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The catalyst for Bakugou Katsuki getting his shit together happens in the dumbest fucking way.
Three years into their Pro-Hero career, wonder duo Bakugou and Midoriya, are a team to be reckoned with. Top 10, projected to hit top 5 this year and Bakugou is determined to get number 1 by this time next year. He and Izuku are a well-oiled machine. Sure, they argue all the time over the dumbest shit and sure they end up getting into a brawl every couple of months and inevitably someone’s nose gets busted, but they’re also in the best place their friendship has ever been.
Katsuki and Izuku started living together a year after their debut. They trained together, would spend evenings going over moves and combos—brainstorming how to keep leveling up. So living together was just efficient. There were other reasons—which Katsuki refuses to look at directly because he doesn’t have time for stupid fucking feelings when he’s trying to be the top Pro Hero.
He’d never say it, but seeing Izuku first thing in the morning, sleep-rumpled and stupid hair looking like a damn bird’s nest, settles something in him. It soothes a weird cagey feeling he gets sometimes. It’s dumb as hell, but he really does like living with the damn nerd—even when he leaves his fucking socks everywhere like a slob and he can’t cook without setting fire to something and all his All Might memorabilia is scattered all over their apartment. It’s nice after a hard fight to come home and decompress together. Katsuki can lock the door and herd Izuku to the kitchen sink or the bathroom to check his wounds before hassling him into eating a balanced meal. Shitty fucking Deku never lets the medics check him properly and somebody’s gotta take care of his ass.
The problem isn’t the socks or the cooking or the All Might crap. The problem is Katsuki’s big goddamn crush on his friend. He’s completely gone for that loser and every time Izuku smiles his dumb fucking smile or scrunches his nose with a whined “Kacchan!” Katsuki falls a little further. All the little touches, the glances and laughs and arguments…it means more to Katsuki than he’s willing to admit. He can’t. He refuses to ruin what is arguably the best thing in his life. Besides, he’d rather throw himself off a cliff than show his ass and embarrass himself with whatever gentle as fuck rejection Izuku might give him.
There are two things in his life that Katsuki would fight tooth and nail to keep, two things that mean everything and without them he would cease to be himself; being a hero and Midoriya Izuku.
So no, he won’t be confessing his big giant goddamn crush. And he is going to ignore how the big giant stupid goddamn crush feels a lot bigger than just a crush. He ain’t saying the word, he won’t even think it.
Because of all the good things in the world, that’s the one he knows deep down he truly doesn’t deserve.
***
The villain is some nobody freak who calls himself The Cleaver.
“What a shitty bland name, seriously what’s with the simple shit? Where is the creativity?” He’s up on a balcony, firing off blasts while Izuku is on the ground, dodging bits of debris being flung in every direction. He hears his partner’s voice fuzz in through their comms.
“Kacchan my hero name is simple,” he huffs. Katsuki snorts.
“Yeah my point exactly, Deku.”
“That’s incredibly rude,” That makes him grin and he leaps to an adjacent balcony, trying to get a better shot at wasting this motherfucker.
“You’re still friends with me, nerd.”
From his vantage point he can see Izuku look up towards him to stick his tongue out, which makes him cackle. Bakugou fires off another blast and as he’s wiping sweat from his eyes, his heart nearly stops when he spots Cleaver stepping out into the open to point a finger at Izuku.
“FUCKING DUCK, DEKU,” he shouts desperately, rocketing himself off the balcony, but he’s too late as a ray catches Izuku’s shoulder.
Bakugou all but blacks out in his fury; he doesn’t recall many details of how the fight ended. Izuku is slumped over across the hood of a parked car and then he’s a living explosion, screaming and yelling and unleashing the entire payload within his gauntlets at the villain. By the end, Katsuki has cinders in his hair, he can’t feel his hands and he wouldn’t be shocked if he were foamed at the mouth. Authorities are cuffing the unconscious villain as he frantically looks around until he spots Izuku who is being hefted up by Kaminari and Kirishima, who had arrived on the scene not long ago.
“Oi, be careful, shitheads. He got hit by that Quirk.” Izuku’s head is hanging forward, so Katsuki goes to reach for him and tilt his head up to check his eyes like he always has when—
“What the fuck?”
Izuku rouses, “K-Kacchan…?”
Katuski reaches out again for Izuku and it’s like an invisible force is pushing against his hands. In fact, he has to dig his feet in to keep himself within a foot of the man. Izuku groans, his head lolling backwards.
“I can’t touch him—I can’t…what the fuck is going on?” He looks to the two on either side of Izuku, seemingly unaffected. Katsuki takes a step back, testing how far he has to go for the force to stop. He’s arms-length away when he feels it let up. The fuck?
Izuku lifts his head, his eyes are hazy, concussed. “What’s going on, Kacchan? Did we get him?”
“Gimme your hand, nerd.” Izuku frowns and Kaminari shrugs out from under his arm, helping him balance against Kirishima. Izuku extends his hand but the moment Bakugou reaches for him their hands are forcibly slapped away, bounced back like two magnets with similar polarities trying to touch.
“Kacchan…” Izuku’s voice shakes a little, he looks confused and Katsuki can tell he’s gonna drop soon. “Why can’t I touch you?”
“It must be that fucking Quirk. Intel said it was a repelling thing, he could move all kinds of shit but clearly they are missing a vital piece of fucking information.”
It’s then that Izuku sags further against Kirishima, losing the battle with consciousness. Katsuki instinctually darts forward to catch him when he’s repelled back. Panic floods his body.
“FUCK,” he growls through gritted teeth to Kirishima. “Get him to a medic. Now.”
***
They run Izuku through all the tests. He’s fine—a little bruised, a little concussed—but nothing all that bad. Whatever is going on with the Quirk seems to only trigger with Bakugou.
“I’m not sure how long this will take to wear off. We don’t know a whole lot about the effects this has on people. They’re searching for other possible victims to interview and hopefully the research will return fruitful,” the quirk healer tells them. Izuku’s face is pale, he looks ashen and Katsuki’s hands twitch to reach out and smooth the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.
“But…why is it only with Kacchan?” Izuku looks at Katsuki and meets his eyes. He hates how tired he looks, more tired than normal after a fight. He’s seen Izuku get hit harder, fight for longer, break a dozen bones and still leap up ready for the next attack; this Izuku reminds him of their early days at UA—unsure of himself, a little lost and quiet—and Katsuki could set the whole building on fire.
“I don’t exactly know. It could be because of his proximity at the time of the incident, could be Cleaver’s decision…could be something else entirely.”
Katsuki hasn’t said a word. He’s furious and anxious and seeing Izuku looking like that in this room makes it intensify tenfold. It’s never been easy to deal with the stress of the aftermath of an injury; his feelings make every little thing so much more intense and he has to force himself not to coddle Izuku—the shitnerd might be a crybaby occasionally but he’s strong as fuck and can handle himself.
So his jaw stays locked, he knows if he opens his mouth he will just start shouting.
After a few more tests and some discussion, he is cleared and discharged from care. When Izuku goes to stand he sways, once again Katsuki unconsciously reaches out to steady him, only to remember yet again he can’t. Izuku hangs his head, he glimpses tears welling in his eyes and Katsuki is so fucking furious. He turns sharply on his heel and stalks out of the room, kicking a chair by the door on his way out.
***
What Katsuki did not realize was exactly how often he and Izuku touch, until they couldn’t.
Ruffled hair in the morning as Katsuki passes a sleepy Izuku on his way to the coffee pot and elbows during meetings shh listen to him Kacchan this is actually really interesting and knocking knees while sitting on the couch watching some dork-ass show Izuku loves (and Katsuki kinda does too but like hell he’s gonna admit it).
Izuku uses Katsuki like furniture sometimes, completely oblivious to personal space and while Katsuki might grouse about it, he has never, ever wished for it to stop. Izuku folds his arms across the back of his shoulders and leans over him while the other swipes through briefing documents or training videos on his tablet.
Izuku tugs Katsuki’s ear—I’m gonna bite off your finger the next time you do that nerd—he leans heavily against Katsuki’s side after a fight or stands close in the shelter of Katsuki’s larger form on the train when its busy and his throat burns because he can casually slip his arm around Izuku’s waist when the car jostles, covertly leaning down to inhale the scent of his flowery shampoo; he taps Katsuki’s wrist excitedly to show him the latest All Might merch drop or cat video or whatever the fuck he’s been scribbling in his notebook.
Handshakes and pinches and fist bumps and feet thrown in Katsuki’s lap, kicking at his legs until Katsuki bitches at him but nonetheless complies with massaging his feet (tell anyone and die).
His jaw is perpetually sore from gnashing his teeth. They’ve managed to come up with some interesting new maneuvers for fighting, which is the only upside to this mess, but one day after a fight they’re sitting a couple of feet apart and Katsuki can feel his sanity splintering; Izuku’s fucked his shoulder and there’s a cut that’s slowly bleeding down into his eye, the bruise blooming and starting to swell. Izuku can’t raise a hand to wipe it off while he’s holding his limp arm which means that it’s got to really be hurting, but if it weren’t for this goddamn quirk , Katsuki would just reach out over and clean it up, letting Izuku rest his weight on him while he heckles him into letting a medic help but he can’t—
“Yo, Half n’ Half,” he swallows bile in his throat when Todoroki, who is speaking with an officer on the scene, looks over. “Come here.”
Katsuki jerks his chin at Izuku. “Help him. He’s got blood getting into his eye. It’s fucking gross,” he hands Todoroki the towel he’s holding. “Dumbass fucked his shoulder—yeah Shitty Deku I saw that—he needs someone to clean him up.” He glares at Izuku, daring him to disagree. The other man has the decency to look chastised.
Todoroki just nods, taking the towel and he starts to delicately dab at the blood. Izuku closes his eyes when his chin is tilted up by Todoroki’s gentle hand and Katsuki has to bite his tongue and look away. His chest hurts.
When Izuku murmurs a soft, “Thanks, Shouto,” Katsuki gets up and leaves without a word.
***
Unlike their side-kicking gigs, being a registered duo did offer the perk of mostly having the same days off. Occasionally they’d get called in for patrol separately but for the most part their schedule was the same.
This was highly favorable because one of Katsuki’s favorite things is off-duty Izuku.
Izuku on his days off is a complete disaster. His PR-perfect, sunshine-out-the-ass, Symbol of Hope mantle is left at the door and what replaces him is a grubby, snarky, slobby gremlin.
He’ll wander the house in the rattiest, ugliest shit; basketball shorts in the most heinous shade of orange, permanently stained, stretched out dingy tee-shirts, an ancient green hoodie with a giant hole in the armpit that Katsuki has told him repeatedly to just throw the fuck out Deku holy shit; mismatched socks and ugly slides and raggedy-ass pajama bottoms that have tiny little cats on them.
It’s a total trainwreck and fuck him if it doesn’t get Katsuki kinda hot.
The first day off after the fiasco, Katsuki is getting ready to leave for the gym and as usual he finds Izuku on the couch, entirely buried under a threadbare All Might blanket.
“Matcha latte,” he hears a scratchy voice float from beneath the Izuku-shaped mound.
“Get a job.” He says it every time. It’s funny every time.
A hand worms its way out of the mass of blankets and gives Katsuki the middle finger. He snorts and grins at the blanket pile.
“Matcha. With soy milk. Don’t forget.”
“Yeah, yeah I got you, asshole.” As if Katsuki has ever forgotten Izuku’s drink for him (literally not once). Izuku is incredibly demanding in the morning when he first wakes up, especially on his day off, unable (or unwilling) to filter what a little shit he actually is and Katsuki will pretend to be put out about it. They both know that he is not.
***
Balancing Izuku’s steaming latte in one hand and his own coffee in the other, he nudges the door closed and toes off his shoes. Izuku sits up from his blanket nest and Katsuki nearly drops the drinks when he sees what Izuku has on. Not the gross-ass green hoodie, but Katsuki’s favorite black hoodie. It’s two sizes too big and it swallows Izuku whole. He had to have fished it out of Katsuki’s laundry, because he knew that he hadn’t washed it yet after wearing it to the gym two days ago—which should be nasty, but seeing a sleepy-eyed Izuku engulfed in his smelly hoodie that he obviously went out of his way to find? Hell maybe Katsuki is a little nasty because that does it for him.
Izuku seems to realize why Katsuki is staring at him all bug-eyed and his face turns scarlet. Katsuki can see the flush disappear down into the neck of the hoodie, but Izuku doesn’t look away or try to deny anything, just bites his lip and smiles shyly. Oh.
He’s so caught up with this new development that he thoughtlessly goes to hand Izuku his cup instead of setting it on the side table and Izuku, still red-faced and doe-eyed, reaches out to take it. Their fingers are millimeters from brushing before whoosh the quirk activates and Katsuki’s hand is pushed away and the latte goes flying.
It’s dead silent for a moment before Izuku leaps up off the couch.
“Oh my god, Kacchan. I’m so sorry—” Izuku hustles to the kitchen to get something to clean the mess up. Liquid is pooling across the floor, seeping into the rug and Katsuki’s socks, but he’s rooted to the spot. He can hear Izuku wetting a towel under the faucet, babbling apologetic nonsense and the stupid fucking reality of the situation—the shattered goddamn emotional revelation about Izuku he was having and how even the smallest things have been yanked out from under him all by a fucking random—crashes down on him.
Not even pausing to take off his socks he goes back to the door and shoves his feet in his shoes, slipping into his jacket with nerveless limbs. He needs to get out, to put some space between himself and Izuku before his friend sees the slapped-open expression he knows he’s got written all over his face. It’s too intimate, too close to the marrow of his bones and he’s not ready for Izuku to see.
“Kacchan—” Izuku comes around the corner “W-wait! Where are you—please,” he pleads, panicking, but Katsuki keeps his back to him.
“I’ll go get you another,” he says gruffly, trying to keep his emotions from bleeding into his voice. He doesn’t wait for a reply.
A while later, after he’s calmed down and parceled up whatever happened before and mentally stored it for another time to pick apart, he returns home with a fresh latte and a sugar-crusted pastry that Katsuki knows Izuku loves in his arms.
Izuku is no longer on the couch, which Katsuki feels a little guilty to be relieved about. He still feels a bit raw, unmoored by the whole day. He sets the items in the kitchen and returns to his room.
The hoodie is folded neatly on his bed. He ignores how wobbly it makes him feel and puts it on. He has to sit down, overcome by how it smells like floral shampoo and Izuku. He pulls out his phone and opens his text thread with Izuku.
izuku: sorry i took your hoodie. mine needs to be washed
Don’t worry about it, nerd. You can borrow it whenever.
Your drink is on the counter.
izuku: you didn’t have to do that
Sorry for spilling the first one.
izuku: kacchan it wasn’t ur fault
He hears Izuku’s door open and footsteps drifting towards the kitchen. His phone dings:
izuku: these are my favorite!
And another moment later:
izuku: thank you kacchan ♡
Katsuki stares at the little heart until his eyes blur and the screen goes dark. He falls asleep with his face tucked into his arms, inhaling Izuku’s scent until he drifts off.
***
His hoodie disappears again two days later, but he doesn’t see Izuku wearing it again. He doesn’t have the guts to ask about it.
INTERLUDE
“So we’ve got a working theory on Cleaver.”
Izuku is sitting in Detective Tsukauchi’s office. He’s been working directly with the Cleaver case and called Izuku in to discuss progress.
“After interviews with citizens we believe to have been hit by his powers—it looks like the targeted people only experience the repelling quirk towards… significant people in their lives.” Izuku frowns.
“Like…people they are close to?”
“In a way. Most reports were of spouses, boyfriends, girlfriends, lovers—” Izuku chokes “—but there were also cases of one-sided crushes or even people that were…romantically…admired from afar.”
Naomasa looks like he swallowed a lemon. “The common thread is romantic feelings towards the person you cannot touch.”
Izuku nearly falls out of his chair.
“B-but…Ka-Kacchan…” Naomasa says nothing, just stares levelly at him, giving Izuku a moment to digest.
Izuku takes a steadying breath and nods. “Makes sense,” he sounds resigned. “So how do I fix it?”
Now the detective cringes.
“You have to have…intimate contact with someone else.” Izuku nearly falls out of his chair.
“I have to do what?!”
“Most victims found a kiss to be sufficient. Think of it as a reverse of the True Love’s Kiss fairytale.” And Izuku looks like he’s going to be sick. “Cleaver has a vendetta against love,” Naomasa rolls his eyes. “He’s using his quirk to—ah—cleave between lovers. He believes that by cursing lovers to be separated, the guilt of,” he raises his hands to make quotation marks “betraying, your lover will destroy the love.”
Izuku’s face crumples.
“I’m sorry, Midoriya. We’re looking for alternatives but…we haven’t been successful yet. I don’t know how long this will last if you don’t resolve it on your own.”
***
It’s been a month since this shitshow started. Neither Katsuki nor Izuku are sleeping well and Katsuki almost murdered Kirishima when he offered to give him a hug because “Dude you are in desperate need of a cuddle.”
Which like…he’s not wrong but fuck. Read the room, Shitty Hair.
The front door opens and Katsuki leans around the corner to see Izuku stepping in. He looks so tired and Katsuki’s heart clenches; damn, he fucking misses his best friend. Things have been stilted between them, since the latte incident. Apparently they’re pretending nothing happened even though Katsuki is pretty sure something was going to happen.
Flipping the knobs on the stove he dumps the stir-fry he was cooking into some bowls.
“Where the fuck you been today, nerd? What just because we can’t get closer than like 2 feet away you’re avoiding me or some shit?” he hollers to the other room, desperate to make things feel normal.
Izuku laughs nervously. “They, uh. They told me how to cure the quirk.”
Katsuki nearly drops the bowls and hastily clatters them back on the counter. He rounds the corner, not even trying to pretend that he didn’t just almost trip over his own feet.
“They WHAT? Well it’s about fucking time. What the fuck do we gotta do?” Katsuki feels like he could shout from the fucking rooftops, the itch under his skin to be close to Izuku has reached an impossible level but Izuku is staring at his toes and twisting his hands.
He’s nervous. Why in the hell would he be nervous?
“Fuck, Deku what’d they say? You gotta streak on national fucking TV or something?” He tries to laugh, but there is a creeping sense of panic coming over him. Izuku scratches the back of his neck.
“N-no. I, uhm. I have to. Uhm. I have to…kiss someone?”
“You—what?” He feels like he’s underwater. He can feel his hands starting to sweat—his body readying itself for a fight. Izuku’s lip is already trembling and he won’t look Katsuki in the eye and—
“I h-ad to kiss someone. S-someone I don’t—“
Every thought in Katsuki’s brain is incinerated.
“What the fuck do you mean had?” Red is inching in on his vision. His chest hurts and it feels like his stomach is boiling. Izuku’s eyes are shining with tears.
“I already d-did.” He says in a whisper.
The fire in his blood freezes over. All that’s left is a hollow ringing in his ears.
Izuku…Izuku kissed someone? And it wasn’t him?
He just—
They were—
Well they weren’t…but.
But nothing.
They weren’t dating. They weren’t beholden to one another like some goddamn sappy fucking fairytale. They were friends. Katsuki might be ass over kettle for the nerd but they weren’t together. It shouldn’t matter that Izuku kissed someone. It doesn’t matter, not really, but his lizard brain was inflamed with consuming, irrational, white-hot jealousy.
“It was—” Izuku starts, but Katsuki scoffs before he can finish the sentence. He doesn’t want to know. It’s so fucking selfish. He should be relieved Izuku is free and he is, distantly, but he can’t focus past the raging envy.
“Tch, I don’t care.” The sound is venomous. Meaner than he’s been in years to Izuku.
He does care. He cares so much and he hates himself for not having the words to tell Izuku that.
“O-oh.” Izuku’s voice is small and he can see how his words are hitting him.
Stop this, now, Katsuki. You’re better than this, you left this person behind.
“Did you want me to care?” He asks nastily—and he can’t stop.
Please want me to care, please tell me you care too, please make me stop please I’m sorry please forgive me Izuku.
“I just thought...I—I didn’t expect you to. I just—“ he breaks off and starts to mumble.
“You’re gonna have to speak up and quit fucking muttering, Deku.” His heart breaks and he can’t stop.
“It’s nothing Kacchan. I just. I wanted you to know it’s fixed now.” Izuku sounds miserable, but Katsuki is too far gone in his anger.
“Fucking fantastic. Now we can stop fucking sucking like C-list heroes. If you can manage to stay out of the fucking way of goddamn quirks finally,” he finishes with a shout.
A tear falls down Izuku’s face and all the fight whooshes out of Katsuki. All that’s left is shame.
“Yeah.” Izuku nods. He starts to back away and Katsuki takes a step toward him, but stops when Izuku flinches. Katsuki wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole.
“Deku—” he starts.
“Good night, Kacchan.” Izuku won’t look at him. He just turns around and goes to his room, closing his door with a soft snick that Katsuki feels in his bones.
I don’t deserve him anyways, he thinks. I never fucking did.
***
If the weeks of separation with the quirk curse was bad, what they’re living now is infinitely worse. Izuku avoids him every chance he gets and Katsuki is grouchy as hell. He tries several times to apologize or say something to make up for the awful things he said but every time he tries, Izuku finds a way to slip away.
He’s beating the shit out of a punching bag when Kirishima finds him.
“Yo, what’s been your deal lately? You’ve been even more prickly than ever.”
“Fuck you, I’m not fucking prickly.”
“You and Midoriya fighting? I thought you’d be totally stoked to have the quirk fixed. Figured the two of you would be all over one another. Like a second honeymoon stage.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The love curse?”
“I’m two seconds from knocking your lights out, Shitty Hair. What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Well I heard it from Kaminari who heard it from Tsu who heard it from Mina—“
“Does everyone fucking know about something except for me?”
“—Who heard it from Jirou who heard it from Ochako—“
“Cut to the goddamn point, moron,”
“—who kissed Midoryia after he explained about how to break the quirk he had to kiss someone he didn't love so that he can have contact back with his boyfriend.”
“HAH??!! With his fucking what?”
“Well he didn’t say boyfriend exactly I don’t think but we all just assumed because you know, it’s you two and, uh, the quirk blocks you from touching your crush?? Bakugou I thought you knew this—aren’t you two like…together?”
Katsuki might be having an out of body experience. He might be having a stroke. His ears clearly aren’t working.
“No we’re not. You’re saying Izuku has a crush on me??”
Kirishima looks at him like he’s insane and instinctually Katsuki wants to punch him in the nose. “How do you not know?”
“Because we never fucking talked about it!!” He drags his hand through his hair. “And to break the quirk he had to…because he likes me?” He puts his his hands on his knees because he can’t breathe— what the fuck is happening?
“Oh shit I think I broke Bakugou—” he hears Kirishima whisper to himself.
“I fucked up. Oh I fucked up so goddamn badly. I told him I didn’t fucking care I didn’t know—oh fuck me in the goddamn ass, that fucking idiot could have said.”
“Bro, you need to go find Midoriya.” But Katsuki doesn’t spare Kirishima another thought, he’s already sprinting out the door.
***
“Deku!” Katsuki shouts as he busts through their front door.
No response, but he looks around and sees Izuku’s sneakers by the entryway so he’s got to be home.
Resisting the urge to kick his bedroom door in, he knocks gently. As gentle as he can, anyhow considering the circumstances, but still no answer.
Please let me be able to fucking fix this, he begs silently. He swears he can feel Izuku on the other side like a looming presence. Heart racing, Katsuki puts his palm against the door.
“Izuku…please.”
A few moments pass and he turns around to leave. Fuck it, he’ll go find Todoroki and let him beat the living shit out of him because he deserves to have his ass kicked when—
“K-Kacchan?” Katsuki whirls around and Izuku is standing there in the doorway. His eyes are red like he’s been crying…and he’s wearing the hoodie—fuck Katsuki wishes he could kick his own ass. “What’s going on?”
He wants to say he’s sorry. That he loves Izuku so fucking much and he was so goddamn jealous he could spit acid and he misses the fucking nerd more than anything but what comes out is: “I’m an asshole.”
Izuku blinks once slowly and makes a hysterical sound—somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He slaps his hand over his mouth like he could trap it and Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose. Why is this so goddamn difficult? He tries again.
“I’m a fucking asshole and I’m sorry.” That’s closer. Better.
“You don’t need to apologize Kacchan—“
“Shut the hell up, yes I do. I was mean as fuck to you and you didn’t deserve that.” You never have, Izuku.
They stand there in silence, Izuku staring at Katsuki with that kind fucking face that he gives Katsuki when he’s been mean, like it’s all okay except this time it’s just not—and Katsuki shifts his weight back and forth with his fists balled at his sides trying to get his temper under control. He is getting frustrated that he isn’t able to just spit it the fuck out.
“I did care,” he says after a moment. Izuku’s eyes grow wide. “I was jealous and because I’m a goddamn child I reacted…badly. I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have acted like such a dick. I didn’t want you to know that I was jealous because I’m so fucking into you and I don’t deserve y—“
He cuts himself off, because there it was.
Here’s the thing. Bakugou Katsuki has never doubted himself. He is amazing, he knows he is. He will tell anyone around exactly how amazing he is and if you don’t agree you need to get your head checked. He’s talented and strong and smart and he’s also an asshole with a short temper (some dumbass magazine called him unpleasant once but who the fuck cares about that trash) but he’s still amazing.
But Deku? Izuku? He’s a goddamn meteor strike. A nuclear fucking cataclysm whose shock waves obliterate every wall Katsuki has ever built. Katsuki pales in comparison with how colossal his power is. But he spent so much time in their youth trying to make Izuku feel small—and that makes Katsuki unworthy of his friendship, his kindness, his forgiveness; of his smiles and fist bumps and laughter.
Bakugou Katsuki is an amazing hero, but he has been a terrible friend.
For years he’s tried to do better, to make up for his terribleness as a child, but it’s not enough. For once, Katsuki has faced his own judgment and been found wanting. Izuku should have dropped him a long time ago, but he didn’t. Because Izuku is Izuku. He is warm and kind and loyal and he makes Katsuki better. It makes Katsuki’s offering that he brings to the table seem so meager —to be the best hero partner he can be? To hold him up after a fight? To wash the socks left on the floor?
“You don’t think you deserve…me?” Izuku asks, achingly gentle. Katsuki cringes.
“If Kirishima was right about the quirk thing then you have—or well I would understand if it was had now considering everything—” fuck now he’s muttering “—a crush on me too I just—”
“It’s not just a crush.” His gaze meets glimmering green eyes. Slowly, Izuku steps forward and gently, tenderly—fuck Katsuki won’t survive this—he takes Katsuki’s hands in his own. A small smile flirts with the corner of Izuku’s mouth and he traces his rough fingers across Katsuki’s knuckles, which are scabbed over from the punching bag.
“I love you, Kacchan. I always have.” He flicks Katsuki’s nose in a gesture that startles a wet laugh from him.
“I’ve just been waiting for you to figure it out too.”
Katsuki trembles. He can feel his eyes stinging and his heart is beating so hard he’s sure you could see it thumping in his chest right through his sweater. Izuku stands there calmly, holding his shaking hands, patiently waiting for Katsuki to catch the fuck up.
No judgment, no pressure, just steady hands and all his love.
He shakes the ashes from his mind and digs deep to find the place where his courage has hidden itself—he is Dynamite for fucks sake he can face anything—and does what he always does; he rises to the challenge.
“Yeah, nerd,” his voice is scratchy, thick with emotion he’s swallowing past to try to keep going, “me too. Of fucking course —me too.”
Katsuki watches as the grin melts across Izuku’s face, like a sun rising over the horizon. It makes his eyes crinkle and that cute fucking dimple show and goddamn Katsuki is gone on him. He can feel himself blushing fiercely, but he won’t cower. So he does the only thing he can think of and yanks his friend forward and kisses him.
Izuku gasps into Katsuki’s mouth, but his hands slide up his arms to tangle in his hair and pull the taller man closer—as if they’re not already pressed flush together, tongues down to the tips of their toes.
The kiss is sharp and hungry and intense; Katsuki thinks it couldn’t have ever been any different, not for them. Sweet and gentle will come later, but now it’s a lightning strike, thunderous and concussive. Izuku pulls back and his cheeks are wet. Katsuki feels something in his chest clench and he swipes away the tears with calloused fingers.
His hands are shaking and his heart is racing but you can fuck right off if he will admit it, he’s in the clouds right now. There’s a buzzing sensation rolling over his skin in waves and it takes a moment to understand that it is the feeling of overwhelming relief. He tries to keep his shit together, he really does, but Izuku sees right through him, though he’s kind enough not to call him on it. However a look of determination crosses his face, Katsuki has seen it before a dozen times.
Izuku cups his cheeks and he wants to look away, but he makes himself hold on.
“It has nothing to do with deserving my love, Kacchan. You have it. You always have and you’ve never had to earn it. I forgave you a long time ago for the past. You’re mine and that’s it.”
It’s so much—almost too much and Katsuki can barely process the cascade of emotion he’s feeling. Loved. Forgiven. Wanted. Relieved.
He still doesn’t feel worthy, hell he doubts he ever will, but if nothing else he trusts Izuku absolutely. If he says Katsuki is his, then that’s it. No more fucking time wasted on uncertainty, not anymore. He is so earnest, Katsuki has to close his eyes, he might pass out. Izuku rubs his back soothingly.
“Don’t get sappy on me, nerd,” he croaks because he’s reached the end of his bandwidth. Izuku rolls his eyes, but his cheeks are pink and he’s still smiling. He looks up at Katsuki from under his lashes.
“So are you gonna kiss me again or not, Katsuki? I’ve been very patient.” And he feels himself blush from head to toe. He growls and like an ocean wave they crash back together, Katsuki backing Izuku into his bedroom, stumbling and grasping at one another for any bits of skin they can reach.
Now that Katsuki has his hands on Izuku, he doubts he will ever be able to stop. Slipping his hands under the hem of his sweater, he skims his fingertips up and down a firm chest, his thumbs drift across the juts of hips bones, feeling the heave of his belly as he breathes deeply, before moving up as he fits his fingers between the dips of his ribs. One more swipe of his tongue along Izuku’s bottom lip before he shoves him backwards onto the bed. Izuku lands with a soft oof and Katsuki follows close behind, crawling up with his hands skimming along toned calves to make room for himself between Izuku’s thighs. And gods above Izuku’s thighs. Thick and lightly haired and freckled—Katsuki can’t be blamed for bending down and biting into the meat of one thigh, near the edge of Izuku’s tiny shorts. Don’t get him started on the tiny fucking shorts, which he failed to notice while he was having an emotional crisis all over the goddamn moment. Katsuki noses his way up Izuku’s thigh, tucking his nose into the crease of his hip and breathing in deeply.
“Kacchan,” Izuku moans and he looks up to see the other man’s cheeks a deep scarlet. Katsuki feels a savage smile cut across his face and he slowly drags the hem of his hoodie up Izuku’s abdomen, revealing the soft skin of his lower belly.
“’M gonna eat you up, ‘Zuku,” he growls, nuzzling into the softness of his stomach. No matter how toned Izuku gets, he always carries a little pudge in his belly. It makes Katsuki feel fucking feral. Izuku’s skin is warm, a little sticky with sweat. He breathes in again, open mouthed and nipping his teeth against one hip bone, then the next and he swears he can taste his own scent on Izuku. The vaguely sweet, smoky smell of his sweat, the slightly stale funk of it having lingered on an unwashed sweatshirt mixed with Izuku’s own is kinda gross but at this moment Katsuki is brainless for it.
From where he’s hunching over Izuku, his legs splayed across his lap, Katsuki can feel the growing hardness just under his chin. He’s sure that Izuku can feel his own that’s pressed against his ass and he can’t help the little grinding motions he makes as he smushes himself face first into Izuku’s crotch. He dampens the fabric of his shorts, sucking big wet patches along Izuku’s dick and he feels hands weave into his hair. With a soft tug, Izuku breathes out shakily.
“C’mon, Kacchan. I want to feel you.”
In one smooth motion he untucks Izuku from his shorts and underwear and takes into his mouth, sinking down until he is met with the thatch of hair at the base. The earthy, salty taste of Izuku on his tongue is enough to make his eyes roll back in his head and he has to grab himself and squeeze because the sounds Izuku is making are getting him so fucking hot. Izuku is making small rolls of his hips, inching himself further into Katsuki’s mouth and when he feels Izuku’s fingers tighten almost painfully in his hair he knows he’s not going to last long. Katsuki hitches one of Izuku’s legs up, enough to grab a handful of his ass and when dips his head further and swallows around Izuku, he pops off his quirk just a little with a sharp smack to a cheek. Izuku’s back arches beautifully, thighs squeezing around his ears and he comes down Katsuki’s throat with a shout.
Katsuki wastes no time once Izuku’s stopped twitching from the aftershocks. He leans up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and yanks his hoodie over Izuku’s head, which makes the other man yelp in surprise. Eyes roving over his naked body, he drags the flat of his palms up scarred arms, across the rapid pulse in his neck, before pressing his fingers to freckled cheeks and reddened lips. Katsuki feels like he’ll combust at the slightest touch from this man.
A meteor, a cosmic event. Fuck he’s in love.
He catches a glimpse of blue-green static sparking along Izuku’s shoulders before he’s flipped onto his back. Izuku’s thighs bracket his hips and Katsuki wants to be smothered. Izuku leans down and bites at Katsuki’s lip, immediately soothing over it with his tongue. He kisses him messily, possessive, confident. It’s maddeningly good. Izuku moves over to his ear, nips the lobe before whispering sweetly.
“My turn now, Kacchan.”
“Yes fucking please.”
***
Life doesn’t change dramatically, there’s still elbowing and knees knocking and fist bumps and pinching and ruffled hair. But now there’s also cold hands slipped under t-shirts to warm against the naturally warm skin of Katsuki’s side and sleepy early morning kisses on the couch between sips of coffee and the tip of his nose tucked into the back of Izuku’s neck at night. Now on the train when he slips his arm around Izuku’s waist, Katsuki can tilt his head down and press a soft kiss to his hairline, rest his cheek atop fluffy green curls and listen to Izuku’s idle chattering.
They still argue. All the fucking time. And they still kick each other's asses regularly—but instead of it ending with a busted lip or nose those brawls end in biting kisses and yanked shirt fronts and finger shaped bruises on plush hips. Their apologies are kisses whispered into each other’s mouths, exhaled I love you ’s. Then Izuku sticks his finger in Katsuki’s ear and they tussle until he gets the smaller man in a headlock and tickles him until Izuku shriek-laughs alright alright you win Kacchan!
Damn right, nerd.
END