter who it is.

In the end, his team demolishes Monoma’s, but only in the best of ways: calculated and precise, with no unnecessary damage to the surroundings and all given objectives fulfilled. Even Aizawa doesn’t have anything left to say, waving them off with a thumbs up, and Izuku bounds back to the waiting area, significantly more calm and back to his usual self.

All at once, his friends converge, congratulating them on the win, and Izuku smiles back, happy to share the victory with the rest of the class. But the one that he wants to hear from the most is still silent, and once the crowd disperses, he quickly approaches the lone figure wrapped in black, orange, and green, standing a ways from the rest of the group.

Izuku carefully peers into a bandana-covered face, carefully expectant.

“How did I do, Kacchan?”

Bright crimson irises flickered up to meet his own, twin rubies glittering amongst the surrounding darkness. After a moment, the blond straightens out from his slouched position, a gauntlet-covered hand grasping Izuku’s arm and tugging him out of the room, away from the direct line of sight of anyone else.

Izuku’s slowing heartbeat picks up its pace again when he’s crowded against the nearest wall, suddenly aware of the sweat still dripping down his neck, the dust and grime still covering his body, the fact that their teacher and class are just a few meters away—

“Kacchan, we shouldn’t—!”

Gloved thumbs and forefingers gently catch skin between them and instantly pulls, stretching Izuku’s cheeks to its absolute limit.

“The fuck you think I was gonna do, huh, perv?” The grin on his boyfriend’s face can rival a thousand suns as he continues to pinch Izuku’s face, his expression quietly approving. “Relax. I ain’t gonna touch you, you’re fuckin’ filthy. Just wanna get some damn peace and quiet ‘fore I get called in.”

Izuku blushes at his assumptions. It’s not his fault that he’s been conditioned to think that way! “Kacchan!” Nevertheless, Izuku beams, pleased by the, in his boyfriend’s standards, very high praise. “Ow! Hursch! Leggo!” His own comes up to cover larger ones, trying to stop the abuse being heaped onto his poor freckles.

After a few more seconds, his cheeks are released, the muscles sore from the pressure. Izuku rubs at it, trying to take the sting off, until he finds himself being drawn upward, his jaw cradled in warmed, porous gloves, his head tipped back as a mouth is brushed against his lightly chapped lips.

It was light, gentle, a flutter of butterfly wings, so unlike the person who is now holding him in his hands. Izuku presses back, silent and just as careful, now finally able to relish in the triumph he has worked hard for.

Kacchan draws back with a harsh exhale, their foreheads touching as Izuku forces his eyes to open, only to meet blood-tinged irises, similarly wide and dark and blown open.

“That was inspired, love, you have no idea.” Kisses rained down on his face, from top to bottom, each one subtly harder than the last. Izuku giggles, tilting his head back as he was helplessly spoiled by his beloved. His hands circled around Kacchan’s waist, only able to hold on, and there was a pang of regret that he’s still wearing his full gauntlets, fingers twitching for full skin-to-skin contact.

“Shit, you were just… you were perfect out there, gorgeous.” His boyfriend’s voice is hushed, reverent, pressing one final kiss on Izuku’s mouth, so hard it almost bruised. “Fuckin’ breathtaking.”

Izuku’s breath hitches, warmth filling his cheeks as he suddenly feels uncharacteristically shy, mouth opening to justify his actions, even if no one was really looking for one.

“I can’t let him— Monoma-kun is wrong about you, Kacchan. I had to— he was wrong.”

“You don’t gotta protect me from assholes like him, darlin’.” Kacchan’s voice is husky, warm and shamelessly indulgent as his thumb stroked at the pulse on Izuku’s neck. “Guys like him only know how to run their mouths. If they can’t fuckin’ take it, then they shouldn’t dish it in the first place.”

“I know, I know that,” Izuku interrupts, forceful as his fingers wrap themselves around the material of his boyfriend’s tank top, because he needs the love of his life to understand. “But… I can’t do it.” He shrugs, helpless, but not regretting his actions in the least.

Izuku turns his gaze to his boyfriend then, letting him see his eyes, hard and uncompromising.

“I won’t walk away. Not from that.”

Around his fingers, Izuku feels the blond’s ribs suddenly constrict, air leaving his boyfriend in a rush as a stunned expression crosses the other’s features, visible even through his mask.

Kacchan finally growls, low and seething, but the usual anger is non-existent as he lunges forward and bites under Izuku’s jaw. “You precious little fuck. Who the hell do you think you are, doin’ whatever you damn please?”

Izuku gasps, the sensation sharp and heated, and yanks his boyfriend closer in retaliation, gaze narrow as they stare at each other. “I’m yours,” Izuku shoots back, fierce, “but you’re also mine. So I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you too.”

Inside the waiting area, the next group is called to the grounds. Silence. Izuku doesn’t break eye contact, and neither does his boyfriend.

“Kacchan, it’s your team’s turn. You should go.”

With one last look, his boyfriend eventually pulls away first, taking a step back as he adjusts his grenade gauntlets back into a more proper position. “Tch. Stupid.” But it doesn’t stop him from running his fingers through Izuku’s hair, curls now partly dry and fluffier to the touch.

With a firm tug, Izuku lets his head be coaxed up, forest meeting magma so they can be face-to-face once more.

“You better watch me out there, Izuku.” Kacchan rumbles, tone and expression fierce. “Don’t fuckin’ tear your eyes away, no matter what.”

“I’ve never looked away, not even once.” Izuku admits, more breathless than intended. Because it’s the truth; the moment his eyes landed on the blond he’s never been able to force his gaze away, not back then, and especially not now. He can afford to be honest, and he has nothing to hide from the other.

Not anymore.

“I will always be there to watch you win, Katsuki.”

The smile he is gifted with is savage, bright, and beautiful, and with a final press of lips on his cheek, his boyfriend strides back into the room, getting his team together without looking back.

And Izuku collapses back on the wall, fingertips touching his still lightly throbbing cheek as a small smile plays on his lips.

It’s… too late, for him, probably.

And yet…

Izuku can’t find it in himself to feel the slightest hint of guilt.

He can’t find anyone.

“Kacchan!” Izuku yells as he runs, head whipping in all directions. “Uraraka-san! Todoroki-kun! Everyone! Where are you?!” The dread is sinking into his bones, turning his veins into ice and threatening to claw out of his skin. “Anyone?! Answer me!”

But anywhere he looks, what greets him is destruction. Unmoving bodies are littered carelessly on the broken ground, with buildings crumbling and streets filled with all kinds of wreckage.

“No…” Izuku whispers as he races past another road, despair threatening to drown him with still no sign of his friends or anyone else.

“Looking for this, Deku?” A chilling voice asks behind him, and he whirls around, ready to fight, only to meet a mountain.

A mountain of human corpses, and his eyes widen in horror as he recognizes them.

“No…!”

Todoroki’s evenly split white-red hair. Iida’s helmet. Uraraka’s pink hero costume. Asui’s goggles.

“NO!”

Aizawa’s capture weapon, wrapped around a head with its eyes gouged out of its skull. His classmates, strewn around in various bits in pieces as their bodies pile up to serve as a makeshift staircase to the top, where someone awaits.

And right there, right at the apex of the massacre, All Might’s golden locks and frail body is distinct, underneath the feet of Shiragaki Tomura, sitting on a throne made out of bones, his deceptively frail-looking fingers wrapped around a pale throat, a familiar body limply hanging from his grip.

Izuku can’t think. He can’t breathe. He’s screaming inside his head, grief and agony ripping through his core as he faces the results of his complete and utter failure.

He… wasn’t even able to save any of them…!

“Looking for this?” The villain drawls, shaking the person in his grip, the shredded tank top and broken arms swaying lightly alongside the wind that’s tinged with the thick, sticky coppery smell of spilled blood. “Well? Aren’t you going to save him, hero?”

“Give him back…” The terror and rage he feels is indescribable, and Izuku powers up One-for-All to its maximum power, not giving a fuck if it breaks his body in the process, as long as it meant taking the bastard down with him.

Izuku can beg for forgiveness towards his loved ones in the next life, and he will bring Shiragaki’s decapitated head alongside him as payment for his incompetence.

“GIVE HIM BACK, SHIRAGAKI!”

Shiragaki grins lazily, and gives in to Izuku’s shrieked demand, letting the man roll down from his perch, ending right in front of his feet.

And what meets Izuku’s horrified gaze are blank and unseeing garnet, Katsuki’s dissolved neck letting his head roll back and face him completely.

“IZUKU!”

Izuku gasps, vision blurry as his eyes snap open, chest heaving and cold sweat and tears dripping down and sticking to his skin. The recognizable sizzle of ozone permeated the room, his entire body straining as the dark bedroom is lit up by the now volatile teal lightning of his quirk.

And on top of him, straddling his legs and pinning his arms in place, was his boyfriend, with a bruise on his cheek and a set jaw, eyes alight with grim determination as he kept Izuku restrained with his entire weight.

Izuku can’t breathe, air leaving his chest in sharp bursts as his mind tries to reconcile what he’s seeing from the nightmare he just had (it’s just a dream, it’s not real) just seconds ago.

His throat hurts, shredded raw and grating against his ears as he tries to speak.

“K-Katsuki…?”

“Yeah. It’s me, angel.” Kacchan releases the hold immediately once he’s cognizant, and takes Izuku’s badly trembling hand, slamming it against his chest.

“Feel this. Concentrate.”

Izuku chokes, the refixed bones in his fingers aching from the sudden pressure applied to them, but his boyfriend refuses to let up even the slightest. Kacchan… actually looks scared, brows furrowed as he watches Izuku carefully but anxiously for any more signs of distress.

But once it finally sinks into his mind that what he’s feeling under his palm is his boyfriend’s heart, his active, still beating heart, racing as fast as his own…

“I’m here, Izuku.”

Izuku promptly bursts into tears.

“Kacchan…!”

“Shit, come here—” Izuku is hauled upwards, his face buried into his boyfriend’s front as he’s gathered in the blond’s arms. Izuku bawls in earnest, unable to stop even if he tries, as the fear and tension bleeds out of him like a festering open wound.

He’s always been a loud and messy crier. His mom has always been open with her emotions, and it’s something he gets from her, with all the good and bad that comes along with it. He doesn’t do it as often now, but with the career path he now chooses to lead, with the things he’s gone through, his emotions have been exacerbated and amplified on both sides of the spectrum. Not just him, but with the rest of his classmates as well.

It’s not uncommon for them to wake up in the middle of the night, woken up by someone else screaming somewhere inside the dorm rooms.

Offering up the peace and quiet of their own minds; the price they pay to save people’s lives.

Like everything else, they developed a system to help each other cope. Some people only needed to be checked on by the doorway, others needed all-out sleepovers. Izuku is a mix of both, depending on how bad the dream was.

And this one… is really, really bad.

Strong arms wrap around him, keeping him tucked under a chin and against a study chest. For a moment Izuku feels lost, wondering how his boyfriend got there so quickly until he remembered that the blond was sleeping over in his room since it’s the weekend and they wanted to go on a morning run together. Izuku might have bulked up a lot but Kacchan is still broader, and the way Izuku can just… sag against him with the knowledge that the blond can still keep him together when he’s on the verge of breaking apart, that he can wholly depend on Kacchan right now to be strong when he feels so weak… is extremely comforting.

So Izuku continues to wail, limbs wrapped around his boyfriend like a too-sticky octopus. Blunt nails dig into muscled shoulder blades harshly, but Izuku can’t bring himself to care, wanting to embed himself so deeply in the other there wouldn’t be any start or end to either of them.

Maybe then the visions he saw, his worst fears, won’t become reality—

Izuku flinches, and a hand cradles the back of his head, smoothing down the curls sticking out from the back, another running up and down his back, tracing over the knobs of his spine in soothing, repetitive motions as Kacchan continues to murmur into his ear.

“Shh, it’s okay. Breathe, sweetheart. It’s just a dream, it’s not real, you’re here, you’re with me…”

The words are said softly, again and again like a prayer, its steady, unchanging cadence dulling the panic that still wrapped around Izuku’s senses. Eventually, like pulling teeth, Izuku’s body unravels, his sobs becoming more and more quiet as the minutes pass, until his body simply can’t cry anymore.

His head flops against Kacchan’s shoulder, exhausted and spent. All throughout, his boyfriend didn’t say a thing unless it’s to assure and comfort, and Izuku is glad for the darkness and silence that covers them both, trying to wipe at his swollen eyes and runny nose.

“What time is it?” Izuku mutters, the first words since he’s properly woken up, and cringes at the sound. It’s like he just gargled broken glass, and judging from the displeased sound from the other, Kacchan is not happy hearing it.

“Ass o’clock in the morning— I don’t fucking know.” His boyfriend lets out an irritated sigh. “Shit. We need some light in here.” He reaches for something behind Izuku, keeping a hand on his back as the bedside lamp on top of Izuku’s headboard flickers on.

The room is bathed in a warm glow, and Izuku takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light.

And when it finally does, the aftermath is worse than he imagines.

“Kacchan! Your face! I’m so sorry, did I do that?!” Izuku frets, upset at the sight of the other’s swelling cheek. His hand hovers over the damage, ignoring the twinge of pain in his throat. “What happened?! Did I attack you while we were asleep?!”

“Just a lucky shot. ‘s nothing, heroics class is worse,” his boyfriend grunts back, “and shut the fuck up, you sound like roadkill.” Kacchan’s palm roughly rubs at Izuku’s cheek, removing the tear tracks that remained. “What’s your number? Use your hands, for fuck’s sake.”

Izuku raises said appendages to let the other know of his general well-being, 1 for bad, 10 for good, when suddenly, a few sharp raps at the door. They both tense up, Izuku once again gathered back and shielded by his boyfriend’s body as Kacchan’s head jerks sharply at the direction of the door, a dog catching a whiff of a powerful scent.

“You should go and see who it is,” Izuku eventually croaks out when the knocks don’t stop. As much as he appreciates Kacchan’s protectiveness, he isn’t going to fall apart if the blond needs to leave for a short moment. Not anymore, at least. “It’s probably one of the people on my floor, I have to let them know—”

“I thought I told you to stop talking, asshole! Fucking—” Kacchan snarls, hands groping around Izuku’s bedsheets, tipping Izuku towards himself so he can snag the blanket trapped beneath their legs. “Can’t you think of yourself for once, shitty nerd?!”

“I must have disturbed some people tonight,” Izuku continues to insist, obedient and compliant as the All Might blanket is expertly and methodically wrapped around his body like a burrito. “I’ll be fine, I’m okay now. Can you please just apologize for me, Kacchan?”

“For the love of— fine!” His boyfriend hisses back, setting Izuku at the juncture of his bed and bedroom wall, warm, snug and tucked in securely, as well as giving him a complete line of sight for all potential access points. “Five minutes. Count if you gotta. You ready?”

“Yes, just go Kacchan—” The doorknob is rattling now, and Izuku would rather not replace his door lock again within the span of three months.

With a final curse, Kacchan climbs off the bed, striding towards the entrance as fast as he could, disappearing from Izuku’s sight as the door is finally thrown open.

“The fuck do you want?”

“Bakugou?” Tokoyami’s deep voice sounds surprised. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be in Midoriya’s room—”

“Cut the crap Feather Face, I am not in the mood,” Kacchan cuts in testily, a foot constantly tapping near the doorway. “Out with it. Whaddya want?”

There is a considering pause before Tokoyami speaks again, this time around with a note of worry.

“Dark Shadow and I heard Midoriya screaming earlier—” Izuku flinches, remembering with crystal clarity the bright red seeping from the cracks in between his and Koda’s broken bodies, squelching against his boots. “And Dark Shadow tells me that the darkness has encroached while Midoriya lays prone and defenseless. Is he all right?”

“Nightmare,” Kacchan answers gruffly, with a dull thump against the doorframe. “You know how it is, Feather Face. Don’t worry, ‘m on it. Deku says sorry an’ shit.”

“Understandable.” Izuku can almost see the incline of Tokoyami’s beak as he answers. “Tell Midoriya there is nothing to forgive. Is there anything we can do to help?”

“… Water. Lots of it. And if you meet any extras on the way you can tell them if they need to know.”

“Certainly. I’ll retrieve the necessities you’ve requested quickly.”

“Whatever. Also, why’re you here? Isn’t your room like, two doors over?”

“Mineta and Aoyama are deep sleepers, and Dark Shadow has always been more sensitive to the negative emotions in the atmosphere,” Tokoyami answers blandly. “It is not the first time I’ve been privy to Midoriya’s confrontations with the monsters that make their home in the abyss.”

“Tch.” A moment of silence, then Kacchan’s voice again, this time lower. But it’s not enough to escape Izuku’s One-for-All-enhanced hearing. “This happen often?”

“If it does, then Midoriya makes no mention of it. He is strong. But…” Tokoyami hesitates.

“He chooses to fight his battles alone. It is a lonely existence. I think it is his way of showing care.” A pause, then Tokoyami speaks again, this time stronger and more certain.

“But he shouldn’t have to. Not when we are also strong, and able to help him carry the burden that weighs heavily on his shoulders.”

The silence that ensues is surprised, and Izuku doesn’t blame his boyfriend; he is too, startled that other people can see through him so easily.

And more than a little moved by Tokoyami’s declaration; he hasn’t talked to the other teen much, but it’s nice to know that he considers Izuku a friend.

”… You know what, you’re not actually useless,” Kacchan eventually says, sounding begrudgingly impressed. “Gimme your name, Feather Face.”

“Tokoyami Fumikage. We’ve only been in one class for more than a year, Bakugou.” The deadpan note in Tokoyami’s voice is more than enough to lift Izuku’s spirits, an unbidden giggle slipping past his lips. “Let me know if there is anything else I can assist with. If you are with Midoriya, then I can be assured that he will be in safe hands. I’ll also get you something for your face, Bakugou.”

“Damn fuckin’ right. Now get, and make it quick.”

It’s not too soon before his boyfriend returns with Tokoyami’s gathered items in his hands, under five minutes as promised. Izuku remains calm, the wrap doing its job with its lingering heat and weighted softness, as his boyfriend sits down on the edge of the bed, an ice pack already on his bruised cheek.

“Drink everything,” Kacchan says gruffly, thrusting a liter of bottled water in Izuku’s grasp. “You sound like shit and it’ll help with the headache.”

Izuku doesn’t ask how he knows, and takes the bottle quietly after the top is screwed off, taking small, measured sips. His throat is thankful for the liquid, its coolness also helping the throb in his temple recede a little as the blond stands guard, making sure every drop disappears down Izuku’s gullet.

It’s only when Izuku drains everything that Kacchan moves again, throwing the bottle in the trash and picking up Izuku from his spot, sheets and all, to settle with him, the other’s back against the headboard as Izuku sits on his thighs, leaning sideways against his torso.

Izuku, wanting to help, takes the ice pack instead, not even minding the ache that the chill causes on his fingers as he adjusts its place on his boyfriend’s face.

It’s only when they’re fully situated that they manage to exhale in relief, Izuku curling up in the familiar warmth and scent of burnt caramel.

“Kacchan,” Izuku hiccups, utterly miserable as he snuffles against his boyfriend’s neck. “‘m sorry.”

“The fuck’re you apologizing for?” Kacchan looks down on him, brows wrinkled, hissing at the press of ice on his injuries. “Shit happens, ain’t no one’s fault. Feelin’ better, sweets?”

A small sniffle as Izuku nods minutely. “… Yeah. It’s stupid, I know it’s just a dream, but—”

“Shut your mouth, this ain’t stupid.” Kacchan cuts him off with a glare. “We all get it. You ain’t no special fuckin’ snowflake. Get over yourself.”

The harsh and crude words make Izuku smile. His bedside manner is terrible, but his boyfriend is trying to make him feel better, in his own way. “I know that. Thank you for taking care of me.”

His boyfriend scoffs, hands going under Izuku’s knees and around his waist to shuffle him closer. “… D’you wanna talk ‘bout it?”

Izuku shakes his head quickly, the sight of soulless red eyes still fresh in his mind. “I can’t, please don’t make me say it.” He begs, body once again turning rigid, because all that blood, All Might’s body, Katsuki’s corpse— “I can’t—”

“Shit, okay, calm down. I won’t ask anymore.” Kacchan hushes him, rubbing at Izuku’s back. “Sorry, baby. That bad?”

Izuku nods, shuddering out a breath as he tries to ground himself in the present. Because everything is fine, it’s not real, and Kacchan is here.

That’s the most important thing he should focus on.

“… Fine. But you gotta visit Hound Dog after. You know the rules.”

Izuku’s head jerks out from under his boyfriend’s chin as he looks at the blond beseechingly. “But… this hasn’t happened in a while. I’m fine, maybe it’s just the stress—”

“The rules are there for a reason, dipshit. Fuck, Izuku— you sounded like you were dying.” Kacchan’s voice breaks at the end. “You were screamin’ like you were getting murdered and I couldn’t do fuck all about it.”

Izuku’s heart hurts, guilt crushing his chest as he looks at his boyfriend. “Kacchan…”

“You were fightin’ me so hard I thought I gotta bring Aizawa here to keep you down. You were sayin’ ‘give him back’.” Kacchan’s expression pinches, closing off as he forces himself to ask the rest of the question out.

“Is it the time when I was—”

“NO!” Izuku blurts out, stopping the guilt before it can have the chance to appear. “God, Kacchan, no. It’s not— I haven’t dreamt of that in a long time,” he answers truthfully. “This is something… different. Worse.” The culmination of Izuku’s worst fears in one gory, mangled mockery of his childhood dream. “But like you said. It’s a dream. It’s not going to happen.” Izuku will die first before it even comes to pass. “It just… it’s so vivid.”

“No shit. That’s what nightmares are, idiot.” Kacchan grumbles, knocking his head back against Izuku’s headboard in exhaustion, taking the ice pack from Izuku’s grip and throwing it towards the desk. “Think you can sleep? We still have a few hours before daylight.”

“I… don’t think I can,” Izuku admits. He doesn’t want to close his eyes, terrified that he will be dragged into the same scene again. He can feel that the image of his boyfriend in that way will star in his future nightmares for the next few months. “You should sleep, Kacchan.” He says instead, voice growing soft. “As long as I can still feel this,” he raises his hand to the blond’s heart, separated by layers of clothing and bedding. “I’ll be okay.”

His boyfriend replies by harshly nipping the tip of his ear, making Izuku squeak. “Stubborn little bunny,” the blond growls into his ear. “You think I can’t stay up with you? Is that it, doll?”

“N-No! That’s not it!” Izuku exclaims, making sure to keep his voice low. They lucked out with Tokoyami, the other teen isn’t likely to gossip about Kacchan being in Izuku’s room for the night, but they won’t be as lucky next time if it was Aoyama who wakes up next, or god forbid, Mineta. “You want to run this morning, right? So you should get some more rest!”

“Tough, ‘cause that ain’t happenin’ anymore,” his boyfriend snarks as he starts to slide back down to the mattress, dragging Izuku along with him so they’re both laying down again. Izuku’s blankets are loosened around him and thrown over Kacchan’s body instead, both of them now under the covers as Izuku’s entire body is pressed against the other's side. “You’re gettin’ some sleep. No fuckin’ way you can go out after all that.”

Izuku’s head shoots up, betrayed. “B-But Kacchan!”

“No buts! Knowing you, you’ll trip all over yourself on the trail at this rate, you klutz!” An arm wraps itself around Izuku’s shoulder as his head is shoved against the blond’s collarbone. “‘Sides, you’re going to Hound Dog later today. So suck it up, sugar.”

Izuku huffs, settling back down on his bed because his boyfriend is right, Izuku isn’t up for any physical activity today. He’s exhausted, but his mind just won’t stop working, still apprehensive, still unsure and scared.

At least, until what his boyfriend said to him mere moments ago filtered through his brain, innocuous in its command, but strangely resonating with clarity inside Izuku’s soul.

Izuku feels a wry smile tug on his lips.

Suck it up, huh.

A simple, if indelicate, solution for everything that’s happening in life.

Tranquil silence.

“… Kacchan.”

A grunt. “What.”

Izuku wiggles as closely as he can, hesitant for just the shortest moment as he throws an arm around his boyfriend’s middle. Insurance, just in case. “Just— I just wanna say, that— um, please don’t be mad but—”

“Oi! The hell?” Kacchan exhales sharply, a sign of his dwindling patience and rising frustration. Fingers come up to tweak at Izuku’s curls. “Fuckin’ shit— Japanese, Deku. Use it.”

“T-The pet names!” Izuku shrieks into the blond’s tank top, feeling his blush rise right up to his ears. “J-Just wanted to l-let you know. I l-like it. It feels nice.”

Izuku feels the other freeze, the fingers in his scalp stopping, and braces himself for the inevitable explosion.

“Haah?!” The heat that flares from the blond’s body is palpable, even to Izuku’s duller sense of touch. “Where the hell did that come from, shitnerd?!”

“I don’t know!” Izuku warbles, thoroughly embarrassed but unable to back down anymore. He clings tighter around the other’s ribcage, on the off chance that it will save him from a literal explosion. He likes these sheets, thank you! “Shh, Kacchan, people are sleeping! But I just needed to let you know!”

“Then stop bein’ so embarrassing in the middle of the night, Deku!” His boyfriend yells back, tone equally as mortified, putting Izuku’s head in a headlock and throwing him around. “Fuck you!”

“Hie! I’m sorry!” Their minor scuffle ends with Izuku landing on top of the blond, a palm slapped over the other’s mouth to stifle the noises he was making, taking care not to aggravate the bruise on the other’s cheek.

“What?” His boyfriend grunts when they finally stop and quiet down, too tired to continue roughhousing. The warmth of his boyfriend’s body underneath his own feels just perfect, and Izuku resists the temptation to just flop forward and furl onto himself like a cat. “You want me to stop?”

Izuku immediately shakes his head. “I just told you I l-liked it.” He mutters, unable to look his boyfriend in the eye as crimson stains his cheeks. “Why would I ask you to stop? Just… ” he trains his gaze everywhere, anywhere other than the person in front of him.

“P-Please don’t do it so much? My heart c-can’t take it.”

The blond becomes contemplative, the warm glow of the lamplight intensifying his surprisingly delicate features. Ruby-colored eyes glimmered in the dim light, studying Izuku’s face carefully, for any hint of a falsehood or lie.

Then, Izuku feels Kacchan’s lips growing wide, captivating and intent and wicked, taking Izuku’s hand off his mouth.

The look spells nothing but trouble for Izuku in the future.

“Then…” The blond drawls, bringing a chill down Izuku’s back as his stomach clenched, both in dread and terrible anticipation.

“Your heart better be strong enough for next time, darlin’.”

“Oh god I’m so late for my training with All Might!” Izuku cries as he dashes in the common room a week later, startling the classmates who are downstairs as well, enjoying their weekend. “Kacchan, why didn’t you wake me up?!”

“Not my fault you didn’t set your alarm for this, dipshit!” His boyfriend barks back, lounging on the counter with his mug of Jade Leaf Macha (a gift from Yaoyorozu, because no one else can afford it on a daily basis). “Hurry up doll, don’t keep All Might waiting!”

“I won’t, just give me a sec!” Izuku tears through the kitchen, getting a bottle of Bocari from the fridge and a piece of leftover toast from this morning’s breakfast. Kacchan will definitely get on his case about not getting proper food especially before training, but they can definitely agree on the retired Hero being a top priority.

“Oi! Aren’t you forgettin’ something?!”

Izuku quickly runs through the mental list in his mind, checking if there’s anything he missed. Towel. Sports drink. Training attire, notebook, pen, phone.

But Kacchan still looks expectant, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, right!” Izuku comes up to the blond and leans upward on his toes to give him a quick smooch on the cheek. The other stumbles a little, almost losing his grip on his mug as Izuku exits the area. “Bye honey, love you, see you later!”

Izuku dashes through the rest of the rooms and out the front doors without waiting for a response. He’s a little confused with the sudden burst of mayhem behind his back, but resolving to ask his boyfriend about it later.

It’s a little embarrassing, Izuku thinks as he crams the bread into his mouth, jogging towards the meeting spot, to pull that on his boyfriend so suddenly without warning.

But if Kacchan can give him all sorts of cute, romantic names, then Izuku can also do the same. He’s given up, this will be A Thing for the both of them from now on, and all Izuku can do now is to roll with the punches and enjoy it for as long as he can.

After all, all’s fair in love and war… right?

(Inside the Class A dorms, the people downstairs who saw everything go down continue to jeer and cackle towards Bakugou Katsuki, who is leaning against the counter, a hand pressed to his face, the visible skin from his neck upwards a deep, violent shade of red.

Near his elbow, there is a medium-sized box covered in cloth, the edges tied together in a rough bow that can also serve as a handle for the homemade lunchbox.

“… I meant the food, you idiot.”

The sound of noodles being slurped up to a hungry mouth. “Getting a taste of your own medicine doesn’t feel nice, does it, ladykiller?”

“Shut the fuck up, Half-n-Half asshole.”)