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Katsuki had known that Izuku was forever. Knows it. Present tense.
The thought had been more upsetting ages five through sixteen, when he had thought Izuku was a noose around his neck rather than a gateway to something better—much better than the life Katsuki had originally planned for himself. By the time their second year at UA had started, the thought was something Katsuki had clung to with something he refuses to call desperation. After all, he had come face-to-face with how little Izuku regarded his own life when it came to helping others. What was forever in the face of that?
Years eighteen through twenty-four was something else entirely. Izuku loses One for All, and Katsuki spends most of his early twenties saving every scrap of his sidekick salary to fund the bulk of the suit he’d been building for Izuku. Izuku had still been around then, but further away than Katsuki had thought possible. He’d known, of course, that there was no way Izuku was completely content with teaching. Not when everyone he’d surrounded himself with was busy living out their dreams of being a pro-hero. When they were busy living Izuku’s dream without him.
Seeing Katsuki live it out, the person who had spent their youth cementing in Izuku’s head that his dream was worth less than dirt, should have been an exceptionally bitter pill to swallow. Izuku should hate him. Should, because even Katsuki knows that Izuku would never think in absolutes like that. Izuku’s heart was so big. Katsuki knows that best.
But still. He hadn’t wanted to risk it. Just in case.
So, only somewhat unintentionally, he had kept his distance. Just until the suit was finalized. And even then, he had asked All Might to be the one to deliver it. More impactful that way.
And Izuku had joined him in heroism again. Forever, Katsuki had told himself then.
And now, year twenty-five. Nearly twenty two years of being in Izuku’s orbit, of Izuku—hopefully— being in his, too.
Izuku is forever. Izuku is his forever, at least in some capacity.
Then comes their class reunion. The car ride. Katsuki’s confession. Izuku’s rejection.
Izuku’s forever, still. Katsuki’s sure of it. Even at his most distant, Katsuki had known that as a fundamental truth of the universe. He’s not worried about something as small as Izuku not returning his feelings being something that puts their friendship at risk. Katsuki would forcibly make sure of it, in any case.
It’s just—not what Katsuki had hoped.
It’s fine, he tells himself, clenching the steering wheel and ignoring the pointed looks Eijirou sends his way.
-
It’s fine, he tells himself, the alcohol burning in his throat as it goes down. Everything’s fine. The izakaya’s lights flickering? Fine. Edgeshot’s flight getting delayed to the next day? Great. Izuku rejecting him in front of Eijirou after Katsuki had bared his stupid fucking heart to him? Absolutely fucking perfect.
All of it is fine. Katsuki doesn’t give a shit. He doesn’t care that he’s drunk off his ass at shit-o’clock in the morning now that he doesn’t have to get up at dawn to pick up Edgeshot. He doesn’t care that he drove here, and there are most definitely no more trains this late—early—in the day, and now has no way to get back home. Why should he care? It’s not like he has work tomorrow.
And even if he did—
He doesn’t care. He— He doesn’t—
“-san? Dynamight-san, can you hear me?”
Katsuki glances to his right. Squints. Wobbles a bit in his seat. Someone is talking to him, but he can’t make out their face. He can’t really hear them either, the words interspersed with static noises. Oh, he realizes after a moment. His hearing aids are running out of charge. “What?”
“Dynamight-san, are you— home yourself? Can we call— pick you—?”
Katsuki squints at them harder. He thinks they’re trembling a little. Or maybe that’s his own vision getting more unfocused. “You kicking me out?”
The person is waving their hands now. “No, no! It’s just that— closed. May I use your phone to— someone for you?”
His phone? An alarm bell goes off in Katsuki’s mind. Is this someone who needs help? Why would they need his phone then?
“Call emergency services,” he mumbles. “I’m drunk.”
“Yes,” the person says. A waiter, maybe. Katsuki thinks he can make out a black uniform. A logo in the right hand corner. Maybe. “— I’m so sorry. Please excuse me.”
Katsuki shifts away when he feels a hand rummaging around his pockets. “Stop it,” he grunts, batting at the hand. He can’t use his quirk on a civilian— who he assumes is a civilian, but—
His phone is held in front of his face, and the light of it is blinding for a moment.
“Eugh,” he says.
The person stops talking to him then, but he hears them talking to someone else. Weird. Katsuki is pretty sure he’s the only other person here. Whatever, he thinks. Whatever is happening, that’s fine, too.
Everything is fine.
Everything. From All Might to Katsuki’s parents to Izuku’s hair to Izuku’s suit to Izuku’s thighs to Izuku’s feelings to—
“Kacchan,” Izuku says.
—Yeah, Katsuki agrees. Izuku’s Kacchan is fine too.
“Kacchan,” Izuku says again, and Katsuki blinks.
He turns around.
Izuku is— Izuku is here, apparently. He’s not in his suit anymore. Shorts and a t-shirt. A zip-up on top. It’s an outfit Katsuki has seen Izuku in hundreds of times. Thousands, probably. But for some reason, Katsuki can’t take his eyes away. “‘Zuku?”
“Yeah,” Izuku says. He sounds breathless. Katsuki can vaguely hear his pants as he leans down so that he’s more face-to-face with Katsuki. He’s close enough that even through Katsuki’s blurred vision, he can see that Izuku’s face is all scrunched up. “Kacchan, what are— doing here?”
Katsuki frowns. His fucking hearing aids. It was fine when he couldn’t hear the other guy, but he doesn’t want to deal with this stupid audio feedback when Izuku’s hear. He makes a futile attempt to grab his hearing aids, but his limbs don’t seem to respond to him right away. His first attempt misses completely, his hands ending up near his collarbone instead. His next attempt nearly ends with him slapping himself in the face.
“Kacchan?” Izuku sounds worried now. “— wrong?”
“Can’t hear you,” Katsuki says.
“Oh,” Izuku’s face clears just as suddenly. Katsuki watches him rummage around in his zip-up pocket for a brief moment, before pulling something out.
Katsuki’s breath catches in his throat when Izuku’s next action is to reach over and touch Katsuki’s face. His fingers trail against the curve of his ear, and Katsuki is pretty sure he stops himself from shivering at the touch, but he’s not sure. He’s not sure of anything right now.
There’s the feeling of something being dislodged, before the world falls into a fuzzy silence. The feeling only lasts for a second before Izuku places something cool and solid into his ears instead, and the world comes back to life. Clearly this time.
“There,” Izuku says, a small smile on his face. “I knew these spares would come in handy.”
Spares. Izuku had brought Katsuki spare hearing aids.
“You carry that?” He hears himself asking. The breathlessness he had heard on Izuku feels like it suddenly got transferred to him.
“Of course I do,” Izuku says quietly. “How is it? Can you hear any better with these on?”
Katsuki nods dumbly. Of course Izuku has these. Katsuki doesn’t even remember when he asked Izuku to hold on to a pair. Maybe he didn’t, and Izuku had just gone out and made sure he had a charged backup on him anyway. Izuku thinks of him enough to take measures like this. Izuku. Izuku. It’s enough to make Katsuki think for a moment, that when he had been telling himself everything was fine, he had really meant it.
Then, reality comes crashing down.
Izuku had rejected him.
Izuku is here now, for some reason, but Izuku had— turned him down. Thoroughly. Barely... however many hours ago it had been since he had dropped off Denki and drove his sorry ass here immediately after.
“Good,” Izuku the Rejecter is saying. “I saw your car outside. I can drive you home, hm? It’s so late. Kacchan should be asleep.”
Katsuki leans away. “No.”
“We should— huh? No?”
“No,” Katsuki says, turning his head. He wants to wallow in peace. That’s why he came here. That’s why he ignored Eijirou’s quiet offer of spending the night at his place instead. He wanted to be alone, get shitfaced, and bask in the hangover in the morning. His own private punishment for daring to confess to Izuku in the first place.
“Kacchan,” Izuku says. “Minami-san needs to close up, so we need to get going.”
“No,” Katsuki repeats.
“No to what?” Izuku asks. “No to driving your car?” He laughs lightly. Melodically. “I don’t think you’ll be happy in the morning if you find out I let you leave your car this far away from your apartment.”
Katsuki grunts. “I’m staying.” He reaches for the alcohol bottle nearest him and— strange. The bottle is gone. All of them are gone. Who cleared out his table?
“You can’t stay,” Izuku responds gently. This time, Katsuki doesn’t move back in time before Izuku’s hands land on his forearms. Gentle. Solid. Firm. The breathlessness is back.
“‘Zuku,” Katsuki says.
“Kacchan,” Izuku replies. “Let’s get up, okay? In three, two—”
And suddenly, Katsuki is on his feet. His— wobbling feet. “Ugh.”
“Do you need me to carry you?”
“No,” Katsuki replies back instinctively. As if being rejected isn’t bad enough. Katsuki isn’t some— some fucking princess for Izuku to save.
“I didn’t say you were,” Izuku replies.
“Fuck— Fuck you.” Izuku would probably like him more if he was a princess. Fucking— whatever. It’s fine. It’s all fucking fine.
Izuku sighs. A hand takes one of his arms and loops it over a pair of sturdy shoulders. Another hand grabs Katsuki’s waist. Katsuki struggles a little, but it’s a useless effort. Izuku hadn’t missed a day of strength training in years. “Okay, Kacchan. Here we go.”
Everything blurs for a moment, and suddenly—
Katsuki is in a car.
His car.
But he’s in the passenger seat now. Izuku’s standing in the doorway, entire body leaned over Katsuki’s. Katsuki can— Katsuki can smell him. His face is close to Katsuki’s again, as if he’s going to—
Katsuki’s heart— His heart—
There’s a click, and Izuku is leaning back again.
“There. Seatbelt buckled,” Izuku says. “Wait for just a minute, Kacchan.” He closes the door, and rounds the car to get into the driver’s seat. Wait. Katsuki fumbles with his pockets. When did Izuku get his keys?
-
The drive back is slow. Quiet, at the start. Izuku’s always been a careful driver. Even more than Katsuki. Apparently All Might was much more reckless than him behind the wheel, and it was the one thing Izuku had decided was better to not take All Might’s lead on. Good. Izuku could do with one less bad habit. Not to mention, even as drunk as he is, he knows not to let anyone who’s a shittier driver than him drive this car.
It’s new. He had bought it with his own money, after the suit. The suit Izuku had accepted, even if he had rejected the feelings that had come with it. Katsuki had— mostly bought it for himself. Because he thought it looked good, and drove smoothly, and privately enjoyed the feeling of showing it off to his friends and family. He had been excited to show it to Edgeshot.
Izuku had showered Katsuki in compliments when he had seen it. Kacchan, this is so cool! When will you drive me around in it— Aw, man. I don’t want to sit in the backseat. I want to sit next to you!
Katsuki had enjoyed that, too. And now Izuku isn’t in the backseat. He’s driving it. Katsuki should... he should do something about that. He blinks sluggishly, his head bobbing slightly as he tries to keep his balance sitting up.
It’s not until the car stops at the second light that Izuku starts to make conversation.
“Minami-san promised they didn’t look through your phone when he unlocked it, but I’ll make sure of it later,” Izuku offers. “It was a good thing Kacchan has so many protective features on it.”
“Mm,” Katsuki says. What else is he supposed to fucking say? Izuku is— complimenting him, he’s pretty sure.
“It’s— ah. It’s also a good thing Kacchan has me as his first speed dial,” Izuku adds, softer this time. “Minami-san didn’t even have to go through your contacts list.”
“Mm,” Katsuki says again. Distantly, he remembers that Izuku isn’t supposed to know about that. Even Eijirou didn’t know about that. Katsuki just— liked it. That Izuku was right there. A press of a button away.
“...Did Kirishima-kun not offer to take you home?”
What? “I drove,” Katsuki responds. “‘S my car.”
“I know that,” Izuku responds, glancing at the rearview mirror. The car turns the corner, much more slowly than if Katsuki was behind the wheel. “How did he get home then? Or did you just go out with Kaminari-kun and Mina-san?”
“Drove,” Katsuki repeats. “I drove.” Huh. His tongue feels so heavy.
Izuku is silent for a moment. “I know you drove at first. I’m wondering why they left you there by yourself.”
Katsuki makes a face.
“Unless. Were you... not drinking with them? Were you— were you drinking alone?”
...Katsuki knows any answer he gives now will sound stupid and pathetic, so he decides very smartly not to answer at all.
Izuku seems to take his silence as an agreement anyway. “Why?” Izuku's hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Did something happen? Is it Edgeshot? Your parents?”
Katsuki frowns. “What about them?” What do they have to do with Izuku rejecting him?
“Are they okay?”
Yes? Katsuki would hope so. He doesn’t know why the fuck Izuku is hitting him with the inquisition suddenly. Well, except— “Edgeshot didn’t make it.”
Izuku makes a choking noise. “What?!”
Katsuki jerks forward as the car lurches to a stop in the middle of the road, a wave of nausea immediately rushing to his stomach.
“Kacchan, what happened to Edgeshot?!”
Katsuki swallows the saliva that pools in his mouth. He’s not throwing up. He fucking hates throwing up. He glares at Izuku. “Flight,” he manages.
Izuku’s face goes sheet-white. “The plane—”
“Delayed,” Katsuki agrees.
“Delayed?” Izuku says. His voice is so shrill. It makes Katsuki’s ears hurt. Stupid Izuku. Fucking rejecting him and driving his car and now not driving his car and yelling at him for no reason.
Katsuki leans over and slaps Izuku’s thigh. “Why aren’t we going?”
“Okay,” Izuku says, breathing loudly. “Okay. So. Edgeshot is fine. And alive. And his plane didn’t crash. It just— It just got delayed. Right?”
Katsuki just fucking said that. He hits Izuku’s thighs again, and does his best not to get lost in the firm muscle underneath his palm. “Drive.”
-
“Your house is so nice, Kacchan,” Izuku says.
Katsuki ignores him, distracted again by the feeling of Izuku’s hands holding him. Izuku’s practically hugging him. They only started hugging again recently. After the suit. The night after All Might had presented it to him, Izuku had shown up that night and given Katsuki the longest hug of his life. Katsuki—
“Kacchan,” Izuku says. “Don’t forget to keep walking.”
Katsuki grunts, and takes another step inside. His head droops as he does, and he feels Izuku shift until Katsuki’s head can rest on his shoulder. It’s a comfortable angle, despite the fact that Izuku is still a centimeter or two shorter than him. Or maybe Katsuki is just convincing himself of the fact so he doesn’t have to move it.
Somehow, Katsuki ends up sitting on his bed, staring listlessly at the wall facing his bed as Izuku crouches down by his feet. This—
This is a position Katsuki has dreamt about once. But rather than tell Katsuki to hold his hands behind his back and take Katsuki’s cock into his mouth, Izuku starts untying his shoelaces. Foreplay, Katsuki thinks. But—
That doesn’t make sense. Izuku doesn’t want him. Izuku wants teaching and snot-nosed kids and wants to stay far, far away from Katsuki’s cock for as long as they both live.
“Get away from my dick,” Katsuki says. Despite everything, Katsuki still has his pride.
Izuku jumps. His hands tighten on Katsuki’s ankles. “W-What?!”
Katsuki kicks at him weakly.
“I’m just taking off your shoes. I’m not, uh, I’m not—”
“Noisy,” Katsuki says.
“Sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku says, and then Katsuki’s shoes are off. “I’m going to get you some water.”
Katsuki blinks. Izuku’s— “Leaving?”
“To the kitchen and back,” Izuku says. Weird. He sounds flustered. “One minute.”
The minute leaves Katsuki feeling bereft. Alone. Izuku was leaving him behind. Again. Katsuki thought that Izuku had already finished doing that earlier.
“Kacchan, drink up,” Izuku says, and takes Katsuki’s chin inbetween his fingers.
Oh. He’s back.
A glass is placed against his lips and tilted upwards. Water. Izuku got him water, just as he said he would. Izuku is—
Taking care of him. It’s not something Katsuki would ever, ever confess to enjoying. But he does. He wants Izuku to take care of him more. He wants to take care of Izuku, too.
The hand on his chin moves to his throat. “Swallow properly, Kacchan. Or you’ll choke.”
Katsuki moans before he can think to stop it. Fuck. Now Izuku’s fucking— trying to make him horny. Succeeding at it, even. Even though he doesn’t even like him back.
“The water must feel refreshing, huh.”
Or maybe Izuku is just stupid. Stupidly nice. Izuku is so nice. The kindest person Katsuki has ever known. Izuku would be nice if they fucked too, probably. All dominant and gentle and shit.
“You’re nice,” Katsuki mumbles into the cup. Into the water, really. It makes the water bubble.
“Thank you, Kacchan,” Izuku says, and laughs.
At that, Katsuki’s pleasant, vaguely horny feeling disappears. Izuku’s— laughing at him? What the fuck? Izuku thinks this is funny?
“Get off,” Katsuki says. He nearly chokes on the water for his trouble, but Izuku takes the cup away quickly enough.
The laughter stops, but Izuku is still smiling. Cute, but unacceptable. This isn’t how Katsuki wants Izuku to smile at him. He wants to be smiled at for—
Innocent things: Bringing Izuku flowers. Kissing him. Taking him on a date. Making him his favorite foods.
Less innocent things: Making Izuku come. Keeping Izuku’s come inside. Being good for him.
“What was that, Kacchan?”
“Don’t touch me,” Katsuki says, his irritation rising. Izuku doesn’t want to date him or fuck him. He just wants to laugh at him. All that about Izuku being nice— Out the window. “You already, you already...”
Izuku looks at him. The smile is gone. Katsuki wants to mourn it, but he’s too upset now. “Did I do something to upset you, Kacchan?”
Fuck. Katsuki’s talking too much. He’s too drunk for this. “Shut up. Don’t, don’t talk to me.”
A sigh. “Okay, Kacchan. At least let me help you get into something more comfortable.”
So now Izuku wants to strip him? First he laughs at him, and now—
Fuck this. Everything is fine? What a fucking joke. Maybe everything’s fine for Izuku. But it’s Izuku’s fault that Katsuki is even in this stupid situation in the first place.
“I’ll go get you something to wear, okay?”
“No,” Katsuki says.
“You hate falling asleep in outside clothes.”
That’s true, Katsuki acquiesces. But Katsuki is—
Pathetic, a bit. He’s mad at Izuku, but he loves him. He doesn’t want him to leave again. Katsuki’s dresser is all the way on the other side of the room.
Oh, he thinks. He eyes Izuku’s shirt. Stupid, old, ratty. Now there’s a good idea. “Give me yours.”
Izuku is staring at him now with wide, stupid, doe eyes.
“You,” Izuku’s voice sounds hoarse. “You want to wear my shirt?”
“Give it,” Katsuki says, and uselessly paws at it until his fist properly grips the hem. “Give it.” Izuku’s face is growing all splotchy and red. Stupid. Overheating in Katsuki’s air conditioned apartment.
“Ack— Okay, okay! Kacchan, come on. You’ll stretch it out.”
“Don’t care.” Katsuki yanks again.
Izuku sighs, and the strong hands are back, taking Katsuki’s hands and setting them down firmly on his lap. “Don’t move, Kacchan,” he says, and— there’s the breathless feeling again. It’s weird. Katsuki hates it when people tell him what to do. But with Izuku, that’s just another thing that completely turns on its head.
And then Izuku’s shirt is off. Izuku’s skin is—
Smooth. The outline of muscle isn’t as stark as it was when Izuku was actively training to be a pro every day, but Izuku’s strength is obvious. He’s lean, but bulkier than Katsuki is. His nipples are stiff. There’s a light dusting of hair, from below his belly button and disappearing into his shorts.
Katsuki swallows. It’s too bad. It’s too bad that Izuku doesn’t love him back. It’s too bad Katsuki’s too drunk to try and suck Izuku’s cock from here. He’d probably choke and die first. He doesn’t want to die again. Izuku probably wouldn’t even cry over him.
He swallows again as he’s changed into the shirt, his own tossed over a nearby chair. Izuku stays shirtless.
Katsuki looks down. The shirt smells like Izuku. Izuku smells like Izuku.
It would have been—
Nice, if Katsuki was able to do this again. To keep smelling like Izuku, and be surrounded by his scent.
But he can’t.
Katsuki drops his head onto Izuku’s stomach.
Izuku sucks in a sharp breath.
“I’ve been, I’ve been thinkin’ about it since earlier, you know. And I get it,” Katsuki slurs into Izuku’s skin. It feels cool against his forehead. Katsuki presses his face into it harder, letting out a long breath.
Izuku squirms. Weird. Izuku isn’t ticklish here, from what Katsuki remembers. Katsuki remembers a lot of things about Izuku. Practically everything. He feels Izuku clenching his stomach, angling it away from Katsuki’s head. It doesn’t help, because there is literally nothing else holding up his head, so it just lolls forward again. Izuku makes a strangled noise.
“Kacchan, could you— could you move your head back? And then I’ll put you to bed.”
“I get it,” Katsuki says again. “Why you don’t wanna be with me.”
Izuku freezes. Finally. “What?”
Yeah. Katsuki’s surprised by his thoughts too.
He’s— He’s Bakugou Katsuki. He’s the Number— well. Number 15 now, but he knows that’s not a reflection of his actual hero work. He doesn’t pay attention to fan letters and whatever viral picture of his is circling on social media, but he’s not blind. He knows he’s— good-looking enough. He works out. He cooks. He’s confident in what he can do. In what he can give.
And, he thinks petulantly, he gave Izuku the suit. After he did, he and Izuku were better. At their best. Their whole lives were ahead of them. Together, Katsuki had thought, secretly pleased. Forever.
He’d been too optimistic. Obviously. Katsuki is only special to Izuku to an extent. As friends, of which Izuku has dozens. As heroes, only as a part-time coworker. Someone who he had a history with. A complicated history, if someone were to describe it kindly.
It was too optimistic to think that being better in the future could overshadow what he’d done in the past, even for someone like Izuku.
He can’t blame Izuku for his feelings. Katsuki was brash, and mean, and didn’t know the first fucking thing about being a good person to Izuku.
“‘S okay if you don’t want me.” It’s not. It’s really, really not. But it’s not like Katsuki can just say that.
“What are you talking about?!”
It’s just—
“You were,” Katsuki hiccups. “You’re supposed to be forever.”
“I’m— Kacchan, what are you talking about?”
Katsuki grits his teeth. “I thought— I...”
Izuku asks. “What did you think, Kacchan?”
And then— the strong hands are on his face. Cupping it softly.
“I hate you,” Katsuki says. His mind feels like mush. The heavy weight of his tongue feels nearly impossible now. And now, on top of everything else, his eyes start to burn. He can’t even tell if anything he’s saying is understandable anymore. “You’re so stupid.”
“Kacchan,” Izuku says. “What’s wrong?”
Izuku’s thumb rubs right underneath Katsuki’s eyes.
“You rejected me,” Katsuki says.
“For... Being your sidekick? Last night?”
“For bein’ my boyfriend,” Katsuki corrects. “I hate you,” he repeats.
Another strangled noise. “For being your— I don’t remember— When did Kacchan say something like that?!”
“Car,” Katsuki says. He hiccups. It sounds pitiful, even to him. Good. He hopes Izuku sees him as, like, a kicked puppy or some shit right now and feels bad about it. “Eijirou, he heard you, too. You turning me down.”
“Believe me, Kacchan. I would never, ever turn you down. I—” Izuku rubs a hand through his hair. It’s stupid. Stupidly sexy and stupidly stupid.
“You did,” Katsuki says. He’s— confused. He’s drunk. Izuku is lying to his face.
Izuku shakes his head. “I didn’t. I promise. Can you trust me on this? I really don’t know what you’re talking about. If I did, if I did, I can promise you I didn’t mean it. I’m— I’m crazy about you, Kacchan. I want to do everything with you. All the time. I was so happy when we started to talk a lot again. I know you were busy being a pro and getting your name out there, but I was so, so happy when you asked to hang out again. I was so worried about bothering you. I’m still worried about it. I adore you— so much. So trust me, okay? We’ll talk about this when you’re sober. Wait— is this why you got so drunk by yourself? You thought I— Oh, Kacchan. Trust me. We’ll clear this up.”
The words flow over Katsuki, but he only really processes the end part. He doesn’t know why Izuku would bother asking. He thought the answer would be obvious right now. “Trust you,” he says.
Izuku’s face crumples in relief. “Okay. That’s good. Let’s talk tomorrow, then.”
Izuku manhandles him into bed properly, moving Katsuki as though he weighs as much as a feather, and throws the comforter over Katsuki’s legs. Just how he likes it. Izuku seemingly hesitates for a moment before he says, “...I’ll sleep on the couch, okay? We should, uh, probably talk in the morning.”
“Need t’ brush,” Katsuki mutters. His mouth feels gross. It’s a good thing he didn’t throw up.
Izuku busies himself brushes his fingers through Katsuki’s bangs. “One day without brushing won’t hurt you,” he insists.
...Well, okay. If Izuku says so. Katsuki already promised to trust him.
The hearing aids are taken out, and Katsuki’s world falls into silence. Close your eyes, he sees Izuku mouth, so he does.
-
The drunk version of himself had a shitty definition of fine, Katsuki thinks bitterly. His head feels like he took a fucking mallet to it. Groaning, he peels himself off the mattress, and shoves his hearing aids into his ear, and—
Huh. This pair doesn’t look like his normal ones. And— this shirt is— not the one he was wearing last night.
...Shit. Fucking, shit, Katsuki thinks. The memories come back to him, slowly, splintered. Quickly, he walks to the living room. Sure enough, Izuku is sprawled over the couch, mouth open and snoring softly. One of his legs is hooked over the top. The position looks uncomfortable. Izuku looks like an idiot. A shirtless idiot.
But before Katsuki can decide what to do— Like flee to America before Izuku manages to wake up, or convince Izuku that the last twelve hours was a quirk-induced dream, Izuku groans and wakes up.
Izuku was a slow riser usually, but today, because of-fucking-course, all it takes is a few blinks before he’s sitting up quickly, turning his head, and locking eyes with Katsuki.
“Kacchan,” Izuku starts. His hair is a tangled mess, and his eyes are clearly still puffy from sleep. His voice is low. “I have something to tell you.”
Here it comes, Katsuki thinks. Without a second to spare. He braces himself. It’s fine. He already got rejected once. The plaster has already been torn off. A second time is nothing in comparison.
“I’m in love with you,” Izuku says.
Katsuki stares. “Huh?”
“I’m— like so obviously in love with you. Wow. I can’t even put it into words how much. I just— I never thought Kacchan would like— love?— me back. Enough to, ah, apparently get blackout drunk about it. Which, is a little flattering actually. But that’s besides the point! You, last night you said that I was supposed to be forever. I am! I really am! I’m Kacchan’s for the rest of my life! In death, too! In any and every way you want me. I want to spend every single day and night with Kacchan. I would never, ever, ever, ever reject you, if you asked me out. Which, I really don’t think you did. I thought it over for so long last night, after you went to sleep. When we were in the car with Kirishima-kun, you talked about— about people being special to me. And maybe if I really reached I could see that as the part where you— apparently— were trying to confess to me? But then Kirishima-kun started talking about joining your agency and being your sidekick, and— I don’t really think I got it wrong, but I think Kacchan could have definitely worded things better! Look at me! Does it look like I would ever turn you down? Kacchan can really be so dumb sometimes. I want Kacchan in my life so badly that it’s hard to focus sometimes, and you think I would turn you down?” Izuku pauses to take a gasping breath.
“It’s,” Katsuki says hoarsely. “Not obvious.”
“What?” Izuku pants.
“That you— to me,” Katsuki says. “It’s not obvious.”
Izuku shakes his head. “Trust me. I know I act stupid around Kacchan. I don’t know how to act any other way when you’re around me.”
“You’re always stupid.”
“Yeah. Like I said. Do you think someone who could keep their cool around you would run so far to get to that izakaya in the first place?”
Katsuki’s throat feels even dryer now. He feels— overwhelmed. “You ran there?” For Katsuki.
Izuku laughs. “What else was I supposed to do? The trains weren’t running, and I don’t have my own car.”
“Your license is useless,” Katsuki says, helpless to say anything else.
“It was pretty useful last night,” Izuku teases. “But seriously, Kacchan. Do you get it now? There’s probably not a single universe when I’m not ridiculous over you. I’m, so desperately in love with you.”
Katsuki’s skin feels like it’s burning. “I— I get it.”
“And— and you?”
“What about me?”
Izuku smiles. “What do you think of me?”
Katsuki coughs, and looks away. No. He’s not confessing again. Izuku already fucking heard him the first time. HIs face somehow manages to feel even hotter.
“I’ll take it,” Izuku says. Katsuki hears Izuku step forward, and suddenly, hands are gripping him by the waist. When he turns to look, Izuku is already leaning in.
Quickly, Katsuki slaps a hand over Izuku’s face.
“Ow,” Izuku says, voice muffled behind Katsuki’s palm.
“Don’t,” Katsuki says. Shouts. Whatever. “Don’t kiss me. My breath reeks.”
“Oh, Kacchan. I really don’t care.” Izuku pulls Katsuki’s hand away. Strong, Katsuki’s hindbrain thinks, just before Izuku drags him forward to kiss him anyway.
-
After—
After a lot of things, which includes freshening up—at Katsuki’s insistence, getting undressed—at both of theirs, and having Izuku smile at him again and again for every non-innocent reason in Katsuki’s wildest fantasies, Katsuki curls his body around Izuku’s and tugs at one of Izuku’s curls.
“Ouch,” Izuku says, even though Katsuki knows it can’t possibly be hurting him. “What’s that for?”
“Driving my car,” Katsuki says. “Now I have to clean nerd germs from the wheel.”
“Kacchan,” Izuku says, a startled laugh ringing in the air. He pulls Katsuki’s body closer to him. Their bodies stick to each other in a way that’s, honestly, a little uncomfortable. But Katsuki ignores it. “You just had my nerd germs all over you. Inside you, even!”
Yeah. He did, didn’t he? He thinks he should feel more embarrassed, putting out right after Izuku confessed to him, but whatever. It’s not like Katsuki has any reason to put on appearances. It’s Izuku, after all.
“What’s me?” Izuku asks.
“Nothing,” Katsuki says. Katsuki being a clumsy, overeager virgin was probably what pushed them into round two and three to begin with.
Izuku hums, and tries to shift them into a more comfortable position. “Ugh,” he says.“You’re stuck to me.”
“Who’s fault is that?” Katsuki grumbles.
Izuku laughs. “You’re stuck with me, too. Forever, right?” He grins, wide and beautiful and ridiculous.
Katsuki scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so stupid,” he says, but there’s a smile on his face, too. He sighs, and Izuku laughs again.