Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Katsuki is so fucking sick of hospital rooms.

He hates the heavy scent of antiseptic, the too-starchy pillows, the way the bed crackles every time he moves. He hates the white-popcorn walls that he’s forced to stare at through the haze of heavy medication. And he fucking despises the plastic tube shoved up his nose with the quiet, but constant, beeping of several machines keeping tabs on his vitals. Everything about it sucks.

The only slightly redeeming quality about this particular hospital stay is that he and Izuku are sharing the same room. Apparently, after Katsuki’s tantrum the last time they both nearly died, the nurses figured it was best for everyone if Izuku was put directly in Katsuki’s line of vision. And so there he is, still knocked out in his hospital bed opposite Katsuki’s. Half his head wrapped in gauze, face swollen with purple bruises, he’s bandaged just about everywhere, but he’s alive. Katsuki is too riddled with pain meds to do much other than stare at him across the room. But at least Izuku is there, hooked up to a heart-monitor, softly proving that he’s still breathing. Which gives Katsuki’s battered heart some much needed relief. 

Izuku still hasn’t woken up, though. Stupid, sleepy bastard. Always fucking sleeping when Katsuki is awake. How the fuck has Katsuki had three surgeries, one of them open-heart surgery, and he’s managing to flit in and out of consciousness, but Izuku is still out like a light? Katsuki thought Izuku swore to surpass him. Why the fuck does he think he can fall behind now? Katsuki scowls at Izuku’s tuft of fluffy green hair. 

Wake up or I’ll kill you , Katsuki vows.

Katsuki knows he’s in love with him. He should have known a long time ago really, but having his heart burst put everything into stark clarity. He can’t deny it now. Not even if he wanted to. The next time Katsuki greets death, he will do so without regrets. There’s so much he needs to make up for; he still has so much atoning left to do. He has to show Izuku he will be better and do right by him. Izuku can’t fucking die before Katsuki has the chance to prove himself. Even if Izuku never loves him back, Katsuki must at least prove that he can be good. That he is worthy of standing at Izuku’s side. 

Days pass and Izuku still doesn’t wake. Katsuki’s pleadings only get more desperate. Usually it’s just in his head, but sometimes, when it’s late at night and no one else is around, Katsuki will murmur to him aloud. 

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Katsuki whispers into the oppressive quiet of their hospital room. Only the soft chime of Izuku’s heart-monitor answers him. “You don’t have to be mine. Just wake up. Don’t make me live in a world without you.” 

Shadows dance as headlights stream through the curtains shading their window, and for a moment Katsuki thinks maybe— but no. The car passes and Izuku hasn’t stirred. God fucking dammit. Katsuki doesn’t know why he’s surprised: of course Izuku can’t actually hear him. Tears prick at the corners of Katsuki’s eyes anyway. 

It becomes a nightly ritual. Katsuki’s mind is too muddled with medication to make sense most of the time, but at least it gives him something to do. God, he can’t wait until he’s off all this shit and actually, you know, move and whatever. His arm was so bent and twisted by Shigaraki that they had to implant metal poles to strengthen it, and fuck if it doesn’t feel weird. Recovery Girl comes by every day to heal him, bit by bit so as not to exhaust his limited energy, and there’s a quirk specialist flying out from the states to repair Katsuki’s damaged muscle. They have assured him that with time and physical therapy he should get all his mobility back, but it gives Katsuki little comfort. He would cut the whole damn limb off if it meant Izuku would just wake up . 

“Please, for me,” Katsuki whispers, one night after a particularly exhausting round of visits from his parents, Izuku’s mom, and All Might. “Just this one thing. Just wake up. I won’t ask for anything else, just be okay.” 

Katsuki must drift off. The concoction of sleep-aids and pain medications dragging him into unconsciousness against his will. He thinks he might be dreaming when he hears ragged breathing and a soft croaky voice. 

“Ka— K’ch’n… Kach—” 

Katsuki jolts awake, his heart-rate spiking and his head spinning. He can’t have— it couldn’t be—

 “ Kacchan… ” 

Fuck! Katsuki only has one good arm to haul himself upright and the process is fucking excruciating. Fiery spears split him right down the middle, every muscle in his body screams in agony, but he grits his teeth through it as he forces himself to sit up. It’s well after midnight, with only the dim glow of the streetlights outside their window illuminating the room, and Katsuki can just make out Izuku’s fluffy head shifting back and forth on his pillow. Oh thank god. Thank the universe, thank fucking whatever happens to be out there. Izuku is moving . He’s speaking . Katsuki’s feeble heart flips over itself half a hundred times. 

He throws off the starchy hospital sheets and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His legs feel like fucking jelly after weeks of disuse, and he trembles as he pushes himself up onto his feet. He takes one shaky step forward, forgetting he’s hooked up to an oxygen tank and is yanked back suddenly as the tube pulls tight. He scrambles for purchase, catching himself on the privacy screen, and with tremendous effort, he barely manages to stay upright. He rips the stupid tube out of his nose with a furious growl, sending the heavy metal oxygen tank crashing to the floor with a clang. Izuku gasps at the sound, and fuck, he is awake. Katsuki lunges toward him with all of his strength, stumbling as he forces his wobbly legs to carry him across the room to him, to Izuku, Izuku. His face is so pale, but his eyes are open and glittering in the faint light. Katsuki doesn’t think he’s ever looked more beautiful than he does at this moment. Katsuki’s body heaves with his sobs. 

“Kacchan…” Izuku whispers. His voice is so hoarse. 

“I’m here,” Katsuki answers. He’s fucking shaking. It feels like every cell in his body is rattling, whether out of protest from moving so much or the sheer enormity of the emotions surging through him, Katsuki doesn’t know. Hot tears race down his cheeks embarrassingly quickly.  “Izuku, I’m here.” 

Izuku’s breath stammers. He turns his face toward him, blinking up at Katsuki blearily. He looks Katsuki up and down; his eyes widen. 

“ Kacchan ,” he whispers, and soon enough Izuku is crying too. Because of course he is. The familiarity of it strikes a tender chord in Katsuki’s chest. Katsuki laughs and finally his wobbly legs give out from under him. He falls to his knees at Izuku’s bedside, throwing his bad arm around Izuku and pressing his face into Izuku’s heavily bandaged chest. 

“You fuckin’ scared the shit out of me,” Katsuki whispers. 

Izuku hooks an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. His tentative fingers rise to thread through the soft spikes of Katsuki’s hair. Katsuki closes his eyes: he can feel the rhythm of Izuku’s heartbeat, the even rise and fall of his ribcage as he breathes, the way his chest convulses when he sobs softly. Katsuki has never particularly liked being touched before, but this is different. This feels right. It startles Katsuki just how good it feels. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised; Izuku has always been the exception to every rule Katsuki has. Izuku braces his other arm around Katsuki and Katsuki feels him trying to squeeze with what little strength he has. 

“You’re… okay?” Izuku whispers, after a beat of just holding one another. “You’re…” 

“I’m fine,” Katsuki confirms. God, it’s so good to hear Izuku’s voice, even better to feel it rumbling through his flesh. “Jesus, you sound like shit. Here lemme—” 

Katsuki moves to grab Izuku some water for his poor dried out throat, but Izuku seizes him with sudden, terrifying force. Neon green light flashes through the room as Izuku’s skin crackles with electricity. The air comes to life with a sharp snap of ozone. 

“Don’t leave,” Izuku orders, voice ragged. “Don’t— please.” 

Katsuki freezes at the anguish in Izuku’s voice. The desperation. He shouldn’t be activating his quirk like this; his body has already been pushed to the extreme. He could hurt himself. 

“Hey, relax,” Katsuki says. He only has one good arm to use, but he fumbles to grab whatever of Izuku that he can with it— which turns out to be his shoulder— and rubs it, hoping the gesture is soothing. Goddamnit, Katsuki doesn’t know how to be fucking soothing. Katsuki leans back, trying to make eye-contact. “Izuku, hey.” 

“Don’t,” Izuku says again, clinging to him so tightly it squeezes the air out of Katsuki’s lungs. “Just stay.” 

“Okay,” Katsuki says. “Okay.” 

Katsuki wouldn’t be able to tell you how long they stay entangled like that. It must be a while though. So long that Katsuki’s knees ache against the linoleum floor and his thighs shake with the effort of keeping him upright. Fuck, he should have been pushing himself harder if even this small exertion is taxing. What has his recovery been for if not for this? Being there when Izuku needs him most? Katsuki clutches to Izuku so hard that it strains the stitches in his chest. He refuses to let go. He won’t fail Izuku again, not when he so clearly needs him. Izuku rubs his back up and down. 

“You’re trembling,” Izuku whispers. 

“Sorry,” Katsuki rasps. There are black spots crowding the edges of his vision and he sinks further into Izuku’s embrace. “Fuck.” 

Izuku does pull back then, his hand dragging across the span of Katsuki’s shoulders in a way that makes Katsuki shiver. It’s too dark to see the color of Izuku’s eyes, but they devour Katsuki anyway. So wide and earnest and expressive. Katsuki can see the gears turning in his head. 

“You okay?” Izuku asks. 

“Fine,” Katsuki says, lying. He forces himself to breathe evenly as his thighs tremble. “Don’t worry about me.” 

Izuku’s brows pinch. His lips tuck into a little frown. His hands are bandaged, but his finger tips are bare as they come frame Katsuki’s face, sinking down to skim over the skin of Katsuki’s throat. He finds the collar of Katsuki’s hospital gown and tugs gently.

“Come here,” Izuku says, almost too quietly to be heard. 

Somehow Katsuki knows exactly what he wants, but he can’t quite bring himself to believe it. He chokes. He shakes his head once. 

“Izuku,” Katsuki says, trying to sound scolding. 

But of course Izuku doesn’t listen. He makes pained, hitched little noises as he scoots over on the bed, but even when Katsuki tells him to stop, Izuku dismisses him with a huff. Izuku manages to lay on his side and winces, probably because his busted ribs still aren’t quite healed (stupid, stubborn fucker) and then he looks at Katsuki with huge pleading eyes. 

“Come here?” Izuku asks again, sounding painfully unsure. 

Katsuki wonders if there’s anything he would be able to deny Izuku if he asked for it like that. Probably not. Katsuki’s sigh streams out his nose and he dutifully climbs up onto the bed beside him. He can feel Izuku’s warmth lingering on the sheets and their knees knock together as he settles next to him. God it’s such a fucking relief to be laying down again; Katsuki hates himself for it. He can’t believe he’s allowed himself to get this fucking weak. Izuku must see it on his face, but mercifully says nothing. 

Katsuki doesn’t know who reaches out for who first, but soon enough Izuku’s head is tucked under his chin and their arms are wrapped around one another. Katsuki’s chest is a little tender where Izuku’s cheek rests against it, but it doesn’t matter. For the first time in weeks, Katsuki feels truly at peace. Safe. Whole.

The nurses are infuriated to find them like that in the morning, but when they try to separate them, Izuku goes into a panic. He activates his quirk so strongly that it fries his heart monitor and singes the bedsheets. The compromise is that Katsuki is allowed to stay in Izuku’s hospital bed, so long as he doesn’t tear out his oxygen tube again, and Izuku doesn’t break anymore expensive machinery.

“You hear that, you little shit?” Katsuki asks, ruffling Izuku’s hair. He has to be gentle to avoid the big bandage on the side of his head. Izuku only laughs weakly. 

“Sorry, Kacchan,” he whispers. 

They’re under strict orders not to aggravate each other’s injuries, but other than a few pointed stares, no one comments on their cuddling. They don’t have much of a choice in a bed this small, but Izuku seems to make it a point to be touching Katsuki at all times. Whether it’s their legs draped over one another, or keeping their fingers intertwined, or laying in the cradle of Katsuki’s arms, Izuku is all over him constantly. Katsuki is surprised to find he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t even question why Izuku is so clingy really. It doesn’t matter. Katsuki had come back from death’s door swearing to do right by Izuku, and if that means warming his hospital bed, then fuck alright sure. It’s the least he can do, really. It’s a little awkward when Midoriya Inko comes by and visibly startles at the sight of Katsuki in Izuku’s bed, but she’s distracted quickly enough when Izuku throws his arms around her and begins babbling his apologies. Katsuki hands them both tissues when they cry, and staggers to his feet to bring them both water bottles once they’ve exhausted all their tears. Izuku squeezes his hand gratefully, giving him a watery smile. 

All Might comes by to see them too, but mercifully doesn’t say much other than to give Izuku updates on Shigaraki’s condition and their plans for his rehabilitation. He has a strange, secretive smile on his face as he leaves them, giving Katsuki a pointed look as if to say take care of him . As soon as he disappears out the door, Izuku drops his head onto Katsuki’s shoulder and sighs. 

“Tired?” Katsuki asks. Izuku nods. Katsuki wraps an arm around him and rubs his back. Izuku makes a sweet little sound and nuzzles further into him, and fuck if it isn’t the cutest thing Katsuki’s ever heard. Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself not to think about it. “Should sleep.”

Izuku hums. He rests his hand over Katsuki’s heart. He does that a lot, like he’s checking to make sure it’s still beating, even though Katsuki’s heart monitor is right fucking there. He looks up at Katsuki then. His striking green eyes are hazy and drowsy, and rimmed with dark bruises. There’s dry tear-tracks on his freckled cheeks and Katsuki thumbs at them absentmindedly. 

“And you’ll stay?” Izuku asks. 

Katsuki nods.

A dimple appears as Izuku smiles at him. Fuck, the way Izuku smiles at him is bad news for Katsuki’s still-recovering heart. When the hell did Izuku get so cute? Is all the snuggling corrupting Katsuki’s brain? He’ll have to think about it later. Izuku pulls him down and lets Katsuki lay his head on his chest, his scarred fingers scratching his scalp until he falls asleep. 

Now that Izuku is awake, more intense healing quirks can be used on him and one by one his bandages get removed. Apparently his and Katsuki’s dramatic acts of heroism have gone viral, and famous specialty healers have flown in to restore their bodies specifically. Both of their phones were smashed to pieces during the war, so Katsuki will just have to trust all of this is true, which he doesn’t like at all. The specialty healers are an American couple, with round faces and pronounced fake teeth. Katsuki eyes them suspiciously as Izuku cries in his gratitude. He pleads with them to help the friends who were also injured during the war, but is shocked to hear most of them have already fully recovered.

“I told you,” Katsuki scoffs. “You were out for fuckin’ ages.”

Izuku shoots him a shy look. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t do it on purpose.” 

The next several days go by in a blur. They eat their meals together, go to physical therapy together, have sessions with the specialty healers together, but they don’t really… talk. Not about anything serious anyway. They’re not left alone long enough to have a proper conversation about everything. Now that they’re bedsharing a nurse is checking on them on the hour every hour— probably to make sure they weren’t— you know. Fuck, Katsuki does not blush thinking about it, he fucking doesn’t, but he is indignant at the excess supervision. As if Katsuki would be depraved enough to fondle Izuku on what very well could have been his deathbed. Not that Izuku would even want him to! Goddammit, it’s too embarrassing to even think about. Katsuki always sends those peeping tom nurses his nastiest glare when he catches them peeking into their room.

Sometimes, though, Katsuki sees a shadow pass over Izuku’s vision and he just knows. He’ll catch Izuku staring at the heavy cast on Katsuki’s arm, or his lip will tremble as Katsuki struggles practice-walking around the room. It’s especially bad when Katsuki needs his bandages changed and Izuku gets a look at just how mangled his chest has become. Katsuki will take his hand or ruffle his hair, and try to find anything— anything to distract him. 

“I had a quirk awakening,” Katsuki informs him as they have lunch in the hospital’s cafeteria. Katsuki is probably too proud of them both for walking all the way here without assistance, but hey, an achievement is still a fucking achievement, okay? Izuku hasn’t spoken a word since Katsuki’s bandages were changed that morning and it’s making Katsuki’s skin feel like it’s two-sizes too tight. Katsuki can’t believe there has come a day where he actually misses the nerd’s incessant mumbling. Izuku stares down at his lunchtray, unblinking.

“I can make explosions all over now,” Katsuki continues, shoving rice into his face as he does. “Even from like. My feet and shit.” 

Izuku still doesn’t look at him, but Katsuki doesn’t miss the way his brows twitch in interest. Katsuki smirks. That’s his fucking nerd right there.

“Should help me with my mobility a lot,” Katsuki goes on. “And you know. I can carry shit. Use my feet to propel myself or whatever. Won’t need to rely on my arms as much anymore.” 

He lets that hang in the air a moment as he chews. 

“You’ll need to update your hero costume,” Izuku murmurs. “To brace your legs for the blowback.” 

“Good thinking,” Katsuki says, eager to keep him talking. Izuku jolts and whips his head around to stare at him with huge, incredulous eyes. Katsuki bristles. “What?” 

Izuku opens his mouth, then closes it. He frowns and shakes his head. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Izuku says, quietly. He scratches his chin with his index finger as he thinks. “And you can explode from… just anywhere?” 

“I mean I haven’t fuckin’ tested it out if that’s what you’re askin’,” Katsuki blusters. His cheeks heat with embarrassment and he has no idea why. “Haven’t had the chance.” 

Izuku considers that for a moment. “We should experiment with it once we’re recovered.” 

We. Katsuki’s stomach does a kick-flip at the word. He grins. 

“I’m gonna wipe the floor with you now,” Katsuki says smugly. 

There’s a warm glimmer in Izuku’s eyes as he turns to smile at him. 

“I bet you will,” Izuku says.

They’re going to be okay. Somehow, in this small moment, Katsuki is certain of it. They’ll both need therapy, physical and emotional, and it won’t be fuckin’ easy. But they’ll make it. And they’ll do it together. It’s this thought that has Katsuki’s hand shooting across the table, impulsively reaching for Izuku’s, and Izuku flinches from it like he’s been struck. Shit. Katsuki retracts on instinct, feeling like a bucket of ice water has been dumped on him with how fast his mood shifts. 

“Wait!” Izuku cries, snatching his hand back and interlocking their fingers. “Don’t!” 

Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut. Fuck, this is so embarrasing. What had Katsuki been thinking?

“I’m sorry,” Izuku says, so earnestly Katsuki thinks it might kill him. “I didn’t mean— I’m just surprised. I didn’t think— there’s just so many people around and—” 

“Whatever,” Katsuki gruffs out. What right does he have to be upset? Of course Izuku flinches from him. It’s how he should respond when Katsuki only ever reaches out to hurt him. Of course he— It’s only natural he— 

“Kacchan,” Izuku pleads. His voice cracks painfully. “Kacchan, please don’t be mad.”

Katsuki forces himself to relax. He practices intentional breathing the way that old hack therapist is always yapping at him to.

“I’m not mad,” Katsuki says, evenly.

“You seem mad,” Izuku counters. 

“I’m not,” Katsuki presses. He sighs. Izuku squeezes their tangled fingers. “I’m sorry.” 

Izuku is quiet for a long moment. 

“It’s okay,” Izuku says, eventually. 

It isn’t. Katsuki shakes his head, but before he can say another word the nurses come to fetch them for physical therapy and the moment is lost. Izuku seems more like himself, at least, but Katsuki can’t shake the sour feeling in his gut. Even Izuku chattering warmly and heaping praise on Katsuki for his mobility improvement with his bad arm doesn’t lessen the ache in Katsuki’s heart. 

Their friends stop by that afternoon. Kirishima sobs as he hugs both of them, Todoroki only drops by for a moment to bring them both flowers, (“Idiot! What the fuck am I supposed to do with these?” “Kacchan, he’s trying to be nice, say thank you!”) and Uraraka asks for a moment alone with Izuku. Katsuki pretends his heart doesn’t drop as he watches her take Izuku’s hand and lead him out into the hall. 

“Hey man,” Kirishima says, punching him on the shoulder lightly. “Seriously. You really okay?” 

Katsuki stares at the door. Izuku hadn’t flinched when Uraraka had reached for his hand. Katsuki feels like his insides have gone through a paper shredder. He feels fractured and broken and like his guts have slithered out of his skin and are bleeding out all over the floor. He thinks his heart bursting in his chest had hurt less. At least then he had adrenaline to get him through it. He rubs at his sternum absentmindedly. 

“... Bakugou? Bakugou, hey.” 

Kirishima claps a hand over his shoulder and Katsuki flinches, snapping out of his trance at once. 

“What?” Katsuki asks, probably too harshly. 

Kirishima follows his gaze to the door and smiles knowingly. 

“Y’know… I saw the footage,” Kirishima says. Only then does Katsuki turn to give him a strange look. 

“Footage of what?” Katsuki asks.

Kirishima laughs, but Katsuki continues to stare at him uncomprehendingly. 

“Of the fight!” Kirishima continues. “You know it was all recorded, right?” 

“ What? ” 

“Yeah, man, it’s all anyone can talk about!” Kirishima goes on with a sharp-toothed grin. “That techy girl from the support classes made these drone-camera things and they recorded everything.” 

Is that why they had gone so viral? Well at least that explained why random healers had flown half-way across the world just to heal teenagers from Japan. Fuck, of course. Katsuki should have known. He’d thought they’d been attracting an abnormal amount of stares when they dined in the cafeteria, but he hadn’t even imagined— 

“It was pretty brutal,” Kirishima admits. “I couldn’t watch the part where Shigaraki… you know. But your comeback was incredible! And Midoriya… man, he was scary!” 

“Scary?” Katsuki asks, frowning. 

Kirishima shakes his head. “You’ll have to see for yourself. You know, whenever you’re ready.” 

Katsuki’s mind is reeling. Why the fuck had no one told him there was footage of him fighting All For One floating around? He supposes they’re more focused on his recovery and not giving him any big shocks while his heart is still stabilizing. He wishes his parents would hurry up and buy him a new phone already so he can check for himself. He glances back toward the door and feels an uncomfortable twitch in his chest. 

“It might be too hard to watch,” Kirishima admits. “But when Izuku found you and you were… you know. I mean, it’s obvious how much he cares about you.” 

Katsuki’s heart feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, becoming a deep, dark pit of despair. Cares about you . Why do the words hurt so much? That’s more than enough, isn’t it? It has to be enough. Care is more than Katsuki could ever possibly deserve after all the hurt he’s put Izuku through. He shouldn’t expect the soft, uncomplicated love that Izuku must feel for someone like Round Cheeks. Katsuki’s mouth fills with bitterness, and embarrassing tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He curses his stupid, greedy fucking heart for wanting the one thing he can’t have. The one thing he’ll never have, because how could Katsuki ever deserve it? 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Kirishima says, abashed. “It’s probably— you know, still sensitive.” 

Katsuki shakes his head and clears his throat. 

“‘S’fine,” Katsuki says. Fuck, he needs to get his shit together. If Izuku comes back and notices he’s been crying he’s gonna flip. “Did I look cool?” 

“The coolest!” Kirishima cries, pumping his fists. 

Uraraka and Izuku reappear over an hour later. Izuku’s eyes are red and cheeks flushed, but he looks— god, it feels like a punch in the gut— happy . Uraraka looks happy, too. Katsuki can barely stand the sight of them. He’s glad when the nurses inform them visiting hours are over. Kirishima hugs them both twice before leaving, and Uraraka gives them a shy little wave. Izuku sighs with relief when the door closes behind them. 

“Is it bad to say I’m kinda glad they’re gone?” Izuku asks, after a moment. “I’m exhausted after all that.” 

Katsuki thumbs the edge of his pillowcase as he sits on the edge of the bed. Their parents had brought them comfier pillows and thicker blankets for their hospital stay, so their bed isn’t so sterile and lifeless. Katsuki had loved the sight of their bedding mixed together. Now it just leaves him feeling cold. 

“What did Round Cheeks want?” Katsuki asks, roughly. 

“Hm?” Izuku says. “Oh. Nothing really.” 

The lie spears Katsuki through his core. He grips his pillow in tight fists as his palms heat with agitation. 

“Sure,” Katsuki says, clipped. He stands suddenly, snatching up his pillow and blanket and marching over to the otherside of the room. He slams them onto his abandoned hospital bed angrilly. 

“Kacchan?” Izuku asks. His voice sounds so small and fragile. “Kacchan, what— what are you—” 

“What does it look like?” Katsuki gruffs out. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.” 

“But…” Izuku’s breathing is ragged. Katsuki turns to look at him and fuck, he’s trembling. Izuku’s huge eyes are full of hurt. Shit. Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut and looks away. Izuku stumbles after him. “Why?” 

“Why am I tired?” Katsuki asks, petulantly. 

“Why are you— I thought you—” 

Fuck, he’s crying. Katsuki can’t just leave him like this. What was the point of his apology and his promises if he just keeps making him cry? He had sworn out on that battlefield that he’d do right by Izuku and he meant it. Katsuki steels his nerves.

“Fuck, Izuku, I can’t share a bed with you when you have a fucking girlfriend, alright?” Katsuki forces himself to say. Each word is more painful than the last. “It’s weird. It isn’t right.” 

Izuku startles. He stares at Katsuki like he’s grown a second head. “Huh?” 

Katsuki makes an aggravated noise. 

“Round Cheeks. She confessed to you,” Katsuki says, annoyed that he has to spell it out for him. “You came back crying and blushing and all dopey-looking— Look, it’s probably like. Cheating or whatever to be snuggling someone else when you’re in a relationship. I’m just looking out for you.” 

It makes Katsuki’s heart race to say it all out loud. Cuddling Izuku was one thing, but  admitting that’s what they’ve been doing feels like another thing entirely. Like somehow putting it into words makes it all the more real. Katsuki feels like he could choke on his embarrassment. Fuck, this is why they’ve avoided talking about it. Stupid Round Cheeks, this is all her fault. Katsuki grits his teeth and looks away. 

“Kacchan…” Izuku says. Katsuki can see him shaking his head in the corner of his vision. “That’s not… Kacchan, Uraraka-san didn’t confess to me.” 

What? Katsuki rounds on him, but there’s only sincerity in Izuku’s gaze. And maybe a little amusement, which, hey,  fuck you for that, this shit is serious. Izuku forces himself into a neutral expression like he can hear Katsuki’s thoughts. 

“She actually thanked me,” Izuku goes on. He blushes prettily then. “I guess, uh, at one point she thought he had feelings for me, but… but then I guess they led her to someone else! Someone she really, really loves. So.” 

Oh. Katsuki flushes so bright and red he must be glowing like a hot coal. 

“I didn’t understand most of what she said honestly,” Izuku continues, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “She seems happy, though? She talked a lot about blood and being stabbed and that scared me, but she’s got that… I dunno. In-love sparkle to her? I think she really means it when she says she loves… well I dunno if I’m allowed to tell you who it is! But it’s complicated, and it’s new, I guess, but I wanna support her! Even if I don’t really get it—” 

“So you don’t have a girlfriend,” Katsuki concludes, cutting him off. 

Izuku eeps. 

“No,” he says, clasping his hands behind his back. “I don’t.” 

“Fuck,” Katsuki says. “Sorry. I thought—” 

“Stop,” Izuku says, smiling a little. “It’s alright.” 

Katsuki roils with anxiety. He feels like an idiot for even bringing it up. He can’t pretend he finds their snuggling strictly platonic now, not when he’s just implied— shit, he’s such a fucking moron. What has he done? He’s fucked everything up for no fucking reason. He feels sick to the pit of his stomach. 

Izuku approaches him, his hand sliding into Katsuki’s own and cheek pressing against Katsuki’s shoulder. 

“Come back?” Izuku asks. So sweet, so imploring. 

He looks up at Katsuki with his huge, doe-eyes. His rounded cheeks are adorably flushed. He’s really gotta stop doing that. At least until Katsuki’s heart is fully recovered anyway. He’s so fucking cute Katsuki feels the urge to grab Izuku’s face and squeeze him until he stops breathing. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Katsuki says, trying to sound dismissive. He gathers up his pillow and blanket and doesn’t miss Izuku’s happy little wiggle. Izuku tugs him back toward their hospital bed and climbs into it. 

“Lay down,” Izuku orders, patting the space beside him.

“Bossy little shit,” Katsuki mutters. He throws his pillow at Izuku’s face and Izuku yelps. He snatches it up and smacks Katsuki over the head with it playfully. “Oi! Alright you asked for it!” 

He steals Izuku’s own pillow and starts going at Izuku with a vengeance. Izuku laughs in delight, not even trying that hard to dodge. He only manages to hit Katsuki’s ribs once or twice; most of the time, he just uses his pillow to shield himself from Katsuki’s blows.

“Wait, wait, I can’t breathe!” Izuku cries, giggling. “Stop! Oh my god, my stitches, I can’t.” 

“Fucker,” Katsuki curses, throwing the pillow down with a hard thwap . “Serves you right.” 

Izuku gives him a truly wicked grin. And then he snatches up Katsuki’s discarded pillow, holding it with both hands as he smashes it over Katsuki’s head so hard that there’s a loud pop and tufts of fluff burst out the end. 

“You asshole!” Katsuki roars, smacking away the pillow, tackling Izuku into the bed and stabbing his sides with harsh tickling fingers. Izuku shrieks with laughter.

“No! No please! Mercy, Kacchan! Mercy—” 

“You had your chance when you—” 

The door opens with a bang. The nurse stares at them, eyes wide with concern. Katsuki leaps off of Izuku at once. The nurse relaxes. She puts her hands on her hips and scowls.

“Now, boys,” she says, scolding. 

“Sorry!” Izuku says, still breathless and somewhat teary. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“If you aggravate each other’s wounds we’ll have to separate you,” the nurse warns, arching a brow. 

“We won’t do it again!” Izuku insists. He nudges Katsuki in the ribs. 

“Yeah,” Katsuki says, petulantly. “Sorry.” 

The nurse leaves them with a hard look, closing the door behind her as she goes. Izuku slumps with relief. 

“That was close,” he says. He squeaks when he sees the state of his pillow, the casing popped open and fluff vomiting out the side. “Oh my god!” 

“That shit hurt,” Katsuki says, sitting down on the hospital bed next to him. 

“I can’t believe I broke it,” Izuku says. He rubs the spilling fluff between his fingers.

“You’re strong as hell,” Katsuki says the same moment Izuku says, “Your head is harder than I thought.” 

They exchange a look. Katsuki grabs his scalp, fisting a hand in his curls harshly. 

“No! No! Kacchan!” Izuku pleads, in a fierce whisper. “Stop! She’ll come back! Kacchan please!” 

Katsuki feels like he’s dodged a bullet. Izuku is in high spirits the rest of the day, cracking jokes with their primary care doctor, babbling excitedly about news from their friends, and even teasing Katsuki when he suggests they watch All Might’s corny cartoon series before bed. He doesn’t bring up Uraraka again, or Katsuki’s comments on their cuddling; he just slides under Katsuki’s arm and presses his cheek to his pec as the familiar sounds of All Might’s cheery theme song lull them to sleep. 

And then Katsuki wakes to the sound of Izuku screaming. 

Shit! Katsuki’s heart stammers unevenly as he’s jolted awake. Izuku is thrashing beside him, jostling their bed, and green lightning crackling over his limbs. His eyes are screwed shut as he convulses with sobs. 

“No!” he’s pleading. “Kacchan, no. Kacchan!" 

“Idiot, wake up!” Katsuki says, grabbing his wrists before Izuku can hit anything with his super-charged fists. He leans over him and presses him down into the bed. Izuku kicks at him in his sleep. “Oi! Izuku! Izuku!” 

Katsuki shakes him until Izuku’s eyes snap open. His chest heaves with harsh breathing as he stares up at Katsuki, his eyes strangely foggy. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” Katsuki says. He rubs the underside of Izuku’s wrists with his thumbs. “You’re safe now. It’s alright, it’s over.” 

“Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, hoarsely. 

“I know,” Katsuki says. He can only imagine what kind of nightmares Izuku must be having after all the horrors he’s witnessed. “It’s okay now, you’re safe.” 

Izuku sobs. Fat, wet, globby tears dribble down his cheeks and his bottom lip quivers. It’s the most heartbreaking thing Katsuki has ever seen in his life. He draws Izuku to his chest and rocks him back and forth. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku says, at least a dozen times. 

“I know,” Katsuki answers every time. “I got you. I’m here.” 

Izuku wakes up twice more that night, and Katsuki is forced to call the nurse to give him another dose of his sleep meds. Her lips are pursed into a frown as she watches Izuku gulp them down greedily. 

“We’ll get in touch with a therapist in the morning,” she tells him. “I think everybody needs someone to talk to after this war. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, dear.” 

Izuku doesn’t answer. He just grips the front of Katsuki’s shirt like a vice and hiccups softly as his tears subside. The nurse shuts the door behind her on her way out and Katsuki strokes his hair. They sit together on the edge of the bed, but Izuku refuses to look at him.

“You’re okay,” Katsuki says, not sure who he’s trying to convince more. 

Izuku shakes his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey,” Katsuki says, soft. “Nothin’ to be sorry for.” 

Izuku snorts wetly. “I keep waking you up!” 

“So?” Katsuki says. He ruffles his hair. “Do I look like I got anything better to do?” 

Izuku shakes his head again, more determinedly this time. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with all this,” Izuku says, even though he gives Katsuki’s shirt a little tug like he means to pull him even closer. 

“Hey,” Katsuki says, nudging him with his knee. “Remember what I said? When we found you that day in the rain?” 

Izuku hiccups and sniffs, but remains silent. 

“I said I’d step in when you can’t do it on your own,” Katsuki reminds him, the stupid forgetful bastard. “Does this look like something you can do on your own?” 

Izuku doesn’t say anything, but he does turn to look at him then. His eyelashes are clumped and damp with tears, and his skin is so pale that his freckles stand out even more. Still pretty, some distant part of Katsuki’s brain registers. 

“Come on,” Katsuki says softly, gesturing with his head. “Lay down.” 

Katsuki gives him his own, non-busted pillow and drapes the blanket over him. Katsuki lays down beside him, their bodies parallel and facing each other as the dawn slowly fills their hospital room with a soft lavender glow. 

Izuku reaches up and touches the scar on Katsuki’s cheek with gentle fingers. His wide, expressive eyes are so full of sorrow that something in Katsuki’s chest shatters with it. 

“I’m sorry,” Izuku says again, devastatingly soft. 

Katsuki frowns. “What for?” 

Tears glisten in Izuku’s mossy green eyes. 

“Wasn’t there,” he says, voice choked. He sniffles. “Shoulda been at your side.” 

Ah. Katsuki was wondering when they would talk about it. He supposes it makes sense. It wasn’t like Izuku was calling for Shigaraki in his sleep. 

“Dumbass,” Katsuki scolds quietly. “You got fuckin’ kidnapped. How’s that your fault?” 

“Danger sense didn’t go off,” Izuku says, voice so strained it cuts through Katsuki like a knife. “I didn’t have time to react, didn’t even see—” 

Izuku’s hand curls into a fist against Katsuki’s cheek. Katsuki leans into his touch, humming. 

“It’s not your fault,” Katsuki says again, more firmly. 

Izuku is quiet for a long moment. He strokes Katsuki’s face again with a miserable expression. 

“Thought I lost you,” Izuku whispers. 

“You didn’t,” Katsuki counters quickly. He hopes he sounds firm and assuring. He covers Izuku’s hand with his palm. “Look at me. I’m right here.” 

Izuku sniffs and nods, but he still has a far-away look in his eye. Katsuki shakes him just a little.

“Stay with me,” Katsuki presses. “Look at me.” 

“I am looking at you,” Izuku says, but his gaze is still glassy. Katsuki takes his face in his hands, rubbing over his freckled cheeks with his thumbs. 

“There’s no use worrying about what might have happened,” Katsuki tells him. “Because it worked out. We’re alive. We’re here. We’re going to be okay.” 

Izuku nods faintly. And then his face crumples. 

“I hate how many scars you have because of me,” he says, voice hoarse.  

“I don’t,” Katsuki says, bluntly. “They’re badass as fuck.” 

That steals a laugh out of Izuku, even if it’s brief and watery and more out of surprise than anything. Izuku shakes his head with a shuttering exhale.

“Don’t get anymore,” Izuku orders. “Please.” 

Katsuki snorts. “Bossy.” 

Izuku gives him a hard look, like he really thinks he’s in any state to be intimidating right now. Katsuki grins despite himself. 

“You don’t get to talk to me about scars,” Katsuki scolds gently. He plucks Izuku’s hand off his face, following the raised scar-tissue along his palm with the pad of his thumb.  “At least mine were made for a good cause. What was this one from? A fucking tournment?” 

Another laugh. Stronger this time. Izuku’s eyebrows pinch together, eyes all full of wonder. 

“How do you know that?” he asks. 

“I pay attention,” Katsuki says, defensively. He hopes his ears aren’t blushing. Those fucking things are always such a dead giveaway. Hopefully Izuku doesn’t notice in the half-light of the coming dawn.

Izuku stares up at him for a long, quiet moment. He entangles their fingers together and squeezes. 

“Don’t make me lose you again,” Izuku whispers. 

Katsuki shakes his head fervently. “Never.” 

Izuku squeezes until Katsuki’s hand tingles and his knuckles go white. 

“I mean it,” Izuku says, fiercely. 

“I know,” Katsuki murmurs. “I won’t, Zu.” 

Tears roll down Izuku’s cheeks and Katsuki can’t bear to watch it anymore. He shuffles closer, pulling Izuku to his chest and wrapping an arm around him. Izuku’s breathing hitches, but he’s quick to cling back. His nails bite into Katsuki’s shoulder blades, his chest rises and falls against Katsuki’s. Katsuki should be used to it, but somehow it feels all the more intimate. Katsuki wonders if Izuku can hear it when he swallows thickly. 

“Your All Might card is ruined,” Izuku says, into his shoulder long moments later. 

A deadweight drops right into his stomach, punching the air out of his lungs and leaving him strangely wheezy. He’d fucking seen that? Katsuki knew he’d dropped it before passing out, but he didn’t think Izuku would notice that of all things. Katsuki’s heart pounds like he’s been caught doing something shameful. 

“.... yeah,” Katsuki settles on eventually, hoping he doesn’t sound as caught-off-guard as he feels. 

“You should take mine,” Izuku says. 

“What? No,” Katsuki says, scowling.

“It meant a lot to you,” Izuku reasons. “And it’s my fault it’s ruined. So.” 

So self-sacrificing. So ridiculously noble, literally too good for this world. How is he going to stay this way, Katsuki wonders, without eventually becoming jaded by time and experience? The thought makes Katsuki’s heart feel heavy and poisonous as lead. He refuses to let that happen. He has to protect the softness of Izuku and make sure he never loses it. Somehow it feels like it’s as vital as a piece of his own soul. 

“Dumbass,” Katsuki scolds. “It’s not your fault.” 

“It is,” Izuku insists. 

“No, it isn’t,” Katsuki presses. He cradles the nape of Izuku’s neck with a hand. “It’s that crusty bastard's fault and my own for letting my ass get handed to me like that.” 

“Shigaraki killed you to get to me,” Izuku counters. “Just… let me do this for you. Let me make it up to you, somehow.” 

Katsuki sighs heavily. He twirls a curl around his finger and his heart pounds. 

“I don’t want your shitty card, nerd,” Katsuki says, evenly. Izuku inhales to protest some more, but Katsuki charges onward defiantly. “The card’s special cuz we got it together. There’s no point if you don’t have one too.”  

Katsuki feels Izuku’s breath hitch. Izuku draws back, blinking several times as he searches Katsuki’s face. Katsuki’s heart aches as it races, and he knows he’s definitely blushing now, but fuck he’s just gonna have to learn to grit his teeth through it. Izuku deserves to know he… that he… Well, maybe Katsuki can’t tell him everything. A confession while they’re both still healing from the trauma of war would be wildly misplaced. Inappropriate even. But at the very least he won't hide how much Izuku means to him. Not anymore. He owes Izuku that much. 

The pause drags on so long that Katsuki feels close to panicking. Izuku’s expressive eyes hide nothing, and yet Katsuki can’t be certain what he’s seeing in them now. Is it confusion? Irritation? Disgust? Izuku’s pretty pink lips part and close several times. 

“But,” he says, after what must be a small eternity later. “But you kept it. All these years you…” 

Katsuki can’t bring himself to look at him. It breaks his heart that Izuku doesn’t know, but who’s fault is that? Katsuki takes in a steadying breath through his nose, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, roughly. “I pushed you away because of my own stupid insecurities and it wasn’t fair, but I… I always… cared about you. In my own fucked up way, I guess.” 

“You hated me,” Izuku says, softly. 

“No,” Katsuki presses, squeezing Izuku’s hand tight. “I hated how weak you made me feel. I hated how you were strong in ways I never was. I hated how someone who was quirkless, who was supposed to be beneath me could make me feel inferior because of… how heroic you’ve always been.” 

“Kacchan…” 

“Look, I know it’s stupid,” Katsuki says, forcing himself to look at Izuku now. Hoping the sincerity is plain on his face. “I had my own issues and instead of working on them, I took it all out on you,” Katsuki takes a deep breath “I’m sorry. I’m—I’m really fucking sorry. But I never hated you.” 

Izuku is crying, which Katsuki hates, but at least Katsuki knows these aren’t unhappy tears. Izuku smiles at him and it’s like a Detroit Smash right in Katsuki’s gut. 

“Really?” Izuku asks, quiet and disbelieving. 

“Yeah,” Katsuki says, nodding shallowly. He touches Izuku’s face, brushing away a tear. “Really.” 

“I never hated you either,” Izuku says, unbearably soft. “I mean. I hated some things about you. I hated how mean you could be. But I always loved you more than I hated you.” 

Katsuki’s breath hitches. Stupid, sappy, sentimental nerd. But the words are such potent relief that Katsuki feels like he can properly breathe for the first time in his life. A heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders and sweet warmth rushes over his skin. It’s so much more than Katsuki can ever possibly deserve that Katsuki feels a little broken with it. His eyes are watering, but if Katsuki is going to cry in front of anyone, it’s going to be Izuku. 

“Me too,” Katsuki admits, quietly. “I’m sorry I pushed you away.” 

Izuku nuzzles in closer, pressing his forehead to Katsuki’s. 

“Don’t do it again,” he says. 

“Okay,” Katsuki agrees easily. 

“Okay,” Izuku echoes. And then, “I missed you.” 

Katsuki huffs, his laugh a soft sound of disbelief. 

“Missed you too,” he says. The tears do fall now. Izuku’s arms wind around him, tucking himself into the crook of Katsuki’s shoulder and nuzzling into his throat. “Missed you a lot.” 

Izuku hums against Katsuki’s skin and Katsuki clings to him. He’s the goddamn luckiest person on the planet. Izuku should hate him. He should be desperate to push Katsuki away, not be inviting him into his arms and— and missing him. What has Katsuki ever done to deserve this? He clutches onto Izuku desperately and he’s never, ever letting him go. 

They’re released from the hospital forty-eight hours later. Katsuki can’t wait to get into his own fucking bed again back at the dorms. God knows those horrible hospital mattresses were fuckin up his spine. 

Katsuki and Izuku come back to a fucking surprise party of all things. (“You goddamn idiots, you shouldn’t be fucking scaring people who just had heart surgery!”) Every square inch of the room is decorated with streamers and photos of their faces and printed-out news articles about their heroic deeds. Sato has baked them a seven-layer cake, and Momo has even used some of her precious lipids to make confetti in the colors of their hero costumes. Just about everyone wants to hug them, which is annoying, but Izuku glows under the attention (and cries, obviously). Katsuki is overstimulated in less than three minutes, but generously indulges all of them with his presence, and himself to three slices of Sato’s cake. Just about everyone has something complimentary to say. 

“It was like the coolest shit ever!” Kaminari gushes. “Everyone thought Kacchan was a total goner, but then bam! He gets up like it’s nothing and takes down the baddest bad in history!” 

Katsuki rolls his eyes. 

“I just finished him off,” he says, through a mouthful of cake. “Couldn’t have done it without everyone else wearing him down first. Izuku took down the real threat.” 

The room suddenly goes silent. Multiple people’s heads whip around to gape at him. Someone has the audacity to gasp comically loudly. Katsuki bristles. 

“What? I know the value of teamwork, you dumb shits!” Katsuki snaps. 

“Oh thank god,” Kirishima says, holding a hand over his heart. “I thought you might have brain damage.” 

Katsuki shouts abuse at him for being so fucking ridiculous, spewing cake everywhere as he does, but their friends only laugh, looking visibly relieved. Izuku smiles at him with the softest, warmest eyes Katsuki has ever seen. 

Katsuki is grateful when the party winds down, and people start migrating toward their dorms to prepare for their busy day tomorrow. Classes are suspended at UA for the time being and instead, the students have been enlisted to clean up and restore the city after all the damage it had suffered during the war. Helping the common people, helping build shelters for the unhoused, distributing meals, clearing out debris, and repairing roads. Real hero shit. Usually Katsuki would think it all sounds beyond tedious, but truthfully he could use the change of pace. Not that he’ll be out on the field right away. Izuku and Katsuki still have two weeks of mandated bed-rest on doctors' orders. He sees Izuku yawn and makes an executive decision. 

“Come on,” Katsuki says, clapping a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Bed time.” 

Izuku nods sleepily. “Okay, Kacchan.” 

Izuku holds on to the corner of Katsuki’s shirt as he follows him toward the dorms. They pad through the hallways quietly. It’s so strange to be back in this place after all this time. It should feel familiar, like home even. But Katsuki can’t help but feel like everything is different now. He is different now. He’s returned, but this place can’t ever be the same because Katsuki isn’t the same. The thought sits uncomfortably in Katsuki’s gut. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku says, when Katsuki stops in front of the door to Izuku’s dorm. 

“Yeah?” Katsuki asks, gruffly. 

“When you… when you said that— that thing about not being able to do something on my own,” Izuku begins, shyly. “You... You mean that right?” 

Katsuki snorts. “Do I ever say shit I don’t mean?” 

Izuku gives him a knowing little grin. Katsuki rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, I meant it,” Katsuki confirms, quietly. 

Izuku purses his lips. 

“I know we’re not in the hospital anymore,” Izuku says. “But I… I really don’t think I can sleep on my own right now.” 

Oh thank god. The relief feels like a tidal wave hitting Katsuki square in the chest. Secretly, he’d hoped for this, of course, but he never dared to let himself believe he’d actually get it. This new intimacy between them feels precious and delicate. Like it can be snatched away from Katsuki at any moment. 

“Come to my room,” Katsuki says. “I’m not sleepin’ in your creepy All Might shrine.” 

“It’s not creepy,” Izuku huffs. “You have just as much All Might merch as I do.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t have it all starin’ at me in the same place I jack off,” Katsuki counters. 

“He can’t see it if I do it under the covers Kacchan!” 

Katsuki laughs so hard that he almost pisses himself and the triumphant grin on Izuku’s face makes his body warm and fingertips tingle. They shower and brush their teeth; Izuku quickly darts back downstairs to change into pajamas in his own dormitory before rejoining Katsuki in his dorm room. Izuku is awfully fidgety as he crawls into bed with Katsuki. Goddamnit, all that sugar better not make his nightmares worse. Katsuki will strangle Sato himself. Katsuki sighs and sets up his laptop, searching for the corniest, cheesiest comfort movie he can find just in case. 

Izuku hasn’t stopped staring at him. Katsuki turns to look at him sharply. 

“What?” Katsuki demands. 

Izuku’s mouth twists into a funny little line. 

“This isn’t weird, right?” Izuku asks. “Me, being here?”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “You’re always weird. I’m used to it.” 

Izuku sticks his tongue out at him. “You know what I mean.” 

“Who cares if it’s weird?” Katsuki asks. He opens Netflix and starts scrolling. “We saved all of fucking Japan. I think we’re allowed to be weird.” 

“We?” Izuku asks with a mischievous pop of his brow. 

“How many times do I gotta tell you we’re in this shit together?” Katsuki snaps. “You want it written out? Do I gotta spell it out in the sky for you?” 

Izuku half-shrugs, looking terribly amused. “Would you?”

“No,” Katsuki lies, turning away from him. He feels the back of his neck burning with his blush. “Now make yourself useful and tell me which one of these god-awful movies is gonna put you to sleep the fastest.” 

Izuku picks a rom-com of all things. Some Korean drama where the leading lady has a quirk where whoever she kisses is compelled to tell her the truth. It looks stupid, and is stupid, Katsuki realizes about forty-seconds after turning it on. Everybody is visibly air-brushed and overacting every line. Whatever. Katsuki can only see half the screen with Izuku’s fluffy head on his chest anyway. 

“I wonder if someone really has a quirk like that,” Izuku ponders aloud, as the main character starts to despair when her fiancé starts avoiding her kisses.  

“Probably,” Katsuki says. “Poor bastard would probably get herpes if they tried to do anything useful with it, though.”

Izuku giggles and nudges him with his knee. “Gross.” 

Two-thirds of the way in, Izuku's commentary peeters out and his breathing becomes deep and even. Katsuki stays awake, not because he’s invested or anything, that would be fucking stupid, but he knows the nerd will ask him about it the morning so he might as well. 

The climatic scene takes place in the rain. The two impossibly perfect leads look somehow even more breathtaking with their hair soaked and their clothes sticking to their skin. 

“Kiss me,” the actor says, his dubbed-over-voice choked and broken. “Kiss me and you’ll know it’s true that I’ll love you to my dying days.” 

Cheesy, Katsuki thinks. Melodramatic too. Why is she hesitating? It’s not like he can lie to her if she kisses him. Just get it over with, Jesus. 

It’s a very wholesome kiss, made all the more grand and romantic with sweeping orchestral music and sunlight breaking through the storm clouds the moment their lips meet. Because that’s how it goes in real life. Katsuki snorts. What a waste of fucking time. Katsuki feels personally violated by just how corny this shit is. 

And yet. Something about their embrace. The way they smile at each other after such a soft, innocent kiss makes Katsuki’s heart twist in his chest. In-love sparkle, Izuku had said. Of course, these people are just acting, but Katsuki thinks he can kind of see what he means. Does Izuku want that with someone one day? Someone who gives him the ‘in-love sparkle?’ Sure, Uraraka doesn’t want him, but Izuku has just saved the nation of Japan. If they’re as viral as everyone is saying they are, surely Izuku can have just about anyone he wants. 

Katsuki is being ridiculous. Izuku is sixteen, and has just survived a war. He should be focused on recovering, both mentally and physically, and enjoying the peace he’s created. Everyone’s emotional state is too volatile and fragile to jump into a relationship any time soon. It’s bound to become unhealthy, codependent even. The best thing for Izuku would be to go back to as normal a life as possible. It’s terribly selfish, but Katsuki is relieved to think he has a good few years before Izuku is ready to date anyone. 

He shuts the laptop off and sets it on his bedside table. Izuku stirs and complains at the movement and Katsuki shushes him, petting his hair until he settles. Something in Katsuki’s chest goes soft as Izuku relaxes against him once again. He strokes his hair, relishing the feeling of soft locks coiling around his fingers. For now, this is only for Katsuki. And that will just have to be enough. 

Muffled, hurried footsteps. A frantic pounding at his door. Katsuki frowns before he even opens his eyes. 

“Bakugou!” Kirishima is calling through the door, and he pounds on it thrice more. “Bakugou, wake up! It’s an emergency!” 

Katsuki’s head is still heavy from the sleep medication, and more than that, he’s cocooned in warmth and extremely comfortable. There’s a fluffy head tucked into his throat and a warm body curled around his own. He groans softly, burying his nose in Izuku’s unruly curls and breathing in deeply before there’s more banging on his door. 

“Bakugou, come on! It’s Midoriya! His door was left wide open last night and he’s not in there! We think he might have run away again!” 

Katsuki jolts awake at his name. Izuku. What had happened? Did he really—? Izuku whines and clings to the front of Katsuki’s shirt at his sudden movement. Oh, right. The relief leaves Katsuki boneless and he slumps back with a sigh. Wait. Fuck! He sits up again and throws off the covers, ignoring the small pitiful sounds of protest from Izuku. Katsuki swings open the door furiously only to find Kamanari and Kirishima with twin expressions of grave concern. 

“Morons, keep your fucking voices down,” Katsuki hisses. 

“But Midoriya—” Kirishima begins. 

“He’s fine,” Katsuki cuts him off. “Now get out of here so he can get some fucking sleep, alright?” 

“Oh thank god,” Kirishima says, holding a hand over his chest and shoulders sagging with relief. Kaminari eyes him suspiciously. 

“He’s in there with you?” Kaminari asks. It feels like a loaded question.

“Yeah,” Katsuki says. He feels his skin heat with embarrassment and it’s fucking annoying. “What about it?” 

Kirishima’s eyebrows shoot up into his hair. Kaminari and him exchange a look. Katsuki grits his teeth. 

“Do you fuckwads need anything else?” Katsuki grouses. 

“No, nope, nah,” Kaminari says, backing off with his hands raised. Katuski doesn’t miss the way he purses his lips strangely; Kirishima’s amusement is barely concealed. 

“Great,” Katsuki says, flatly. He slams the door on their faces harder than he means to. Izuku jolts in the bed and whines. 

“Being so loud,” Izuku complains, rubbing his eyes sleepily. 

“Sorry,” Katsuki mutters. “Goddamn extras always in my fucking business.” 

“Huh?” Izuku says, obviously only half awake. He yawns. 

He looks good like this, Katsuki thinks. Soft with sleep, freckled cheeks marred with red-indents, his viridian curls bright against the stark black of Katsuki’s bedsheets. It makes Katsuki’s stomach do backflips. The picture of him sleepy and comfortable in Katsuki’s room is just so domestic. So right . The affection within Katsuki is so intense it feels like a raging, ravenous beast rattling inside his ribcage. Katsuki pulls over his black-out curtains. 

“Nothin’,” Katsuki reassures him. He leans over the bed, pulling the blanket back up over Izuku’s shoulders and patting it down. “Just go back to sleep.” 

“Mmmm,” Izuku says, yawning once again. He grabs for him blindly, his hand fisting in the front of Katsuki’s shirt. “Y’ sure?” 

“Yeah,” Katsuki says. He indulges himself, carding his fingers through Izuku’s soft fluffy curls and picking through the tangles. Izuku tugs at his shirt insistently. “What?” 

Izuku huffs. His bottom lip protrudes slightly and he’s so fucking cute it should be illegal. He cracks open one eye to peek at him. 

“You’re on bedrest too, Kacchan,” Izuku reminds him. 

Katsuki snorts. “Alright.” 

He slides into bed with Izuku, curling his arms around his shoulders and holding him close. Izuku hooks a leg over his waist and Katsuki feels a pulse of arousal. Don’t , he orders himself. He can’t go there. This isn’t sexual, it’s not even romantic; it’s just because Izuku needs him and Katsuki is determined to be whatever Izuku requires. Izuku presses his cheek to Katsuki’s chest and sighs in deep contentment. 

“Thank you,” Izuku whispers. 

“Just sleep, moron,” Katsuki says, and mercifully Izuku obeys.