Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Katsuki’s first thought upon waking up is that his ass hurts. 

The second comes after he sits up, when his head throbs with a sharp pain that makes him wonder just how hard he had hit it. He’s had his fair share of concussions, but none that have made it feel like a knife is being driven straight through his skull and rotated like a rotisserie chicken. He threads his fingers through his hair and feels around for blood, but nothing is on his hand when he pulls it in front of his face. 

It had been just another stupid day of listening to Endeavor’s grating voice and dealing with Todoroki and Izuku’s moronic, near-constant back-and-forth chatter when this all started. Honestly, Katsuki doesn’t even know what those two are talking about half the time. They have this weird language where Izuku will mutter for a solid five minutes straight until Todoroki cuts in with some dead-pan sentence that makes Izuku burst out into high-pitched giggles while Todoroki gets all pleased with himself. 

It’s annoying.

Katsuki had been ready to tear his hair out when Endeavor called to tell them about a tip that someone might have been seen breaking into an office building nearby. It was probably nothing, maybe a couple of teenage vandals looking to make out somewhere stupid or spray paint someone else’s property. Whatever it was, it wasn’t important enough for Todoroki’s stupid, shitty Dad to look into, so he sent the three of them over to check it out.

That, in itself, wasn’t a mistake, necessarily. The three of them were doing pretty good at cooperating lately, considering this was their second work study together and their third year at UA. A lot had changed since the war. Izuku and Katsuki were getting along better than they ever had before, and Katsuki was even able to say he had warmed up to Todoroki quite a bit, even if the latter did insist on constantly goading Katsuki into a foul mood. 

The point being, the three of them could easily handle the stupid villain that confronted them on the third floor of the office building, giving them some obnoxious, shitty monologue about how this company had screwed his small start-up over and— whatever. None of it mattered to Katsuki. The backstories these villains insisted on giving were never convincing enough to excuse murder or even petty crime. 

The villain was pissed that Katsuki had interrupted him with some particularly foul language and it turned into a confrontation, as these things were wont to do. It wouldn’t have become the clusterfuck it did if goddamn Deku didn’t have the self-preservation skills of a nonchalantly suicidal and overly optimistic teenage boy, charging straight into the action like he was the only hero in the building, moments away from getting his shit absolutely rocked when the explosion that Katsuki let out in response blew a hole through the fucking floor. 

A fall from the third floor to the second wouldn’t have been so bad, but the rubble from the third floor hit with enough force to bust a hole through the second, and Katsuki was trying to blast himself back to slow his momentum but it clearly wasn’t effective enough because—

Here he is now, with a pounding head and sore ass, laying on top of a pile of rubble. His ego might be a little bruised, too.

A soft whine comes from his left, and he turns to see that Izuku is lying about ten feet away from him, slowly beginning to regain consciousness. Katsuki can’t help the way his heart picks up speed in his chest. Why hadn’t Izuku used Float? Katsuki hadn’t even realized the nerd had taken the fall with him. How did he miss that?

Katsuki stands, sparing a glance around the room and upwards at the hole in the ceiling. The structural integrity of the building doesn’t seem to be compromised. Todoroki is nowhere in sight, though, and they have no way of knowing if the villain is incapacitated or still on the move, so they need to get back on their feet quickly.

“Did you get yourself hurt, dumbass?” Katsuki looks Izuku over now that he’s closer. He appears to be fully awake now, but he rubs at the back of his head groggily. Katsuki can sympathize with the wince he makes when his fingers hit a sore spot on his scalp. He lets out another whine— this one more similar to the whines of protest Katsuki grew up hearing— when Katsuki forcefully shoves his head forward to check for any blood in his hair. 

“Tsk,” He mutters as he rubs his fingers all over Izuku’s scalp. He’s not exactly gentle, but no one else is around to check on the nerd and Katsuki knows better than anyone that the useless idiot would keep marching on even if his intestines were hanging out of his body.

 “If I was hurt it wouldn’t be because I’d gotten myself hurt, Kacchan,” Izuku growls. He pushes at Katsuki’s hands and glares up at him. Katsuki blinks, stunned, before baring his teeth. Now’s the time the nerd decides to grow a backbone?

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” He snarls. His head throbs in protest.

“I didn’t need you to push me out of the way like that. What you did was thoughtless.” Izuku’s face looks pinched, a little angry around the edges. 

“I was doing my fuckin’ job and keeping you from getting hurt.” Didn’t do a very good job, though, did you? a voice nags in the back of his mind.

Izuku huffs a disbelieving laugh. “It’s not your job to keep me from getting hurt. You don’t have to be so reckless, Kacchan,” He says, voice tight and clipped. Fucking reckless— as if he’d known that his blast would cause the floor to fall through like that. Katsuki’s blood boils.

“Maybe if you and IcyHot hadn’t gotten in my fuckin’ way—”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe we get in your way to protect people from you?” Izuku snaps, his eyebrows raised pointedly. It hits Katsuki square in the chest. 

He’s been— He’s been trying, trying to be better and he figured Izuku hadn’t really forgiven him for all the middle-school shit, doesn’t expect him to, but he hadn’t thought he would throw it in his face like that. Especially not now, when they still don’t know where Todoroki is, when there’s much more at stake than the terrible, puberty-driven, rage-fueled decisions Katsuki has been trying desperately to figure out how to fully amend. Katsuki half expects Izuku’s eyes to go all big and sad, followed by apologies and ‘Kacchan, I didn’t mean it like that, that was so mean’. 

Instead, Izuku’s eyes narrow more, green almost black in the dark light. 

“You made part of the building collapse. We don’t know if there’s anyone else in here right now.”

It strikes Katsuki as odd, underneath the definite concussion and resulting fuzzy edges of his brain, that Izuku is fighting him so hard about this right now. It’s strange that he’s doing it at all, not saving it for later to pass off as a muttered analysis of his hero work once the villains are captured and everything is secure.

“Well,” Bakugou gestures broadly around, upper lip pulling back of its own accord into a snarl. “It’s almost seven at night on a Saturday. I think everyone is fucking safe at home.”

Izuku rolls his eyes, and everything feels weird, feels wrong and twisted and he can feel the beginnings of something like panic curling in his chest because the Izuku he knows— has known all these years would never—

The soft “Kacchan?” that comes directly from above him gives him whiplash. He strains his head back to look up and sees Izuku’s face watching him through the hole in the ceiling. It’s dark, but Katsuki can see the worry warping his features, making those green eyes even bigger.

Katsuki’s head snaps back to where Izuku had just been, sitting in the rubble and bitching. The movement makes his head throb and his vision warp and stretch, but he’s fairly certain that there’s nothing there, just slowly settling dust from the explosions. Which doesn’t make any sense. How hard did he hit his head?

Izuku jumps down, landing smoothly in front of Katsuki. The nerd has come a long way from being too scared to jump off the diving board at Katsuki’s house. A long fucking way, he thinks, disturbed by how immediately his gaze is drawn to Izuku’s constantly growing thighs. If he keeps this up, that scrawny fucker is going to look like All Might someday. 

Ugh, his head fucking hurts. 

“We got the villain, but we have reason to believe that he was working with somebody else.” Izuku looks around the empty room. Katsuki looks, too, searching for the Izuku that was here before. “Who were you talking to?”

It occurs to Katsuki that the answer he has makes no sense. If Izuku was up there, still fighting the villain, then… Katsuki must’ve hit his head a lot harder than he thought.

“Fucking no one,” He shakes his head to clear it, wincing as everything blurs and nausea rolls deep in his stomach. 

“Be careful, Kacchan,” Izuku scolds, catching the grimace on Katsuki’s features.

“Shut up.” Katsuki distracts himself from the lingering sense of someone else being in the room to feel around real Izuku’s scalp the way he had before. 

Izuku’s concern melts into wide-eyed amusement. “What are you doing?” He asks, cheeks growing pink. 

“Checking your head for blood, obviously,” Katsuki grunts.

“But… I didn’t hit my head,” Izuku ducks said head shyly, Katsuki’s hands following the movement. His fingers pause their ministrations. 

“Right.” Well, that’s embarrassing. Maybe he’s going a little crazy. Or maybe he just really, really hit his head.

He moves his hands out of Izuku’s hair. 

“How hurt are you?” Izuku asks, clearly more concerned now than he had been before. Probably because Katsuki is acting like Kaminari after he fries his brain. 

As if he was encouraged by Katsuki’s earlier actions, Izuku lifts his own hands to comb through Katsuki’s hair. 

“I’m fine,” Katsuki spits, spirit feeling a little bruised from his earlier… interaction, as well as a bit embarrassed . “You’re fuckin’ welcome for saving your ass, by the way.”

Izuku’s mouth hangs open for a moment, before it settles into the small grin he likes to wear too often around Katsuki. He hums a little as his eyes shine, looking up at Katsuki like he’s done something special. Katsuki hates those eyes, sometimes. He can see his reflection in them, right now. His mirror image looks angry, perturbed by the hands in his hair and the smile Izuku is wearing. It’s exactly how he’s trying to look, and yet it’s disturbing to see it broadcasted back at him. How can Izuku smile at him when he looks like that?

“Kacchan is amazing, as always,” Izuku chirps, voice certain. Katsuki wants to roll his eyes but he refrains. He ducks his head slightly to allow Izuku to reach his scalp more easily, as much as the position is a bit embarrassing. Might as well help get this over with quickly. 

Izuku chokes out a surprised sound and Katsuki’s cheeks flare an angry red.

“What?” Katsuki snaps, jerking his head out of Izuku’s hands immediately. 

Izuku stares at him for a moment before his gaze catches on his own palm. Any semblance of a smile slips off of his face. 

“Oh,” He mutters. Katsuki snatches the hand he’s focusing his gaze on and turns the palm towards his face. It’s got a good amount of blood on it. 

“Huh,” He mumbles. “Wasn’t doing that before.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku scolds, sounding alarmed. The little shit grabs onto Katsuki’s head and pulls, trying to get a good look at the wound, but all it serves to do is make the room rock like a ship in front of Katsuki’s vision and he barely manages to push back on Izuku’s belly in time so he doesn’t throw up on his shoes.

Izuku squawks in surprise.

“We’ve gotta get you to—”

“Nuh-uh,” Katsuki grunts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Throwing up unfortunately did not make him feel any better. “We’ve gotta clear the building, make sure no one got hurt from my—”

“I already checked, Kacchan. No one was hurt, it’s okay.” Izuku’s voice is soothing and it makes Katsuki growl deep in his throat. “Besides, it’s seven at night on a Saturday. Who’s that dedicated to their office job?”

Katsuki looks at him to see his amused smile, barely covering up the ridiculous concern for Katsuki’s well-being. He’s waiting for Katsuki to bite back, eyes fond and expectant.

“Fucking nerds, like you,” He mutters, punctuating it with a flick on Izuku’s forehead. 

He whines and makes a big show of rubbing the spot for a few moments for Katsuki’s sake. 

“Kacchan is so mean,” He grumbles.

“Idiot,” Katsuki barks, before turning on his heel and heading out the way they came in, the weird hallucination long forgotten in exchange for all the poking and prodding from medical examiners that comes with being concussed.

“Please don’t put a hole through this floor, too,” Todoroki says in response to Katsuki’s crackling hands as they make their way through the school hallways the following Monday. Katsuki has never been very good with mornings, but he’s especially not good with the mornings that Kaminari wakes up on the right side of.

“Don’t shoot!” Aforementioned Pikachu says, holding his hands up, knowing full well that if Katsuki did blow his eyebrows off it would be completely warranted. That’s what he deserves for waking Katsuki up with a goddamn air horn at five in the morning. Kirishima wasn’t too happy with the prank either, considering he’d been fast asleep right next to Katsuki’s dorm room, only separated by a thin wall.

“Fuck off,” Katsuki ignores Kaminari to instead focus on the irritatingly monotone dipshit who now calls him a friend. “Don’t act like you weren’t about to blow up the building yourself when Izuku pulled that stupid move.”

Katsuki catches the hint of a smile on his face, one he’s gotten shittier at hiding over the past year— or maybe just no longer feels the need to.

“You beat me to it, I guess.” He slides his mismatched gaze away from the open hallway in front of them to look at Katsuki.

“Yeah, well, next time it’s your turn to keep the idiot from killing himself,” Katsuki scoffs, just as Izuku sidles up next to them.

“Who are you guys talking about?” He asks, blinking owlishly. Katsuki smirks.

“Sparky,” answers Katsuki.

“Mm. I did hear him saying he narrowly escaped death this morning. Do you know what that was about?”

“Dunce Face has made a bad habit of pissing off the wrong people lately,” Katsuki says, just loud enough that Kaminari hears and dramatically flinches.

“Lately?” Kirishima pitches in from behind them. “I thought that’s kind of been his main personality trait since first year?”

“Et tu, Brute?” Kaminari tosses a hand over his forehead with a sigh.

“How’s your head feeling, Kacchan?” Izuku asks, with so much sticky-sweet sincerity that Katsuki can see Kirishima making a face in his periphery. 

“It’s fine,” Katsuki answers, because it is, and because he’s long since learned that responding with a ‘ Fuck off’ or a ‘ Fuck you’ only actually makes Izuku a million times more likely to ask again until he tells him everything is okay. 

Though, he can now acknowledge that he kind of likes the constant concern that Izuku shows for him. It makes it tempting to tell him to fuck off just to have him ask the question again later. However, nowadays doing that comes with the fear that Izuku will actually fuck off. He wants that less and less with each passing moment.

He wants that less and less from pretty much everyone, lately. Though he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to vocalize it, he’s become very used to having his classmates around, and friends he actually, begrudgingly, cares about. The idea of graduating seems more unappealing everyday, knowing that he won’t see the only people who have managed to worm their way into his cold, dead heart as much as he does now. It’s frustrating him to no end, because he wants to be excited. And he is. But he’s also—

“Are you sure? You’ve been kind of spacing out these past couple of days.”

—He’s also terrified of losing Izuku, even though he has no right to be. 

“I wouldn’t be spacing out if these fuckers weren’t constantly forcing me to stay up late on the weekends for movie nights,” Katsuki barks, glaring at their friend group that’s now dispersing to go to their separate desks. 

First year Katsuki would have died before staying up late to watch movies. He’s getting soft.

“Kacchan would never stay up late to watch movies when we were kids,” Izuku pouts. Like a fucking child.  

“Well, I do now,” Katsuki says. They stop to finish their conversation by the doorway of the classroom.

“Would you…?” Izuku trails off, looking at Katsuki slyly out of the corner of his eye, gripping at his backpack straps.

“Would I what?” Katsuki barks.

“Stay up late to watch the original All Might movie with him, obviously,” Todoroki answers, because he’s good at understanding Izuku in the areas where Katsuki doesn’t.

“Mhm,” Izuku squeaks, blushing for some reason.

“You’re asking me to?” Katsuki says, and then he’s blushing too.

“Sure. This coming weekend, maybe?” Izuku says, toeing at the floor. Todoroki has enough of the conversation and heads over to his desk.

“Okay,” Izuku visibly brightens, smiling so wide it makes his eyes scrunch up. Katsuki rolls his eyes. The nerd acts like he would ever say ‘no’ to him. Katsuki’s pretty sure that he hasn’t uttered the word ‘no’ in a year. He’s getting way too soft. “So long as IcyHot doesn’t ruin it by asking a thousand questions because he’s incapable of following the plot of a movie.”

For some reason, Izuku deflates a little, before catching himself and straightening back out. Katsuki’s chest tugs sharply in a way that’s similar to Izuku’s Danger Sense, but instead alerts him to the slightest droop in Izuku’s posture. 

“Right. Will Kirishima come too?” Katsuki looks over to where Kirishima is very invested in a conversation with Kaminari, the latter of whom jolts when he sees him staring. Katsuki does his best to look like he’s menacingly discussing the violent and sudden end to Kaminari’s life.

“Maybe. He’d be a lot more interested in coming if it were a movie about Crimson Riot.”

“Oh! Well, we can watch that instead, if you guys wanted. I’ve never actually watched any of his movies, but I’m sure I’d like— ouch!” Izuku rubs his ear where Katsuki had just flicked him.

“Shut up, nerd. I want to watch the All Might movie. I haven’t seen it in, like, ten years.” That’s a blatant lie, because he had rewatched it just last year, but like hell he’s telling Izuku that.

“If you two aren’t at your desks in the next three seconds I will be counting you as tardy,” Aizawa grumbles from behind them. “And you’re blocking the doorway.”

“Sorry, sensei!” Izuku shouts nervously, quickly crossing the room to his desk.

“Asshole,” Katsuki mutters under his breath.

“Delinquent,” Aizawa responds, the faintest smile on his face. Katsuki rolls his eyes as his teacher sidesteps him to set his coffee down on his desk. “Your desk. Now.”

“Saturday night?” Izuku whispers behind him when he takes his seat. Katsuki turns over his shoulder to give an affirmative grunt, trying to not feel too pleased with the way Izuku beams.

Later that day, Present Mic gives them an assignment— a report they have to turn in on a hero of their choice, written in English. If they choose a hero who is still alive, they have to conduct an interview. If the hero is no longer alive or otherwise unavailable, they have to submit a two page report. 

“I have no idea who to do this report on, you guys!” Kaminari whines, crossing his arms on the lunch table and placing his head on it. Mina pats his back in a comforting motion. Katsuki rolls his eyes from where he’s seated next to Kirishima, quietly eating his lunch.

“I already know who Kirishima is doing his report on,” Sero smiles, nudging Kirishima’s other side.

“Hell yeah!” Kirishima grins, sharp teeth on display. 

“Won’t this be, like, the third assignment you’ve done about Crimson Riot in one way or another?” Mina raises an eyebrow. “At this rate, Present Mic is going to ban you from even mentioning him in any of your homework.”

Katsuki smiles to himself as he devotes most of his attention to the meal in front of him. Izuku and Kirishima have more in common than they might think. If Katsuki could be bothered to give more of a shit, he might force the two fanboys to hang out sometime. 

Then again, Katsuki thinks that sounds like a personal hell for him.

“Maybe I could write about Mt. Lady!” Kaminari suddenly says, head jerking up. Then, he blanches. “No, I don’t want to have to interview her. I should pick a hero who isn’t kickin’ anymore.”

Katsuki snorts. “Someday, years from now, some little UA student is gonna pick you to write a report on because you’ll get obliterated in your first solo battle and it’ll make for an easy A.”

“Hey, man,” Kaminari whines, and his voice is just pitched enough for Katsuki to realize that his comment may not have been taken lightly. Jokes like that don’t go over too well anymore, since everything with All for One and Shigaraki. On top of that, Kaminari struggles even more than Kirishima does in the self-confidence department, which makes Katsuki feel a bit like a jackass for even saying that to begin with.

“Wow, bro, that win against that villain really got to your head, huh?” Kirishima says. His voice is light and teasing but Katsuki can tell it’s a gentle warning. 

“Fuck off,” Katsuki snarls. “I’d like to see any of you pull that shit off.”

“It kind of sounds like Midoriya and Todoroki were the ones who pulled it off, actually,” Mina adds, shit-eating grin on her face.

“Can it, Pinky.” Katsuki feels Kirishima throw an arm around his shoulder, but Katsuki keeps his eyes on Kaminari. He looks less mopey, now, at the new prospect of them all ganging up on Katsuki.

“Is that what’s got you in a sour mood, huh?” Kaminari smirks, reaching out across the table to poke Katsuki’s cheek. His hand is immediately smacked away. “Oh wait, I forgot, you’re always like that.”

“I can arrange for your first big battle to come sooner rather than later,” Katsuki says with a challenging smirk, egging Kaminari on, and it goes over smoothly. Kaminari’s lips part in a big, stupid grin.

“I can take you on!” He exclaims, confidence newly bolstered.

“Let’s get you some sparring practice first, Sparky,” Katsuki answers. 

Predictably, Kaminari whines. “I can’t. I’ve gotta study— and now we have this stupid report!” He cries, head thumping back down onto the table.

“Who are you doing your report on, Kaminari?” Izuku asks as he joins them at the table. He does this sometimes, spending half of his lunchtime with his friend group and half with Katsuki’s. It’s something that started shortly after the war, back when the wounds were still too fresh for Katsuki to tell him to go away, back when Izuku was still looking at him like he was staring at Katsuki’s lifeless body on the battlefield once again.

“Please don’t talk to me about it,” Kaminari cries out, voice muffled. 

“Who are you going to be writing about, AllMightFanBoy0610?” Katsuki jostles Izuku’s shoulder.

“Kacchan!” He whines. “That was my username five years ago! I’ve changed it!”

“Bakugou is obviously above writing his report on All Might. That’s why he removed that massive bookshelf of really cool All Might memorabilia from his dorm room,” Kirishima snorts. Izuku gasps.

“You have a bookshelf of All Might memorabilia? And you got rid of it?” Izuku looks downright distressed. Heartbroken, even.

“Shitty Hair,” Katsuki growls, a promise that he’ll get him back later for forcing him to have to explain this. “Yes, I have an All Might shelf, not a shrine, and no, I never got rid of it.”

“Oh, good!” Izuku looks genuinely relieved. “Can I see it, sometime?”

Next to him, Kirishima chokes around a disbelieving laugh. Under his breath, Katsuki can hear him murmur “Nerd flirting is so weird”. Katsuki stomps on his foot, hard. 

“Sure. Just promise me you won’t steal any of it.”

Izuku shrugs. “I probably have most of it already, anyway.” His face lights up. “Kacchan, someday we’ll have merch of our own! Oh, I can’t wait to start a new collection.”

Katsuki can’t honestly tell if Izuku is talking about collecting his own merch, Katsuki’s, or both. Either way, it makes his face feel hot.

“Collecting your own merch makes you seem douchey,” He mutters, poking at his plate. 

“Then we’ll collect each other’s!” Izuku looks at him, eyes practically twinkling.

Katsuki snorts. Izuku has gotten bold over the past year, completely comfortable saying sappy shit to Katsuki that he probably would have blasted his face off for saying in their first year. 

“You expect me to walk around in public wearing a Deku sweatshirt, hah?” Katsuki raises an eyebrow, tucking his chin towards his shoulder and looking down the slope of his nose at Izuku. 

“I’d wear your merch.” Izuku is smiling. They’re very, very close. Their sides are pressed against each other, and Katsuki can feel the others at the table watching. He knows he’s smirking at Izuku brazenly, but Izuku is looking back at him with just as much challenge in his big, sparkling eyes. “You’d do it, wouldn’t you?”

Katsuki releases an amused puff of air from his nose. “Better be cool as shit if you’re gonna make me wear it,” He answers, turning back to his food.

“I knew it!” Izuku cheers, throwing his shoulder into Katsuki.

Across the table, Kaminari is staring at them.

“Dude,” He whispers, eyes wide. 

“Death,” Katsuki threatens as Izuku starts an animated conversation with Mina across from him. 

It really is strange, the attachment that has formed between him and Izuku. Everyone sees it, from Kirishima to Mina to Todoroki. Katsuki’s friend group is obnoxiously supportive of their rekindled friendship as well as Katsuki’s poorly hidden adoration of the nerd. It’s clear to all of them that Izuku is it for Katsuki— though they don’t seem to understand why nothing has come of this infatuation, yet.

Katsuki doesn’t have the heart to tell them that nothing ever will. That’s not something he deserves.

At the end of the school day, Izuku catches Katsuki on the stairs.

“I wanted to talk with you, Kacchan,” Izuku says, keeping stride with Katsuki’s long legs, jumping two steps at a time when he has to.

“What about?” Katsuki asks. He pauses on the second level, where Izuku’s room is, and waits for an answer. When one doesn’t come immediately, he raises an annoyed eyebrow at him.

“This is your floor, Deku. Speak now or forever hold your peace,” He tells him, half joking. Today has been a long day, and he’s been looking forward to spending some time alone.

“I’d prefer to do it in your room… unless you want everyone listening in?” Izuku raises an eyebrow back, but his expression isn’t teasing the way Katsuki’s was. He pointedly looks down the stairs, towards the common room where chatter from their peers can still be heard, then he looks back up. It looks almost… like he’s challenging Katsuki. It makes something feel off-balance in his gut. 

“Why the hell would I care?” Katsuki growls, skin prickling with Pavlovian sweat at the feeling of being unsure… unsafe. He looks away from Deku uncomfortably.

“Come on,” Izuku urges, continuing their walk up the stairs.

When they get into his room, he lets Izuku in first.

Izuku has definitely never been in his room at UA, even after the war. They’ve become closer, sure, but something has been holding them both back from completely filling in that void that’s been present ever since middle school. Katsuki isn’t entirely sure he has any right to have that void filled, anyway, with what he did. Even after apologizing, it doesn’t change that nearly half of Deku’s self-doubt and reckless drive comes directly from Katsuki’s own actions. 

Izuku takes his time observing the layout of the room. He takes it in slowly, turning to look at the small shelf of All Might stuff that Katsuki had brought with him from home. There’s a photo of the two of them from when they were little and both dressed up in All Might costumes together. His mother had forced it upon him, but now he didn’t really resent its presence in his room. Izuku raises an eyebrow at it, looking amused for a moment.

“The fuck did you want to say?” Katsuki growls, feeling cut open and pulled apart with Izuku just meandering around his room, judging it like it’s for him to scrutinize.

Izuku turns, gaze sharp and honing in on Katsuki immediately. Something about it feels off, off, off.

“I heard what you said to Kaminari at lunch, Kacchan,” He begins, head tilting off to the side. They had just been giggling together in the cafeteria, why is he looking at Katsuki like that? He never looks at Katsuki like that.

“What about it?” Katsuki feels irritation grip onto his spine, tensing his shoulders and neck. He knows exactly what Izuku is talking about.

“It wasn’t very kind,” Izuku answers. 

“I don’t see why it’s a big deal,” Katsuki gripes, rolling his eyes and his shoulders at the same time. He moves his gaze away, towards the furthest corner of the room.

“I don’t like it when you talk to our classmates like that,” Izuku says protectively. And that, that throws Katsuki off. Izuku never treats Katsuki like he’s someone people need to be protected from— but—

Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe we get in your way to protect people from you?

— No. That wasn’t real. Remember, Katsuki? Real Deku knows— always knows—

It’s not like he’s ever trying to hurt anyone— not anymore— and he’s been better. Izuku knows he’s been better. He apologized to Kaminari, didn’t he? Hadn’t he? Well, no, he hadn’t really, but— but—

“It’s not any of your business,” Katsuki answers, feeling cornered. He chews on the inside of his lip until it starts to bleed.

“Of course it’s my business, they’re my classmates, too.”

“They’re my friends!” Katsuki says, louder than he means to, but he feels attacked. 

“You and I both know what you do to your friends, Kacchan,” Izuku responds, taking all the air in Katsuki’s lungs with it. They both go silent, and Katsuki waits, waits for the inevitable way Izuku’s eyes will go all big and sad, the way he’ll fall over himself to take back what he said, tell Katsuki how it was too much— too mean.

Izuku doesn’t do any of that, and Katsuki can feel himself start to shake apart. God, is he that reliant on Izuku’s approval?

Something is wrong. Something doesn’t feel right. How can Izuku go from looking at him with stars in his eyes to this? 

Katsuki locks up the muscles in his back, tries to hold in the way the words hit him. His mind is screaming at him, pulling up all these images of little Izuku crying, Izuku cowering in fear, Izuku hurt and Izuku broken. He pushes it all down, resets his posture, and narrows his eyes. 

“That’s not what this is and you—” Katsuki starts, but Izuku guffaws before he can even finish.

“You are unbelievable, you know that? Just when I think you might…” He motions his hands toward Katsuki in exasperation. Might what? Katsuki wants to plead. He doesn’t. “Just—” Izuku shakes his head, taking the time to pinch the bridge of his nose, “— act like the hero you want to be, for once.”

Leaving Katsuki nearly speechless, Izuku turns on his heel without another word.

What the fuck?

He stays away from Izuku the next day— and his own friend group, too, if he’s being honest. Kirishima and Kaminari are both difficult to stray too far from due to their intense nature, but both are familiar enough with Katsuki’s bad moods to not pry when they can tell it isn’t wanted.

His friends definitely notice the way his mood has changed for the worse compared to yesterday, and Kirishima, always the kindest person, is the one to pat Katsuki’s shoulders and tell him ‘I love you, man’ like it’s effortless. Katsuki has always admired that about him, how he can look at Katsuki, at his bared teeth and spiteful glare, and not blink once, smile present on his face the whole time.

It’s nice to have someone who isn’t intimidated by him.

Though, how long can you hold onto something that scratches and claws and bites at you every single moment it’s in your arms? 

Katsuki has been trying to make it easier, but he knows—

He knows, like Izuku, what he does to his friends.

He’s been thinking about that ever since Izuku said it yesterday, and as much as he wants to believe he’s been better— he hasn’t really, has he? He apologized for what he did to Izuku, but when it comes down to it, he’s still cruel and venomous, the only difference is that those who are close to him have tougher skin than Izuku had back in the day. Maybe he isn’t as physically violent as he was then, but that’s not what had scarred Izuku the most, was it?

Izuku had a point, though it was a point Katsuki had never really wanted to face.

Classes draw to an end that day, and Kaminari pokes him in the shoulder as he’s packing up his bag.

“Still up for a study session tonight, man?” He looks hopeful, twisting a chewed to shit pencil between his fingers. “I could really use it. Maybe— Maybe you could help me with the rough draft of my essay this weekend, too?”

Katsuki shoves the last notebook into his bag, chest tightening at the way Kaminari acts like he’s moments away from being thrown out of a moving vehicle. Kaminari has always been more apprehensive around him than the others, loving to poke at Katsuki and jump ten feet backwards whenever he growls.

Act like the hero you want to be, for once.

Fuck, what does that even mean?

“We can study tonight. Give me the essay whenever you’re done with it,” He answers. “I’ll read it and help you work on it from there.”

Kaminari looks pleasantly surprised. “Thanks, man! This is why you’re my favorite.”

Am I? Katsuki wants to ask. He doesn’t. 

“Oh,” A voice says from behind him. Katsuki’s shoulders tense. “Are you guys studying together tonight? Would you mind if I joined you?”

“Of course not, Midoriya!” Kaminari answers, before jumping when Katsuki growls. 

What the fuck? Why is the nerd acting so hot and cold? Is he mad at Katsuki or isn’t he?

“One minute you’re pissed at me and the next you’re asking if we can all study together?” Katsuki barks at Izuku, turning over his shoulder to find him looking surprised. His eyebrows are up in his hairline, big eyes bewildered.

“Uh, see you later, Bakugou!” Kaminari shouts before throwing himself out of the potential explosion zone.

“What are you talking about, Kacchan? I’m not upset with you!” Izuku says. His worried expression draws back a little the way it tends to before he begins rambling. “I did notice Kacchan seemed upset and like he was avoiding me more than usual today, and I worried that maybe he was upset with me, but I knew it would just make Kacchan even more upset if I were to ask about it—”

“Shut up, nerd!” Katsuki can’t stand the muttering when he’s in a shitty mood. 

“Did I do something to upset you?” Izuku says once he shakes himself out of his stupor. 

Katsuki stares at him. He looks so stupidly fucking genuine and Katsuki can barely resist the urge to strangle him. What game is he playing at? Is he trying to insinuate that Katsuki shouldn’t be upset over what Izuku said last night? 

Though, when it comes down to it, maybe he shouldn’t. What had Izuku done that was wrong? Stand up for his classmates? Rightfully call Katsuki out on his bullshit for once in his life?

“No,” Katsuki answers, newly subdued. At least Izuku admitted that he wasn’t still upset with him. The way he’s acting, it seems like he didn’t even consider that their conversation last night would hit a sore spot with Katsuki. He was just calling out injustice, like any hero would.

Fucking bleeding heart Deku.

“Can I… come study then?” Izuku asks. He looks confused, but hopeful, and suddenly Katsuki feels a little guilty. 

“If you want,” He mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Common room at four o’clock sharp.” 

He tries to look less sour than he’s looked all day. With the way Izuku stares after him, he’s pretty sure it doesn’t work. 

“Told you not to be late,” Katsuki says when Izuku sits down next to him on the couch.

“It’s only a few minutes past four,” Izuku answers, setting his textbooks on the table in front of them. 

“What do you think four o’clock sharp means?” Katsuki glares.

“Hm, I don’t know. What does it mean?” Izuku says, but he’s smiling at Katsuki in the way that he does when he’s playing stupid to rile him up. 

Playing along, Katsuki mutters, “Airhead,” with a click of his tongue. He juts his chin towards the textbooks and folder of papers. “What’re you workin’ on?” 

“Math,” Izuku taps the folder with the pencil in his hand. “I was hoping you could help me a bit, if you aren’t too busy?”

“Sero could help you,” Kirishima pipes up from where he’d been buried in notes, seated on an ottoman. “He’s really good with math, too.”

“Oh, really?” Izuku straightens up to peer over at Sero across the way.

“Of course, Mido! Whatcha struggling with?” Sero leans forward over his folded legs. 

“Hold on!” Izuku shuffles through papers, standing up to sit by Sero instead. 

Izuku has always been stuck to him like glue, but it really does feel strange that he’s spending time with Katsuki after all he had to say last night. They’d been doing good, hardly ever arguing besides their usual petty bullshit. Being called out on his shit is new for Katsuki, though, especially in such a jarring way. Maybe it’s best to accept his punishment and be happy that Izuku is still willing to be around him afterwards. Maybe Izuku called him out on it because he knew Katsuki could be better.

Or, maybe Izuku is keeping Katsuki and his friends close to protect them from him.

The thought of that hurts, but it’s not unrealistic.

Izuku has always made himself responsible for explaining Katsuki to other people who didn’t understand him nearly as well as Izuku did. Maybe this was less an act of care and more… Izuku feeling responsible for quelling the beast Katsuki could turn into. 

Katsuki watches Izuku animatedly talk to Sero. Everything, the way he moves his hands as he talks, how he laughs when Sero says something funny, the earnest way he listens to every single word Sero says, it’s all so warm and welcoming. Izuku is beautiful physically, Katsuki knows this. His freckles, green eyes, messy hair, and charming smile are all stunning, but Izuku is the most beautiful in the way he loves. Anyone can be beautiful, but very few can carry themselves the way Izuku does. 

Everyone feels comfortable and safe with Izuku the moment he enters the room, and it’s clear as day with the way they all flock to him. 

Katsuki thinks about his own reflection in Izuku’s eyes— bared teeth, sharp glare, rigid, cocky posture. 

Maybe if he wasn’t so fucking stubborn all the time he could be someone Izuku— or anyone, for that matter— could feel better around. He had never known, back when all of this started, that someday he might want people to want to be near him. Katsuki has always wanted to be the best, and he wanted to be the best alone. But now, he thinks, he might enjoy being the best with his friends by his side.

With one last look at Izuku, Katsuki settles back into what he’d been working on, making an active effort to release the tension in his shoulders and the harsh furrow in his brow. 

As everyone is wrapping up for the night, Izuku plops back down next to him.

“What are you working on?” Izuku peers over his shoulder, chin almost resting on it. Katsuki relaxes into the familiar closeness.

“The hero report.”

Izuku hums. “Guess who I’m writing mine on.” He grins. Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“Endeavor,” He deadpans. Izuku snorts and smacks his arm.

“God, don’t repeat that to Todoroki,” Izuku giggles. “All Might, obviously.” He peers down at Katsuki’s report, the question clear on his face.

“Edgeshot,” Katsuki answers quietly. Beside him, Izuku goes— not still, necessarily, but… soft. “‘S the least I can do,” Katsuki continues, voice raw. He clears his throat.

The least he could’ve done was not get so injured on the battlefield that the number four Pro Hero had to trade his life for Katsuki’s, but— it’s too late for that now. No matter how much he wishes he hadn’t done it. 

The exchange rate was fucking shitty.

“Can I read it? When you’re done,” Izuku’s voice is nearing a whisper, and Katsuki hates it. The gentleness that Izuku often uses with Katsuki is so undeserved in a conversation like this, about the hero that Katsuki—

“Maybe,” He answers, because he’s really not sure he can handle one of his peers reading it, reading about why Katsuki was the downfall of the Ninja Hero. Not that they all don’t already know.

“Once you’re finished here—” Izuku begins after sensing the need for a topic change, “—could I check out that All Might shelf in your room Kirishima mentioned? You know, for research purposes.”

Katsuki looks entirely away from the report he’d stopped writing several minutes ago to stare at Izuku like he has two heads. 

“What?” Katsuki says. 

“What?” Izuku repeats, looking embarrassed. “I— It’s okay if you don’t want to! I didn’t—”

“You saw it yesterday,” Katsuki interrupts.

Izuku draws his eyebrows together and doesn’t respond for a few moments.

“What… do you mean?” 

“Yesterday,” Katsuki presses,  baring his teeth a little. The thought that Izuku might not remember is ridiculous. That— That’s not possible, right? “When you came up to my room after classes.” 

“Kacchan, I…” Izuku stares and stares. He almost looks upset to be making Katsuki upset by not remembering. “I was tired yesterday. I went straight up to my room and took a nap before finishing my homework. I didn’t even come out for dinner.”

He looks helplessly confused. His eyes search Katsuki’s for some kind of approval. He’s clearly so certain that this is exactly how his day went yesterday, and Katsuki… 

Katsuki remembers the Izuku who’d taken the fall with him at the office building only to disappear moments later.

The thought terrifies him.

“You didn’t eat dinner yesterday?” Katsuki latches onto any means to change the subject. “Dumbass. Get something to eat first and then I’ll show you my All Might shelf.”

Izuku’s mouth works around silent stuttering, eyebrows still drawn.

“Kacchan, what—?”

Katsuki shakes his head. “Shut the fuck up and let me focus for five more minutes,” He snaps. Izuku makes a confused sound in his throat, but he drops the line of questioning and that’s all that matters.

Katsuki doesn’t want to think about what this might mean.

Izuku takes Katsuki’s advice, heating up some leftovers and eating them in the kitchen while he waits for Katsuki to finish up his work. In reality, Katsuki pretends to finish working while he silently spirals. 

Was yesterday really… not real? It would make sense, with how confused Izuku was when he snapped at him earlier.

But it felt… so real.

 On the way upstairs, they drop Izuku’s textbooks at his own room, then make their way up the remaining floors. Katsuki wants to reach out and snag his hand, feel his warm pulse on his wrist, but then he remembers the way he was able to run his fingers over Izuku’s scalp to check for injuries moments before he disappeared. Katsuki can still feel it under his fingertips, the warmth emanating from his head, each individual strand of hair.

Izuku enters the room first, once again, and a nauseating spell of deja vu hits Katsuki. We were just here. How were we not just here?

Izuku looks around slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid to disturb anything by moving too far from the door. Katsuki sidesteps him to deposit everything he’d brought downstairs with him back into his backpack. 

“It’s different than I pictured,” Izuku says, not unkindly. “Though, I was just picturing your old All Might bedspread.”

“‘M not a mega nerd like you,” Katsuki scoffs.

“Not anymore, maybe,” Izuku corrects. “But you used to be.”

“I was a child,” Katsuki retorts, holding his breath as Izuku makes his way over to the aforementioned shelf.

“I thought it’d be bigger,” Izuku complains, but he’s smiling. Katsuki tries to figure out what to do with his hands. “I have way more stuff than you do.” Katsuki shoves his fists into his sweatpants pockets. Izuku tosses an easy grin back at Katsuki over his shoulder and a breath he didn’t know he was holding gets released.

“I have better things to spend my money on,” Katsuki answers.

Izuku looks at all of the memorabilia on the shelf one by one, only picking each item up after looking back at Katsuki for approval. He’s gentle with all of it, turning it over in his hands and making little comments about every single one.

He stops when he gets to the picture frame.

“Is this—?” He cuts himself off, picking up the All Might themed frame and staring at the picture inside for so long Katsuki’s worried he broke him. A massive smile takes over his face, his eyes practically disappearing with the force of it. “I love this picture! I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“The old hag made me put it in here,” Katsuki hurries to say, not wanting Izuku to get too ahead of himself. 

It’s too late. When he looks back at Katsuki he’s got tiny, unshed tears in both eyes. 

Great. Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“But you left it up,” Izuku stresses, pressing the back of his hand against his eyelids quickly. It’s so genuine, the happiness displayed on his face. There’s always this overjoyed disbelief that Izuku has when he realizes that he’s been included, that someone might want him to be around or think about him when he’s not present. Katsuki hates that he can never bask in Izuku’s unabashed joy without the reminder that he is the very reason it’s so rare. He’s the reason Izuku cries tears of happiness when he’s loved, and that makes Katsuki want to rip into his own chest, pull his heart out, and lay it at Izuku’s feet. You’re included here, too. I promise. 

 “We were so cute! How old do you think we were?” Izuku sniffles wetly. God, what a dork.

Katsuki shrugs. “Four, probably.”

“Look at your cheeks!” Izuku all but cries. Katsuki’s next breath burns his throat.

“I still have all the posters you gave me growing up, and stuff,” He spits out, all jumbled and too quick. “I just didn’t want them to get damaged when I brought them here.”

It’s a half-truth. He’d taken down a lot of the posters and other memorabilia Izuku had purchased for him several years ago, but he had thought about bringing it with him to the dorms, ultimately deciding against it because he didn’t want Deku to get any ideas about them being friends. Now, the reason he leaves them in storage is to avoid permanently damaging any of them.

Izuku gently returns the frame to its place on the shelf with a soft smile, tears dried up, now. 

“The only thing of real value I brought was the fuckin’ All Might card. That was stupid, huh?” Besides the three biggest regrets of Katsuki’s life, letting that card get covered in his own blood on the battlefield was the worst decision he’s made. 

“Stupid…” Izuku mutters quietly, less like he’s agreeing and more like he’s contemplating the entire existence of the word. He sounds far away, looks far away. Katsuki probably should have known better than to bring it up, but he thought maybe it would be okay.

They never really talked about everything that happened during the war. Izuku hadn’t even been at his hospital bedside when he’d finally fully woken up weeks after everything. Katsuki never watched the broadcasted footage of Izuku finding his lifeless body, heeding the warnings of everyone who cared about him. That didn’t change the fact that Katsuki was well aware of the breakdowns Izuku had afterwards, and Izuku was aware of his, but they both had it handled. Izuku had Todoroki and Katsuki had Kirishima. That was enough for both of them, like it always has been. 

Nonetheless, Izuku had stuck by his side like glue everyday during classes after they returned to a normal routine, jittery and nervous and always waiting for Katsuki to shove him off. Izuku watched him like a hawk when they had to be separated and once woke up the entire second floor with a nightmare so bad that Tokoyami had to retrieve Todoroki from the fifth floor to help. Katsuki heard that he’d been using Blackwhip in his sleep, though he wasn’t sure if that was just a rumor. Katsuki knew the nightmare had been about him, though, because Kaminari could hear Izuku’s screams through the floorboards.

Fucking bleeding heart Deku. 

“You done with your research now, nerd?” Katsuki says. Izuku is still a little paralyzed from the near-mention of Katsuki’s short trip to the afterlife, so he steps forward and nudges him. He puts a lot of concentration into keeping his expression light without looking patronizing.

“Oh,” Izuku starts, coming back to himself. He loses about an inch of height suddenly, and Katsuki realizes it was because he had activated Float unintentionally. “Yeah, thanks, Kacchan. For— letting me look.” He looks around the entire room once more, like he’s memorizing it, like he’ll never be allowed back in it. Just ask, Katsuki thinks. You can always come here. 

“Alright, alright,” Katsuki groans, tugging on Izuku’s elbow. “Now get out. I’m fucking tired.”

That night, when everything is said and done, Katsuki stares up at the ceiling and finds that both memories of Izuku in his room eclipse on top of one another, equally real, and Katsuki cannot, for the life of him, figure out what this might mean.