Work Text:
Izuku reckons he should probably propose to the vending machine right about now. After all, he’s pretty much lost count of how many times that thing has probably saved his life.
Okay, maybe not directly. It’s not like he’d managed to toss it at a villain just before it administered him a fatal hit or something, but his constant hunger should be considered a villain in itself, with how much his stomach used to randomly growl in the middle of every single important hero briefing he’d attended.
The heads that turned towards him then, coupled with the concerned looks, were always enough to send a burning flush up his neck and his arms to cover his midsection on impulse.
Ah... I forgot to eat breakfast...
“E-Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” he’d say nervously, promising to catch up with the rest of the important information before dashing out into the corridor.
It was always the same process - snapping his head left and right to see if anyone was around, before locating the ever-familiar vending machine in the lounge, slipping some money in, and retrieving a quick sandwich to devour in the span of ten seconds.
Izuku’s thought several times while draining a bottle of water and dashing back into the conference room that he should probably start eating more regularly, and healthier too. After all, risking being seen eating vending-machine food every other day as a pro hero… was definitely not how he was going to become number one.
But that’s just the way he’s always been - often being so focused on something he tended to forget to eat. Alarms didn’t work; he just tapped the ‘stop’ option on his lock screen without even taking his eyes off the agency’s latest wanted villain files. It would be another two hours before he’d even notice his stomach was once again summoning his attention and he remembered that eating was a thing humans like him were supposed to do.
And it’s not like Izuku can’t cook. Because he can. If given enough time, and extremely precise instructions (he hates vagueness), he can actually rustle up a pretty decent meal. But it’s not like he bothers to set much time aside for that, not when he could easily just buy a meatball sub and run off to the next thing he has to do.
The thing is, logically, he knows eating well meant he’d be more vigilant, alert, ready to move at a moment’s notice, rather than the sluggish pace he refuses to admit he’s adopted more recently. In that sense, maybe he should thank his friends and their dragging him along to social outings ‘for his own good’. That’s the only time they can properly distract him from his worries with non-work-related things and good food. He’s never told them, but he’s silently thankful for it, since he’s pretty much started relying on them as an external clock to remind himself to eat.
And then there’s times like this, when he’s spent almost half a minute rustling through the bottom ledge of the vending machine to fish out the crisps he’s decided he’d bring along for his patrol.
Somehow, he hadn’t even noticed the blond walking down the corridor, those heavy, black and orange boots coming to a stop as they stood before him while he’d been crouched on the ground, his tongue stuck out to the side and senses focused solely on feeling around for the crisps he’d just bought.
Just as Izuku’s straightened up, holding the packet out victoriously, a voice rings out, low and dangerous.
“And what the fuck do you think you’re doing, Deku?”
Instantly, he yelps, sending the packet up into the air in shock for a second, before catching it the next in panic and clutching it close to his chest. As if he could still somehow hide it that way.
“Kacchan! You scared me!” Izuku says, trying to catch his breath. For a hero whose suit consisted of so much clunky stuff, it was a mystery how he could even sneak up on people so quietly.
He could mull over that thought for hours, but now those red eyes are glaring him down like lasers, making him feel instant regret. He laughs nervously, but even that does little to relieve the other.
Katsuki’s tone is harder than his gaze when he speaks, clearing out his ear with a finger after Izuku’s deafening scream.
“Jesus, you’re loud. And don’t you dare try and fucking dodge the question. I saw the pillow you shoved under your table - you stayed and pulled an all-nighter again and then took a nap this morning, didn’t you?”
Crap.
“I... Maybe..,” Izuku admits, averting his gaze for a moment. Even the packet within his grasp crinkles in embarrassment on his behalf at being caught.
He knows he should be glad he and Katsuki have been on pretty good terms for several months now, ever since that time they got partnered up for a stake-out mission and had to work out their differences over a week, but ever since, the blond’s been uncharacteristically nagging him a lot more often about his health.
Well, maybe not too uncharacteristic. The blond had always been the mother hen of his group of friends (though he rarely ever called them that), so he was always shoving health and self-care regimens in the faces of those he secretly cared about.
The green-haired hero’s seen this kind of thing happen several times over, from Katsuki bringing a homemade bento to work for Denki (albeit not without threatening him to ‘learn how to eat something other than shitty boiled eggs all the time’), to supplying Mina with pain meds and chocolate when she had severe period cramps one time on a group mission (‘take these and sit over there - you’ll only fucking slow us down when you’re not at your best’).
It’s honestly kind of heartwarming how much his words and his actions contrast with each other. In short, he cared about his squad’s wellbeing and happiness more than anything else.
Izuku guesses it’s just a little surprising that somehow, he’d qualified for being one of those people too.
But it's not like he hates it. Heck, he probably needs it. He takes terrible care of himself.
And as his metre-long and embarrassingly famous history of broken bones would suggest, self care is definitely not in his dictionary.
Katsuki’s eye twitches as he looks at the shorter man, now fiddling with the packet in between his fingers as if it were a safety blanket. “I fucking knew it. God, I should’ve known you’d pull something like this since the Shinjuku incide-”
As soon as he cuts himself off, both of them freeze, and Izuku feels like his heart’s just been painfully plucked from his chest like an apple ready for harvest.
The other male winces. “Shit, I didn’t-”
“-It’s fine ,” Izuku insists, though his tone says otherwise. His fist is growing so tight he could probably pop the packet if he just pressed a little more.
I should’ve gotten there in time .
That night’s still so fresh and vivid in his mind, he can still feel every detail of it dragging him in and suffocating him. The blazing heat of the fire singeing his hair as he dove into the thick of it. The thick smoke sinking into his lungs like an anchor as he pulled the civilians out to safety. The blaring sirens of the ambulances as they finally drove away.
...The steady hand on his shoulder, like warm mist rolling over his already numb body.
“You did everything you could,” Eijirou had told him.
But did he?
“You can’t keep beating yourself up, bro. Everyone made it out alive, and that’s what matters.”
But what about all the people in hospital? All the people he didn’t get to fast enough? What if their injuries lasted for the rest of their lives? Injuries he could’ve prevented in the first place?
He was supposed to be the fence at the top of the cliff, not the ambulance at the bottom.
“...Go home and sleep. Please? You need it.”
“Okay,” he’d managed to answer, albeit a little dully.
“You’re right.” His voice didn’t feel alright.
“I’ll rest.” ...Nothing felt alright.
People were hurt, people he’d seen calling out to him, and what had he done?
Let them all down.
Izuku’s worst fear, ever since seeing his ex-best friend get attacked by the sludge villain, is not being able to save someone who was right within his reach. To him, what was the point of being a hero when he couldn’t even do that?
So, he guesses, that was probably when all this started. Maybe that was why he’d ended up constantly exhausted, dehydrated, starving and anxious. Showing up early to work to train for fights, making sure he was up to date on every case file and villain Quirk. Maybe that was why the straw blond kept noticing these little things about him.
He wasn’t the only one either. Even Hitoshi was concerned, the mind control hero stopping him in the hallway one day and actually thrusting a flask of coffee at him out of sympathy. Clearly, the foundation he’d been using to cover up the dark eye circles wasn’t fooling anyone.
Including Katsuki.
“I just..,” he starts, suddenly feeling too exhausted to even begin defending himself. Memories of the Shinjuku incident are already permeating through his thinly-disguised stress. “I’m sorry, Kacchan. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’ve just been having trouble sleeping recently.”
“Who said I was wor-,” Katsuki stops himself dead again, and Izuku’s green eyes lift to meet his gaze, the steely look in them dissipating as the man sighs instead.
“You need to eat some proper food and get some sleep, nerd.”
The freckled man blinks. “But... the civilians-”
“-are in danger if you don’t start taking care of your-fucking-self,” the blond finishes, jaw tight. “Now... come on.”
“Come- huh? ” Izuku asks, confused, but the next second, his friend wraps his glove around his upper arm and pulls him down the corridor. Izuku looks at the back of his head as they pass by the work cubicles. “W-Wait? Where are we going?”
Katsuki ignores him.
“Icyhot,” he drawls, barely looking at him as he drags Izuku past their fellow pro hero’s stall. “Take over Deku’s patrol.”
“Gladly,” Shouto says, and something in his tone informs the curly-haired hero he too was getting fed up with his sleep deprivation and unhealthy eating habits.
But Izuku still flails, trying to pull his arm away. “Take over my patr- Kacchan! What if something happens? I have to be there! I can’t just sit around here and-”
The blond whips around suddenly in the middle of the busy area, his face only inches away from Izuku’s. “-What? You think he’s incapable? You think all these heroes just ‘sit around’ and watch lives get taken every day? That they’re weak? Hah?”
He casts his eyes to the floor in shame for a moment. “...No.”
But it still feels awful knowing he’s not there. Knowing there might be something he could’ve done, if only he’d just been there. Izuku doesn’t want to feel like that again. His arm slumps again in defeat after his response.
Katsuki looks at him again, an unreadable expression in his gaze. Then he pulls him along once more, and this time, Izuku doesn’t bother asking where they’re going.
Not until they turn a few corners and he realises they’re in the unoccupied wing of the agency. Katsuki pulls out a key from somewhere in his outfit and unlocks one of the room doors. And then, the younger hero’s arm released now, they step into an empty office.
Strangely, a purple blanket sits on the couch on one side - the only real bit of colour in the otherwise calming grey room.
The spiky-haired man notices his curious gaze, gruffly answering, “Some o’ the others don’t get enough sleep either. Got this room for ’em, but I’m the only one with trusted with the key so they don’t come in here for any reason other than sleeping.”
“But I did get sleep..,” Izuku says, a little quiet as he steps into the middle of the room despite himself and Katsuki shuts the door behind them, leaning against it.
“Oh yeah? How many hours this morning?”
“Like... maybe... five?”
“And this week?”
“...S-Seven?” he answers unsurely, his voice high.
Sure enough, the menacing silence that ensues his statement speaks volumes, and Izuku’s pretty sure he’s about to die when Katsuki’s eyes disappear when his head bows forward in disbelief.
“Deku, it’s fucking Friday... Get on that fucking couch and go to sleep right now, before I strangle you.”
He squeaks, scrambling over to the sofa and sitting down awkwardly.
It’s a little bit odd, really. He’s still in his hero suit, and the blond seems to notice this, huffing as he pulls the chair in the corner to block the door and sit in it. Guess there really is no escape now, unless he wants to make the other mad.
“Take your gear off.”
“What?” Izuku asks, head whipping over to look at him incredulously.
“You heard me. Take those damn bright shoes off. And the gloves. And the kneepads. You’re not leaving this room until you get some rest, and like hell that’s gonna happen wearing that.”
“Ah..,” he replies, trying to quell the sudden warmth his ears have taken on. He holds his tongue before he can confess he’s passed out several times from exhaustion in his hero suit. Katsuki wouldn’t be happy to hear that at all.
The green-haired man walks over to the unoccupied desk, feeling strangely exposed as he takes off his gloves and sets them on the table. Off comes the respirator, then the shoes, and kneepads. His utility belt comes off last, and when he puts that alongside the rest, he can feel his colleague still watching him.
“Now go. To bed.”
Izuku nervously nods and edges over to the sofa, lifting the blanket to slide under it, now in just his black tee, leggings and socks.
Was he really just going to sit there and make sure he stayed unconscious the whole time?
“Um, purposely sleeping isn’t as easy as it sounds, Kacchan,” he points out, looking to the elementalist.
The other man snorts from where he’s sat across the room. “What do you want me to do then? Sing you to sleep?”
Izuku’s expression must betray him because Katsuki looks surprised for a moment when he looks at him hopefully.
“Hell no. I am not singing to you.”
“Aw, come on, please?” He pouts, rearranging the blankets and getting comfortable. “Don’t you remember when my mom used to sing us to sleep whenever we got too rowdy as kids?”
The explosion hero cocks up a brow, then finally sighs, getting up and soundlessly moving the chair from the front of the door to set it next to the sofa, slumping into it again and glaring at his colleague again.
“We’re not kids anymore, Deku. And I know you want me to sing just so I get sleepy and you can sneak out. Don’t think I’m an idiot.”
Damn it. He’s figured him out.
Izuku’s pout is genuine now as Katsuki just matches it with a satisfied sneer. It almost makes him want to kick at the other’s knee like a little kid, but one, the hero’s still wearing his knee pads so it would just feel like a light tap, and two, to be honest, his newly-born grumpiness is just even more proof of how much he actually needs some sleep.
So he sighs instead, letting go of his childishness in favour of at least trying to do what Katsuki was asking of him.
But just as he turns to stretch his arms up, a spike of pain surges through the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and he yelps without thinking.
“Shit- the fuck was that?”
Izuku hisses and winces, slapping a hand over the area. “Sorry, I just- I must’ve slept on it weird or something.”
Katsuki sighs, maybe in relief, maybe in exasperation. He’s not really focusing on the sound though, a little preoccupied with the quiet squeaks he can’t help making every time he moves his shoulder now.
“Seriously, if you were in a real fight right now and twisted wrong, you’d be dead.”
Did he really have to put it that way? Izuku already knows that well enough, despite his actions saying otherwise.
But when he finally looks at Katsuki again, the older man seems to be considering something, staring at him but not quite at him. He keeps rubbing the spot for a moment, ready to apologise and maybe attempt sleep despite the throbbing for real this time.
Before he can say anything, though, those red eyes finally sharpen on his features.
“Turn around.”
“Huh?”
His eyes narrow. “Just do it, nerd. Sleeping on your desk comes with fucking consequences. Or did you think you’d just get off scot-free?”
Confused, Izuku straightens up, turning from where he’d been leaning against the arm of the sofa to face away from Katsuki’s chair. Was he going to slap his shoulder or something? Whack the pain out of him?
But a moment later, he hears the sound of fabric sliding against skin, feels his fingers get slapped off his neck, and something hot on the tops of his shoulders, like Katsuki had just dropped hot stones on them.
Wh-?
Whipping his head to the side, he catches a glimpse of Katsuki’s unbelievably warm and bare hand draping over one of his shoulders, the other surely matching it. So he’d taken his gloves off.
Then he presses his thumb down on the spot where Izuku had been hurting...
...and as expected, it hurts like hell.
“Ow! Kacchan! What are you even trying to do?” the green-haired man asks, even though his pulse kicks up slightly at the warmth radiating from his palms. His attention is stolen away again by yet another violent press, fighting against the tension he’s been harbouring in his muscles for months now. God, does he regret it.
“The fuck does it look like?” comes the voice behind him, closer than he’d expected. Katsuki breathes against the nape of his neck, a little pissed off. “M’giving you a massage.”
A few more gauging squeezes follow the statement. “...Christ, how many knots do you have , Deku?”
After releasing the inside of his cheek from where he’d bitten it to stop himself whimpering in pain, he blinks. This was supposed to be a massage? He wasn’t even aware that Katsuki did massages. Did he do this for the others too?
“You- ah- Have you ever done this before?” Izuku gives in to asking. He flinches slightly as another hard pinch comes through when Katsuki kneads his shoulders.
The other male just replies with a scoff, and he can feel the ghost of it on his skin, making him shiver for a moment. “’Course I have. Too many times to count.”
Really? “On who?”
He can almost hear the smirk in his voice. “My mother.”
Oh. Of course. Now that made sense.
Izuku grumbles as the thumbs crawl out again to his shoulder joints, “And of course you two both like the hardest setting.”
He can practically imagine Mitsuki telling him to walk on her back or something when he was a kid, to press harder when he massaged her shoulders after a stressful day.
Katsuki laughs, confirming it. If the green-haired hero didn’t know any better, he’d say he was even basking in the small squeaks of pain.
“You have a surprisingly low pain tolerance for someone who gets hurt all the fucking time.”
“Hey! It’s not my fault you’re tenderising me! And for your information, I’m two weeks injury-free!” Izuku retorts, trying to defend what little pride he still has.
He can practically sense the eye roll. “Yeah, a fucking record. And stop tensing up. I still need to get to the knot under here.” Katsuki presses at the first spot he’d been poking before, and Izuku squeaks. “Weak ass.”
Seriously, though, he hasn’t gotten hurt recently. Two weeks still had to count for something, right? He holds back the urge to cry and pouts instead, relaxing little by little. “Meanie.”
“You’re so whiny. It doesn’t even hurt that much.”
“Maybe I’ll Detroit Smash your shoulder and then you can tell me if that doesn’t hurt,” Izuku retorts bitterly without thinking.
Katsuki goes silent.
He slaps a hand over his mouth, internally screaming. How could he have just said that?!
Eyes wide and feeling guilt tug at his conscience, he stumbles over his apology. “Oh my God, I’m so, so sorry. I really didn't mean to say-"
Luckily for him, the man just barks out a gruff laugh a second later, like the sass was something he was actually delighted to hear for some reason.
Izuku tries not to dwell on how nice it sounds, nor how he'd unintentionally caused it, sighing instead. "Ugh, you were right. Maybe I do need sleep...” For more than one reason.
“That’s what I’ve been fucking saying, smartass.”
"...Right."
Then the sting returns, Katsuki rubbing firmly into the area, and Izuku focuses his attention again on trying to breathe as calmly as possible.
God, this really wasn't relaxing at all. Though, he guesses it makes sense considering the amount of knots his friend had just told him he had.
Apparently, that was when it clicked for Katsuki as well.
He pauses his assault on the tops of Izuku’s shoulders. “Hold on a second. Don’t tell me... is this your first massage ever?”
Was it really that shocking? Izuku bites his lip, keeping his gaze ahead, looking at the end of the sofa, the walls of the room. Hmm... that was an interesting painting. Wonder who’s the artist?
“Deku.”
At the shocked tone in his voice, the freckled man laughs nervously.
“Well, no one’s ever offered before! You’re-” he mumbles, a little shy for a second, “-you’re the first.”
“Hmm.”
After another moment of silence, he feels Katsuki dig again into another area of his shoulder. His voice rises again to normal volume. “Wh-Which is why you should be gentle, Kacchan!”
“Look, nerd. It may not feel like it right now, but I know what I’m doing. You’re gonna be so fucking relaxed after this, you’ll pass out for twelve whole hours. You’re welcome in advance.”
Izuku tenses instantly.
“Twelve-? I can’t be off duty for twelve-!”
Katsuki presses hard and he bites his tongue. Maybe he shouldn’t choose right now to fight him.
Still, though. Twelve whole hours?
“I told you, didn’t I?” the blond says. “You’re no fucking good to the civilians if you’re tired as shit all the time and only eat crap. If your teapot is empty, how d’you expect to pour tea for anyone else?”
“Wow. That was... surprisingly succinct.”
Behind him, Katsuki pauses and swears, before continuing again. “...Fuckin’ All Might. I went to see him last week. Must’ve picked up one of his shitty proverbs or somethin’.”
Izuku smiles. So he still went to meet him from time to time.
“That’s cute,” he says without thinking.
Katsuki’s voice is sickeningly sweet, his mouth suddenly next to Izuku’s ear. “I’m sorry, what was that, dear Deku? And before you answer, keep in mind I could blow up your shoulders right now if I wanted.”
“Nothing!”
A soft exhale of amusement curls up against his skin, before Katsuki returns to his former position.
“Good. That’s what I thought.”
Surprisingly, after a few minutes of massaging and his ears no longer burning from how close they were, Izuku does feel like his aches are a lot less... achy, the rubbing growing less violent. Had Katsuki actually listened to him, or was he really just getting used to it and enjoying it?
And at some point, he sighs, slumping contentedly into the warmth of Katsuki's hands.
His back almost hits the taller man's chest when he teases, “Falling asleep already?”
Izuku’s eyes snap open. “N-No!”
He can feel his ears burn a little, and he straightens his spine again. He can practically sense the smirk in his colleague’s words as he says them, the ‘I told you so’ going unsaid yet very much still there.
But it’s true. Regardless of whether the pressure had lessened at all, he’s definitely gotten calmer.
“It’s fine, Deku. Go to sleep.”
And at the words, so gentle all of a sudden compared to about fifteen minutes ago (had it really been that long?), Izuku hums, relaxing again. His neck and shoulders do feel looser, the pains whenever he rolled them considerably much lesser, dare say even almost gone.
“...Are you really not gonna sing to me?”
Maybe there’s something else in his voice other than hopefulness when he says it this time, feeling exhaustion finally creep up on him, dulling his senses.
A pause. Then...
“Fine. But a word of this to the others and I’ll make sure you sleep forever. You listening?”
But the threat doesn’t even faze him. In the first place, he isn’t even sure why he’s asking him to do it, given he probably won’t remember much of the song when he wakes up later.
His knots have been worked out now, he thinks, leaving him just warm and slightly tingly from the heat Katsuki’s been exuding naturally through his hands.
“Deal,” Izuku answers, eyes fluttering shut.
And sure enough, after a small sigh and those hands finally coming to a stop, Katsuki begins to sing.
The melody is soft and sweet, and despite nearing the edge of sleep, he’s still a little surprised. It’s the tune he remembers his mother lulling them to sleep when they were little, and even from time to time these days when he visits her. He’s surprised Katsuki still remembers it. He’d only mentioned it in passing as an example to use to reminisce their childhood together.
So Kacchan really does still think about back then, huh...
Has he ever heard Katsuki sing for this long before? He should do it more. The low timbre of his voice coupled with the dulcet tones that come out with the lyrics is soothing to say the least. If he were more awake right now, the nostalgia might actually make him cry. Even though that isn't really saying much considering he is a Midoriya, after all.
In the end, the song is still as relaxing as it’s always been, and he hums along for a few bars, hoping that when he wakes up later, he'll be able to remember everything about this. About Katsuki's soft lullaby, his kind words, his genuine worry for him.
Maybe he'll try harder to take better care of himself, he thinks, right on the brink. And finally, he tips off the edge, falling asleep at last.
*
Katsuki’s voice fades a little while later, and he turns to look at the other man asleep against his chest. Izuku’s mouth is a little open, his soft snores already audible, and he resists snorting at the sight.
Figures he’d fall asleep when someone sang to him. He’ll make a note of that.
Moving slowly, he turns to place his hands on his colleague’s shoulders and lower him to the cushion so his head lays on it, then turns once more to grab the blanket at the end of the sofa, about to pull it up over him.
But at the last second, Izuku mumbles in his sleep. Something unintelligible as he rolls onto his side on the sofa, green hair getting more tousled by the minute when he readjusts himself, unconsciously facing the blond instead of the ceiling now.
And Katsuki pauses, still holding the blanket. After a moment of hesitation, he gives in at last with a fond sigh.
Laying down next to him, he shrugs the blanket over the both of them. Seconds pass, and like this, almost nose-to-nose, he quickly realises he can count every single freckle on the nerd’s face. For a while, he just lets his gaze drift over the eyelashes peacefully resting against his cheeks, a respectful audience to the soft curve of his childhood friend’s lips.
His fingers twitch with the urge to reach out, and he lets them. Gently, he brushes some hair out of Izuku’s face, before finally letting it rest between their bodies.
Katsuki’s brows furrow for a moment when he thinks about how Izuku’s been working himself down to whatever bone he hasn't broken yet. Always rushing around, barely ever taking breaks, taking on shifts that weren’t even his. It was a miracle he still remembered to take showers, judging by the subtle vanilla scent that invades his senses.
And that’s pretty much all it takes before he gets hit with the same wave of tiredness. Damn Deku asking him to sing for him. Now he really was as tired as he’d predicted he’d be.
The elementalist lets out another soft exhale as his eyes flutter shut. At least he can’t say shit about it if he’s asleep.
He’s just going to have to take better care of him to make sure he doesn’t do anything else stupid.
Nudging forward to lean their foreheads against each other’s, Katsuki mumbles softly.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, nerd.”