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Aizawa-sensei may call Izuku a problem child, but it’s not like he means to be at the center of every issue. Or to be hit with villains’ quirks left and right. It’s his… perhaps obsessive sense of justice that kicks him into gear, makes him impulsive and reckless.
But really, is Izuku supposed to just ignore the trembling and crying children when a villain cloaked in shadowy black is towering over them? He doesn’t think so. So really, he can’t be blamed if the villain gets a little mad that Izuku punched them in the face and subsequently hits him with their quirk.
There isn’t any immediate effects, barring a chill that runs down Izuku’s spine when their eyes meet, so he brushes it off in the moment and happily leaves the rest to the capable police.
So, sure, he may be a trouble magnet, but as Izuku trudges back up the hill to UA, weaving through the forest with morning sunlight streaking through the leaves, he doesn’t have any regrets.
Even as his sweat alternates between feeling boiling hot and icy cold, all Izuku can think is: Thank goodness those kids are safe.
He sways, and between one blurry blink and the next, he’s face-up on the common room floor, consciousness fading fast and walls tilting. Izuku has no idea when he opened the dorm building door, nor why he’s starfished on the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
The quirk? Well, that’s not good.
Todoroki’s concerned furrow hovers above him before all goes black.
Wait. Was that Kacc—
Izuku has never liked how it feels to wake up after passing out; the way your entire perception is distorted, brain stuffed with cotton, with no idea how long you were unconscious for.
This time, when Izuku comes to, the familiar slightly scratchy material of the dorm couches is the first thing he feels, and then his hearing fades in. He can hear voices arguing, one in particular more dinstinctual than the rest.
“-don’t know. He looked fine when he came in.” That’s Todoroki’s voice. It sounds calm, though there’s a rough edge to it, the kind of edge his voice gets when he’s stressed.
A second voice, noticeably louder, scoffs openly.
Kacchan, his woozy brain supplies, and his brow furrows in sudden intense concentration, subconsciously shuffling closer to the source of the noise. Like if he didn’t hear Kacchan’s voice immediately, he would surely die. He completely forgets he can also open his eyes, intent on listening.
Luckily for him, Kacchan unknowingly fulfills his request.
“He ‘looked fine’?” Kacchan’s voice is low, gravelly like it always is in the morning, and the sound of it sends multiple shudders throughout Izuku’s body. “He looked half dead to me!” His voice raises in anger, before he seemingly remembers Izuku could wake up at any moment.
Well, he already is, but Kacchan doesn’t know that.
The blond’s voice is a touch quieter when he next speaks, though no less rage-filled. “When he wakes up, he’s walking his ass straight to Recovery Girl.”
Todoroki must have leveled him with some sort of look, because Kacchan makes a wordless noise of frustration. “I’m not fucking carrying him. Stop looking at me like that!”
Todoroki sighs. Kacchan growls right back.
Izuku decides he’s had enough of not being fully aware, so he slowly and carefully opens his heavy eyelids, blinking against the brightness as his eyes adjust. He’s on his back, staring at the tall dorm ceilings, and he can just barely see Todoroki's signature red-and-white hair in his peripheral.
Ugh. Of course they’re standing beyond the back of the couch. That means in order for Izuku to properly see Kacchan, he’ll have to sit up. Oh well, they’d’ve noticed he was awake eventually either way.
Izuku sets to push himself up onto his elbows and sit up, but his arms feel weak, as if he hasn’t used them in days, so they simply shake intensely before giving up on him. He slumps back down onto the couch cushions with a grunt and soft ‘fwomp.’
Todoroki’s previously hushed voice abruptly cuts off at the sound, and he migrates from Izuku's peripheral to standing beside his limp body. “Midoriya. You’re awake.”
Izuku doesn’t bother looking up at him, because he still hasn’t seen Kacchan, so he resumes his quest of trying to sit up.
He fails twice before Todoroki awkwardly clears his throat and moves to help him, cold hands gripping his shoulders and maneuvering him to a proper seated position.
In fact, very cold hands. Izuku shivers.
Once confirmed Izuku won’t fall over, Todoroki releases his shoulders and crouches down to be eye level. “How are you feeling?”
Todoroki keeps a respectful distance, maintaining eye contact with Izuku although Izuku isn’t even really seeing him as much as he’s blearily registering his presence.
Izuku swallows against a dry throat and blinks sluggishly. It feels like a good portion of his strength is being used just to keep himself conscious, so he simply stares, breaths shallow.
He realizes, dully, that he’s still shivering.
Izuku speaks up just as Todoroki’s right eyebrow furrows, hardly above a whisper. “Where’s Kacchan?”
Todoroki makes a short, quiet sound then, and stands gracefully. Izuku’s joints would’ve popped like firecrackers if he did that. He’s kinda jealous.
Todoroki leaves his eyesight, and, with nothing to focus on anymore, Izuku begins to drift. It doesn’t feel so much like he’s sleepy, but the murky, foggy feeling in his head is similar. His vision is still a bit wonky, the floor beneath his feet swaying slightly.
Man, it really is cold in here.
An undetermined amount of time later, which in reality was probably only a minute or so, a figure re-enters his line of sight. Izuku would recognize those hands anywhere.
Suddenly much more cognizant, Izuku snaps his head up to meet Kacchan’s eyes. And finally, finally, Izuku feels whole again.
“Kacchan,” he breathes, unabashed in a way that would be embarrassing were he any more lucid. Kacchan simply scowls at him, but a dopey smile spreads Izuku’s lips anyways.
Kacchan kicks at Izuku’s bare calf, arms crossed against his chest. “So? You gonna explain why you ate shit in the middle of the goddamn common room?”
Izuku is hardly listening, instead focusing on the wave of warmth that spreads from the point of contact between Izuku’s shin and Kacchan’s foot. The pleasant feeling lasts merely a few seconds before that bitter cold makes a reappearance.
Izuku whimpers at its loss, groggily makes eye contact, and says, “‘m cold.”
Katsuki levels him with an unimpressed grimace, clearly annoyed his question was ignored. “Sounds like a personal problem. Not what I fucking asked. Don’t make me repeat myself, shitty Deku.”
Izuku shudders, something completely unrelated to the cold as Kacchan growls his name. Oh man, Izuku can hardly think straight… What did Kacchan ask again?
“Uh… What’d’ya ask?” Izuku slurs, very eloquently, watching Kacchan’s expression turn murderous.
“Fucking christ,” he grits out under his breath, and pinches the bridge of his nose. His eyes close in the process, and the bitter cold feeling increases to a frigid cold, followed closely by a spike of anxiety.
Izuku, suddenly inexplicably desperate without the warmth of those ruby eyes on him, goes to reach out to Kacchan. His vision swims, and instead of simply stretching forward and grabbing Kacchan’s pant leg, Izuku’s entire body pitches forward.
The only thing that stops him from slamming his forehead onto the wooden flooring is Kacchan’s amazing reflexes, catching him with an arm barred against Izuku’s chest.
And, Izuku damn near starts purring at the direct contact, slumping fully into Kacchan’s hold with complete faith that he’ll continue to hold him up.
“What the fuck,” Kacchan hisses at the increase in weight, bringing his other hand to push Izuku back onto the couch. Izuku’s skin tingles all over, two solid points of warmth radiating such a feeling of rightness that Izuku wonders why Kacchan doesn’t touch him all the time.
Kacchan shifts his grip to Izuku’s shoulders, pushing him into the couch cushion. Izuku floats happily, completely content to be manhandled however Kacchan pleases as long as he keeps supplying that warmth.
Kacchan swears under his breath. “Half-and-Half, I think I know what’s wrong with him.”
Todoroki, who was apparently nearby the entire time (Izuku genuinely did not register his presence) returns to Kacchan’s side, furrowing his brow at the blond. Kacchan clicks his tongue and gestures with his head towards Izuku.
Todoroki looks confused, but does as Kacchan suggests, and now two sets of eyes are staring at him. Once confirmed that Todoroki is watching, Kacchan then proceeds to remove his hands, and the effect is immediate. Izuku whines brokenly, blinking bleary eyes up at Kacchan.
Izuku observes that Kacchan’s cheeks are slightly pink. Before Izuku can think more about that, Kacchan’s lips are moving.
“Put your hand on his shoulder,” he says, talking to Todoroki, and Todoroki once again does as told. The moment his hand makes contact with Izuku’s shoulder, Izuku weakly tries to wriggle away from the ensuing cold, groaning as shudders quickly wrack his frame.
Blessedly, Kacchan’s hand soon replaces Todoroki’s, and subsequently, a soothing warmth chases away the unpleasant cold. Izuku sighs happily.
“Ah,” Todoroki says, face clearing up.
Kacchan nods brusquely, and Izuku kinda wishes they’d share what they’re agreeing on. Izuku’s not complaining, don’t get him wrong, but he would also like to know what’s happening so that Kacchan can just get to holding him already.
Briefly, that thought embarrasses Izuku, and he feels his cheeks heat up.
Kacchan frowns. Izuku thinks he looks so, so pretty. “The nerd doesn’t usually act like this. Ever. So some shit’s obviously up.” Kacchan’s morning voice is fading, and Izuku misses it already.
Kacchan continues, “He goes and trains in the morning, but he got back later than normal. Don’t ask how I know that. Shut up. This trouble magnet of an idiot must’ve fuckin’ got hit with a quirk or something.” During his explanation, Kacchan slightly jostled Izuku’s shoulder, and for some reason it helped clear a tad bit of the fog in his mind. His vision is unblurred enough to see the depth of the furrow between Kacchan’s brow. Izuku really wants to smooth it out.
Then, Izuku realizes what Kacchan just said, and remembers a bright flash of violet, body running hot and cold, shortness of breath.
“Kacchan’s… right. Quirk. Villain.” He pauses to lick his lips, “Caught ‘em, though, heh heh. Police took ‘em,” he slurs, smiling proudly as Kacchan makes eye contact with him. He helped.
“Do you think we can trust what he says in this state?” Todoroki asks, clearly ignoring how helpful Izuku just was.
Kacchan shrugs. “We don’t have much of a choice,” he points out. “Call Sensei or some shit. This dumbass already did the hard part for us.”
Todoroki nods, leaving the room to presumably locate his phone and contact Aizawa. Without the dual-toned boy’s presence, silence descends on the remaining pair. Izuku shuffles in his seat, shuddering slightly when Kacchan’s hand shifts with him.
“Still cold?” Kacchan grumbles, hovering for a few more moments before he turns and without warning, drops heavily down onto the couch next to Izuku. Their entire sides from their shoulders to thighs are pressed together. It’s so warm.
Izuku curls towards the feeling, bringing his legs up and tucking them underneath him, practically cuddling up into Kacchan’s side. Izuku feels not an ounce of shame as he hums happily. He barely registers Kacchan stiffening under him as he forgets every inhibition ever and hugs a thick arm to his chest. It’s winter, why in the world is Kacchan wearing a tanktop?
Izuku apparently deems this thought important enough to say out loud. “Kacchan. Why are you– mmm, wearing a tank’op?”
Kacchan breathes heavily out of his nose, stubbornly facing forward. He doesn’t answer for a minute, and Izuku thinks he’s going to flat-out ignore him, but he scoffs. “You got a problem with that, hah?” He challenges, grunting when Izuku vehemently shakes his head in response.
“No, no. I like Kacchan’s arms,” Izuku states, without shame.
Kacchan chokes, before throwing his head back against the couch and groaning loudly. “Hurry the fuck up, Half-and-Half bastard!” he shouts, getting no response.
Silence reigns for all of five seconds before Izuku misses Kacchan’s voice. “Kacchan,” he calls, partly just to say his name. Kacchan grunts wordlessly, which is better than outright dismissal.
“Shut the fuck up, Deku.” Ah. Nevermind.
Izuku frowns heavily, choosing to tug on Kacchan’s arm to get his attention instead. Kacchan growls this time, whipping his head to the side to look at Izuku. “I thought I told you to shut up, Deku.”
Izuku’s frown turns into an incredulous stare. I didn’t even say anything.
Kacchan responds with a sneer. His ears look very red.
“Kacchan’s sick?” Izuku asks, blinking lazily and eyes tracing a soft flush across Kacchan’s cheeks. His vision still isn’t quite right, but he doesn’t mind as he carefully studies Kacchan’s features. He rarely gets to be this close.
Belatedly, Kacchan huffs. “Of course I’m not sick. Why the fuck would I be?” He’s doing his best to sound irritated, but Izuku can sense a hint of embarrassment. Even in his inebriated state, he can read Kacchan pretty well.
“Cute…” Izuku mumbles, then twists onto his butt and drops his head into Kacchan’s lap, taking the blond’s arm with him. Kacchan makes a strangled sound as Izuku snuggles into his thigh.
“Deku!” He practically screeches, voice sounding three times higher than it normally is. He plants a large hand on Izuku’s cheek and tries to shove him off, but it just causes Izuku to hum happily, smiling against Kacchan’s palm. “Fuck!”
Todoroki chooses that moment to return, phone in hand, looking extremely amused whilst not smiling at all. “I called Sensei, he told us to wait here and monitor Midoriya’s condition. He’s on the way, and bringing Recovery Girl.”
Kacchan grits his teeth and resumes trying to remove Izuku from his lap, glaring up at Todoroki. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” he growls, “then get him the hell offa me!”
“You’ll be fine,” Todoroki shrugs, pocketing his phone and returning to his previous seat at the table. “Plus, it’s better for Midoriya if you just let him do what he wants.”
Kacchan looks deeply displeased with this suggestion, hand sparking dangerously close to Izuku’s face. Izuku, feeling the most elated he’s ever felt in his life— except for when he met All Might— bravely grabs Kacchan’s wrist and licks a broad stripe up his palm.
Kacchan’s quirk sputters out, and his face is slack in shock for all of three seconds before he lets out an enraged scream and tackles Izuku. They go tumbling off the couch and proceed to wrestle childishly, limbs flailing.
Kacchan’s strangled curses and Izuku’s breathless laughter serve as background noise as Todoroki sips his tea, completely unbothered.
An undetermined amount of time later, Izuku is on his stomach panting heavily, freckled cheek pressed into the hardwood floor as Kacchan holds his wrists behind his back. Kacchan won their brief wrestling competition, though Izuku thinks he had an unfair advantage. Not only is Izuku kind of completely delirious, he was having a hard time fighting back when he couldn’t stop laughing.
He can hear Kacchan’s own labored breaths, and the ache in his cheeks fades to nothing as Kacchan presses Izuku further into the floor.
The front doors to the dorm open with a heavy creak. Izuku can’t see who's just walked in, but he has a good guess that it’s Aizawa and Recovery Girl. Kacchan’s grip on his wrists tighten as the footsteps near the two of them, so Izuku hums his appreciation. He does wish Kacchan was a bit closer, but he’ll take what warmth he can get.
“Problem children,” Aizawa’s voice addresses, sounding especially tired.
“Fucking fix him,” Kacchan responds, absolutely no manners whatsoever, and jostles Izuku’s forearms.
Izuku twists his neck slightly, attempting to get a better view of what face Kacchan is making, because he misses those gorgeous eyes. He can only twist enough to see Kacchan’s knees, so he gives up and stills once more. He doesn't feel like contorting and breaking his spine at the moment.
Aizawa sighs. “Right. Well, I gave Tsukauchi a call, he said he’d look into the villain’s quirk.”
Aizawa shifts into Izuku’s line of sight and squats down. “I’m not about to praise you for going off and fighting a villain on your own again, you should know better by now.”
Izuku frowns, “I’m sorry, Sensei.”
Aizawa pauses for a bit, but eventually huffs. “Well, I suppose this is punishment enough. Not like I expect anything different from you, Midoriya.”
Kacchan leans more of his weight into the hand pinning Izuku’s wrists to his back, making him go limp.
Aizawa gives him a weird look. “You’re lucky it ended well. Saved the pros a lot of time, and it seems the villain is susceptible to interrogation.” He looks to Kacchan, then back to Izuku. “We’ll figure this out.” Then he stands, and Kacchan relents his grip so Izuku can sit upright.
Kacchan seems to have learned his lesson from prior events, so he doesn’t move from his position, just sits fully on the floor, allowing their thighs to press together. Luckily, the group doesn’t have to wait much longer before Aizawa’s ringtone cuts through the silence. Izuku visibly perks up, unintentionally leaning into Kacchan’s side.
“Get off me,” the blond grumbles half-heartedly, making no move to push Izuku away himself. Izuku ignores him.
Aizawa answers the call and puts it on speaker, and Tsukauchi’s static voice greets them. “So, we’ve finished questioning the culprit,” he starts, a rustling of paper following, likely him flipping through files. “Apparently, the quirk is called Attraction.”
Izuku blushes at the name, and feels Kacchan’s shoulders stiffen against him. Did it really have to be called that?!
Tsukauchi continues, obviously unaware of the teens’ new tension, “It bonds the victim to whomever they’re closest with, and slowly degrades their body the longer they neglect contact with the individual. Prolonged distance from the bonded individual results in fever, migraines, chills, and eventually, hypothermia. In the worst of cases, it could even lead to death.”
Izuku’s breath hitches, pressing closer to the comforting warmth of Kacchan against his side. Kacchan says nothing.
“It seems to lower the victim’s body temperature as well as inhibitions, causing the victim to rely on their base instincts and seek out the warmth of their bond. The longer they maintain contact, the quicker the quirk will wear off.” Tsukauchi’s voice tapers off into static as he finishes. Izuku looks from Aizawa’s phone back to Kacchan. He’s frowning, as per usual, but he has some sort of acceptance in his eyes.
“Well?” Kacchan speaks up, “How long will this shit last?”
Tsukauchi hums from the other line. “A day at most. Luckily, Midoriya wasn’t hit with much strength, so it won’t last too long. Sorry you have to deal with this, but the time will pass before you know it. Just stay close, and it’ll recede on its own.”
Kacchan sighs haggardly. “It’s only six fucking am.”
Izuku loses the rest of the conversation between Tsukauchi and Aizawa, instead nuzzling into Kacchan’s shoulder and hoping the time passes as slow as possible.
Aizawa is still hanging around by the time the rest of the class comes filtering into the common room, and upon their collective confusion, he explains the situation. Izuku was given the all-clear from Recovery Girl, who enforced Tsukauchi’s warnings of hypothermia. Needless to say, Kacchan gave up on protesting.
Now, Izuku and Kacchan have migrated into the kitchen, where Kacchan is cooking breakfast he had intended to make before Izuku had stumbled in like a zombie. He’s at the stove, prodding at some rice in a pan with Izuku seated on the counter at his side, swinging legs brushing against his hip.
Izuku hasn’t stopped staring at Kacchan this entire time. He’s taken his time analyzing every inch of Kacchan’s handsome face, from the cut of his jaw, to his thick eyebrows, to the curve of his nose. He’s unreasonably pretty when he’s relaxed. It’s a shame he’s always making expressions that completely ruin that.
“Kacchan?” Izuku watches the crease between the blond’s brow disappear and reappear as his concentration breaks. He grunts wordlessly in response.
“How are you so pretty?” Izuku blurts.
Kacchan grimaces, ears flushing red. “You’re fucking insufferable.” He doesn’t elaborate for a moment, then he scoffs. “It’s good genes or some shit.” He smirks up at Izuku, immediately making eye contact. “Clearly, genes you did not get.”
Izuku makes an affronted noise and kicks at Kacchan’s thigh. “Mean, Kacchan!”
Kacchan rolls his eyes and shuts off the stove heat. “Ya got me.”
Izuku is about to retort something else when hurried footsteps skid to a stop at the kitchen entrance.
“Holy shit,” comes Kaminari’s voice, breathy and laced with far too much mirth.
The sound of it has Kacchan immediately bristling, his shoulders hiking up defensively. He turns to face Kaminari, deep scowl etched onto his features.
“What the hell do you want, Dunce Face,” Kacchan grits out, lessening the sting of cold as a result of turning away by shuffling closer to Izuku.
Izuku grins, nonplussed by Kaminari’s entrance and instead wondering if he could get away with brushing his fingers along the fine hairs at Kacchan’s nape. They look so soft. And, speaking of Kacchan’s hair, he really wants to touch it. That’s an urge he’s intimately familiar with. He just… really wants to know what it’d be like to run his fingers through it… maybe… rub a cheek against it…
Only when Kacchan shouts in alarm does Izuku realize his hand had reached out and sought the answers to his desires, a soft caress of fingertips against Kacchan’s nape before ascending into his hair. When Izuku’s nails pass over Kacchan’s scalp, a full-body shudder follows in its wake.
Distantly, Izuku can hear Kaminari’s guffawing, but ignores it in favor of marveling at the softness under his fingertips. Kacchan’s hair looks sharp, explosive, just like its owner, but in reality it’s insanely soft, and gives easily under Izuku’s searching hand.
Izuku can’t get enough.
He thoughtlessly brings his right hand to join the other, and graduates to nearly petting Kacchan like a dog. “Oh my God…” he whispers, completely entranced.
Izuku hasn’t realized that Kacchan’s entire face has taken on a red hue, fingers clenched against the counter edge so hard his knuckles are white. Another scratch of Izuku's nails almost makes his knees buckle. He grits his teeth, glaring with as much vitriol as he can muster at Kaminari’s cackling form.
The effect is probably dampened by the violent flush on his cheeks and hands petting his hair.
Kirishima briefly pops in to see what the commotion is, takes one look between Kacchan and Izuku and Kaminari, before clamping his mouth shut and bodily heaving the electric blond away.
Izuku is about to nuzzle his cheek into Kacchan’s hair when the blond finally slaps his hands away and jerks back, stumbling backwards toward the kitchen island. Izuku blinks, eyes wide as if he has no idea why Kacchan suddenly pulled away.
Kacchan slaps a hand to his face, covering blood-red cheeks and glaring at Izuku over his fingers.
Izuku pouts at their distance, noting his vision has cleared back to normal. “How is your hair so soft, Kacchan?” His hands lower harmlessly to his lap, thumbs twiddling.
Kacchan narrows his eyes, everything from his nose to chin still covered. “Shut the fuck up.” His response is muffled from behind his hand, filled to the brim with venom.
Or, maybe that was the intent, but all Izuku can sense is embarrassment. He smiles, hoping it doesn’t look smug, and scoots a bit away from the stove. “You should finish the food, Kacchan.”
Kacchan lowers his hand, blush successfully receded, and grumbles, “don’t tell me what to do.” But he ambles back over to resume his cooking.
This time, Izuku keeps his hands to himself, and gets to enjoy Kacchan’s glorious cooking as a reward.
“You’re lucky this is a day off,” Kacchan hisses on the way back up to his room. Izuku follows dutifully behind, smiling even when he orders him to wait outside and slams the door in his face.
“Just my luck!” he chirps in agreement, when Kacchan re-emerges, changed out of his sleep clothes. Kacchan simply rolls his eyes, hands stuffed deep in his pockets while Izuku trots at his side.
They have to make a stop at Izuku’s room for his shower supplies, because Izuku is still in his training clothes, and his sweat has likely cooled against his body. It’s disgusting, Kacchan tells him, though Izuku can’t smell it himself.
They pass a few of the last later-risers (if eight in the morning counts as late) who try not to let their surprise show on their face at the proximity Izuku and Kacchan maintain. No amount of debriefing from Aizawa can truly prepare them to actually see it in person.
Or so Izuku assumes, which he thinks is kind of silly. Of course him and Kacchan are close!
Walking close to Kacchan helps, but… A frown still tugs at Izuku’s lips, his palms itching to touch. It isn’t until they’re taking the elevator back down that the urge grows too large for Izuku to fight, and he hastily tugs Kacchan’s hand out of his pocket and ignores the cut-off protest, sighing with relief as their fingers lock.
Kacchan almost visibly steams, but reels himself in and settles with a glare that could set fire to the entire dorm building. Classmates unfortunate enough to make eye contact with him on their way to the communal shower cower at the force of it. Izuku smiles at all of them and just squeezes Kacchan’s hand tighter.
Kacchan draws the line at showering together, but the hot water makes up for the loss of touch anyways. Kacchan is waiting next to the doorway when Izuku emerges freshly cleaned and dressed, and only curses him out three times when Izuku demands they hold hands again.
“Do you really have to sit on my lap?”
Izuku tucks his legs in, making himself as small as possible to fit in the cradle of Kacchan’s chest. It isn’t very easy, since Izuku’s built up so much muscle mass, but Kacchan’s broad. He makes it work.
“Kacchan’s warm,” Izuku responds, finally settling down with a sigh.
“I’m killing you when this shit wears off,” Kacchan promises.
Izuku smiles dopily, tilting his head up to watch Kacchan’s eye twitch. “That’s okay, Kacchan can kill me if he wants.”
Several people in the room laugh. Someone fake-gags. Izuku thinks he hears a phone camera shutter go off before Iida orders everyone to settle down.
It’s time for their weekly 1-A Movie Night, of which they arranged as a way to build camaraderie (Iida’s words) and be able to relax and have fun in their busy, stressful lives (Ashido’s words).
Kacchan isn’t typically a face you’d find among the other teens curled up and spread out around the couches, but Izuku had begged him to stay, and Kacchan relented on the guise of it being because of the quirk accident.
Izuku isn’t one to complain, not at all, if it means he just gets more chances to be close to Kacchan. Despite all the time they’ve spent together today; eating together, studying together (of which they gave up on halfway through because Izuku kept getting distracted staring at Kacchan, which distracted Kacchan in turn—), sparring together, and Izuku’s favorite: simply just lounging around together, Izuku still seeks out his warmth like a moth to a flame. Still craves his touch in any way he can get it.
Though, it does feel less like death is a threat lurking around the corner, which is likely accredited to how Izuku has maintained contact in some way with Kacchan at all times.
They tried to follow Kacchan’s usual schedule to the best of their abilities, but Kacchan’s activities typically included being alone, which wasn’t an option. Kacchan claimed at one point that he was going to train until he passed out to make up for the lazy day today. Izuku had a few concerned words to say to that, to which Kacchan snapped and snarled and told Izuku to “fuck off because you do the exact same thing.” Silly Kacchan.
“Enjoying yourself, there?” Sero drawls, evidently trying his best not to cackle.
It brings Izuku back into the present, and, fully in Kacchan’s lap and nuzzling his nose into the crook of his neck, hums happily in response. “Mmmhm…”
Kacchan, for his part, has yet to fully embrace Izuku, but he’s long-since given up on retaliating. The longer he lets Izuku do his thing, the quicker the quirk will wear off. Naturally, he completely ignores Sero’s barbing, but still barks out a conclusive, “Shut the hell up.”
Surprisingly, they actually do quiet down after that, the class’ attention turning to the TV as beginning credits start to play. Lights are shut off and popcorn bowls are passed around. Izuku, suddenly feeling tired now that darkness has descended and the noise has quieted, sinks further into Kacchan’s warmth and makes a small, satisfied sound. He’s not paying much attention to the movie, just letting the noise fade into the background, tracing sleepy nonsensical shapes on Kacchan’s chest.
Under the cover of the dark, Kacchan slowly, ever so slowly, brings a warm hand to splay across Izuku’s back. When Izuku just smiles, his movements become more confident, and soon Kacchan’s arms are fully around Izuku, hugging him and surrounding him in a heady caramel scent. It’s heaven.
Izuku fills his lungs with as much air as possible, savoring the mixed scents of Kacchan’s natural smell and his detergent. On his exhale, he feels unconsciousness creep up on him, the exhaustion from the day and Kacchan’s embrace weighing on him like a heavy, warm blanket.
“L’ve y’...” he mutters, hardly over a whisper, before falling asleep right there in Kacchan’s lap, muted colors flashing across his eyelids as sleep drags him into its murky depths.
He dreams of eyes as red as rubies and a smile brighter than the light that fills his chest.
The next time Izuku wakes up, he knows the quirk has worn off. But Kacchan doesn’t know that, and Izuku intends to keep it that way.
His reluctance to exit the warm cocoon of Kacchan’s arms is staggering. He knows, once Kacchan realizes Izuku’s awake, and realizes the quirk is gone, he’ll shove him off and Izuku will have to laugh and pretend he doesn't ache remembering every hour they spent together.
It’ll go back to insults laced with venom, hard glares, and worst of all, the distance.
This is the closest Izuku has felt to his childhood friend in a near-decade, so sue him if he’s reluctant to let that go.
“Stop thinking so damn loud.” Izuku has to use every cell in his body to not jolt at the sudden voice, rumbled from the throat his face is still tucked into.
He holds himself very, very still.
“I know you’re awake, Deku.”
Well, then.
“Sorry,” Izuku whispers, curling into himself. Just five more seconds. He’ll allow himself five more seconds before he is forced to face reality. He swallows roughly. Okay, Izuku, that’s enough self-pity.
Izuku untucks himself and sits up straighter, resolutely avoiding seeing Kacchan’s face. He already misses the feeling of Kacchan’s hair brushing against his own. He bites his lip, and prepares to pull away, clamber off Kacchan’s lap and return the distance between them.
Kacchan’s arms don’t budge. “So the quirk’s gone, huh.”
Izuku halts all movement. Ducks his head low. “Yeah.”
“Hm,” Kacchan responds, but doesn’t offer more. Izuku would really appreciate it if Kacchan didn’t prolong his suffering any longer than necessary.
“Um, you can- you can let go now. I’ll–”
“Why should I.”
Izuku’s words die in his throat. He blinks. Raises his head. Kacchan regards him silently, seriously.
“So now you’re lookin’ at me.” His words aren’t quite a whisper, more rasp than not. It’s so familiar. Too comforting, too much like everything Izuku will miss; this intimacy, this ability to maintain eye contact without Kacchan scowling at him.
Then Izuku plays back his prior words. “Kacch–”
“You got somewhere to be?” And there it is, a spark of the Kacchan he knows, seen in the glint of his eye as he taunts Izuku. No, that’s not it, is it? He’s… he’s teasing Izuku.
“I…” Izuku trails off, half-expecting Kacchan to interrupt him again. When he doesn’t, just raises a silent eyebrow at him, Izuku breathes out something shaky, quivering and unsure. “No.”
Kacchan’s lip ticks up, a minute twitch that might be a smile on anyone else. It knocks the breath from Izuku’s chest all the same. “Then stop tryna run away, shitty nerd.”
“But-” Kacchan’s hold tightens. “Okay, okay. I’m staying.”
“Good,” Kacchan huffs, and promptly looks away. He settles further into the couch cushions and tips his head back against them.
Izuku presses his lips together, awkward in the ensuing silence. They’re alone, huh? It’s still dark, so Izuku couldn’t have been asleep for long. A few hours at most. Slowly, cautiously, he lays back against Kacchan’s chest, ear pressed to his shoulder. Kacchan merely shifts his grip, securing Izuku close.
Izuku’s not falling back asleep anytime soon, too focused on the sounds of Kacchan’s breath, the steady pump of his heart. Izuku’s own kicks up in his chest. Kacchan knows the quirk is gone, but he’s still holding Izuku. There’s no guise of lowered inhibitions or threats of death anymore. They’re just… cuddling. For no reason.
Izuku barely suppresses a delirious laugh.
Kacchan’s the one to break the silence, again. “D’you remember what you said earlier?”
So they’re not talking about it; their position. Their situation. Alright, Izuku can do that.
“I said a lot of things earlier,” Izuku responds, unintentionally sassy.
“While you were falling asleep,” Kacchan clarifies, letting Izuku get away with it.
Izuku racks his brain, but can’t come up with anything concrete. The details are fuzzy, the only thing that stands out being the way his heart sung whenever they touched. “I don’t remember. Was it embarrassing?”
Kacchan shrugs with the shoulder Izuku isn’t leaning against. “Dunno. Couldn’t really tell. You always gotta make shit difficult, don’t you.”
Izuku lets out a low chuckle. “It’s what I’m best at.”
Kacchan snorts. Izuku indulges in the comforting warmth radiating from his childhood friend. On second thought, maybe he can fall back asleep. If Kacchan doesn’t want to talk about it, then Izuku won’t question it.
“You’re warm,” Izuku says, against his will, eyelids growing heavy.
“Yeah, I got that from the thousands of times you already told me.”
Izuku shakes his head. “That didn’t count. I wasn’t aware of what I was saying.”
Kacchan taps Izuku’s side idly, fingers interlocked. “But you think it, don’t you? Lowered inhibitions,” Kacchan reminds him, and oh, are they talking about it now?
Izuku fights every instinct telling him to bury his face in Kacchan’s shoulder and hide from the ensuing conversation. “It’s a relative fact,” Izuku deflects.
“Sure,” Kacchan snarks, “Is me having nice arms a relative fact too?”
Holy crap Kacchan is teasing him right now! While holding him!! What is going on!?
Izuku’s cheeks skyrocket in temperature. Still, “Yes. As a matter of fact, it is.”
Izuku’s heart sets a new precedent for fastest beat in a human chest as Kacchan laughs— laughs — at what Izuku said. It’s raspy, and kind of ugly, like Kacchan’s body isn’t used to laughing. Like he’s relearning it. It washes over Izuku like a wave of pure sunlight. Following closely behind is an adoration so powerful Izuku nearly chokes on it, a love that just keeps on building in his chest.
He feels himself grin so hard his eyes crease, and he attempts to smother it into Kacchan’s shoulder. Even though Kacchan isn’t making any sound, his shoulders are still shaking a bit from leftover mirth, and Izuku suddenly desperately wishes he had seen his face light up with joy.
He gasps a silent breath, hitching around the enormity of his feelings. Adoration. Desperation. Love. He loves Kacchan.
Kacchan makes a vaguely approximate grunt of realization. “Yeah. That’s it.”
Izuku, still feeling a bit dizzy from the Feelings that just slammed into him like a fighter jet, can barely eke out a weak, “Huh?”
Kacchan brings a large, warm hand to grip Izuku’s nape and drag him out from his hiding place. Cheeks boiling and breaths shallow, Izuku doesn’t fight it. Just lets Kacchan look his fill, swallowing back instinctual insecurity from being laid so bare.
Kacchan’s grip isn’t painful, just secure. Unwavering. Safe. His eyes are slightly wider than normal, and when they finally meet Izuku’s own, it’s only a moment before he has to look away. Perhaps whatever emotion is showing on Izuku’s face is too sincere for Kacchan to handle.
After a moment, red flicks back to green. “You said—“ Kacchan starts and stops, nose scrunching in a way that is probably not intended to be adorable. He abandons his prior sentence. “That’s the same thing you said last night, before you fell asleep.”
Izuku blinks. But he didn’t say anything out loud…?
“What?”
Kacchan scowls at him— finally— and shoves his fingers in the hair at the base of Izuku’s skull. The sensation sends a cascade of tingles down his spine, and he shudders. Kacchan’s eyes stay stubbornly on his face.
“What you just fucking said,” he grits out, shaking Izuku’s head for emphasis.
“I didn’t say anything,” Izuku says, voice wrapped in confusion when the assault on his skull is finished. He did think something… oh no. Did he say that out loud? Before Kacchan can yell at him again, a lightbulb blinks to life in his head. “Wait, but earlier you told me… that you couldn’t tell what I said.”
Kacchan’s expression takes on an embarrassed pinch. “I wanted to fucking—“ He sure cusses a lot more when embarrassed. Kacchan groans. “I wanted to make sure. I heard correctly. Or that it… Y’know.”
Izuku does not know, unfortunately.
He thinks back to what’s different from last night, and the realization hits him like a sack of bricks. “That it wasn’t because of the quirk,” Izuku finishes breathlessly.
Kacchan’s eyes find his again. He huffs. “Yeah.”
“Kacchan…” Izuku whispers, “the quirk didn’t create the love, just lowered the inhibitions that stopped me from acting on it.” He doesn’t bother to deny it. If anything is true about Izuku Midoriya, it’s that he loves Katsuki Bakugou.
Kacchan, understandably, looks like he has no idea how to respond to that. Izuku just waits, one hand fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt, the other resting lightly above Kacchan’s rapidly thumping heart.
He swallows audibly. “Me too,” comes the rough admittance, voice a touch away from cracking. Izuku can’t help the way he perks.
“Really?!”
Kacchan clears his throat. Carefully releasing his grip on Izuku’s hair, he slowly slides his hand to cradle Izuku’s cheek. He lets out a soft breath, probably unintentional, almost like he’s marveling at the skin beneath his palm.
This whole… gentle hesitance from Kacchan, is entirely new for him. For both of them. Like Kacchan’s trying his hardest to not shatter something priceless in his destructive palms. Like one wrong move will set this all ablaze.
Izuku wishes he could express how comforting those hands really are to him. Where once they aimed to hurt, cruel fingers curled into a claw, smoke spilling and sparks igniting; they now hold with the gentlest pressure, almost too gentle, cradling, shaking minutely. Izuku bites his lip to stop from grinning too wide, and greedily pushes his cheek further into Kacchan’s hold.
His heart sings in his chest when Kacchan takes that as encouragement, and strokes a thumb across Izuku’s freckles.
“Fuck,” he whispers harshly, breathlessly.
Izuku can’t hold back his grin any longer. “Yeah,” he mutters back, voice impossibly fond. It makes something in Kacchan’s expression splinter.
And then he’s leaning forward. Pausing where their breaths intermingle. Izuku thinks it’s endearing that he’s still uncertain even after their mutual confessions. Kacchan’s always taken what he wanted without hesitation; unwavering determination and surefire confidence on his road to success. Only now does he look out of his depth. Unsure. Nervous.
So Izuku closes the gap, and finds an outlet for the feelings surging in his gut in the way their lips slide together, like puzzle pieces. Like it’s natural, despite it probably being both of their first actual kiss. Like it’s where they were always meant to be.
It’s a nice thought; them, Kacchan and Deku, Katsuki and Izuku, meant to be. Inevitable. He likes the sound of that.
Izuku sucks in a sharp breath the moment their lips disconnect, eyes fluttering open— when had he closed them? — to find Kacchan already watching him.
Kacchan looks… happy.
He’s not smiling, but there’s a certain glint in his eyes that Izuku hasn’t seen since they were toddlers. It’s a shine for summer days spent catching bugs, for clammy hands clasped together and for bright laughs while playing heroes.
Izuku kisses him again.
“Remember when I said I was gonna kill you when the quirk wore off?”
“…No.”
A wicked smirk, and a nervous gulp.
Needless to say, when a few 1-A students come downstairs the next morning due to hearing shouting and crashing, they are wholly unsurprised to see their resident House Arrest Boys having an impromptu wrestling match.
What does surprise them, however, is when Izuku is pinned and lurches up not to throw Katsuki off him, but to instead kiss him, ignoring the blond’s accusations of cheating.
Izuku just laughs and shouts, “It’s not cheating if you’re my boyfriend!”
But, actually, now that they think about it, that’s not that surprising either.
“It’s too early for this…”
“Seriously.”