Wait a minute, do I know you?

by AbsolutelyRadiantMoth

Summary:

Pro Hero Ground Zero is asked to join a special operation which fights against a particular human trafficking ring. His specific orders? Blend into their clientele and find a way to their bosses and whoever produces the weird golden chains that bind the victims to the highest bidder via a quirk. If he can find out who the mole in the Hero Organisation is, he'll maybe get a raise on top.

Midoriya Izuku went missing four years ago.

These two things are related, but come full circle when Katsuki and Izuku end up bound together. Neither of them really mind, which is probably a good thing considering they are stuck like this for the forseeable future and the sake of Katsuki's cover.

Izuku tries his best to catch up to a life that has left him behind by now.

Katsuki wants nothing more than to help, even if it's four years too late and he's not sure how.

Starring complicated feelings, A Rollercoaster to Recovery, 'Do you think he likes me?', A Coffee Machine, One Bed and The Couch, Magpie Love Language, One Intervention, One Gay Crisis, Emotionally significant Copper Springs and The Constellation Taurus.

Chapter 1

When Izuku finally stepped over the edge four years after going missing, he’d never ever have thought he’d do it out of a desperate desire to live.

It was quite funny. Only days ago he’d resigned himself to death. Actually hoped it would come faster. Ideally swift and painless.

He supposed he’d been rather on the good side of his bad situation until then.

He’d been grabbed on a normal Tuesday afternoon on his way home from high school. The details were fuzzy in his head, probably thanks to whatever they’d drugged him with.

The next thing he remembered was the frenzied hustle backstage as he’d been handed around between masked, eerily calm stylists and masked, overly excited people in formal business attire, then corralled in together with a dozen unmasked people of all ages and backgrounds whose expressions ranged from horror to indifference.

After being deemed presentable, he’d been shoved onto a stage flooded by light, blinded for the entire duration it took the bidding to come to a close.

Then he’d been dragged into another room, where a tall person with an intricate golden mask and merciless black eyes used their quirk to put a golden collar around his neck.

“Listen well: Obey. Do not run away. Do not contact the outside world in any way. Do not speak to people you are not allowed to speak to. Do not kill yourself. Do not kill anyone else. Do no harm to your master. Do no harm to yourself. Do not take off this chain. Do not destroy this chain.” Their monotone, hypnotic voice carried a strange buzzing energy. Then, the person looped one end of the chain around the delicate wrist of a lady in her late forties or early fifties. Upon completing the last loop, the chain that connected his neck to her wrist glowed brilliant gold and vanished, leaving Izuku with a necklace so short he could barely fit two fingers underneath, and the lady with a matching bracelet. One of nearly a dozen.

In hindsight, he’d been lucky here too. The Lady took him to her lavish mansion and had him work there as a servant alongside a few other people with golden necklaces. The only thing he and his new colleagues had in common was that they were all under twenty and could probably be considered pretty in some way, but other than that the Lady seemed to have no criteria.

She had them clean and cook and tend to her every whim, but she wasn’t cruel. They were given enough food. They could shower. They had places to sleep. They were encouraged, sometimes even outright ordered to work out. She wanted them to look presentable at all times, as the finer parts of her collection. When they were not needed, they were left to do whatever, as long as they kept quiet, out of sight and did not break any rules.

Of course, it wasn’t like the Lady had to be afraid of them. Izuku quickly learned that whatever quirk the chain was imbued with, it was impossible to go against the commandments. If he as much as thought about it, he found himself quickly distracted, mind slipping off the topic like water off a duck’s back. If he tried to cling on, he grew paranoid, afraid she would know. His muscles started shaking and he became dizzy, even nauseous. He’d be unable to keep standing, eventually passing out as the metal on his skin grew hotter and hotter.

After a while he had to give up on the idea of escaping on his own. But each day, when he got up and went to fetch the newspaper for the Lady to hand her alongside her decadent breakfast, he’d skim the title page and backside. Hero rankings. Villains arrested. People saved. A constant fight for good. With that he could wait. And hope.

It all went wrong three and a half years in. One moment he was tending to the gardens, in the next the summer heat got the better of him. His palm had grown sweaty and he lost his grip on the branch he’d been carefully pruning. The rose vine whipped back into its desired wild shape and lashed across his nose for good measure.

For a moment he was in denial. But when Sayaka, the girl who worked alongside him - who had become almost like an older sister in guiding their lot inside the household -looked at him he could tell from her expression that it would scar. Sayaka’s eyes, which were bright silver and the reason she’d caught the Lady’s attention, welled up with tears that never fell. Sayaka could see energies, which she said were like auras around people, and she could see intense emotions as well. Right now Izuku knew she could see terror.

In these three and a half years he’d also come to know that the Lady was batshit insane. She rarely had any company over. Even rarer did she leave the house. She never talked to her servants directly, only to her head butler, who Izuku knew very little about aside from the fact he did not wear a gold chain.

When she did go out she donned herself up in outfits so grand they bordered on ridiculous, and she always returned with a priceless antique, a painting, jewellery, or on occasion, a person. She collected these things like a magpie, using them to stuff the empty rooms and halls of her estate. She’d spend hours walking the corridors, obsessing over every little detail, every little addition.

It was no secret she was a widow. It took no time to speculate that she’d killed her husband herself, it was a prominent rumour among the staff. No one was quite as sure as to what had happened to her two daughters and her son, but Izuku dreaded working in the gardens in fear he’d dig them up.

Anything imperfect had to go. The Lady would toss out a chandelier made of solid gold, decorated with real diamonds over a scratch in the metal that couldn’t be buffed out, but couldn’t be seen from half a metre away.

And now Izuku would have a scar. In his face.

The next morning, when he brought the Lady her newspaper, he was almost sick with fear. Not even the new hero rankings could distract him, despite the many familiar names of the up and coming infamous new generation fighting their way past their seniors.

That same evening he found himself given away to another person, which was in that moment vastly preferable to being buried underneath the roses. The Goldsmith took his chain and attached the loose end to a new wrist. “Listen well: Obey. Do not run away. Do not contact the outside world in any way. Do not speak to people you are not allowed to speak to. Do not kill yourself. Do not kill anyone else. Do no harm to your master. Do no harm to yourself. Do not take off this chain. Do not destroy this chain.”

The new holder of his chain wasn’t as much of a recluse as the Lady had been. Quite the opposite; he liked to show off his wealth. He had a booming voice that could be heard throughout the entire house when he entertained his guests, whose more adequate volume made them impossible for Izuku to hear. He spent his time in this house locked in a dingy hidden room in the basement, away from any and all potential help.

Not that he expected such help. Most of the people that Mr. Ueda surrounded himself with he suspected to keep a few ‘hires’ of their own. That’s what Ueda called them. In fact, he seemed to be rather involved in the whole business.

It took Izuku a good while of listening at the single small vent that was his cell’s only connection to the outside world to puzzle enough information together to form a picture. Everything was spoken about as casual business dealings. Hires, buyers, long-term client, potential new business partner, interested parties, supply, et cetera. No one would have any reason to suspect foul play.

Mr. Ueda was responsible for marketing and client relationships. It was here Izuku first heard the golden chains explained. “We have an expert for that, of course. Our very own Goldsmith, an incredibly talented fella. Once they’ve worked on something, it’ll hold forever. That is, unless you decide to take it off yourself. There are the commandments, standard procedure, but they can be modified to your specifications if you’d prefer. If you’re interested… Well, those events are highly sought after, I cannot admit anybody, you understand, security reasons and all. But if you insist… Maybe I could get you an invite to our special event on The Playground? It’s dreadfully entertaining, if you are so inclined. It’s like a scavenger hunt, and you get to keep the prizes…”

Ueda was all about entertainment. He lived for it. If something failed to catch his attention he was quick to throw it aside. He especially delighted in making them afraid, luring them in with promises that were nothing but carefully crafted traps, “If only you can do this, I’ll let you have that,” which were nothing more than elaborate pitfalls. There were a lot of other people here. The stock for the next auction, coming and going in a steady stream. He pitted them against each other, a master of manipulation and psychological torture.

But Izuku wasn’t going to fall for it. These people were his stock, his merchandise. Ueda was not the boss, he was merely the person entrusted to keep them here until the next auction, where the buyers would demand them in pristine condition. He couldn’t actually do anything to them. If they were marred, if they had scars or came out this house as shuddering, hysteric shells of people, he wouldn’t be able to make a profit. His Boss wouldn’t be able to make a profit. And Izuku abused that knowledge.

Whatever Ueda expected from Izuku when he’d brought him out for his sick games in the first two weeks, Izuku refused to give in. He played the type to endure anything quietly. It was just a little violence, a few threats. He could deal. He could survive. He’d grit his teeth and bear everything that was thrown at him, because it gave him a certain grim satisfaction. Where Mr. Ueda expected him to cry and beg and despair, he just retreated inside his own mind. On the outside, he looked apathetic, barely present. On the inside, he was seething with hatred.

It was maybe again lucky that Mr. Ueda had his own personal hires working for him, other than the two dozen or so held in his specially made basement. His favourite was a pretty young woman with blonde hair and a quirk that made flowers grow according to her emotions. She was most often the one who had to attend the meetings in the guise of a house maid, and later those nights Izuku would have to carefully evade the deadly nightshade that crept all the way down into the basement together with the sounds of screams and vile laughter.

Sometimes, when he huddled in his corner, he hated himself a little for secretly being glad that it was her up there and not him.

He wasn’t quite sure how long he spent in that house. As he’d deduced early into his stay, Mr. Ueda would toss things aside if they failed to entertain. In his case, that meant that Izuku was occasionally quite simply forgotten.

In the lightless room he could only guess as to how much time passed. The sounds through the vent gave him a little indication. The longer he stayed, the longer the intervals between the door opening became. Sometimes, he’d pass out for a while from hunger or thirst, until a kick woke him or he came to on his own.

One day, the door opened for the first time in what Izuku guessed were four days. Mr. Ueda stood there, wrinkling his nose at the sight and maybe the smell, a woman with a chain in tow that Izuku’d never seen before.

“Ah, this one’s occupied? Goddammit.”

The steel-tipped point of a shoe forced Izuku’s chin from the floor, and he had to blink against the harsh light that spilled in.

“Still alive, eh? Hmmm. I suppose… Still good enough. Ouya! Take that one upstairs and get him presentable for the auction. I need the space.”

And for a third time, The Goldsmith fastened Izuku’s shackles. Izuku couldn’t remember most of that day, he was so exhausted that he’d blink and be in a different place. “Listen well: Obey. Do not run away. Do not contact the outside world in any way. Do not – I said listen well! Do not speak to people you are not allowed to speak to. Do not kill yourself. Do not kill anyone else. Do no harm to your master. Do no harm to yourself. Do not take off this chain. Do not destroy this chain.” This time, he went with a young woman that seemed somehow out of place among the many weighty tycoons, the old elite and the new money.

He never even learned her name, still too weak after being given a little more than a day to recover enough strength to stand on the stage of his own accord. What he learned was that she was a spoiled brat who got money from her daddy without him ever knowing what she spent it on – namely drugs and specimens.

Izuku had briefly wondered why such a seemingly dainty young thing could possibly want to hire. When he was dragged into a basement full of dirty cages and chains, with a wall of various equipment from scalpels to hammers, he found out she was a sadist. Plain and simple.

She’d come downstairs every evening without fail and take out her curiosity on the next thing she could get her hands on. She broke the bones in his right hand. His arm. Cut deep gashes and let them sluggishly bleed until it stopped. Watched the beginnings of an infection. Cleared it out with various chemicals, from bleach to acid, until a huge patch of skin on his upper arm was crusted over or missing altogether.

It was there his carefully cultivated and treasured hope began to glimmer out, barely seven days in. When he saw her kill the man in the cage next to his by slitting his throat, idly watching as he bled out, the only thing Izuku felt was a soft pang of envy for the dead. A longing for peace and quiet and darkness, where he couldn’t be hurt.

But his luck had other ideas. Only two days later, he heard hysteric screams before the door burst open far too early in the day. “-don’t care about that! This is the fifth time this month heroes busted one of your clients! I don’t need that kind of risk! You promised that this kind of thing wouldn’t happen! Just take them!”

Izuku unfurled himself from his cramped sleeping position and stared towards the door, where Mr. Ueda took a sweeping inventory of the room. A slight frown was the only thing that betrayed his distaste. “They are damaged.”

“So? They’re also free. Take them and fuck off.”

Mr. Ueda sighed. “Ouya,” he addressed his assistant, “help me take stock. If they can still be salvaged, we’ll use them for The Playground. Make sure they can run. Call The Butcher or Madam Morte to see if they care for the rest. For a significant discount.”

Izuku could still run. And so he ran. He ran and ran, through the night, hating the stars and the moon and the trees, the sweetness of the air and how beautiful it all was, because he was going to die and the world didn’t care.

He ran until he could no longer, until he cleared the forest and came to a halt at the edge of an outcrop that dropped down into a rocky slope. He let out a single sob as he froze there. He didn’t want to turn around, but after a few moments in which he could only hear the ringing bell of doom in his ears, the tell-tale prickle of a presence behind him crawled up his back. He turned in a fight-or-flight-reflex. Not that he could do either.

Ahead of him a man shrouded in a black cloak emerged between the trunks and underbrush. His lips pulled into a sneer that exposed his glinting teeth, white as the mask that covered the rest of his face. He slowly stalked closer with the patience of a cat that had the mouse backed into the last corner. “Now, what do we have here?”

The delicate golden chain that lay glued to Izuku’s skin in loose loops tingled and itched at the threat. He didn’t dare touch it. Bad enough that it was uncomfortable wherever it connected, from his neck over his collarbones down to his sternum, he knew anything that could be interpreted as an attempt to remove it would result in punishment.

Izuku glanced backwards over his shoulder. It was at least five metres down. He could see over the treetops below.

And his eyes widened when what he saw was shining, bright, undeniable hope.

Here, on The Playground, backed up against a steep decline whose lower half vanished in a tangled forest of bramble, facing a death that was as cruel, slow and torturous as it was inevitable, everything went into sharp focus.

The chilly night air bit at his exposed skin. His right arm throbbed and shivered in sync with his stuttering heartbeat. The stars twinkled merrily against perfect dark blue velvet above. The trees rustled in the breeze, their silhouettes put into stark contrast by the moonlight which painted the leaves silver. Their blossoms yielded petal after petal to the gale, which smelled heavy and sweet with the promise of life to come.

He felt the grass between his bare toes, cool with dew and slick with blood.

And as he dug his toes into that grass to spin on his heel and leap, a loud thunder followed the brilliant explosion currently lighting up the forest like a supernova.

An explosion that he knew would smell of burning sugar and hunting insects and spring creeks, of middle school floor polish and locker rooms and charred cloth and paper, of strength and victory and the insignificant problems of days long past, of ice cream and katsudon and home.

And the tiny, almost extinguished spark of hope in his chest roared towards the skies in pursuit of the orange fire and black smoke ahead as Izuku could only think one thing.

’He’s here.’

Chapter 2

Notes:

I know it says 'Updates weekly' but the first chapter was so short and I also want that 'weekly' to be Friday/Saturday (happy timezones!) so here you go I guess.

“You want me to do what?”

Next to him, Kirishima sighed as he caught Katsuki’s chair before it could topple. On his other side, Kaminari added a tally to the corner of his briefing papers, marking this as the third time this happened. They had been here for five minutes.

“Ground Zero. Please.” Eraserhead shot him a glare that Katsuki recognized as his former teacher reaching the limits of his patience with a particular student. And maybe a little ‘I’ve raised you better than this.’

And because the grumpy old man had, Ground Zero sat back on the chair Red Riot helpfully pushed in, and only glowered a little. “I’m just asking why it has to be me, of all people.”

‘All people’ was a small gathering consisting of him, Red Riot, Chargebolt, Shoto, Ingenium, Earphone Jack, Pinky, Eraserhead, Endeavor and Fat Gum.

The latter, as his de-facto boss, gently reminded him “Because you’ve been selected for this case for the specific reason that you are our best bet in this.”

He crossed his arms. Breathed out slowly. Uncrossed them. “Right.”

It was true – he’d been approached by Aizawa not a week ago with the offer of joining Operation Nightingale. It was a top-secret thing, and since most of his friends worked on the case, he of course knew the basics.

The case concerned a human trafficking ring that’d been operating in the city for close to a decade, without the heroes ever managing to completely bust it. Katsuki had been close to begging to be allowed on the case; he’d always been invested with the missing people cases, ever since… Since.

But no luck. He knew his was a different brand, that he was better suited for more hands-on, straightforward work. He’d occasionally been asked to help in tangentially related issues, mainly by helming raids of suspected hide-outs with his firepower.

There had been more and more cases of missing people in the past three years. Of course there was no way to be sure these were related to the Auriculates, but Katsuki had a hunch they were, and Earphone Jack (who specialised in information gathering these days) more or less confirmed it. So did the intel from the freed victims after the heroes managed to hit a hideout. An occasion that had become increasingly rare.

What he hadn’t known until a week ago was that there was a mole inside the Operation. Someone on the heroes’ side was sneaking information to the ringleaders. Eraserhead’s suspicion. Confirmed by him purposefully delegating false information to their HQ, after which they ‘coincidentally’ managed to catch three slaver owners in two weeks and free five people.

It had been a matter of days afterwards to set up a secret operation within the secret operation – Operation Peregrine – where, now, in their second ever meeting, Bakugou Katsuki had been requested to join the ranks.

He should be honoured. He was. It meant that he was part of the very small circle that had the complete trust of Endeavor, who was helming the operation. Then again, maybe it rather was that the man trusted his own son not to be involved, and then Shouto had vouched for his friends, given that everyone in here was either part of the Squad or their teacher. And Fat Gum was also there.

But now that he’d been told exactly what to do, he wanted to sort of quit. “Infiltrate their ranks,” he repeated.

Endeavor nodded. His look was more serious, more solemn than Katsuki had probably ever seen the man. Katsuki didn’t really have a lot of respect for the guy as a person – not after everything he’d come to know about his family history – but he’d be an idiot to dismiss Endeavor as a hero: Competent, professional, experienced.

And seeing him like that, all glum and with an intensity that made his skin prickle, he realised for the first time how bad the situation must be.

“We know for a fact there is at least one hero in contact with the Auriculates. We have reason to suspect they are a member of the organization rather than a customer, but that doesn’t mean heroes can’t be costumers. It is statistically likely. Your work has been unrelated to Operation Nightingale, and you will stay unrelated to Operation Nightingale. You already have most of the resources needed, and you can handle yourself on your own. Most importantly, you can make it believable.”

Katsuki grimaced at that. He knew his public image was that of a loud-mouth, short-tempered, violence-prone destruction machine that got handsomely paid to demolish buildings indiscriminately. The sledgehammer they called whenever the finer approaches were useless. What his more delusional fans described as a ‘Bad Boy’.

In short, everyone in this room agreed that if Katsuki approached a human trafficking ring with the intention to ‘purchase’, he could make it believable.

The thought made him sick.

But if he was the key needed to bust this thing wide open, he’d do it and he’d do it well. “Alright. How is this gonna go?”

Endeavour tilted his head towards his neighbour. “Eraserhead got information about one of their salesmen. We want you to initiate contact and see if you can’t get him to make you an offer of visiting one of his more special ‘events’.”

Eraserhead nodded and flipped through his notes. “If you’ll look at page seventeen, there’s a profile – most of his day to day business is above the board, but we can’t trace all of his money back to legitimate sources, and Earphone Jack is positive he wears the jewellery.”

One of their high priority targets was whoever made the golden chains that bound the victims to the perpetrators. In theory, it should’ve been easy to look for people with golden bracelets, but part of the quirk made them incredibly hard to notice. The eyes slipped right past. It was most likely a mind-related quirk, but even after delivering samples to tech support for analysis, they remained a mystery. And everyone knew things were dire when Hatsume Mei was stumped.

But the bracelets were substantial, so they could be felt and, in Jirou’s case, heard. Especially when the people were “Wearing multiple of them,” as his colleague briskly informed, twirling her cables around a finger.

“I got you invited to one of his parties,” Shoto continued matter-of-factly. “It’s in three days at five pm, in the Oyna corporation office building. Here are the details.”

Katsuki accepted the paper and skimmed the relevant information – the event was a formal gathering slash charity auction for the upper echelon, and quite a few names on the guest list were familiar to him. He ground his teeth at that.

The unfortunate thing about the whole human trafficking stuff was that the clientele was usually wealthy (not to say obscenely rich) and accordingly famous. Elitists that thought themselves above the law, and their combination of fame, money, relations and power made them incredibly difficult to touch.

There was dirty laundry everywhere, and now he had to go in and find out which of the top percent, the famous and the pop sensations, the heroes, the business magnates, and the politicians, whose affairs and marriages and yachts and scandals and shoe sizes were plastered all over the tabloids and the internet, secretly kept people in their basements.

He was distracted from his rapidly spiralling morbid train of thought by another paper. “And here’s your lesson plan for the next two days. You’ll need to get a suit made, and Aoyama has agreed to give you some lessons on proper conduct, table manners, dancing and the current rumours and gossip. I told him you lost a bet, should he ask.”

On Katsuki’s other side, Kirishima sighed and reached for the chair as Kaminari added another tally mark.

“You want me to learn what?”

~*°*~

And that was how he found himself politely greeting a woman in her late forties. “The pleasure is all mine.”

She laughed, an obnoxious sound that grated on his ears and made the jewellery all over her head jingle like a panicked disco show. “My, aren’t you charming. If only I were a few years younger…” She laughed again.

He forced a smile that he’d now practiced for years and thanked the press for the first time ever for making him do so. “Please, no need for that. I would hate to make an enemy of your company tonight – I’d rather not be kicked out for stealing his date, I hear it’s terribly rude.” ‘Deep breaths and count to ten’, he told himself.

“Why, right you are. Speaking of, Daichi, darling, have you met Ground Zero?”

Finally, this was getting somewhere. Katsuki forced all thoughts not pertaining his mission aside as a man in a charcoal three-piece suit made his approach. Slicked back dark hair, the cutting smile of a business shark, the confidence of someone who owned the place.

Daichi Ueda. “I have not,” the man greeted in a booming voice, thrusting out a hand which Katsuki didn’t hesitate to politely shake. The imagination of simply igniting his palm and blasting the fucker into the carefully stacked pyramid of champagne glasses across the room even wrought a genuine smile from him.

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Ground Zero. Daichi Ueda is my name, although you probably know that by now.” He laughed at his own poor joke. The teller at the auction hadn’t failed to remind everyone whose money they were drinking tonight. “I hope you enjoyed the event so far?”

“I do. Although I have to admit, when my friend warned me of the scale of the whole thing, I thought he was kidding. I’m very impressed.” He waved a hand around the room for emphasis, hoping he didn’t sound sarcastic. Aoyama made him recite lines too often because he thought Katsuki sounded sarcastic. Wanker.

“Oh, a friend?” There was a glimmer of curiosity in Ueda’s eye. “I see. I’m glad people find my auctions so entertaining they recommend them.”

Katsuki’s lip twitched upwards the slightest bit. ‘Hook, line and sinker.’ Thanks to Eraserhead and Earphone Jack’s information, he recognized this for the question it was.

“He recommended your work all right. Although I have to admit, that part was probably exaggerated. Don’t misunderstand me, there were some very nice pieces-“ if one found modern art, antiques and heirlooms of questionable origin nice, sure, “-but it wasn’t quite my style.”

Ueda raised an eyebrow. “Not your style…? If I recall, you did win the bet on that antique gramophone, did you not?”

Katsuki shrugged one shoulder in an attempt at casual indifference. “Well, yes.” The gramophone was old and gaudy and had supposedly been salvaged from the Titanic a few years ago. He’d been ordered to make himself interesting by throwing some money around, and this way he could get a laugh from Jirou by shoving the horrendous thing in her face next meeting. “The betting was fun, and let’s be honest, I came here hoping to spend. I have a friend that will find it quite interesting, I hope.” ‘As in her reaction will be one for the history books,’ he added in his mind.

There was a moment following his explanation where Ueda seized him up. The man’s smile slipped into something dark and foreboding, and his eyes gleamed like a triumphant vulture’s that just spotted a carcass. Katsuki could almost feel the shadows in the room creep closer.

“Very well.” And just like that, the moment was over. “I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for, Mr. Ground Zero… But you must understand, I can’t possibly bring out the genuine articles for an event of this scale. I imagine the competition would turn violent,” he laughed. “But if you want to have a perusal of the more intriguing catalogue, I would be delighted to have you for dinner at my house next week. It’s a smaller gathering, just a few old clients and acquaintances, and we could gladly discuss your particular… tastes.”

It was Katsuki’s achievement of the night to neither throw up nor kill a bitch. “Sounds interesting. I don’t think I have anything better to do.”

~*°*~

On a Saturday afternoon, Katsuki found himself in the luxurious sitting room of Ueda’s residence. Aside from Ueda, there were three seemingly innocuous men Ueda introduced as acquaintances. They were not main priorities, but Katsuki knew they all had combat-suited quirks, and the thorough search for weapons or listening devices he’d had to submit himself to at the entrance was no coincidence either.

Ueda knew what Katsuki was after, and now it was a matter of convincing the man that his being here was entirely of a private nature and would not get back to the Hero Commission HQ.

It was the sixth time they played this game. Six visits in which everything had been harmless, legal, and boring. It was infuriating. He felt like he was wasting time, and although the topic had been circled under thinly veiled allusion repeatedly, there had been no sign of any involvement with human trafficking so far. Nothing definitive - Katsuki’s gut feeling told him they were about to hit the nail on the head.

But it was a good sign that he was here again. He hadn’t brought any listening devices or gear. His goal tonight was indeed what Ueda hoped it would be.

 

“Buy…? Are you insane!”

“Calm down, Bakugou. Aizawa is right. You need to get to these auctions and make it believable. If we can’t figure out who’s helming this operation, it’ll all be for nothing. That’s what ‘undercover’ means. You need to get your shit together and play along.”

 

They had been talking about inane topics for the better part of an hour now. Dinner had been served, pleasantries exchanged, Katsuki was close to bursting with impatience. They all knew why he was here. He knew they knew and they knew he knew they knew.

A young blonde woman entered the room carrying a silver tray with whiskey glasses. She’d been around since his third visit, and had never once uttered a single word. None of the men bat an eye as she expertly worked around the group, placing glasses, collecting the nearly full ash tray and then standing by for a brief moment before Ueda dismissed her with an inclination of his head.

Katsuki had watched her surreptitiously all evening, and he was sure he’d caught a glimpse of gold around her neck when he concentrated hard enough. The chains weren’t as hard to see as the bracelets, but her uniform covered basically every inch of skin that wasn’t her face. He suspected it was to hide bruises.

The conversation fell into a short lull as they toasted each other and sampled the whiskey. Katsuki wasn’t too familiar with the intricacies – it was old people alcohol, tasted weird and was also too pricey – but he hummed his assent as he forced down a sip.

Before the topic could change to something inane again, he chose to finally take a calculated risk. “That maid of yours… She seems very efficient.”

Immediately, he felt all eyes on him, but he leaned back and continued to stare at his glass, like he’d just commented about the weather. It was just a pleasantry. A light compliment.

“She is,” Ueda conceded. “Keeps the entire house in tip-top shape.”

“You wouldn’t mind telling me where you found her? I could use some help like that around my place.”

“Really? Forgive me for saying this, but you didn’t strike me as the type.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “True, I may be used to being self-sufficient - it’s just that work has gotten incredibly demanding, I’m sure you’re familiar. I barely have time for anything else. Maybe I should employ someone for the day-to-day work as well. Having someone around would take off a lot of stress. I’m sure if you knew the state of my house, you’d agree,” he answered lightly.

“Maybe I know just how to help you,” Ueda finally said. “Although…” The man made a show of hesitating, exchanging obvious looks with his cronies. “You must understand, the demand outranks the supply here, and I have so many customers on the waiting lists already… Long-term clients, I’m afraid, and even though I admire your work, I can’t make exceptions.”

Katsuki leaned back into the plush upholstery of the chair. ‘So he’s wary because I’m a hero. Figures. But he wants me as an ally.’ “Of course, I understand. I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“There is, however, an event coming up soon. A competition on The Playground - it’s like a friendly scavenger hunt. My best wares go to the auctions, but every so often there are damaged goods I couldn’t possibly sell in good conscience – I have an image to uphold, after all – and these will be set out in a marked arena. There’s a small permission fee, of course, really just to cover my expenses. Then it’s just a good ol’ game of ‘finders keepers’. If you’re not looking for something specific, and the quality doesn’t bother you, maybe you’d be interested in that? It’s all anonymous, of course.”

Katsuki pondered this, trying not to seem too eager. Here was a chance, however… It wasn’t an auction. It was a fight for the scraps, and he doubted he’d find any high-profile targets there. Then again, Ueda clearly didn’t fully trust him. By signing up for this, Katsuki would, in theory, make himself complicit in the whole thing, especially if he took some ‘goods’ home, which in turn would give Ueda something to use against him, which meant that Katsuki had a better chance of convincing him he was seriously interested in the auctions.

Right now, the man probably expected Katsuki to be hunting for incriminating evidence where Ueda was the target. He didn’t seem to suspect any deeper scheme.

But Katsuki had a blank check that allowed him to take things further than this by a mile. For the greater good, as he had to remind himself whenever the itching in his palms became nearly unbearable.

It wasn’t ideal – it meant the auction was even farther off, time wise. If he participated, he’d easily win something. And that meant his fabricated need for help wouldn’t be a valid reason to push for a ticket to the auction. Maybe if he found something he could reasonably explain being too damaged… He shuddered.

Greater good.

Damn this smarmy bastard and his political schemes.

“That sounds like a challenge. I would be delighted.”

~*°*~

Two weeks later, stumbling through a dark forest in the middle of the night, Katsuki was anything but.

He’d vaguely known what to expect. The Auriculates would release people inside a quirk-secured arena, and after giving them a ten-minute head start, the chasers would follow in a contest to see what they could get.

Katsuki, like everyone else who came to play, wore a simple black cloak with a hood over his head and a white, featureless mask that covered everything but his mouth and chin. The disguise was standard fare and mandatory. Ueda’s clients preferred their anonymity in this arena, and the man was unfortunately very good at what he did.

Their prey – because that was what they were – wore threadbare white linen shirts that shone under the full moon and made hiding difficult, and simple shorts of matching material. They weren’t given shoes, and the chill night air would have them freezing instantly. Maybe this way, they would be forced to come back eventually if they didn’t want to die of hypothermia.

The chase had been on for less than fifteen minutes, and it was already mayhem. He saw one cloaked figure dragging three people behind them towards the exit, seemingly satisfied with their haul already.

Katsuki had come close to snatching someone multiple times as well, but every time, he’d failed at the last moment. One woman had looked back at him with such disgust and fear, he’d been unable to close the last distance, leaving her on the floor where she’d collapsed. The second time, he’d driven someone right into the arms of another chaser, who’d closed their hands around an arm, prompting a golden chain to attach to their wrist. A lost cause.

Then, he’d been running after another when he spotted further golden glows and saw a chaser push his victim to the floor, shredding the white cloth easily. His instinct to help had warred with his mission long enough to lose sight of his target.

Now, he was running in the opposite direction of what he’d just seen, with the disgusting memory crawling all over. As he rounded a copse of beech trees, he saw something glow under the moonlight. Someone was unmoving on the floor in a puddle of blood, eyes vacant. Horrified, he realised the people in here were also being hunted for sport.

He didn’t want to be here anymore. Everything was wrong, he was surrounded by monsters he couldn’t fight and victims he couldn’t help, because his mission was to destroy the root of the problem. He gritted his teeth and ran on, following the sound of footsteps on leaves. There was a white shirt ahead of him, weaving through the trees, and this time he was determined to catch someone. Whoever it was. He could help that one person. And that had to count for something.

Ahead of him, the forest gave way to a small meadow. As his target dashed across he saw a shadow move perpendicular to their path, closing in. He immediately deduced some kind of speed quirk, and he knew he would not be able to catch up.

Fighting against other chasers was strictly forbidden. One of very few rules in this game.

“Fuck!” he hissed under his breath. He still didn’t have any gear. It was also forbidden, and he would’ve given his identity away in an instant to boot. Still, he aimed, and prayed he’d worked up enough of a sweat to cover the distance.

An explosion engulfed almost the entire clearing. He heard a few trees splinter and fall, and the oak ahead of him was reduced to smouldering kindling as he ‘missed’ the fleeing target. Nothing really caught fire, the dew made it too wet, thankfully. The cloaked figure skidded to a stop and hissed a “Watch out, you fucking idiot!” before they cursed again. “Fuck!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t see you there,” Katsuki answered, drawing attention away from a white shirt that hurried into the shadows.

The figure glared, probably contemplating, before simply vanishing without another word.

Katsuki took a moment to turn around and get his bearings again. The noise and light had surely alerted everyone in the entire arena to his location, so he’d better cover some distance. To his left the underbrush thickened, and he could see a steep incline maybe fifty metres ahead. He ruled that path out. The direction he’d come from was swarming with chasers, and he wasn’t too keen on following the small stream on his right into the muddy, squelching facsimile of a swamp. Which left the way ahead, through the barricade of the trees he’d destroyed.

There was shouting coming faintly from all directions – panicked screams, triumphant exclamations, barked orders. He sighed and was about to move on in his search when something made him stop, a faint whisper on the wind.

He cocked his head and listened, heart racing, before he caught himself and shook his head. No way. It was impossible; no one used that name for him anymore. He’d misheard, and the sound didn’t repeat over the slowly cracking embers and rustling leaves.

Very loud leaves. And that cracking wasn’t from his fire. When he whirled around to face the source of the noise, he already expected a person to come breaking through the thorns and bushes to the left. He was slightly perplexed they’d willingly brave that thicket, but there were desperate people in here.

He was however caught a tiny bit off-guard when that person did not hesitate in the slightest to throw themselves straight at Katsuki. In any other situation he’d have gone on an offensive defence already, but the white shirt and a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Uravity’s scolding ‘Watch out for the civilians, for fuck’s sake’ stopped him from blasting that ballsy fucker right into oblivion.

He couldn’t even blame them for not giving him a wide berth like people usually did, Katsuki was in disguise after all. Although the explosion should have been a warning sign to anyone, regardless of his being a Top Thirty Hero or not.

That split-second hesitation was all the stranger needed. They barrelled into him, sending him stumbling a single step backwards to keep balance. He felt cold, wiry arms wrap around his right bicep in a full hug as the person pressed themselves bodily against his side, face smushed against Katsuki’s shoulder.

He found himself glancing down at a mop of dark hair when a cold sensation encircled his hand. Looking down past the hair, he could see a golden chain unfurl itself from the person’s neck like a snake. It curled a loop around his wrist, glowed briefly golden, and then the connecting links vanished into thin air, leaving him with a bracelet and the other guy – he registered it was a guy – with a short necklace that was more a choker. ‘Or a collar,’ his mind helpfully supplied.

In the two seconds it took for all this to transpire, he’d picked up the sound of something else approaching from the same direction. He looked between the guy on his arm and the edge of the forest, then shook his arm slightly. “What the fuck? Let go!” he hissed, trying to get that, that… koala off him.

It seemed to work, the grip tightened for a moment before the person began to sway, knees buckling. “-chan-“ they rasped out. Or at least that was what Katsuki understood. The guy didn’t seem very lucid as his grip slackened and he slid to the ground. Katsuki had the mind to grab an arm in return, keeping the nuisance from faceplanting into the ash and debris around them. It was here he absently registered that the right arm was completely covered bandages. It looked off. Thankfully the other arm, which he had a solid grip on, was fine at a glance.

There was no time to ponder this as a black-clad figure emerged from the pre-trodden path of Katsuki’s new acquaintance. They slowed from a semi-run to a walk as they took in the scene, which was why Katsuki refrained from blasting again. This time, he kept his palm up in warning. Something about this guy irked him.

“Ah, it seems I have some rotten luck today,” the man sighed, clearly displeased as he stared at the limp figure next to Katsuki. “I’ve had my eye on that one during the last auction, just ten days ago. Imagine my surprise when he turns up here.” He eyed Katsuki speculatively. “I don’t imagine I could take him off your hands for some money…?”

Warning sirens blared in Katsuki’s head, and he steadied his stance under the guise of shifting his weight in a thinking manner. “I’m not interested in money right now. Besides, finders keepers, wasn’t it?”

The man lifted his hands in a shrug. “Well, right you are. Rules are rules. Should you ever change your mind, let the Auctioneer know. The offer stands.” With that, the man turned and walked off, whistling a little tune.

Katsuki stared after him with narrow eyes until he was sure he was gone. “Great. Fucking great.”

He glanced down at the ragdolling person he still held up, and finally lowered them onto the grass to take a proper look. He immediately noticed what Ueda had meant by ‘damaged goods’. He had injuries all over him, too many to count, standing out starkly against white cloth and pale skin. There was a lot of fresh blood on the dude’s legs, which didn’t particularly surprise him, since they were bare from the mid-thigh down and he had just come out of a bramble forest. There were countless scrapes, cuts, bruises and some bigger lacerations, likely self-inflicted on the run.

Even through the baggy shirt he could tell that this person was malnourished. Their full-body tackle had hardly swayed him, and holding him up earlier felt like holding an average bag of groceries. He could see the thin chest lifting with short, laboured breaths.

Then there was the arm. It was completely wrapped in bandages, and someone had done a shoddy job about it. They were dirty, littered with twigs and bits of dried leaves and brush. Discolouration seeped through from underneath in various places, worst of all on the upper arm. There were also clearly broken bones. Taking a second look, he came to the conclusion that there weren’t any unbroken bones. Each finger was crooked in a different direction.

And the smell. It reeked of infection, the sort of stench that made him gag just imagining the source. Katsuki grimaced at the idea of having to carry that all the way back home. He would need Aizawa to drag up someone with a healing quirk ASAP.

With a final sigh, Katsuki grabbed the guy by the chin and turned his head so he could associate a face with his new roommate.

Wonder-annoyance-confusion-hope.

He blinked against the rush of sudden deja-vu. A weird emotion coursed through his blood at the sight of that face, but he couldn’t quite puzzle out why. His heart beat a little faster for no reason. The face looked familiar somehow. Had he seen the guy’s profile sometime? Had he been in the newspaper when he went missing?

He was out cold, eyelids fluttering lightly but otherwise relaxed. The hair was unkempt and too long, falling in dark waves to the ground like a halo. Again, the malnourishment was visible, joined by the tell-tale pallor of dehydration, although it could probably be worse, on second glance. He wasn’t too sure if the dark circles under the eyes were from stress and sleep deprivation or if it was grime.

Tiny specks of dirt littered the young man’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose. They stood out starkly against the pale skin.

Katsuki wiped his hand over the damp grass and used the moisture to clear a stripe across one cheek. His thumb came away dark with earth and whatnot, but the dirty specks stubbornly remained. If anything, they now stood out more.

He frowned at them, gaze darting from one speck to the next. His eyes immediately jumped to the biggest one on the left cheek, the one in the centre of three semi-straight lines that formed a sideways ‘Y’. His gaze was drawn to it because ‘Look, Kacchan! Mom says this one looks exactly like Ta-rus. She says that’s your zomdis- zocy- Your star symbol!’

For a second, he fought against the solid brick wall of denial. This couldn’t be. It was impossible. This was some sick joke of the universe.

A faint ringing noise started up in Katsuki’s ears as he struggled to breathe, drowning out any other sounds. All at once his heart slammed against his ribcage and forced all air from his lungs. He looked again, and again, he traced that pattern with a finger, but it would not go away.

It was there. It was real. It was the same as the last time he’d seen it, save for the faint scar on the bridge of his nose, which crossed out the last dot of the upper line.

It felt like suddenly seeing through an optical illusion and wondering why it had taken so long to figure out. Yes, he was older, but it was still him. The hair looked dark with how unkempt it was, but there was that familiar green glinting in the firelight. If he would just open his eyes-

A nearby scream made his head shoot up. He looked around, but couldn’t find the source. It did however remind him of reality. This place was not safe. He needed to leave, and he needed to leave now. He’d technically gotten what he came here for. More than that.

He stood abruptly, gingerly picking up the figure at his feet as he made his way towards the exit of The Playground at a brisk pace. He avoided people where he could, suddenly haunted by an irrational fear of being stopped by someone, by someone looking through his ruse, by someone trying to take him away again…

Thankfully there were barely any people at the entrance, and he suspected the chase was still in full swing. Mr. Ueda stood at the gate together with uniformed guards, smiling as he spotted Katsuki approach. As the Auctioneer he wore a blue mask, but his business shark grin and booming voice were a dead giveaway. “I see you’ve been successful, sir! Congratulations. But it has come to my attention that another client was interested in this particular item, and in the name of conflict resolution, I have to inquire if maybe you’d be amenable to a trade…?”

“No,” Katsuki snarled, temper flaring. “This one’s mine.”

Ueda at least had the good grace and common sense to shut his mouth immediately. “Of course. If you need anything else…?”

“I’ll know where to find you,” he replied, voice flat. There was no telling if it was a threat or a curt goodbye.

He couldn’t exactly recall how he’d gotten there, but when the ringing noise in his ears died down to be replaced with his erratic heartbeat, he was in the car, driving along the highway towards his home. A glance into the rear-view mirror confirmed that it hadn’t been a weird dream or a hallucination.

The night raced by in a swirl of coloured lights, and Katsuki couldn’t think. He didn’t understand, he couldn’t comprehend.

Mechanically, he dialled Aizawa as he belatedly remembered direct orders to check in immediately after leaving the event. Well, better late than never.

“Ground Zero.”

“Hi, teach. Eraserhead. I’m driving – I’m on the way home, I’ll be there. Soon.”

“Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine, yes. No. Fuck! I need- look, I’ll be there in around half an hour. I need some medics there. Or at least Recovery Girl. I don’t know, just fucking send somebody.”

“Are you injured?”

“I’m fine. Not a scratch. But -” His throat convulsed around the name and he bit off the sentence in a pained sound. He hoped it was too quiet for his mic to catch.

There was a brief pause. “I take it you have company, then. How bad?”

“He was conscious and running just a while ago. A lot of scratches and bruises. Malnourished. His arm… It’s bad. Broken multiple times. And infected. I’m worried about the infection.” He rattled the facts down on autopilot.

“You’re positive you’re not being followed?”

He glanced towards the mirrors at that. There were a few cars around, but he was leaving them all behind rather quickly. “Not that I can see.” A brief look to a hastily implanted device on his dashboard showed green lights. “And Mei’s thing doesn’t pick up any trackers.”

“Okay. I’ll have someone meet you at the house. We’ll debrief tomorrow at 1600. And Bakugou?”

His hand already hovered over the red button. “Yes?”

“Your friends would like you to know that they’ll be available anytime if you need help with any of this. As am I.”

He ended the call without reply.

By now, he was nearing his destination and slowed to a stop at a red light. Katsuki used this opportunity to twist around and stare again at the person stretched out across the backseat. “What the fuck,” he muttered.

There was no doubt. He knew these freckles, each and every single one, as if they were his own.

He saw the light change from red to green out of the corner of his eye and drove on. There were too many things going on inside his mind. Thoughts chased each other in never-ending circles. Everything he thought he knew was turned upside down, uprooted by this unexpected and apparently not impossible turn of events.

His entire life of the past four years was blown away and scattered on the winds. It felt like he’d just been presented scientific evidence that the earth was indeed flat.

There just wasn’t any time. Not right now. He had hundreds, thousands of questions, and the answer to them lay half a metre away, in touching distance yet unreachable in sleep.

Katsuki was a trained hero. He hadn’t become one of the very best by losing his mind over things he couldn’t change. So he sealed the maelstrom inside his mind, tucking it away one question after the other, until he unravelled a threat he could actually work with. First things first. “And here I thought I’d seen the last of you. Tch. Should’ve known better.”

He blinked against the blurriness of the lights ahead until they returned into focus. “The hell, Izuku?”

Notes:

And thus concludes the prologue! Next week they're actually gonna meet!

Chapter 3

The darkness was reluctant to let him go again. And Izuku was inclined to agree. He was aware, although he didn’t know what he was aware of. There was no immediate pain. No one was shouting or screaming. He couldn’t feel any compulsion from his chain to get up and do something.

He tried to reach for the darkness again. He wanted to pull it back, curl it around himself like a blanket and go back to that place without time. But the darkness was skittish, and as soon as he touched it, it dissolved, tossing senses and awareness at his feet.

Izuku sighed deeply, inhaling the cool air of a big, clean room and the scent of burnt caramel-

He shot upright in an instant.

…Why was he able to do that?

Chain, there. Arm, bandaged. Close to no pain. Clothes dry and clean, if not his. A cannula was taped into the crook of his elbow on the left side, although the IV stand by the bed was not connected at the moment.

He had no idea where he was. Well, he was obviously in a bed, which was situated in a bedroom. His mind kicked into overdrive as he glanced around.

The king-size bed sat in a corner. Sunlight filtered through two windows on the wall to his right. The shades were halfway drawn, but he suspected it to be past noon. On the opposite wall stood a big half-open wardrobe. He saw shirts sorted by colour and hung in orderly rows along with matching trousers. A few articles were littered across the floor in a vague line leading to a hamper. He could see a few shelves as well, full of little trinkets and knick-knacks – mostly hero merchandise. A chair stood by the bed, and the floor surrounding it was littered with stacks of papers and open folders. In the far corner, he could make out two somewhat spherical objects which he immediately recognized via silhouette alone. He knew they would be green in the light and designed to resemble grenades, and they had the potential to blow up an entire house.

This room he’d never seen before evoked such a sense of déjà-vu, an unfamiliar familiarity, that he needed no further confirmation. Yet he grabbed the pillow and hugged it to his chest as he sat there cross-legged, taking in the details of the space without really seeing.

He inhaled cautiously, and there it was. Underneath laundry detergent, cologne and shampoo, he caught a whiff of something sweet and sharp. Instantly he was four again, running across a playground, he was seven, wondering what he’d done wrong, he was nine, twelve, sixteen, a life he could only vaguely remember as if it had been lived decades ago.

So last night had happened.

He remembered being hunted. He remembered the cliff, the explosion, how he’d jumped and tumbled down the rocky slope. How not even the thorns could stop him getting up and sprinting on, heedless of the many small injuries he tallied up in the process. He remembered screaming into the dark, a desperate ‘Kacchan!’ that came out croaky and hoarse with how unused his voice was.

He remembered the meadow, blasted beyond recognition. And he remembered seeing another person standing in the middle of it, facing him. He’d been cloaked and masked, but Izuku had recognized him immediately.

The way he stood, slightly crouched forward as if he wanted to leap any moment. The way he held his hands facing up and outwards, fingers bent into a claw-like shape, ready to blast. The way his shoulders tensed when he braced for recoil.

It was clear as day to him. And so he hadn’t hesitated to rush forward, desperate to touch, and his chain had reacted and glowed and tethered him to that person, a lifeline that promised him everything.

Now, sitting here and analysing his circumstances in a calmer and less life-threatening environment, Izuku found that he had questions. There were also a few glaringly obvious logical problems.

The biggest one being: Why had Kacchan been there?

He couldn’t help it as his mind immediately went to cracking this new, peculiar puzzle, but his parched throat silently begged him to find water, and his arm started throbbing with a dull ache, and was there a toilet somewhere around?

With a sigh he unfurled himself so he could swing his feet over the edge of the mattress. When he gingerly touched down on the cool hardwood floor, he felt a suspicious lack of pain. He rubbed the sole of one foot against the ankle of his other leg and found only smooth skin.

Curious, he pulled the grey sweatpants up to his mid-calf – no injuries there either. Nor could he see anything out of the ordinary when he glanced down into the wide shirt someone put on him. How was this possible? He’d thought he was on some really good painkillers, but instead his injuries seemed to have miraculously healed overnight. There wasn’t a single bruise in sight.

He couldn’t have been out that long, right? No, the alarm clock on the bedside table said it was still April, which tracked with his own guesstimation of the date.

Well, he’d take it. The ache of sore muscles remained as the only reminder of last night’s hunt. He padded over to the door on silent feet and tried the handle.

The door swung open soundlessly under his touch, and he wasn’t sure whether that surprised him or not. Peeking out, he could see that he was at the end of a short hallway that seemed to connect to a living room ahead. The hardwood floor glinted like warm honey in the sun. Two closed doors sat opposite each other a bit ahead.

He tried them both and found a small, cluttered room that served as a sort of broom closet/storage on the right, and a neat and organized office on the left.

When he peeked into the living room he found it empty as well, but he could hear a voice coming from a room on the left, past a dining table for six, where a door was wide open and showed a kitchen. “-doesn’t strike me as the type, honestly. I know you’ve had- Shitty Hair, I know you’ve had that before, do you take me for an idiot? Stay on the fucking topic.”

Izuku froze on silent feet halfway across the room, between the table and the fancy, U-shaped and frankly giant sofa that seemed perfect for party games and gatherings.

He knew that voice, even if he remembered it slightly different – not as deep, maybe – and he knew this way of speaking, the cadences and the pacing and everything that went with it. He didn’t need to see to know which gestures went along with the words.

After a brief silence, he heard some hummed noises of noncommittal assent, and Izuku slowly withdrew and went for the other door instead. It was the entry hallway, marked as such by the front door that sat tauntingly at the end, only a few steps ahead.

Not that it did him much good. The commandments forbade him from leaving, so it might as well have been another brick wall. In a cave. Under the ocean. Boss key required. For lack of other options, he went for one of the remaining two doors and was relieved to finally find the bathroom.

He shot a longing glance towards the luxurious shower in one and the equally luxurious… bathtub? Hot tub? in the other corner. Most of the dirt may have vanished mysteriously, but that didn’t help how grimy he still felt. Especially his hair. It was too long, and when he pushed his good hand through it experimentally, he felt knots and grease. Ew.

But he didn’t know if it was okay for him to shower, or if he was even supposed to be here, and with his bandaged arm he didn’t know if it was a good idea in the first place. So he settled for finishing his business and studiously avoided looking in the mirror as he struggled to wash his one unbandaged hand.

He fiddled with the temperature, he struggled with the soap, he took his sweet time drying off, and then he took a long drink straight from the tap, but in the end, he knew it was futile. He’d have to go out and talk to him.

With a sigh, he straightened and faced the inevitable. It was quite ironic: Last night, he couldn’t get there fast enough. And now, he was more than willing to run again, if only to avoid having any conversation. He wasn’t even sure why he was afraid.

There was no way around it, he would have to talk to Kacchan eventually, and he’d rather do it in a way that wouldn’t end in Kacchan yelling at him.

Or he could hide in this bathroom forever. There was a lock on it.

Yeah, as if. If Kacchan had to break the door down, he’d be mad for sure. Izuku cursed his inability to just leave and never come back.

He could try and sneak back into the bedroom, make it look like he hadn’t woken up in the first place. He sure felt exhausted enough to go back to sleep. Just standing here had his legs trembling like he was a new-born fawn.

That would buy him a day. Maybe two. Was it possible to fake a coma?

He shook his head, as if to dislodge the idea. No. That wouldn’t help anyone.

Izuku knew Kacchan despised people trying to dodge their responsibilities. ‘Lazy or a coward,’ he remembered.

No, there really was no way around it. With anxiety churning in his gut, he carefully opened the door and peeked out. There was no movement, but unfortunately no sound either. That phone call was likely finished. Meaning Izuku was about to be discovered.

‘Just get it over with,’ he told himself. It was still just Kacchan. What was the worst that could possibly happen? The last time Izuku talked with him, nine weeks before… everything happened, they’d even managed to be sort of civil. Granted, Izuku had mostly used the opportunity to politely compliment Kacchan for his second win at the sports festival, and Kacchan, being a person who enjoyed praise like a cat enjoyed that beam of sunlight through the window, had the good grace to acknowledge it with a ‘Of fucking course I won.’

Not the best conversation, but the distinct lack of insults and/or explosions marked it a solid 6/10. Izuku directed his eyes downward, tracing the pattern on the wood as he walked through the hall, watching his feet eat up the distance in only four steps until the lighting changed. Here he paused, a sudden prickle on his skin notifying him of another person.

Kacchan had evidently noticed Izuku was awake and about, because he waited in the living room, pacing tight circles around the edge of the rug. He stopped and froze, straightening up. Crossing his arms.

They stared at each other for a moment.

Kacchan was the same, but so different. He’d grown taller, for one. A lot. His height was balanced out by broad shoulders, and Izuku appreciated the choice of sleeveless shirt. Holy shit. Small silvery scars littered both arms, mostly little burns from sparks and the occasional darker pink line received from threats he faced in place of those who couldn’t fight for themselves. A Hero.

He flicked his eyes down and noted the heavy-duty trousers and the combat boots – was Kacchan ready to head out? - before his gaze snagged briefly on a golden bracelet on the right hand. He acted like he hadn’t seen it and instead wondered how Kacchan managed to keep the same hairstyle but now made it look artistic instead of merely explosive.

He looked good. There was an aura of strength and competence around him, the self-assured sort that would tempt people to flock towards him if it weren’t for the also present sense of ‘danger’ keeping them at bay. Same old, then.

He stared right back at Izuku, analysing as well. His lips were pressed firmly together and his ruby eyes were a fraction wider than their usual glare. It was the expression Izuku remembered directed at the chalkboard in school, whenever Kacchan saw something he didn’t understand.

It was a little amusing to be the one at the receiving end of that look. And intense. Izuku let his own gaze drop again, left hand coming up to pick at the bandages.

“You know you’re supposed to leave these in place?” came the question immediately. It was weird, Izuku knew Kacchan meant to sound sarcastic and unbothered, but the tone was very far off from that.

Izuku stilled. Dropped his hands.

“So,” Kacchan said. “We should probably, y’know…” He trailed off into silence.

Izuku wished this house was bigger. “So,” he parroted, and immediately winced at the sound of his own voice. He sounded like a croaking toad. A hoarse, sick, three-hundred year old croaking toad that had speech issues. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “So,” he tried again, “let’s just get this over with.”

“Right.” Kacchan kept standing where he was. He seemed… With anybody else, Izuku would’ve used the word ‘insecure’, but he was pretty sure Kacchan was immune to that. It was more like he was holding back – probably doing his best to keep this conversation civil, for whatever reason.

“Why am I here?” he asked when Kacchan didn’t say anything else.

The other opened his mouth. Closed it. Paced back and forth a few steps. “It’s complicated. Mainly, we can’t remove the chain without running the risk of… killing you. Second, I’m… I was send on… Fuck, I’m legally not allowed to tell you this- It’s… Okay. First things first. Right. So, this is my house.”

No fucking shit. Couldn’t they just… skip this whole part and get to the end?

“We brought you here after… after The Playground. How are you feeling? Do you need anything? You were awake for a minute earlier; do you remember that? What-“

“Yes I figured out where we are already, thank you for stating the obvious. No, I don’t remember.” God, why did Kacchan have to be like that? “I’m fine, given that I’m not a corpse right now, and I don’t need anything aside from the knowledge as to what is going on, preferably summarised, so we can go back to doing what we were doing.” He took a step backwards until he felt the solid presence of a wall at his back.

“You’re not dead.” Judging by the shocked look, Kacchan had surprised them both with that statement.

“I’m not,” he conceded. “I suppose I should say ‘Thank you’.”

Izuku tried not to dwell on this. So that was what people thought about his disappearance. They’d thought him dead. Why? Had there been any evidence? Or was it a byproduct of the long time he’d been gone? Had they given up on him?

They had. Oh god, they had given up on him. If he was dead, there was no point searching. All this time, no one… No one had been searching. It was his darkest fear come to life. The one hope he’d always clung to, shattered.

‘Focus’ he told himself. Deep breaths. He’d feared this, but it wasn’t unrealistic. He’d been gone too long. And in the end, searching or not, they had found him. Or rather, Izuku found them. And now he had a new, far more substantial hope. One that scowled right back at him.

“It was a close call. Recovery Girl said that infection was about to off you. I’ve never heard her curse like that.” Kacchan glanced at the bandaged arm. “She’s gonna come by again to take a look now that you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“That’s not a real answer.”

Izuku moved the arm experimentally. The faint throbbing was still there, but the fact he could move it was a miracle. “Okay. Better than I thought possible,” he answered carefully.

“Good. That’s… good.” Kacchan scratched the back of his head and stared intently at his own rug as if seeing it for the first time. It was light grey and very fluffy.

Izuku rolled his eyes and wondered when they’d get onto the important topics. Or if they were getting there at all. He wanted to be done with this.

Apparently, Kacchan was on a similar train of thought. He sighed with the weight of someone who carried an unwanted responsibility and finally let his arms drop. “Okay. We need to talk. I’m going to make us something to drink. Is tea alright?”

“Sure.”

“Be right back then. Sit.”

Izuku watched him vanish into the kitchen as he did just that. He listened to the bustling with amused indignation – the entire situation was so weird, so big, everything was happening all at once. It was kinda weird, wasn’t it? Funny how things turned out.

After a short while, Kacchan returned, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs and an assortment of foods. “I only had black tea left, I hope that’s okay with what are you doing?”

Izuku glanced up from his spot on the rug. He hooked a finger around his necklace and raised it together with an eyebrow, “You told me to sit.” He didn’t know why this was funny. This shouldn’t be funny.

The look on Kacchan’s face was priceless. “Yes, but not on the floor!”

“You didn’t specify.” He watched intently as Kacchan went through the mind-gymnastics of realization as to what exactly it was the gold on both their persons meant. And if he felt a bit of relief when the other’s expression settled on horror rather than manic glee, well, he didn’t show it.

“This is going to be a fucking issue, isn’t it. Fuck!” he shouted, and then glanced swiftly back at Izuku. “Fuck,” he repeated quietly. “How do I…?” he gestured vaguely at him with the tray.

“You can just tell me all previous commands are cancelled or something.”

“Alright. Uh, all previous commands are cancelled. Just… decide for yourself.”

That tiny, mindlessly tacked on ‘decide for yourself’ was what nearly undid him. Something inside his chest lurched at the mere idea. And Kacchan had thrown it out there like an afterthought, like it didn’t mean nearly unlimited possibilities.

“…Was that not the right thing?”

Izuku realised he’d been staring and quickly shook his head. “No, no that’s… that’s perfect.” Anything to stop Kacchan from uttering a new command to overwrite this one. “Thank you.”

“It’s fine. Not for that.”

He got up and sat at the table, noticing the faint stains from glasses and a bunch of place mats still set out. So apparently Kacchan had lots of people over recently. Izuku was glad. He remembered when they were fifteen, just fresh into their respective high schools, how Kacchan had some trouble in making new friends. He’d seen the footage from the sports festival, where he and Todoroki Shouto insulted each other until they both literally exploded.

“Here.” Kacchan put the tray down and began to set out small plates between them. Fruit, toast with jam, pancakes and a bowl of steaming miso soup. “I figured you might be hungry.”

Looking at the food, Izuku knew he probably should be. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate anything – before The Playground, they’d injected him with some fluids that would keep him going for a while, but that was it. The sight and smell of so much food actually made his stomach revolt at the mere thought.

But he also knew this was a thing that would get worse the longer he went without eating. And Kacchan had gone through all this trouble. It wouldn’t do to be rude. Hesitantly, he picked up the bowl of soup and took a small sip, trying to taste as little as possible. If he told himself it was just water, he wouldn’t get sick. He drank water just five minutes ago. There.

He put the bowl down and opened his eyes to find Kacchan watching him like a hawk.

“Um… It’s good,” he offered politely. It was good soup. A light flavour.

“Of course it is, I made that. And here.” He shoved a saucer towards him. Four little pills rolled with the movement.

Izuku eyed them, making no move to reach out. “What are they?”

Kacchan leaned a little over the table to get a look. “Let’s see, antibiotics, pain killers, and these are just some supplements. You’re supposed to take them with food.”

They were perfectly harmless, then. Still. What if Kacchan was lying. (Not that he would. There was no reason. But still. What if? What if it was like that one time just a few days ago in that dark basement where she’d shoved the powder down his throat and he could feel his body stop obeying and there was nothing he could do and everything was hazy and weird and bad and the colours moved and he would have to watch from inside his own head how she dragged someone else across the floor and left a trail of hot blood and it was so hot why was it so hot-)

“-said stop!” The command in Kacchan’s shout registered against his will, and Izuku felt himself thrust into a bubble of calmness that wasn’t his own, but welcome all the same. His hands came down from where he’d clutched his own arms. The injured one hurt, pain bursting up in little sparks as he carefully relaxed his fingers one by one.

Izuku stared across the table.

Kacchan was half out of his seat, one hand outstretched in his direction, eyes wide. “What was that?”

He could lie. Izuku ducked his head, embarrassment flooding through him. “Sorry. I just don’t like pills.”

After staring a bit longer, Kacchan sat back down slowly. “Okay.” He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes. “Okay. That’s… fine. Actually, it’s not. Do you think you could – just the antibiotics? They’re really important.”

Izuku eyed the flat white pill. If Kacchan insisted he take it, there was no way in hell Izuku would get around it. And Kacchan had asked so nicely. Better to just get it over with than to wait for a command to take over his body and do it for him.

Before he could think better of it, he picked it up, dropped it into a bit of jam and took another bite of pancake, swallowing without chewing. There. “Can I leave the rest?”

Kacchan just nodded, bewildered. No, analysing. Looking at Izuku as if he was a case.

He was a case, he realised. That was why he was here. That was exactly what was happening, there was no other explanation.

“You freaked out about the IV earlier, too. You’re not as dehydrated anymore, so I think it’s fine. Just remember to drink enough, I guess.”

Izuku nodded obediently. He felt parched anyway. Like a dried sponge. He’d felt that cool rush when he drank the water, how his organs practically soaked up the liquid. “Okay.”

“Look.” Kacchan put his clasped hands on the table. “I’m supposed to go to work-” he checked his watch, an expensive looking thing, “-in forty minutes. And I was told I could take the day off, considering the circumstances, but it’s important right now, so…” he trailed off, leaving the ‘I need to know what the fuck the deal is with you here before I make that decision.

“Don’t stay behind on my behalf. I’m fine.” And if Kacchan left, this whole awkward situation would be postponed until evening. “What info do you need? Are you after people or places?”

“Ha?”

Izuku put down the pancake he’d been nibbling on, secretly glad for the excuse to stop. He quickly went through the information he had inside his head and pulled up the most important threads. “Look. We can’t talk around it forever. As of last night, I am your new hire. You probably want as much information as you can possibly get from me, and I’d bet whoever is your boss in this mission is gagging for a new lead. I’ll gladly tell you what I know, not that I have a choice, but forty minutes isn’t much and I need to know where to start.”

Izuku noted with a little bit of pride that he’d stunned Kacchan into silence with words alone for maybe the first time ever.

The shock was quickly overcome by suspicion, and finally Izuku could see a glimmer of that good old temper flare up. “How do you even know about this?”

“It wasn’t that hard, calm down. I’m not a set-up for you, but thank you for confirming my theory.” He lifted a finger of his good hand and started to count. His head felt light, as if he was floating alongside himself. “First off, I find it highly unlikely that you’d go to something like The Playground of your own volition. And yet you were there, participating.”

“Secondly, since I am here now and not in a hospital, wearing this,” he motioned to the necklace, “I’m guessing it’s imperative you maintain a cover of some sort, which means people can’t technically know about me. I heard that there’ve been more arrests of clients in the recent months, so there has to be a division investigating the Auriculates. The Playground is still standing, mostly that is, so it obviously wasn’t a bust. The next logical explanation is that you’ve been sent to investigate undercover. If you ‘have to be’ at work, it means you have someone that’ll be cross if you fail to show on time, which has to be your boss, because you probably don’t give a shit what your coworkers think. And that boss sent you there to go and find out who’s behind all this, with the hope that I would be able to provide inside information. Am I wrong?”

Kacchan regarded him with an expression Izuku couldn’t quite read. Exasperated, maybe?

“And what if I was really just there to see what I could get?”

Izuku did consider that possibility. He would’ve been a fool not to. “Yeah, as if.” He took another sip of the tea.

“It’s not impossible.” Kacchan crossed his arms. It was like they were in middle school again, with Kacchan being contrary for the sake of having the last word.

He rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “You wouldn’t have made sure I got medical attention when it could’ve put you at risk for uncomfortable questions, you have no idea how any of this works-” again a motion to the chain, “and you’re trying your hardest not to find out. And let’s be real, if you’d tried to play seriously last night, you could’ve walked out there after two minutes with any number of hires. And that’s all beside the fact you’re the last person on this earth that would voluntarily get involved with something like the Auriculates.”

There was a long pause after his little speech. Kacchan stared at him, to the point it was starting to get actually uncomfortable. Eventually he said, “Not last night.”

“Hm?”

Kacchan carded a hand through his hair. “That was two days ago. You’ve been out for a while.”

“Oh.”

“And what were you doing?” he bristled. “You just threw yourself at me first chance! What if’d been some, some…”

“I knew it was you.”

“No you didn’t. I was wearing the cloak and the mask-”

“Oh come off it. You exploded half a forest, that was a pretty tell-tale sign. These explosions are all over TV at least once a week. I’d be surprised if anyone didn’t know you were there, after that. You stand out like a sore thumb on any battlefield, disguise or no.”

The other opened his mouth to gear up for a retort, and finally, they’d drop this awkward dance – but then Kacchan deflated. “I did that, didn’t I. Aizawa will tear me a new one.” He looked genuinely concerned about the prospect.

“It could work in your favour. The Auriculates gossip like fish-wives. If anything they’ll be wondering what you were doing there. Maybe some are even gonna approach you. They go batshit whenever there’s a new celebrity in the ranks. Besides, it’s not like they can get you into trouble. What are they gonna say? ‘I saw Ground Zero on The Playground?’ Honey, what were you doing on The Playground? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“What about you? Why where you there?”

The question settled heavily between them. Izuku took another bite of pancake and chewed slowly. “What do you think? Long story. Weren’t you going to ask about the Auriculates?”

“You were gone for four years-”

“Can we just not?” he interrupted. “Can we please just not?” He didn’t want to talk about it. He hadn’t felt like a person in so long. He just wanted to enjoy his breakfast.

Kacchan looked like he wanted to argue. Was this it, was this were they’d drag up each and every little detail, make him go through it all again? Like he was a specimen to be dissected?

“Okay. Just… do you need anything? Right now? Or is there anything I need to know?” Kacchan’s almost gentle tone was so at odds with everything Izuku knew about him, he forgot what they were even talking about for a moment.

“Um… No. No, I don’t think so? I can tell you a lot about the Auriculates…” he offered again, hoping they’d just change the topic. “Depending on what you need to know.”

Kacchan gave another displeased look towards the time. “Yes, we’re - I don’t know how much I can tell you.”

“Like I could tell it to anyone else if I wanted to. You really have no idea how any of this works, do you?” Without awaiting an answer, he went on. The pertinent information was the same either way.

“The whole thing is led by someone they call Boss. Incredibly inventive, I know. Although I am fairly sure ‘Boss’ is at least two people. I’ve never met them nor do I know anything else about them. The whole thing revolves around The Goldsmith anyway. They have some sort of mind-quirk, like hypnosis, that hinges on conditions, hence the chain? And it’s really weird they last indefinitely, and there don’t seem to be restrictions in how many there are going at a time. Then again, I highly suspect there’s someone else related to them that I don’t know about, maybe tech support, or maybe the chain is the product of a second quirk and they just combine it… Why are you laughing?”

During his rant, a grin had crept up on Kacchan’s face, no matter how he tried to hide it behind a hand. It made his eyes crinkle at the corners, and he looked softer than Izuku had ever seen him. It was… weird.

“You’re mumbling. Nerd.”

’Stop that shitty mumbling of yours, Deku!’

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Kacchan cleared his throat awkwardly and muttered into the mug. “You’re too fast. I didn’t understand half of that.” He made a ‘go on’ gesture with his hand.

‘Deep breaths’, he told himself. It was just Kacchan. He began again, detailing what he knew about The Goldsmith, anything he could observe and what he’d overheard in snippets of conversation over the years. It wasn’t much to go on.

Kacchan seemed to silently agree, judging by his frustrated expression. “At least we’ll have a better understanding of how it all works.” He tugged at his own bracelet. “About this…” he began, but nothing followed.

They watched the dust motes dance in a sunbeam.

“If it has to stay, it has to stay.” For the mission. He was brought here as Kacchan’s cover. And even if the daydreams of their reunions always ended with him being freed, he supposed this was a minor inconvenience at best. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go, per se. “I’ll try not to get in your way too much.”

“You’re not- If anything, I got in your way. You’re stuck here for the foreseeable future.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “If you hadn’t literally gotten in my way, I’d be dead by now. The Collector would’ve made sure of it.”

“Collector?”

“Yeah.” He turned his empty mug absently. “He was after me. I don’t know much about him, but Mr. Ueda complained a lot how he kept killing his better merchandise faster than he could restock. He apparently was nearly banned from The Playground once because he just murdered everyone he saw.”

There was a silence after that. “You know Mr. Ueda?”

He shrugged. “Was with him for, let’s see... Maybe the last half year?”

Kacchan’s coffee mug splintered with a crack. “What? I’ll fucking kill that bitch!”

Izuku flinched out of surprise at the sudden noise. He didn’t know what made Kacchan this angry, but he guessed he was angry on Izuku’s behalf, and that made a warm feeling tingle under his skin.

“Fuck. I didn’t mean-” The other began to sweep the shards on the table together with a napkin. “Dammit.”

Izuku was confused as to what Kacchan was on about. “It’s no problem, really,” he said, just to get him to stop. An apologizing Kacchan was like seeing a horde of pink elephant parade down the street: Unexpected and likely related to a quirk gone wrong.

“But that brings me to the next point: The Auctioneer. Ueda is one of them, but it’s more a group title. They’re the ones that go out and bring people in, for both sides of the auctions. They’re the only ones who go by proper names, due to their work. But they’re also the ones best connected, and their lawyers are no joke. I’d wager going after them would send off a witch-hunt, they have dirt on all the customers, naturally, and they trade it for protection. And then there’s the Fishermen, who actually reel in the merchandise. I’m not too sure on them, from what I could gather there’s a lot of them and they’re mostly ‘freelance’ in the sense they’re largely unrelated until they make a catch, and then they know a guy who knows a guy who knows an Auctioneer.”

Kacchan tilted his head at that. “But there have to be at least a few who bring in people more reliably. Otherwise we couldn’t explain the rising number of missing people.”

“Might be. Who knows.”

Quiet spread between them, creeping across the table and flowing into the corners of the room.

“Say, erm.” Kacchan traced his thumb around the glass of his watch, staring at it. “That was a lot of information we could use. If I went now, you think you could manage on your own for a bit?”

Izuku raised an eyebrow at him. “Sure.” Why wouldn’t he? Being left alone was his default state of being in the past years, and his preferred one at that. He was good at it.

“Okay, good. I have my mobile number saved in there if anything comes up.” He motioned to a phone sat next to the TV. “Just, fuck, you probably should only use it in an emergency, and only to call me. I know you want to, but if you called anyone, hell your mom, I can’t… There’s so much confidential information with this mission…” He broke off, looking torn.

Izuku folded his hands and stared hard at them, the one that wasn’t covered in bandages, anyway. The bones stood out under paper skin. “I’m not going to.”

In all honesty, he hadn’t even thought about using the phone at all. ‘Do not contact the outside world in any way. Do not speak to people you are not supposed to speak to.’ The commandments wouldn’t allow it in the first place. He’d tried, in the beginning.

He hadn’t wasted a thought on phones in ages, and now, to have it pointed out, how close he was to speaking with the outside world… And it was Kacchan’s phone. The numbers of all the people he knew would be in there. Heroes, friends, his mom, aunt Mitsuki, probably that delivery place around their old neighbourhood…

He felt his stomach knot itself. What would he even say to all of them? His own mother… He had no idea what he should say to her, how he would face her. He didn’t think he could face her right now, even if it was possible.

Oblivious to Izuku’s morbid thoughts, Kacchan rose and gathered the empty dishes. “Anyway, I need to head out now. I should probably warn you, there’s someone coming over soon. Fucker was supposed to be here already, but apparently none of these extras can be relied on…”

Izuku swallowed hard around air. Someone was coming? He was to be left alone with some random stranger?

His distress must’ve been visible. Kacchan paused in gathering his things. “It’s fine. His name’s Shinsou Hitoshi. Went to school with me and somehow Aizawa ended up basically adopting him. He’s not officially part of our team, but try keeping something from the fucker… Anyway, I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up properly, so I asked him to come round to keep an eye. Actually, this might be good – he also has a mind quirk, maybe the two of you can work something out.” He dangled his bracelet as he grabbed his coat and slipped his bracers on whilst he snatched a key from a hook.

“He’ll let himself in. Try not to let his first impression put you off, I know he looks like a sleep-deprived Furby, but he’s a, and I quote, ‘fucking cinnamon bun that cries at almost every Disney movie.’ He’s a good hero. Okay?”

No, nothing was okay. His life hadn’t been okay in four years. He was here, with a thousand questions and zero answers, no idea what his imminent future had in stock, about to be left alone by the one person that held all the power as well as his hopes and dreams, to the mercy of a stranger, and nothing was okay. “Alright.”

“Good. You can help yourself to anything you want, what’s mine is yours, yada yada. I should be back in four to five hours. Bye!”

“Bye.”

The door fell shut with a resounding clack.

Left to his own in the spacious house that was apparently his to do with as he wished, he fought down the creeping loneliness and instead tried to plan his next steps. ‘Decide for yourself’ still lingered at the back of his mind, and so he decided to go and take a look around, ears pricked for any sound.

The house was very tidy, with only a few things giving away their owner’s activities. There was a bed made on the couch and a bunch of dishes left in the sink. His first instinct was to go and clean up, if it only weren’t for his hand. Kacchan probably wouldn’t mind it, would he? Izuku could do his chores once the bandages came off.

A sliding glass door in the living room led to a garden or something. The commandments kept him from getting too close to any window, for fear he would be seen, which counted as contacting the outside world. He tried to get a lay of the neighbourhood by standing on his tiptoes and glancing through the various windows from a safe distance. They were surrounded by other houses with plenty of greenery to be seen. A nicer neighbourhood, then, and not in the middle of the city.

Once he came back around to the bedroom he had to sit down on the mattress, completely exhausted from that little bit of walking. Kacchan’s room, he summarised. Temporarily his, for reasons unknown. Apparently Kacchan had moved to the couch, which meant those were the only options. Why was that? Had Kacchan not anticipated to take a prize home when he went to The Playground? Or had he planned for them to sleep on the couch for an indeterminate amount of time? He’d thought Kacchan would’ve at least gotten a futon or something. It wasn’t like him to not be prepared, especially for something on this scale.

Sounds from the front door broke him out of his musings. There was definitely someone else coming in. Carefully, he stood and snuck back out. He’d rather face this person head-on than play a futile game of hide and seek.

Glancing into the living room he saw no one. When he proceeded to stalk forward to peek into the hall, a movement from his left made him turn. He locked eyes with a stranger that just came out of the kitchen, where Izuku hadn’t expected anyone. The surprise made him eep.

“Hsssgk!” the other person hissed.

Both of them jumped like cats that’d just seen their own reflection unexpectedly. Then they both froze, both stared, both shocked, until the other guy broke out into nervous laughter. Izuku couldn’t help but join.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” the stranger got out. “My guy, you startled me!” He took some forcibly deep breaths and straightened. “Sorry about that. I’m Shinsou Hitoshi, pleased to meet you.” He held out a hand.

Izuku contemplated. The guy was… weird, at a first glance. He was still in what Izuku presumed to be a hero costume, with looping scarfs and a mask dangling from his neck. His purple hair was pulled back into a low ponytail for which it was barely long enough. Many strands had escaped by now, giving him a bit of a deranged appearance, especially when one took the eye bags into account. There was also a bit of a resting bitch face ongoing, but it wasn’t as bad as Kacchan’s constant scowling, so Izuku categorized his look as ‘friendly enough’.

His assessment complete, he brought up his left hand and hovered there.

“Right, my bad.” Shinsou switched hands and they shook. “I’m sorry I’m so late, Blasty wanted to introduce us properly but I got held up at the police station.”

Izuku nodded.

“So, how’re you feeling? Everyone was a little surprised you’re up and about already. I’ve heard from Aizawa you were in pretty rough shape.”

He shrugged. Who the heck was Aizawa? The name rang a distant bell, but he couldn’t quite place it right now.

“So, you are…?”

Izuku stared back, at a total loss.

Shinsou narrowed his eyes. “Wait. Did Blasty not give you permission to speak to me? Is that what this is? Oh, that damned-” He broke off with a heavy sigh. “Oh well, it is what it is.”

Izuku shrugged again, as the commandments forbade him from doing anything else. Or did it? If he talked to himself, maybe? He glanced at his bandaged arm, then took a few aimless steps towards the bathroom. “I need a shower,” he told the wall. Hell yes, he was a genius. Even if he was slightly dizzy from that. And a bit sick – okay, maybe this wasn’t for repeating.

“Clever,” Shinsou commented. “If you want, I can help you wrap those bandages in clingfoil or something. They need changing anyway.”

He nodded again, and Shinsou went off to search the kitchen. “You know, I also have a mind quirk, and I can technically overwrite the commandments for a short amount of time. But you’d have to answer me first, which I know would suck major ass for you. We’ve tried it on a few other people we rescued – aha, there we go!” He proudly held the foil up.

Izuku allowed his arm to get packaged like leftovers whilst Shinsou continued. “I mean, if you want to we could try it out. Or I could just come up with a really awful nickname for you to call you today.”

He grinned at that. Shinsou seemed nice. Izuku considered himself a pretty decent judge of character, and he passed the vibe check with flying colours.

“There you go. Please don’t pass out in the shower, but you definitely need one.”

Izuku rolled his eyes and shuffled off.

“I’ll think of a cool name in the meantime!”

It took him almost an hour to emerge again, most of which was spent fighting with his hair. It was near impossible to untangle, especially with only one good hand. He compromised halfway between ‘Good enough’ and ‘I give up’. It was still dripping occasionally when he went to find Shinsou at the table, scowling at his phone.

He looked up when Izuku approached with a shy wave.

Shinsou’s lips were pressed into a white line, and his stare was intense enough to burn. Izuku had an uneasy feeling about this. “Okay. I’ll try a name and you tell me if it fits,” Shinsou said, so quiet he could barely understand him.

Izuku cocked his head in question.

“Deku.”

It felt like a rug was pulled from under him. How…? Why?

Shinsou turned his phone towards him, where an old picture of himself stared back. “That is you, right? Izuku Midoriya?”

He could only nod, feeling faint. Absently, he sat down on the edge of the couch.

Shinsou turned around on his chair so they could face each other, leaning his folded arms on the backrest. “Well, isn’t this a surprise. I thought you looked familiar. That would explain why he’s been acting so weird.” His brows furrowed into a scowl. “Blasty talks about you occasionally. Although I’d quite like to know why he neglected to mention this to any of us. Damned – wait, Aizawa knew too! He was here! Why does no one tell me anything?”

Izuku felt dizzy. There was only one way anyone could know that nickname, and it was no stretch to further fill in the blanks as to what exactly Kacchan had said.

Shinsou sagged in his chair. “Is it because I’m not part of the operation? Urgh. Anyway: Glad you’re still alive and kicking.” His scowl melted away gradually. “Should we change those bandages? Blasty will take my head off if I forget that.”

It wasn’t like they had any choice in the matter. Izuku steadfastly held his arm out when Shinsou approached with some bandages. He was torn between watching every single movement and not looking at the arm at all.

“Look,” Shinsou eventually said, halfway through unwrapping the old bandages, “if you keep fidgeting, this isn’t going to work.”

Izuku ducked his head and tried to force himself to sit still. Shinsou’s presence prickled uncomfortably in his blind spot, so it was a lost cause. The first movement in his periphery had him staring at Shinsou’s hands again.

“Okay, fine. Christ, I swear I’ll get back at Blasty for this, this sucks… Hm. You can shake yes or no, right?”

Izuku nodded. It was a weird loophole in his opinion, but he reasoned the Auriculates expected their clientele to not leave their purchases unsupervised with strangers.

“See, that’s good. So: Is this hurting you?”

Izuku tilted his head from side to side. The arm generally hurt a little – there was just nothing to be done about it.

“That’s good. Are you squeamish with blood?”

Actually, he was squeamish with all the exposed flesh and muscle that’d been there when he’d last seen his own arm. He just didn’t trust himself to successfully explain that via charades, so he nodded. Close enough.

“Okay. I’ve been told there’s barely anything to see anymore, if that helps.”

It did, a little. Wordlessly, Izuku held out his arm again, eyes fixed in middle space the whole time it took Shinsou to change the bandages. The other kept a running commentary on top, going on about anything and nothing.

It didn’t… look bad. From what he could see. Once the bandage unravelled completely, he stared resolutely over Shinsou’s shoulder before proceeding to figure out whether or not his hair was naturally that colour. It couldn’t be, right?

“Something on my face?” Shinsou drawled as he tied the bandage off.

Izuku hesitantly gestured towards his hair.

“What do you mean? Yes it’s purple, yes it’s a mess, yes I get asked a lot. Speaking of: Would you be okay with me touching your hair? I could fix it for you.”

And there it was. There’s the fucking pity and the tiptoeing and the satin kid gloves. He wished he could talk, to tell Shinsou that it hardly fucking mattered because it needed to get done anyway, that he wasn’t about to crumble at the mere idea of being touched, because he wasn’t an idiot and he could tell the difference. He settled for his best glare, the one he’d seen from Kacchan once or twice.

It didn’t really help. Shinsou looked very unfazed. Right, he was friends with Kacchan too. “What? I’m just asking. Some people don’t like it. I hate it, by the way. Try telling that to Kaminari, though.” He pulled the hair tie out to prove his point. Izuku could tell where Kacchan’s nickname came from. It just went… up. Seeking freedom. (And actually looking temptingly fluffy.) “So, how about it?”

Izuku reached his good hand up and ran it through the mess on his head. Now that it was dry some of the strands frizzed up in all directions as if he’d stuck a fork in a socket. When he tried to fingercomb through the rest of it, he got stuck on knots that were beyond hope of untangling.

He shuffled closer to the edge of his seat and lowered his head. Shinsou hummed and went to retrieve a brush. Izuku tensed in anticipation as Shinsou came to stand behind him, carefully lifting the mess up.

The first bite of the brush had him duck out from the foreign hands. Nope. Some unpleasant shivers crawled over his back.

Shinsou raised a hand in apology. “Oh. Did that hurt…? I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and attempted a smile. Again, he desperately wished he could explain how he wanted it cut off anyway and this just wasn’t worth the trouble, was it? He’d just have to ask Kacchan… for a haircut? Probably not. Maybe a razor or something, just cut it all off.

Shinsou scratched at the mess on his own head. “Anyway. I’m really hungry, I haven’t eaten since I got off work. What’s your opinion on chicken?”

He gave a thumbs up.

Shinsou was a pretty okay cook – even if he accidentally burnt some meat when he dropped it on the hot stove. Izuku watched him from the couch, huddled in a corner and desperately trying to stay awake. He felt heavy and sluggish, like gravity itself had a grudge against him. The food helped, a little.

“I’ve been told you like to analyse quirks and stuff. Do you want to look at all the cool shit my friends can do?” Shinsou asked as they ate.

Against his better judgement, an intrigued spark flickered to life. Shinsou grinned and handed him his phone to watch a… fight between Kacchan, Chargebolt and Red Riot? It seemed to be a rather friendly spar, which didn’t mean it was harmless. How they kept the property damage so minimal was a miracle in itself.

“I take it we’ll be doing that, then. Hope you don’t mind me trashtalking the lot, I so rarely get the chance.”

Actually, Izuku had like a million questions regarding his apparent status as a minor celebrity among Kacchan’s friends. And why the secrecy was necessary. And who this Aizawa was.

But since he wasn’t allowed to talk, he took the next best offer of watching Hero fights with input from an actual pro. He was too tired to properly think anyway.

Notes:

Just a quick note to say how I appreciate all the reads and comments and stuff. I had not expected that lol.

Chapter 4

Notes:

I forgot to mention that chapter lentghts will vary greatly because I Am A Mess Like That. The longest chapter I have is 10ks more than this so you know I'm not exaggerating. It's going to be a surprise each week I hope you enjoy the suspense :D

The people he encountered on his way up to floor 16 wisely fell over themselves in an effort to get out of his way.

He nearly ripped the door to the office off its hinges as he stormed in, five minutes early despite his detour to the in-house gym, which was now in need of a new shooting range and maybe a few punching bags. Most of his friends were already there, shooting him curious looks as he paced around the table. He could feel them all staring at his right wrist, even if they probably couldn’t see anything.

“Something the matter, bro?” Kirishima asked, briefly glancing up from the papers he was skimming.

The door opened again, this time to allow Mina and Kaminari through. “Yo, what happened? The gym’s on fire again!”

“Wasn’t me,” Shouto replied seriously.

“Honey, we know.” Jirou shot a meaningful glance in Katsuki’s direction. “We can blame King Explosion Murder for that.”

He glared at her in return before answering Kirishima’s question. “Yes, there is a matter.” He leaned his head against his folded hands. “There’s a fucking insane matter and none of you are going to believe this.”

Kaminari whistled lowly. “Shiiiiiiit, what happened?”

“Is that guy you took in giving you major trouble or something?” Mina asked. “Is there an issue with the safe house he was supposed to go to? Can you not do that? Is it the chain?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s worse.” He didn’t dare look at any of their faces as the confession rushed out. “It’s Deku. It’s Izuku.”

There was a beat of confused silence. “Izuku? Midoriya Izuku? That friend of yours who went missing?” Shouto clarified, as if they knew any other person by that name. “What about him?”

Katsuki ground his teeth until his jaw ached. “Are you guys slow? It’s him. At my house.”

This time, the silence was filled with palpable shock. Mina threw her feet up on the table and leaned back in her chair. “Lord above, fuck me sideways with a chainsaw.”

“Well, that’s a nice surprise,” Jirou hedged. “You two must be really happy to see each other again.”

He thought back on their conversation this morning. How thin and ragged Izuku had looked, that animated expression he remembered so vividly now replaced by a neutral one that never slipped. That carefully guarded way he held himself, back always to a solid object. The way he’d calculated, well, everything.

It had put him off from the first moment and now he finally let the dam of irritation burst. “No, that’s just it! He’s not happy to see me, we weren’t friends! I didn’t give two shits about him before… everything.”

Hell, the first time he’d even mentioned Deku to anyone was on the first anniversary of his disappearance.

He remembered the actual day it happened. He’d come home and found his mother frowning quietly in the kitchen. “Katsuki, have you heard anything from Izuku lately?” she’d asked, all polite.

“What? No, why? Haven’t talked to the nerd in weeks.”

“I see,” she’d hummed, and that frown intensified. “It’s just, Inko says he didn’t come home, and he doesn’t pick up the phone, so she’s worried… If you hear anything let me know, will you?”

Katsuki had scoffed at that. “Whatever. He’s probably caught up in some random hero fight, being all creepy with his muttering.”

“Yes, I’m sure. That’s what I said. He’ll show up soon.” She said it with the confidence of a person who decided their problem was small for fear of facing the crushing alternative.

And then the day had turned into the next, and the hag hadn’t said anything more. That shoe dropped two days later. Katsuki happened to glance at a TV and saw those damned freckles all over the news, and that was how he learned Izuku hadn’t come home after all. “- are still searching. If you have any hints or information, please contact your local police department.”

He’d waited for more news.

One week became two, then three. A month. Four months. Six months. The season changed from fall to winter. Ten.

One day in February, Kirishima sat down opposite to him in the cafeteria and asked an innocent question. “You’ve been brooding all day, man. Something on your mind?”

Yes, there was. Namely the way his alarm clock had proudly proclaimed it to be the 21st of February today, and the realization had caught him unawares. “It’s been a year,” he said, absentmindedly watching the raindrops pattering against the window. “Since Deku went missing.”

“Who? Wait, someone went missing? Someone you know?”

He shrugged. “We went to middle school together. That’s all. His actual name is Izuku Midoriya.”

“I see. Wait, I remember that! That was around your area, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. They’re basically our neighbours. Auntie came over this morning and she’s… I don’t even know.”

“Auntie?”

“Inko. Midoriya. His mom.”

“Wait. His mom is your- he’s your cousin?”

He spared the shitty redhead a glare. “Don’t be stupid. We’re not related. It’s just that she was over so often when we were children, and I was two, so I called her auntie.”

There was a lengthy pause after that, and Kirishima had that contemplative look on his face that meant he was seriously thinking something over. Never a good sign. “So you knew him before middle school. You call his mom auntie. You basically grew up together.”

And that was just it, right? He couldn’t even remember a life without Deku. He’d always just… been there. He wasn’t even sure there had been a life without the damn nerd. Well, yes - The whole 86 days Katsuki was older.

Even when they hadn’t really talked, he’d always been there. Throughout elementary school, middle school, and then they’d met on their way to high school almost every day. He’d seen him around the neighbourhood, or met him grocery shopping. Three days per year, on their parents’ birthdays, they had been civil with each other. Not pretend, but actually gotten along, for the sake of their parents. And on one extra day, he’d find a small gift for himself, without fail, right up until his seventeenth birthday, when there’d been nothing. No one.

Izuku was a constant of life. That stupid nerd had wormed his way into his brain and fucking stayed there, no matter how he tried to deny it. Izuku had been the first one to support his dream of being a hero. Izuku hadn’t been afraid to approach him when the growth of his quirk out-sped his control to the point he was afraid to touch things despite wearing the fireproof gloves. Izuku was with him every time he reminded himself not to lead with a straight punch. It was Izuku’s voice that cautioned him to look out for flammable substances and gases whenever he entered an enclosed space. In his head, when he thought he’d excelled, the praise sounded like Izuku, too. ‘Kacchan’s amazing!’

To that day, that second February 21st, he’d expected to see the nerd every time he got on the train back to the dorms after the weekends. Was confused every time he didn’t show up. Whenever someone went on a quiet rant, he was about to bark a ‘Shut up, Deku!’ to random strangers. Every time he saw green hair or freckles, his attention zeroed in on them, until he recognized… no one. Because he wasn’t there anymore.

“Katsuki.” Kirishima put his chopsticks down. “Just who was that guy?”

And then it hit him. ‘Who was that guy?’ Was. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. It’d been a year. “Let’s be real, he’s probably dead.” And because he wasn’t sure if he had any reason to claim he cared, he had absolutely no business feeling so… hollow at the realization.

Since Kirishima could theoretically keep secrets but practically set everyone else’s alarm bells off when he was genuinely concerned about someone, the rest of his extras found out in quick succession. And then, Katsuki found himself occasionally talking about the nerd. Just random things, like “Deku hated spicy food as well,” or “You’d tell me if my hand-to-hand was too predictable, right? Damn Deku always said I was predictable…”

So yes, they all knew who Izuku was by proxy, but that didn’t explain the pitying looks he was getting now. “You guys know I was a right shit to him. Hell, he has scars because of me!”

He’d seen it. The shirt he’d lent Deku hadn’t fit Katsuki in years, and the nerd still nearly drowned in the fabric. It always slid off one shoulder or the other, occasionally revealing that shiny patch of skin on his right one, that circle of a palm with the two lines of a middle and ring finger, where he’d once pressed his heated hand to intimidate for no reason at all.

“And now we’re stuck together in this shitty situation. I said he should sit and that goddamned chain sent him to the floor. I didn’t even notice for five minutes!”

“Didn’t you say he came running to you the other night?” Shouto asked.

“Well, yeah. He said he recognized me from… well, he just did.”

“I fail to see your question, Bakugou. What do you want us to do here? Should someone else take him in?” Iida asked, probably about to offer his own flat he rarely used these days.

The mere idea was repulsive in a way he hadn’t thought possible. “Absolutely not! He’s not just some dog to be handed around, you imbecile!” And they were strangers to Izuku. He wasn’t going to just send him off like… He didn’t even know.

Before anyone else could suggest something stupid, the door opened again for their bosses. Aizawa scowled at him as he entered. The man could spot his moods from a mile away. “Problem child. How is everything?”

Katsuki leaned back his chair. “Just peachy.” He glanced between his friends and Aizawa and silently implored them to keep quiet about this. He was almost sure Aizawa knew anyway, but he hadn’t said anything about it. He didn’t want to be subjected to their doubts about his ability to have someone at his place he actually knew.

They’d entertained the possibility of sending his rescue to their own safe house before – only the uncertainty about potential complications with the chain had them put that idea on hold – and originally, Katsuki had planned to make that happen somehow. Now he didn’t know anymore. It certainly wasn’t an option whilst Izuku was still recovering from his injuries.

Endeavor side-eyed them for a moment before clearing his throat. Aizawa may indulge them more often than not, but the number one Hero’s patience for their shenanigans was pretty non-existent. “Now that we’re all here, shall we get to the important matters at hand? I hear your charge has woken up?”

Katsuki sighed and braced himself. “He has, yes. He’s in rough shape, but I got information about The Goldsmith we may be able to use.” He recounted everything Izuku had told him this morning, including the speculations about another quirk user in the background providing the chains, keeping his speech succinct and professional. “It’s a long shot, but I think we should re-examine the databases for mind-quirks of the hypnosis category as well as anything related to metal manipulation.”

Their first search under the assumption they were dealing with a single quirk hadn’t found them any matches. Due to the secretive nature of their investigation they couldn’t go through the paperwork to access foreign databases, and if their target wasn’t a Japanese citizen they wouldn’t find anything either. In short, it was tedious, boring work.

“I’ll do that,” Ingenium volunteered, and everyone else sighed with relief.

“Also, their internal structure,” Katsuki continued, relaying the rest of what Izuku had told him about the Boss, the Auctioneers and Fishermen. “It’s a lot of what we know already,” he concluded, taking in the displeased frowns.

“Is that all he could tell you?” Endeavor enquired. “We were hoping for a little more input on the details.”

Katsuki glared right back. “He just woke up this morning, and he wasn’t in any shape for an interrogation. I’m sure we can give him a few days to come to terms with his new situation. And heal from his injuries?”

“He’s right,” Fat Gum nodded, placing a placating hand on Endeavor’s shoulder. Somehow, he got away with it. “That poor man must be very confused. I’m hoping you managed to assure him we don’t mean him any harm?”

“Is he settling in alright?” Aizawa wanted to know, not managing to completely shrug off the role of the teacher with all the associated responsibility and worry. The man had been a godsend in dealing with the situation, never asking anything and ferrying Recovery Girl to Katsuki’s doorstep personally.

Katsuki shifted in his seat. “S’pose.” A far too simple word for the complexity of the situation. He decided to change the topic. “If there is anything we really need to know, make a list and I’ll see what information I can get.”

It led to a lot of questions, giving him a list half a mile long he’d have to ask Izuku about, again. Many ideas and hypotheses were exchanged, but at the end of the meeting, they still were at the frustrating ‘we need to know more’ stage.

“Very well. If that’s all we have for today, we should get back to it. Ground Zero, gather more information from your charge. Dismissed.” Endeavor stood and left after a quick glance around, and the rest began to gather their papers and file out slowly.

Katsuki stayed in his chair and threw A Look at his friends. His former classmates exchanged worried glances, but stayed put until it was just them again.

“I noticed you never introduced him to the bosses,” Iida commented.

“Oh really, Sherlock? I hadn’t noticed.”

Iida wasn’t cowed by his glare. “Any particular reason?”

He dragged a hand across his face and sighed. “Yes, it’s just… Look. Can you maybe keep that under wraps for just a little bit? Just until I had a chance to get this settled with him? This is technically a conflict of interest, and if they figure out our exact history, they won’t ask before sending him to another place.”

“Do you think he wants to go to another place?” Kaminari asked.

“Dunno. I just want to talk to him about it first so it doesn’t come as a fucking surprise. I mean… we do sort of know each other. He’ll probably want to get out of my house as fast as possible, but I don’t know the exact limitations on that chain, and on the off-chance he does want to stick around for a bit… I mean, he’s always stuck to me like a fucking leech…”

“You implied he’s afraid of you earlier,” Shouto stated. “Which is it?”

Katsuki already opened his mouth for a scathing retort, because that was bullshit, but nothing would come. He thought about it. “I… don’t know. He’s different.”

“Different how?”

He shrugged. “I can’t even explain it. He was so… defensive. I’ve never seen him like that. Even in middle school, when I was being a right shit to him, he still acted like he did when we were six. Always said hello, always apologized for things that weren’t even his fault, always fucking smiling like it didn’t matter, like he was bleeding optimism. And now…”

“Sounds really depressing, actually,” Jirou interjected. Kaminari nodded with her. “Does he seem depressed, now? After everything?”

Katsuki shrugged. “Not really? I couldn’t tell. He used to be all over the place, and now it’s more distant, somehow. His emotions were always written on his face. Today I could hardly get a read on him. But he’s fucking clever!” He straightened himself to look around. “He’s the one that came up with all the quirk theories about The Goldsmith! And don’t tell this to Aizawa, but he figured out I’m on an undercover mission not ten minutes after waking up. It’s insane!”

A collective gasp went through the group. “He what?” Iida demanded with an uncharacteristic hush. “How did he even- Are you sure this isn’t, you know, a trap?”

He waved them off. “I’m sure. Fucker is just that smart.”

“Sounds to me like the two of you get along fine, then,” Kirishima said. “Considering the circumstances. Like, sure, there’s history, but if you’re the bigger man and apologize, I’m sure he’ll be willing to start over. I was worried he’d be an actual mess, with the way you looked earlier.”

Katsuki glanced between him and Jirou. “He’s oddly alright, given the circumstances. Mentally. But I already fucked up today.”

“Define ‘Fucked up’.”

“Well, for one, I started cursing at him, I shouted, I exploded a mug, I accidentally forced him to do something he didn’t want to do, I didn’t even manage to apologize, I’m basically keeping him hostage- Do I need to continue?”

“But most of these things are inevitable and you knew it when you signed up for the mission. And it didn’t bother you then. Why did you explode?”

“He told me that he’d been with that fucking asshole bitch Ueda for the last half year.” He felt his pain reflected in their faces. “I was there, he was in the same house, and I didn’t…”

Mina took his hand in both of hers and squeezed. “You didn’t know, sweetie.”

He laughed, a weak and self-deprecating sound. “Look at us. Getting all sappy with each other. Ugh, fuck this shit, get it together folks!”

“Aye, sir.” Kaminari gave him a mock salute.

Jirou twirled her cables around a finger. “Do you need our help with something specific or was this therapy session to your satisfaction?”

“Is your Deku doing okay?” Kirishima asked as well.

“Honestly, he’s doing better than I could’ve reasonably expected.” He’d feared that whoever he would take in would be either a shivering, hysteric wreck or hollow and apathetic, like most of the victims they’d saved so far. “He seems to be doing almost too well,” he admitted.

It was a little off-putting, but maybe those were just his unfulfilled expectations asking for their turn. Thinking back on it, now that he wasn’t nearly going insane with all the questions and the maybes and the hows, Izuku had been holding his own in the second half of their conversation, and there had even been some sass coming through.

Shouto lifted his head back up from his notes. “So you’ll be okay having him live at your place for time being? And the other way around?”

Katsuki let out a breath. He couldn’t speak for Izuku at this point. To figure that out, he’d have to go and just ask. Yeah. As if. But as far as he himself was concerned…

“I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but the nerd can stay at my place until the day either of us dies, for all I care.” Just how soon that would be depended on whether or not they could get along.

“I think I’ll just have to go back and see. Talk to him.” He wasn’t sure how to do it. He’d prepared by taking some seminars on dealing with traumatized people, sure. But this wasn’t just anybody. This wasn’t some stranger, where he could go through the script and bullet points he’d prepared and be done with it. This was Izuku. Who used to know him better than his own parents at times. Who saved his life when he’d thrown himself at that slime villain, quirklessness be damned, and hadn’t ever gotten as much as a ‘thank you’ for it.

Izuku, who’d shared his dream before a diagnosis shattered it to the winds along with their friendship. Izuku, who hadn’t stopped watching him, ever.

“I should head back. Shinsou said I owe him for every hour he doesn’t get to study for his extended licenses, and there’s a limit on how many experiments I’m willing to subject myself to.”

Mina stared at him like he’d chosen to wear bright yellow and neon pink together. “You left him with Shinsou? Don’t get me wrong, he’s an okay guy and I love him dearly, but do you think it’s smart to leave him in charge of someone who’s, you know?”

Kaminari snickered. “Not any more risky than leaving King Explosion Murder in charge of someone-who’s-you-know.”

That earned Kaminari a cuff on the head, which in turn made Katsuki’s hair stand up on end. Not that many would notice a difference. “Zappy bastard. And stop dragging Shinsou, fucker is pathetic enough as is. Besides, I know them both, and I will bet you guys the next round on club night that they’re best friends by now.”

As the statement sank in, Katsuki imagined the scene at his house consciously for the first time. “Fuck, I should get back!” He turned and fled the office even faster than he entered it, leaving the door to bang and slowly swing open again, only to realize he’d forgotten his notes halfway to the elevators.

He turned back, pausing to glance through a crack in the door as he caught a murmur of his name.

“So,” Mina said, swivelling her chair around as she crossed her legs primly. “Izuku Midoriya.”

Iida nodded absently. “Certainly an unexpected twist.”

“Funny how you pronounce ‘complication’,” Jirou muttered. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy he’s alive and well-ish, but I can already hear the trainwreck coming.”

“I’m sure this can’t end well,” Kaminari agreed.

Shouto swirled his water around, making the ice cubes clink softly. “Should we be more worried about Bakugou or about Midoriya?”

Kirishima reached over to pat his shoulder. “Yes, my man.” His free hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”

“Are we absolutely sure it’s a good idea to keep this secret?” Iida asked. “We are supposed to be able to trust each other in this Operation, and that demands one-hundred percent transparency.”

Mina sighed. “The real question is whether or not we can trust Bakugou to not fuck this up more than he already has. Not that it’s entirely his fault, but man, I would bet money this is either going to go spectacularly well or spectacularly to shit.”

“We know he cares,” Shouto said quietly. “And we can always ask Shinsou for the other side of the story if there are any concerns. But I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for now. He willingly asked for advice, he’s trying his best.”

He left the notes were they were.

The drive was slower than usual, with rush-hour traffic at its peak. He theoretically could put a magnetic emergency light on his roof to get through traffic faster, but that was reserved for public emergencies, and this was more a private one. So he held back, crawling through the streets at a snail’s pace with everyone else, for the sake of the greater good. And no, he wasn’t stalling.

It wasn’t like he didn’t trust Shinsou, he’d specifically asked him to come over because he knew he’d get along with Izuku without being too overwhelming (and because he was one of three options, since the rest of his friends had to be at the meeting as well). But they were just too similar in some aspects, and he knew they would eventually come up with something stupid and forget to take consequences into account.

Suddenly, he spotted something through a store window ahead. He contemplated back and forth for a moment, unable to decide.

An image of Izuku flashed inside his mind, standing in his kitchen, drowning inside a t-shirt that was too big on his thin frame and pants he’d had to pull up every two steps. “Ah, fuck it,” he conceded as he pulled into the parking lot. Any damage at his house was likely done already, so he might as well.

The doors slid open for him, and already he could hear the shocked gasp of the salesgirls who immediately recognized him. He glanced through the stacks of clothing on display, trying to guesstimate Izuku’s size as he waited for one of them to gather her courage and come greet him.

“May I help you, sir?” The one with the black braid won out, and she rose instantly in his good graces when she didn’t make a fuss about his person.

“I need a whole new wardrobe, start with one of those,” he pointed at his first item of choice, “and if you have anything along the same line, I’ll take a look at that. Comfort is more important than looks. The easier it is to put on, the better, especially the shirts.”

She seemed a little overwhelmed at the prospect; she couldn’t be older than sixteen, someone doing her holiday job. “I’ll see what I can do for you,” she answered faintly, walking off and pushing her sleeves up with the resolution of someone on a suicide mission.

She got a huge tip for her work not thirty minutes later, when Katsuki resumed his drive with two big bags. Even with his little detour, he was spot on the four-hour mark when he returned.

He could hear a voice from the living room, and something smelled a little burned. “I’m back!” he announced as he walked in to offload the bags on his dining table.

The two of them sat on the sofa, Izuku huddled in a corner whilst Shinsou lounged on the opposite end. Both craned their heads over the backrest to look at him. Or in Shinsou’s case, stare outright daggers.

“Bakugou Katsuki.”

Oh no. “What?” he shot back defiantly.

“Don’t ‘what’ me! You forgot to give him permission to speak to me! Or anyone, for that matter. He can’t even pick up the phone! And I know you know what the commandments are, so please, enlighten me: How. Did. That. Happen.”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck, he’d forgotten about that, hadn’t he. “Shit.”

“It’s not so bad,” Izuku said quietly. “We could work around it, there are some ways to cheat the system.”

“Argh, shit - You, uh, can talk to whoever you like. Didn’t it work when I said you can do what you want?”

Izuku tilted his head. “Well, the exact phrasing was ‘Decide for yourself’, which is a little different. And if something goes against the commandments, it’s a whole other thing.”

“I see.” Something told him that this was going to be a problem in the future, and he wasn’t sure how to solve it. “But is this going to work, then?” He gestured between Izuku and Shinsou.

Izuku shrugged. “Time will tell, I guess.”

Katsuki nodded along before remembering the bags. “Oh, by the way, I got you some stuff, so just go and-” he bit his tongue the same moment Shinsou raised a warning eyebrow. “I mean, if you would like to try them on, see if they fit? Sort out the stuff you want me to return?”

“Alright.” Izuku slowly got off the sofa and grabbed the bags to disappear into the bedroom. “Thank you,” he said politely as he left. He looked better already, Katsuki noted. His hair was washed, the bandage changed, and he seemed just more alert. It was a difference like day and night compared to this morning.

“How’s he doing?” he asked Shinsou after Izuku had closed the door.

“Considering the circumstances, I’d say surprisingly well. Exhausted, though. He fell asleep a couple of times, just randomly. But he refused to take a nap with me here, not that I blame him. I helped with the bandages, the arm looks good, I couldn’t see any sign of infection. He ate, too. And I tried to help with his hair, but I guess that got too much.”

“Hm. You got along?”

“I’ve known him for four hours and I love him, if I could I would keep him forever,” Shinsou answered deadpan.

Katsuki couldn’t decide if there was sarcasm at all.

Shinsou glanced towards the far hallway and leaned in closer to whisper. “You could’ve told me who exactly I would be dealing with.”

“What do you mean?” he tried, desperately clinging onto denial.

“Do you really think I would not recognize Deku? Do you really think I wouldn’t look him up after you mentioned him? Do you take me for an idiot?”

Katsuki glared. “Shut the fuck up, I don’t need you to hop onto that bandwagon. I just wanted to – I don’t even know. Shut up. Was he okay?”

“A little overwhelmed by the entire situation, I imagine, although I could guess why. But speaking of: What the fuck do you think you’re doing here? Did you talk to him at all before you fled this morning?”

“I did not-”

“You didn’t even show him the house! He had no idea where anything was, or what he was even allowed to touch. He’s your guest here, for fuck’s sake! And I gathered you didn’t even mention the chains.”

He felt his neck heat at the stern talking-to, and he willed it down with all his might. “Well excuse me if the nerd likes you better than me, asshole. You know he and I don’t get along. He was probably glad I had to go to work, and there wasn’t really any time-”

“Don’t give me that, Aizawa told me full well you had the option to take a few days off! You ran away like a coward, because your emotionally constipated ass can’t blow the problem to smithereens so you just avoid it. Guess what? That’s not going to work! And I sincerely hope you’ll get your shit together and fix this until tomorrow, because lord have mercy if you don’t. Now excuse me, I have cat duty today.”

And with that, Shinsou grabbed his coat, whirled around and left.

He didn’t even have time to tell him just how idiotic these accusations were. Seriously, he’d left that guy in charge here? Katsuki was an adult and a professional. He could totally deal with this.

Somehow.

Chapter 5

Izuku stared hard at the tank-top he was holding. The bright orange ‘X’ on black seemed to mock him, and he wasn’t sure if this was intended as some sort of joke. Then again, the real joke was probably the white tee that read ‘sleep shirt’ on the front.

The size seemed alright, he guessed – his arm made changing into most things difficult at the moment, so he went with two sample shirts and educated guesses – but the lack of sleeves…

No matter how hard he’d tried to avoid it, he did catch a glimpse of his arm earlier, and… It hadn’t been a pretty sight. Compared to what it looked like five days ago, it wasn’t even that bad. But to see the barely healed skin, the dark scabs and the scars, it made him queasy. There was a slight tremble to the entire limb. His hand shook every time he tried to use it, and his fingers seemed a little off after being broken.

It was mutilated, plain and simple. But it was mostly functional, which he’d never have dared to imagine. He’d thought he’d be dead by now.

Shinsou hadn’t commented further on it. Izuku couldn’t decide if he’d tried to be nice or if he just didn’t know anything about the medical stuff, aside from the immediately important things.

If only Kacchan hadn’t bolted earlier, he probably could’ve told him more details. He hadn’t asked for Izuku to be here, sure, but why not order him to stay with someone else, if he didn’t like it? It should theoretically be possible. But then again, Kacchan would likely feel like that was admitting defeat of some kind, and they all knew how much he hated losing. So at this house Izuku would stay.

With a sigh, he put the shirt on the ‘maybe’-pile and resumed his selection process. Most of it was okay, there were just a couple of things that didn’t fit, and one shirt he found frankly hideous. Not his colour.

With that out of the way, he stuffed the rejected stuff in its bag to return, and hauled the rest back out in search of Kacchan.

“Do you have scissors?” he asked when he found the other in the kitchen. Sans Shinsou. Shame.

“What’d you need scissors for?”

Izuku rolled his eyes at the thinly veiled suspicion. It was literally impossible for him to even think about offing himself, not that he wanted to. And even if, he’d hardly announce it like that. “Tags.” He lifted some pants that were covered in them.

Kacchan pointed towards a drawer off to the side. “Should be in there somewhere.”

Izuku found the scissors and started cutting the tags from the clothing. It was a little difficult, and he had to switch to his left hand almost immediately. The pressure hurt his injured fingers, and they wouldn’t move like he wanted them to. It made the process unnecessarily complicated.

“Need any help there?” Kacchan asked eventually, hovering at his side with one eye on some pasta.

“It’s fine, I got it,” Izuku grit out, concentrating harder.

“…So are these any good?”

“Huh?”

“The clothes. I had to guess with the size.”

“Oh, yes, they’re fine, thank you.”

“No problem.”

They continued to work in silence until Kacchan put out two plates. “Food’s done, come eat.”

Izuku dropped everything he was holding, went to grab a plate and fork out of Kacchan’s hands, and started eating right where he stood.

“No, wait! Shit, I did it again.”

He looked like a kicked puppy, and Izuku found it somehow amusing. In the hysterical kind of way. “This is good,” he said after swallowing his bite. “But can I please sit down?”

“Yes. ‘Course.”

They went and continued to eat in yet more silence. Only when Kacchan finished his plate did he look at Izuku properly, who was barely halfway done.

“Okay, we need to work this out somehow. I don’t like any of this, but we don’t have a choice, so we might as well try and get a system in place.”

Izuku put his fork down. He knew he and Kacchan weren’t best friends, but he did sign up for this mission. So had he not thought this through, or was he just pissed he’d gotten stuck with Izuku of all people? It irked him. He hadn’t chosen this. Well, he had, but in a life-or-death, lesser-evil situation. “I’m not exactly happy about this either, trust me. What’re your ideas?”

Kacchan tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “The good news is that you’ll probably have the option of moving into one of our safe houses in the near future, once you can use your hand again – provided the chain doesn’t make that impossible. Until then, you’re going to be stuck here, so we might as well get you comfortable. And self-sufficient where possible. I’ll be out to work a lot, so you’ll have the run of the place most of the time. And we somehow need to fix these.” He held his right wrist up and jangled the bracelet. “I can’t be asked to watch what I say in my own house all the damn time.”

Izuku nodded grimly. “Probably for the best.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Is there any way to work around this? You’re the expert here.”

Izuku shrugged. “I can’t say, really. Usually my employers solved the problem by shoving me in a different room when I wasn’t needed.”

Kacchan stared at him again, expression doing something complicated. “And assuming I don’t have that kind of space? Then what?”

He shrugged again. “You tell me.” Literally. “Maybe there’s a way to work some stipulations, we’d have to experiment.”

The other sighed at that, looking like Izuku had just given him chores for a week. “Later. Let me show you around first, if you’re done.”

Izuku looked at his food, which was entirely too much, and got up. “After you, then.”

Kacchan showed him again through all the rooms, pointing out where the most important items were stored, how the bathtub (which was also a hot tub) worked, he demonstrated the finer machinations of a kitchen that would’ve made a professional chef jealous, and he pointed out the TV and the gaming consoles for him. He requested Izuku to keep out of the office, since there was confidential data there, but he could go anywhere else. The last room Izuku hadn’t explored yet was full of training equipment, and he looked forward to that.

There was also talk about transforming the storage room into a guest bedroom, which devolved into an entirely too polite and quiet argument about their temporary sleeping arrangements until then.

Izuku won that one, citing Kacchan’s need to be rested since he was the one working, and also the one living here, and really, the couch wasn’t bad at all and a giant upgrade from what he’d had for the last half year. (And if Kacchan wanted Izuku to take the bed so desperately he could just order him. That shut the discussion down.)

Then they experimented, trying to figure out if it was possible to put a stipulation, like “Only do what I say when I address you by your name”, with moderate success. Anything that was a vague everyday expression, such as ‘Sit’, Izuku could resist with only a minor nagging feeling in his head.

When Kacchan looked at him directly or said something with enough force however, it didn’t work that well. It mostly came down to how Izuku’s mind processed the order and if there were loopholes in the execution. For example, ‘Go’ could make him take a single step, or it would prompt him to get started on a task he’d been about to do.

When he was distracted and failed to register he was being talked to, that also helped. Like now. He yawned wide. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said- are you even listening?”

He wasn’t really. He felt better than he had in ages, but still worse than an hour ago. “It’s fine. This whole thing just made me tired. Gives me a headache.” He’d felt sleepy all day, and experimenting with the chain took a toll on him. Trying to resist or circumvent orders made him dizzy. His head hurt and the metal on his skin itched.

“Maybe you should say something next time?” Kacchan suggested, oddly diplomatic, but still barely hiding his annoyance that Izuku hadn’t spoken up. “Speaking of how you’re feeling, Recovery Girl would be free to come by in thirty minutes, if that’s okay.”

He had a vague idea about who that was. “The nurse at your school? I thought I saw her on TV during the sports festivals.” She’d been hovering around the field with the patience of a woman who’d seen it all, and whenever she’d scurried out on her little legs, people had hurried to get out of her way.

Kacchan nodded. “She was. She has a good all-round healing quirk, and we can trust her. Beware her lectures tho,” he added, looking off into the middle distance as he relived some seemingly unpleasant memories.

“Alright then,” Izuku conceded. He wasn’t looking forward to the encounter, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.

Half an hour later on the dot the doorbell rang, and Kacchan went to welcome the tiny woman that seemed even smaller in person. Her presence made more than up for it, and she was surprisingly fit as she hauled some contraption half her own size behind her.

“Can I help you with that- ow!”

“Keep your disaster hands away from my equipment, Katsuki. I just got this one five years ago.” She put her walking stick back on the floor and shuffled closer, eying Izuku up and down. “Hm. Good to see you’re awake, although it was a bit sooner than planned.”

He felt the sudden need to apologize for the inconvenience, but he couldn’t get his mouth to open. He turned his pleading eyes to Kacchan. “Can I speak with her?”

“Oh! Yes, sure. You can talk to her whenever.”

“But not here.” Recovery Girl herded Izuku down the hallway with her cane. “We’ll make use of your room again, Katsuki. Stay out of the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Izuku saw Kacchan give a mock salute to her as he turned to clean up the kitchen instead. He felt a little panicked. Kacchan wasn’t going to come with him?

The bedroom door shut behind them with a final ‘click’.

Izuku turned to face the stranger in front of him, trying to keep calm. If Kacchan trusted her, she had to be an alright person.

An alright person that just started unpacking lots of empty tubes, needles, instruments and pills. She set everything up on the nightstand in a seemingly random but probably well-thought out order. Only after that did she motion to him. “Good evening. I’m Recovery Girl. Take a seat, please.”

He did, hesitantly sitting down on the edge of the bed.

She too sat down, on her closed briefcase. It barely made a difference in her height. “So, tell me, how are you feeling?”

“I’m managing.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, but I can’t work with that.”

He looked at the woman more closely. Her expression was serious, lips thin, and the many lines around her eyes straightened with her glare.

He found he liked her a bit after all. She wouldn’t take any nonsense, but there wasn’t any pity or any cruelty in sight.

“My arm hurts a bit. I can’t use it like before, either. And I’ve been tired all day.”

She nodded. “That’s to be expected. We had to keep you under whilst I set the bones, and my quirk uses the energy of your body to expedite healing. Which you didn’t have a lot to begin with, so being tired is perfectly normal right now. Did the painkillers not help?”

“Painkillers?”

She blinked at him slowly. “Bakugou did forward you my instructions.” It wasn’t a question, more a dare to contradict her.

“Er… Yes. I didn’t take them.”

“I see. In that case, allow me to go over everything again.” She detailed the list of injuries he’d had (and listening to it, he wondered why he was alive), how they’d treated them, what to look out for, scarring, physical therapy, the works.

“Those were however just the things we could find on our own. Now that you’re awake, we can take a better look at you. It would help if you could give me any medical history you have, and I would recommend doing a physical and some bloodwork in any case.”

“I got a check-up only a few days ago, the usual appraisal before the last auction.” It was standard procedure. Quality control, and an aid in setting starting prices. “The physical was alright at the time, aside from malnutrition and some muscle atrophy, and bloodwork came back clean too. After that…” He gestured to his arm.

“Were these sources you trust?”

He thought about that. None of them had really talked to him, even his results he only knew because he happened to be conscious when they were discussed with the Auctioneers. “They wouldn’t dare to lie about that,” he reasoned.

She nodded. “Would you like to have them redone anyway?”

“I can choose?” he blurted out, surprised.

She tutted at him. “Of course you can. I’m a doctor, and my job is to help when needed and give advice when wanted. I cannot force you to do anything.”

“Oh.” He had no idea what to do with that information. “Well, what do you recommend?”

She rattled down another list of words which he understood half of, and then explained the ones that confused him.

“I guess a basic check-up couldn’t hurt,” he decided in the end. “And the blood testing. Maybe throw in any STIs than can be transferred via blood. The last lady I stayed with had terrible hygiene practices, you would’ve been appalled.” She’d never bothered to clean her instruments unless they stopped working the way intended. And she’d often enough cut herself on accident, too. He didn’t want to know where she’d been.

Recovery Girl nodded and began by looking over his arm, then proceeded to listen to his lungs and heart, take his blood pressure, temperature and so on, talking almost non-stop. The big contraption was a mobile X-Ray station, and she had him position his arm and his hand half a dozen times.

Izuku let her, asking the odd question, feeling weirdly taken care of. Only when she picked up some empty blood vials did he tense again. It’d be fine, he told himself.

“Your left arm, please.” He held it out, and she took a little cap off the cannula, holding a vial underneath. Nothing happened. “Hm. I suppose it’s safe to say that this one’s not working anymore.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, it happens all the time, never mind it. We’ll just have to go to the other arm.”

She brought up a small butterfly needle and an alcohol swab. Izuku watched it with apprehension. That needle wasn’t big enough to cause any lasting damage if someone tried. Still, he eyed its journey warily as it came closer – and then stopped.

“This isn’t going to work if you’ll bolt on me the second I hit a vein,” Recovery Girl chastised.

“I’m sorry.”

She clicked her tongue. “It might help if you just look the other way.”

He somehow really didn’t want to do that. “It’s alright,” he assured, and then took a deep breath, forcing himself to sit still. In the end, he did close his eyes, involuntarily. The pinprick of the needle made goosebumps crawl up his skin, and he could feel that weirdly cold sensation where his blood was sucked from him, and holy fuck, that felt like a lot, didn’t it, how much had he even left-

“And all done. Push down on this.”

He dutifully applied pressure on the wad of gauze to help stop the bleeding. He was alive. He was well. Recovery Girl put the tubes aside and turned back to him, gesturing to his elbow. “I think we can remove the cannula as well.”

He looked away for that, too, and when he opened his eyes again Recovery Girl was mostly done packing up. “You should stay sitting for a little bit. Wouldn’t want you to keel over, you’re pale as a sheet. I need to speak with the disaster child, so I’ll be just outside, shout if there are any problems.”

With that, she vanished out the door and left Izuku with a peace he hadn’t expected. The relief of having this over and done was staggering. He slowly relaxed his shoulders as he waited for potential ill effects of having his blood taken.

Outside, a faint commotion could be heard. “Bakugou Katsuki! What is this I hear about the patient I left in your care, on your insistence, with the promise you would be able to properly manage this not knowing anything about his medications!”

The argument grew fainter as another door shut somewhere in the house – not that it could be considered a real argument, since he didn’t hear Kacchan’s voice once.

He emerged a few minutes later, when he was sure there wouldn’t be any dizziness or fainting coming his way, wandering into the living room and then into the kitchen to find them standing there. It seemed he interrupted their talks, both just looking at him.

“Well then,” Recovery Girl said, attempting an air of nonchalance, “I guess I will be off. The results should be here in two to three days. Bakugou has my number, so please don’t hesitate to call me should you have any questions. And remember to take your medication.” The last statement was accompanied by the slightest side-eye towards Kacchan.

“Yes, thank you,” Izuku answered, remembering his manners.

The old woman tottered off, lugging her utensils behind her, not bothering to waste another word.

Kacchan breathed out hard after the front door fell shut. “I shouldn’t have neglected to inform you about her last visit-” he began.

Izuku waved him off. He was tired now, and he didn’t like the stilted way Kacchan spoke. It him rubbed him the wrong way. He could do without fake apologies. “’S fine. I think I might go to sleep, actually.”

“Oi, what about dinner…?”

“Not hungry.” He stumbled off towards the living room, where the pillow and blanket lay folded already – Kacchan’s, but the bedroom seemed miles and miles away, and he couldn’t be bothered to exchange them. Izuku sat down heavily and pulled the covers over him. The exhaustion of the entire day slammed down on him at once. Waking up, seeing Kacchan, meeting Shinsou, the doctor’s appointment, the lingering fatigue… It was all too much too soon. He was out the moment his head touched the pillow.

And woke again what felt like seconds later, against his will. Something shook him awake. He heard a faint voice before he was suddenly forced to sit by an invisible hook in his ribs that pulled him upright. The first thing he knew was that someone had told him ‘Wake up’, because he was just so familiar with the feeling. His reaction was a slight panic, because hardly anything good ever followed.

Experience taught him to grit his teeth and get his bearings first, and he came face to face with some blond asshole with spiky hair.

Izuku stared, confused and frightened, before he managed to school his features into something neutral. Nothing bad was going on, he told himself. This was just Kacchan being an idiot.

Kacchan stared back, shocked. Seeing someone yanked around on the puppet strings of a command while they were barely conscious had that effect on people. “What in the fucking hell was that? I mean - It’s late, I wanted to suggest you should eat something. Er. Your bandages need changing.”

Izuku forced himself to take a deep, slow breath. “Yes. Of course. Bandages first?”

Kacchan nodded awkwardly and motioned him along towards the bathroom, where he sat Izuku down on a newly manifested stool. He kept quiet as he carefully pried the bandages away, wiped off the residue of the ointments with a warm cloth and then reapplied everything methodically.

Izuku kept silent, gaze fixed on a spot on the floor, now avoiding looking at the mirror on his left side or his arm (and Kacchan) on his right. The minutes dragged on.

“Could you stop fidgeting?”

“Sorry.” He forced himself to sit still and ignore the empty room at his back. He felt exposed.

It just made every second drag on even longer. “You’re good at this,” Izuku eventually said, because they never went this long in silence. It unnerved him.

Kacchan grunted some affirmative. “We have a lot of mandatory first aid training,” he offered a while later. “And given the track record of certain people, I’ve had lots of opportunities to practice ever since my first year at U.A.”

Izuku’s curiosity started chewing at his insides at that. Class 1-A had been rather infamous right from the start, but Izuku knew only what’d been on the news, and then towards the end of their second year… information had been hard to come by. At least until the class graduated and started appearing in the papers again as professional heroes.

“Did your classmates get in a lot of fights?” he asked when he couldn’t take it anymore. “I mean, I’ve heard about the fights against the villains, and that sports festival looked very intense…” he trailed off.

“Honestly? Most of it were stupid accidents. Everyone was figuring out their quirks all the time, and that included limits. I don’t know if you know Shitty- I mean, Kirishima. Red Riot?” Izuku nodded a confirmation. “His quirk had him put himself into harm’s way repeatedly, on purpose, just to see how far he could push it. And most of the time, I was the other person around, so you can imagine how that went. The worst accidents were in the dorms, though. I don’t know what they were thinking, but having two dozen kids move in there, some of which haven’t used a kitchen in their lives, and telling them they’re responsible for their own food… It was madness.”

Izuku couldn’t imagine how bad it could’ve been, really, but he had a feeling his best guess would fall short by miles. A ‘you had to be there’ thing. He thought about asking again, but a short pull on the bandages made him finally glance over. Kacchan finished the wrapping and taped the loose end down over Izuku’s shoulder. “There. That should do. Oh, and… here.”

With a slightly embarrassed expression, Kacchan handed him some painkillers.

Not a moment too soon, Izuku thought. The whole thing had him focusing on his arm, and with all the holding it out and getting jostled around, the injuries made themselves known again. By now Izuku was sweating and had a hard time suppressing the shaking. Remembering Recovery Girl’s instructions, he popped two pills into his palm and drank from the tap again to wash them down.

When he turned back around, Kacchan watched him, shifting on his spot. “That bad?”

Izuku forced a smile and waved him off. “I’ve had way worse two days ago. I’ll manage.”

Kacchan nodded jerkily. “Right. I made food.” He turned, Izuku following obediently. He still wasn’t really hungry. His stomach actually hurt a bit from eating earlier after going hungry for four days.

Still, he politely ate some rice and fish, forcing himself to keep going until there was a visible dent in the amount on his plate. There were more pills, antibiotics and supplements, and he tossed them into his food where he couldn’t see them. Hoping Kacchan would be satisfied with that, he put his utensils down and rose from his seat. “I’m really sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll actually fall asleep here. Do you mind if I go to bed?”

“No, of course. I’ll try to keep quiet.”

“Don’t inconvenience yourself on my behalf. I doubt I’ll have trouble falling asleep.” He motioned to his plate, unsure. “Where do I put that?”

Again, Kacchan made that peculiar expression, eyes widening and then going narrow immediately, looking at something that wasn’t there. “Don’t worry, I got it.”

Izuku nodded his thanks and stumbled back towards the bathroom. He made a valid attempt at a night-time routine, brushing his teeth, washing his face, avoiding the mirror. He couldn’t see any of his new clothes lying around and frankly he couldn’t be bothered to go looking, so he dragged himself back towards the sofa, mindful to turn onto the side that didn’t hurt as much.

Of course being left alone was too much to ask right now. “I’m going to make a grocery run, anything I can get you?” Kacchan asked.

Izuku tried to think about that. Was there anything he needed? Food seemed to be taken care of, as were the other necessities. He didn’t even know what was available at the stores these days, he hadn’t stepped foot in one for ages. “Nothing I can think of,” he muttered.

He let his head fall back on the pillow and passed out again, feeling the slight prickle of being watched.

The next time he came to, it was an all-around more pleasant experience. For one, he felt sort of rested. Second, there was no rude awakening through his chain. Instead, someone was gently tapping his shoulder, and he heard a repeated “Oi, nerd. Are you awake?”

Izuku was used to waking fast, and he sat up moments later, rubbing his eyes. “I’m up.”

This time, Kacchan looked a lot guiltier for waking him. Or maybe it was a remnant of yesterday’s disaster. He straightened up as soon as Izuku moved, hovering around the door to the bathroom. “I gotta head to work now, but your bandages need changing again.”

Izuku nodded, and they repeated their routine from last evening. This time, the conversation was carried by Kacchan, all matter of fact information. “I’ll be back at around six if nothing unexpected comes up. Shinsou ’s still on a nightshift, but he said he’d be here around ten at the latest.”

Izuku glanced at the watch Kacchan was already wearing. If he wasn’t mistaken, it read half seven in the morning. “Do you really work almost twelve hour shifts?” he wondered.

Kacchan scoffed at that. “Nah, not normally, but I have my normal work on top of the investigation. Officially, I’m not even remotely involved in any of it, so I have to keep up the appearances. Can’t exactly ask Fat Gum for special treatment when the old guy is working double shifts himself. Although he’s giving me the nicer patrol routes, so that’s something.”

“You’re working very hard,” Izuku observed.

Kacchan muttered something he couldn’t make out before tying off the bandage. “There. And don’t forget your medications.”

Izuku grimaced slightly as the command made the medication take a special place inside his head, like an urgent notification. “I’ll just take them now.”

Kacchan had prepared some extra breakfast which Izuku gladly accepted, forcing down as much as he could before swallowing the pills with a swig of fresh juice. Just how long had Kacchan been up already, preparing breakfast like this?

He glanced over to his old… friend? They had been friends, a long time ago. Then enemies… no, not that. Kacchan had just taken an intense disliking to him. And after they parted ways, when they went to different high schools, they’d become almost strangers.

They’d occasionally meet on their commutes to and from school, before Kacchan went to live in the U.A. dorms, and they’d exchange polite nods in acknowledgement when they saw each other. After that, Kacchan would be around very rarely for weekends or holidays. The last time they met was probably around New Years, when Izuku and his mother had gone over to say hello. He’d seen Kacchan from a distance, leaving as they turned the corner of their street, probably avoiding them on purpose.

Most of what Izuku knew about Kacchan’s journey to become a hero was information he got from the news. It felt like a connection regardless, but it was a one-way street. Izuku’s school was good, but nothing that warranted public announcements of their achievements. He wondered if he’d been in the news after he’d gone missing. That was a standard thing, wasn’t it? Some inserts about missing people, asking for anything useful to locate them.

Looking at the person now gathering things for a long day out, Izuku felt like he was looking at a stranger, and at the same time someone he knew better than anyone else. There was familiarity, a distant, nostalgic warmth.

He wondered what Kacchan saw when he looked back.

“Okay, there is food in the fridge. I have my cell number saved in the phone so you can call if there’s an emergency. If there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to send Shinsou out on some errands, that’s what we have him for. I wrote the passwords for the TV and stuff out, they’re on the couch table. As I said, what’s mine is yours and all that shit, just keep in mind the office is off-limits for obvious reasons. Have at it.” He stopped, one hand already on the door. “Did I forget anything?” he added, half-turning back.

Izuku thought quickly, but there wasn’t anything that came to mind. Again. Medication, food, ground rules… It was all there. And yet. Something was missing, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. But Kacchan seemed eager to leave, so he shook his head. “I think I’ll be fine, thank you.”

“Alright then.” Kacchan opened the door, and paused again, looking back.

Before he knew what was happening, a hand came down on top of Izuku’s head and ruffled his hair, a movement that took less than a second.

“See you later, Izuku.”

“See you later-“

The door fell shut.

“-Kacchan.”

For a long while, he listened to the increasing silence.

He reached up into his hair, even more hopelessly tangled now, tracing the phantom movement he still felt. “Kacchan.” His hands fell lower, following the contours of his own face, feeling the sharp lines and the wetness on his cheeks. It was pathetic, wasn’t it, to cry over something so simple as getting a pat on the head and being called by your name.

He turned sharply towards his left, taking determined steps until he was in the bathroom, and before he could think better of it, he pulled himself upright and stared straight ahead.

Someone stared back. Green, slightly misty eyes underlined with huge black circles. Sunken cheeks of malnourishment. Pale, paper-thin skin that stretched over the too sharp jut of bones. Bitten, dry lips. Hair that came down to his shoulders, at least when the strands didn’t curl and frizz in all directions. They hadn’t seen conditioner in years, and without it, there was no taming them. And of course the freckles. Those were as he remembered.

“Izuku,” he told himself. That was his name, even if no one had called him that in a long while. That’s who he was. And if that was who Kacchan saw, well, then he’d just have to believe it. That this was still the same person.

“Although we could use a haircut,” he told his reflection with a wry grin. Maybe Shinsou could help.

Until then, he set out again. There wasn’t really anything for him to do. Or rather, there was so much to do. With the Lady, he’d had his chores for the day set out a week in advance, all work, mostly cleaning and gardening. And then, it’d been an undetermined amount of time spent waiting for anything to happen.

Now that he was free to decide his own plans for the day, the possibilities felt overwhelming to the point of paralysis. He decided to look at the things Kacchan had mentioned earlier, starting with the passwords. There was a notepad on the couch table, and he quickly skimmed it: Streaming services, Wi-Fi, all were listed in Kacchan’s neat handwriting. Then his eyes grew wider as he found a number of accounts for shopping websites, together with Kacchan’s credit card details. He put the note down gingerly.

There was also a stack of notebooks with pens and pencils next to the note, with a post-it attached. ’I hope these are the right ones, they all look the same. If you could use one to write down anything useful regarding our investigation, I’m sure the team would appreciate it.’

He flipped quickly through the notebooks. They were evidently brand-new, all blank pages, and exactly the kind Izuku had always used for his analysis, down to the same brand. Looking at them, Izuku could feel a small tingle of excitement in his chest. Yes, he could be of use here. He’d gladly fill more than one notebook, giving them all he’d seen and learned over the years.

Once his arm had recovered enough so he could actually hold a pen. With a sigh, he put the notebook down. Recovery Girl had explicitly forbidden straining himself too soon, and in all honesty, he didn’t want to risk it. She’d also said the prospect of a full recovery was there, but she couldn’t use her quirk again when he was still exhausted from last time. Something about it draining his energy, he recalled. Four days, she’d said. Then it might be possible.

’Energy, huh.’ That could be another goal. He hadn’t liked the way his ribs and hipbones stood out when he’d changed earlier. He didn’t like the way his legs ached and wobbled, muscles still sore, refusing to carry him for more than ten minutes at a time. He didn’t like being perpetually tired, even if it was an aftereffect of the healing and the painkillers.

He shot a longing glance towards the training room, but he knew he wasn’t ready for that. He could make a plan for food, though. Set himself timers or something to eat a little bit every couple of hours, to get his appetite back, until he could eat full meals again. Was that how this worked? He would need a nutrition plan, probably. Those were a thing; he just knew close to nothing about how they actually functioned in his circumstance. He could barely remember the food pyramid.

He hadn’t seen a computer password on the note, and the only PC he’d seen so far was in the office, but maybe Kacchan would allow him to do some research? Or he could ask Shinsou for his phone later. He hadn’t had internet access in so long, the prospect of having any and all information at his fingertips again was making him giddy.

For now, he’d have to make do without it, so he decided to take stock first. Peeking into the fridge, he noticed a big difference compared to Kacchan’s introductory house tour yesterday. Then, it’d been a lot of vegetables, some yoghurt, meats and stuff. Now all of those had been pushed to the side by an army of containers filled with prepared foods: Rice and fish, more miso soup, another rice dish with lean chicken, raw vegetables like bell pepper, carrots and cucumber cut into sticks arranged on a plate with some dip, fruit with yoghurt and something he guessed might be bulgur salad. A few had little notes with microwave instructions attached to them, and it was only here Izuku realized this was probably all for him. ’Most likely some leftovers from Kacchan’s own lunch’, he reasoned.

Breakfast seemed altogether too much this early, but he felt determined to get better, so he grabbed the plate with the veggies and set it on the counter, munching on a carrot as he looked through the overhead cabinets as well.

Noodles, rice, more rice, one entirely reserved for spices, and in the last one they had… sour gummies? Izuku paused. Unless he completely misremembered, Kacchan hated those with a passion (and he was entitled to his opinion, even if it was wrong). Izuku got as far on his tiptoes as he could and looked closer. A little bit of chocolate and a few bags of crisps, that was expected. Izuku found some caramel popcorn as well, which he hadn’t had in ages but looked forward to.

He closed the cabinet again and his eyes fell to the electric kettle next to the coffee machine. Izuku had never really tried coffee before, and the machine looked proportionally complicated to its evidently high price, so he thought it wise to leave it alone.

But Kacchan had said something about black tea being in stock, and a little caffeine boost sounded lovely. Otherwise he’d just sleep the day away again, and that wouldn’t do. Not when he was finally able to have a proper conversation with Shinsou today, which he looked forward to immensely. Shinsou was nice.

Getting the water to boil was the easy step, but then Izuku had to search through half the kitchen until he located the right drawer (coincidentally, it was the one under the coffee machine and kettle. Who’d have thought.)

Kacchan seemed to have developed a taste for coffee (not to say an addiction), since the drawer was filled with opened packages of different blends with fancy names none of which Izuku could pronounce. Then, in the back corner, there was the tea.

Black tea, which was almost gone, and a spice blend, some herbal teas, and there was rooibos as well… All unopened. Huh. Izuku grabbed the spice blend, a chai, which he remembered from home. Suddenly feeling nostalgic, he made himself a cup of that instead, pleased to find it tasting just as he remembered.

Armed with his tea and his veggie plate, he went back to the sofa and decided to turn on the TV after all, switching to a news channel. He was curious to see what was going on in the outside world.

To his immense delight, the regular news got interrupted by a live-feed of an ongoing fight in the downtown area. He could see a flying villain with batwings zip around the skyscrapers, chased by a hero with distinct red feathers going breakneck speed before they vanished over the rooftops. “-appear to have cut off the villains’ escape route. Pro Heroes Uravity, Ingenium and Froppy are working hard to cordon off the area. Civilians are requested to stay inside. Pedestrians, please evacuate via the streets marked by the green flares.”

He vaguely knew who these people were (thanks to his avid interest in class 1-A that was for once not related to Kacchan (maybe a little bit related)) but he hadn’t seen them in action since the sports festivals. Uravity was very impressive in hand-to-hand and also insanely determined and creative with her quirk. Right now, she appeared to hold up an enormous ring of rubble and miscellaneous items around the zone. It looked like an asteroid belt, marking the arena and caging the villains in there.

The camera swerved as the chopper from which the footage was taken shook hard, and for a moment red feathers took over the entire screen. When the camera refocused, Izuku nearly bounced off the cushions: A giant glacier rivalling the size of the skyscrapers grew out of nowhere, trapping the flying villain and allowing Hawks to snatch him out of the air.

“And just like that, it appears that Hawks, with the assistance of Pro Hero Shoto, current number twenty-six in the rankings, has apprehended the leader of the villains. Having detailed his plans to open his own agency not four years after graduation, Hero Shoto’s rise in popularity can be attributed not only to the unique, fresh view he brings into standard hero work, but also his network of close allies from his high school days-”

Izuku was only a little disappointed at how fast that fight had ended. He hadn’t even gotten a closer view of the glacier, much less actual footage of famous hero Shoto. Izuku had been a fan since the sports festival. A dual quirk! No wonder he’d shot up the ladder of the rankings so fast.

With a sigh, he switched through the channels once more, where he found a hero documentary that kept him occupied until a key turned in the lock of the front door.

“Hello?” Shinsou called, strolling into the room and smiling as soon as he saw Izuku. “Oh, hey, you’re up and about!”

Izuku gave a small wave. “Hi Shinsou! How was your day so far? I heard you had a nightshift?”

“And he talks! Wonders never cease. Yeah, I’ve been on stakeout, which is all I am allowed to tell you. Is there food?” he asked, zeroing in on Izuku’s mostly-eaten plate.

“The fridge is literally overflowing. Help yourself.”

“Thanks. How’s Blasty boy doing? Any instructions for me? Do you have a care sheet I need to take into account?”

“Not really. He said you could run some errands for me though?” Shinsou paused and looked back expectantly. “Could you cut my hair? It’s too long.”

Shinsou gave the mess on his head another once-over. “I probably could, but I won’t be held liable for the result. I think Mina has some scissors, I’ll ask if I can borrow them.”

“Cool. Thanks. Um. Could you maybe help me get the knots out today…?”

The other shrugged. “If you’re not gonna jump again.”

“Sorry about that. I’ve never liked when people stand behind me.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

Now that Izuku could engage in proper conversation with him, he started asking Shinsou about his quirk, and they exchanged more theories on the Golden Chain whilst they fought against the long hair. Shinsou was oddly knowledgeable on the topic.

“You’re really good at quirk analysis!” Izuku told him when Shinsou continued a thought Izuku had chewed on for years regarding the limits on the chains – there had to be some. No quirk was perfect, especially mind-related ones. “If it’s just a timer between the uses, that would also explain why they are so intent on re-auctioning people. Changing something – like employers, for example – would in theory be easier than forging a completely new chain.”

He thought hard as he added, “You know, I can’t be sure, but the auctions I’ve seen only had like a dozen or so people when there were at least two hundred visitors. And I have a vague suspicion they’re only four times a year.” That last bit was a guess, but it checked out with the times the Lady had left for events. Two times she’d returned with a new hire. There had been more than a dozen people in Ueda’s basement, and not everyone was brought to every auction, which explained his own long stay. Although a few of them were probably kept there for The Playground instead.

Shinsou nodded. “I think that it’s also highly likely removing the chain is a difficult process for that specific purpose. It encourages re-selling to the Auriculates, so they have an easier time preparing for another auction. We know it is possible for the slave owners to take the bracelets off willingly, but that’s just half the deal. The necklaces stay, if less effective without a bond the rules can apply to and focus on.”

Izuku latched onto that last titbit. It’d been the same on The Playground, where the chain was primed to connect to the next person they touched. It was the most autonomy he’d had, that evening. He’d never actually seen a chain removed, only changing owners. “How do you know that?”

Shinsou shifted with the look of someone that’d just shared a secret he wasn’t supposed to tell. “Okay, look, for legal reasons this conversation isn’t happening, and I normally wouldn’t tell, but this affects you and Blasty directly.”

He fixed Izuku with a piercing stare. “I think you should be aware, if only to keep the both of you from experimenting on your own and doing something stupid.”

Izuku wisely kept his mouth shut on that.

“Aizawa, one of Blasty Boy’s bosses in this, brought me in on a few occasions after busting houses in the last two months. They freed five people, but even though they caught the owners and had them remove the bracelets the chains stayed, and it was a disaster. The Quirk on the chains went haywire, which is unusual in itself. Two of the victims were immediately in pain and had to be put in an artificial coma. Now keep in mind, the Auriculates have been known to the Heroes for close to a decade, and these complications never happened before. It’s how we got most of the basic information, like what the standard orders on the chains are, about the auctions, how giving and receiving orders works and what the repercussions are. In the past you removed the bracelet and the people are pretty much free to go. This time…”

He looked off to the side. “They didn’t make it, is what I heard. One other killed herself first chance she got, and the other two refused to talk to anybody no matter what we tried. Eventually Aizawa came in with the hunch that their silence may be related to the chains, and they called me just to see if I would be able to help – fight a mind quirk with a mind quirk. It turns out I can temporarily overwrite the commandments for the duration of my quirk. Which is unfortunately not indefinite.”

Izuku sat on that for a moment. This was new information to him. “But what about the people that went home? Kacchan said there were a few of them, I’ve heard news about it as well.”

Shinsou nodded. “As I said: This wasn’t an issue until about half a year ago. As far as I understand, they reworked the commandments sometime last October or November. The press made it seem like a lucky streak on our side, and I don’t have any definite confirmation, since I wasn’t directly involved, but Aizawa hinted that around that time, they successfully hit another three houses thanks to information they got from someone they freed from the chain. They must’ve been able to describe people or locations.”

“But that risk isn’t something new. Why act now? Why not implement that failsafe earlier?”

“Beats me. Maybe the Auriculates got scared because an entire division of HQ is now solely dedicated to catching them. That’s more opposition than they’ve had in years. The Hero society reform threw a wrench in their plans. And I personally think that the extended commandments must somehow strain them considerably, which is likely why they changed tune only recently. Cost versus benefit. When the heroes find victims, the Auriculates only lose a customer. Since they keep their own identities hidden, they themselves are pretty unaffected.”

“Sounds plausible,” Izuku muttered. “Maybe the customers started complaining. The last woman I stayed with didn’t want anything more to do with the entire thing because of it.”

Shinsou nodded. “I know, right? That’s what I guessed. Anyway, I just wanted you to be up to speed, since Blasty wasn’t sure if you’re affected by this. So you don’t go off experimenting.”

“I gotta be.” He threw his head against the backrest of the sofa, frustrated. “I’ve been at the last auction, like, two weeks ago. They had time to adjust my chain. I just can’t remember a damned thing.” He’d been too out of it to bother with details, still exhausted and starved. Now he wished he’d been more attentive. “Wonderful. Just wonderful. No wonder I’m still here.”

Shinsou shot him a quizzical look. “What do you mean by that?”

Izuku blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. It settled right back. Too long. “Kacchan hates me,” he confessed. “And before you ask, no, I don’t know why. Part of it is because I’m quirkless, but I never got him to explain. So I just wondered why he hasn’t kicked me out yet, is all.”

By now Shinsou looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “But you’re friends, right? You went to him for help, when you realized who he was, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Of course. He’s a Hero! He doesn’t have to like me to help me, he’s just amazing like that. Him helping me out of there was never a question. It’s more the whole ‘staying at his house thing’. I know he’d never say anything outright, he’s not like that anymore, but he can’t be too happy to know I’m stuck here for who knows how long, years potentially, and I don’t want to intrude into Kacchan’s personal life too much, that’s just not right, he has his own life to live and all-”

“Hello-o.” A snapping made him click his mouth shut. “Wow, you went off on that tangent. I can see what Blasty meant.”

“Ah, sorry. Bad habit.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind. And I don’t think Blasty does, either. Mind you. Having you around. He used to talk about you, you know.”

Izuku glanced over. “You mentioned that, yes.”

A nod. “He did. Not all the time, and not extensively. Then again, I wasn’t close friends with the lot until after graduation, when we started working together. But he mentioned you randomly, whenever he was reminded of you. Just weird little things. Is it true you once threw your schoolbag into some villain’s face?”

Izuku laughed, not at the memory, but the nonchalant way Shinsou said it, like he hadn’t been about to die of fear. “That happened. I’m surprised Kacchan told that story.” The Kacchan he knew would never willingly take a blow to his pride like that.

“Truth be told, he didn’t really. He just yelled at a bunch of Heroes, our seniors no less, when they didn’t intervene in a fight fast enough. Said ‘Just fucking move it you wimps, if Deku could do it so can you.’”

The image that conjured was priceless. “Oh God, I can’t imagine they took that well!”

“They didn’t, but Blasty just went ahead regardless, stalled the villain, saved two people and got himself landed in hospital for a week, so it wasn’t like they had any opportunity to complain.”

Izuku immediately sobered. “Hospital?”

Shinsou grinned. “Blew up someone who could control liquids. Inside a brewery. Where they specialised in refining very flammable substances.”

Izuku could only facepalm. He could smell the stupid decision that’d been made there.

“Yep, that was my reaction as well. The burned skin wasn’t that bad, we have a lot of competent healers for that, that was a regular Tuesday for everyone involved. But he’d inhaled some of the finer mist and singed his airways all the way down to his lungs, from the inside. I’m glad to inform you he’s learned from the experience, at least.”

Izuku just shook his head in fond exasperation. Typically Kacchan, trusting only himself to get the job done, even if it was the worst imaginable setup. Then again, it wasn’t like Izuku’s own decision to attack a villain with essentially nothing but paper and a prayer had been any wiser.

He told that story to Shinsou after some prompting, and they traded little anecdotes back and forth, about their childhoods, school, family, and so on. Izuku was happy that Shinsou didn’t pry for anything that happened after he went missing, but rather listened to the stories about the friends Izuku made in the Lady’s attic like they were just discussing their school days, and when Izuku trailed off after wondering how they were, Shinsou just whipped his phone out and showed him pictures of his many cats instead.

Izuku felt like the two of them could easily be friends too, and he was looking forward to it.

He hardly realized how fast the hours flew by that day – he didn’t nod off once - so he was surprised when he heard the front door open.

Kacchan stalked through into the kitchen, again laden with bags. “I’m back.”

“Hi.”

“That’s my cue, then.” Shinsou got up and gathered his things.

“You don’t-” ‘have to go’ Izuku wanted to say, but he caught himself. It would be rude to invite someone to stay when this wasn’t even his house.

“Yes I do,” Shinsou replied. “Aizawa is out and I have to take care of the cats.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Izuku asked hopefully.

“Naturally.” Shinsou leaned in close as he put on his jacket. “And think about what I said about Blasty. He doesn’t mind you being here, and I’m not convinced he ever really hated you. No one knows this much random bullshit about a person they don’t care about.”

Izuku rolled his eyes at the pleasantry, but didn’t bother to protest.

“See you tomorrow, then. I’ll try to annoy Mina for those scissors!”

Kacchan poked his head out of the kitchen. “How about you bring some food instead, you glutton? I’m not a charity here, pay for your own fucking meals!” He looked over at Izuku. “Speaking of meals, I’m making katsudon today. You can help if you want, or go take a shower. That fucking medical shit reeks, I don’t know how you can stand it.”

Izuku perked up at hearing the chosen dish. He hadn’t had katsudon in forever. He sniffed surreptitiously at his arm, but he didn’t get anything. The salve must’ve already destroyed his olfactory sense. “I’ll take a shower, then.”

It wouldn’t do to bother Kacchan with it, if it was that bad. He gathered some of his new clothes, choosing a comfortable green hoody with a zipper to have an easier time putting it on, and some grey sweatpants.

He carefully peeled the bandages and the gauze off his arm, and yes, now that he was confronted with the source, that stuff smelled awful. He noted the conveniently placed trashcan that’d appeared overnight and gladly got rid of the offending items.

When he stepped underneath the blissfully warm spray he took a moment to pull the wet strands of his hair as far down as they would go. When they weren’t frizzy and trying to escape in all directions he could feel them touch his collarbones. It was really high time for that haircut, and he hoped that this Mina would kindly lend them her scissors, it was an emergency, thank you very much. With a sigh, he shoved the strands back out of his eyes. And stared at a bottle of apple-scented conditioner that hadn’t been there yesterday.

Surprised, he picked it up, half-expecting it to disappear. This hadn’t been here before, had it? No, Kacchan wouldn’t be caught dead using something that smelled like apple, and it was definitely unopened. But then how? And why?

‘No one knows this much random bullshit about a person they don’t care about.’

Izuku thought about the notebook on the table, the snacks, the tea, the katsudon, and now the damned conditioner. It had to be a coincidence, because how on earth would Kacchan even know about it all? Then again, five times could hardly be a coincidence when three times was already a pattern, or however that saying went.

He popped the cap of the bottle and inhaled. Yep, this was the right kind, not that overly sweet, too artificial stuff. Defeated, Izuku covered his face with his free hand, shaking his head as he failed to hide a grin so wide it hurt his cheeks.

“So mean, Kacchan,” he whispered as happiness joined the steadily sparking flame of hope inside him. Because what was a guy supposed to think, receiving all these little things, as if Kacchan could read his mind? Next thing he’d know, he and Kacchan could actually be friends again.

Chapter 6

“It is the best lead we have. I understand your concerns, Ground Zero, but if he volunteered for this, we should thank him and accept the proposal.” Endeavor spoke with finality.

Katsuki ground his teeth together. He cursed Izuku for suggesting this, and he cursed himself for not reading the notebook Eraserhead was currently perusing before handing it in.

It had been exactly six days since Izuku woke up, and everything had been going rather well, considering the circumstances. Or that’s what Katsuki believed - the damn nerd didn’t talk. At least not unprompted, and then it was short answers and polite questions.

He acted like everything was just fine! Like he hadn’t been three hours from death when they’d found him, like going missing for four years was nothing to be concerned about, like being chained to Katsuki of all people was a minor inconvenience at worst.

Granted, Katsuki wasn’t home that much these days - he had to work, somehow juggling the workload of the case and his normal duties both. And when he was off, in the evenings and over the weekend, Izuku spent a lot of time napping. Shinsou said he didn’t do that when he was around, so Katsuki took the hint for what it was.

It was natural Izuku preferred Shinsou’s company over his, that he didn’t want to speak with him, even less confide in him about what he’d gone through.

Katsuki tried to be considerate; he watched what he said more closely than he’d done in his life, he made sure the nerd had what he needed, and that he could keep himself occupied so he wouldn’t go stir-crazy. What he couldn’t do was let him go home.

Izuku insisted that it was alright, that he was perfectly comfortable where he was. Katsuki didn’t believe it one second. It was a completely fucked up situation. He’d considered bringing up the topic of the safe house again. However, the nerd was still overall exhausted and in no shape to care for himself on a completely autonomous level yet. He’d therefore decided to wait a little longer before having that discussion, fearing Izuku would insist, with his self-destructive tendencies and whatnot.

The nerd had gotten better in areas, however. Shinsou had given him a haircut, taming the green mess on Izuku’s head into something simple but… nice. It looked nice, cropped close at the sides and slightly longer on top. Nothing like that broccoli head he’d had in middle school. It made Izuku look mature, his twenty years making themselves seen.

It hit something deep inside Katsuki’s chest, seeing the person that’d come out the other side of a personal hell alive. He wondered what had happened to that little kid he remembered. Like a dead leaf off a tree, that person was gone, in a way, and Katsuki knew he was never coming back, for better or for worse. The question was whether or not something else would grow back in that place.

Other things. Better things, he would like to hope, even if he hadn’t seen them yet. The man that now filled that empty space was different. Quieter. More thoughtful. A little reserved. Katsuki hadn’t seen that thousand-watt smile yet. The next best thing was a glimpse of it, a pale shadow. And even that only one time.

Some things were still the same; like how the nerd got lost in mutters and mumbles when he was deep in thought. He always carried a pen, so when he got the compelling urge to write something down he could do that, occasionally even writing on his hand or his arm when nothing else was in convenient reach. He stopped everything he was doing when something interesting like a hero fight came up on TV. Those moments overlapped with sepia-coloured memories from the past, as if he could go back if he tried a little harder.

But other times, when he caught Izuku unawares, be it in sleep or by glancing over in secret, he could almost make out the shield Izuku surrounded himself. It wasn’t tangible, but Katsuki felt it like a haze in the summer heat, something that was only there when he didn’t expect to see it.

He noticed it in the way Izuku masked his presence. Even knowing he was somewhere in the house, Katsuki felt like he was trying to catch a glimpse of a wisp more than once, until green eyes suddenly materialized where they hadn’t been before.

He saw it in the way Izuku curled up in sleep, making himself as small as possible, back always pressed against something solid, always hiding under the covers no matter how warm the spring days got nowadays, always clutching something – a pillow, the edge of his covers, a discarded hoodie – like he needed to hold on for dear life.

He saw all these things, when no one else could. Shinsou commented on Izuku’s progress, clearly pleased with all the achievements, and Katsuki wished he could be happy about those too, without that nagging feeling at the back of his mind that told him ‘Yes, but’.

Izuku was trying to eat decent size meals again, and he took his physio therapy exercises very seriously. Katsuki had organized him a new laptop upon request, which he’d had to fight the rest of the team tooth and nail for: They feared Izuku might compromise the entire operation if he contacted anyone, the internet wasn’t safe, yada yada. Accounts, email, any information saved – in the end, he’d had to order Izuku to keep to certain rules, as if Izuku didn’t know these things already. He’d hated that, but it was the only way to get his bosses to agree.

Two days ago, Recovery Girl had come by for a follow-up. She’d used her quirk to expedite Izuku’s healing again, and after a mere seven hours of napping that day, Izuku had taken off his bandages for the final time and been declared recovered.

After that, the nerd had somehow filled an entire notebook with details on the Auriculates in less than 24 hours, and a second one was dedicated solely to The Goldsmith and their quirk. Katsuki hadn’t even seen Izuku write - yesterday he’d simply been presented with the finished work just as he’d been about to leave for patrol.

And because he’d been in a hurry, he hadn’t bothered to check what was actually written there. So later that day, he’d been taken very much aback when Aizawa had flipped through the pages, raised an eyebrow and said “This might just work.”

And then he’d proceeded to lay out the plan Izuku had suggested: Evidently, it was possible to change the commandments on a chain at any time, proven by the new standard issue that’d been implemented six months ago. In rare cases some customers had requested custom restrictions; Izuku gave the example of how the head butler of some old woman had been able to give orders, too. The only way to get these changes implemented was to meet the Goldsmith in person. So the logical conclusion was that Katsuki should contact the Auriculates and ask if it was possible to amend some basic commands on his and Izuku’s chain, which would take them directly to a high priority target.

Katsuki thought himself very reasonable when he vetoed that idea immediately, but he’d been on his own. Especially when they’d decided that it would be too risky to apprehend The Goldsmith, who was likely heavily protected. Now they wanted Katsuki to take Izuku to these people and put more restrictions on him for the ‘simple’ purpose of ‘information gathering’. Katsuki failed to see what they could possibly gain from this.

Yesterday, he’d gotten around a final decision by citing Izuku wasn’t in any shape to leave the house, and that he was also a civilian and shouldn’t be involved in the first place.

Shinsou, the traitor, had informed them that Izuku was smart enough to know what he was doing when the bosses had asked for his opinion on the matter.

“If Shinsou considers Midoriya to be fit for this mission, I believe him,” Eraserhead said. “He’s spent the most time with Midoriya, so I trust his assessment. And Midoriya was enrolled in a hero support course, so it’s not like he’s completely unable to judge the situation. Of course we need to discuss this with him in person, but it’s a promising avenue to explore.”

Katsuki breathed out slowly and counted down from ten. His old classmates eyed him warily.

He still hadn’t told Eraserhead, Fat Gum and Endeavor about the exact nature of his and Izuku’s relationship. He didn’t even know why, but he felt like it would be a bad idea. There’d be fussing for sure. A completely unnecessary complication to their mission.

(Strangely, they hadn’t really asked anything beyond a name – he understood why Endeavor would consider any person from The Playground Katsuki’s responsibility, but he’d expected both his boss and his former teacher to demand a few more details. He couldn’t believe Aizawa didn’t know. He just hadn’t commented on it, for whatever reason, which was highly suspicious in Katsuki’s opinion.)

The drawback was that now everyone nodded, and he couldn’t say anything, because as far as they were concerned, Shinsou was the one who knew best.

“Very well. I suggest you bring Midoriya to a planning session, where we will go over the details,” Fat Gum interjected. “He should remain as invisible as possible when being outside, we can clear a route through the building for you. I’ll inform you about the time later.”

With the meeting now concluded, people began to gather their things and file out. Mina gave him a sympathetic look, and Kirishima put a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

Katsuki shrugged him off. “I still don’t like it.”

“I don’t understand why you are so against this,” Shouto said, coming to stand next to them. “This was one of our goals.”

Katsuki clenched his fists. True, they’d talked about the possibility of using a potential ‘hire’ as a way to get closer to the Auriculates, but the idea always left a bitter aftertaste. It was nothing short of blackmail, in his opinion: These people didn’t ever really have a choice as long as Katsuki wore this bracelet, and it felt like they were trading them safety only in exchange for their use in this operation, which was so wrong.

Even if it was Izuku who suggested this bloody idiocy. Especially because of that.

“Because-” he began, thinking better of it. Aizawa was still there, and the man’s perception was downright frightening at times. He began to walk down the corridor, flanked by his friends. “Because no matter what he says, or what Shinsou believes, the damn nerd is not okay. I can just tell this is bothering him.”

“Define ‘this’”, Mina said.

Katsuki sighed. “Everything, I don’t know. He won’t fucking talk to me. And save it, I get it!” he warned, before either of them could go off on one of their ‘Let’s analyse our feelings’-lectures.

“He talks to Shinsou, doesn’t he? Does he have an idea what’s wrong?” Kirishima tried.

“Nah. And Shinsou isn’t the type to go around announcing it if he knew something – not unless it’s critical information.”

“Yeah, I know. But maybe, if Deku talks to him-”

“Then it’s none of my business. From what I gathered, they’re just nerding out about Quirk analyses and stuff. Not about whatever happened to the nerd, and not what’s bothering him, either.”

Shouto gave him a sidelong glance. “Have you asked Deku what’s wrong?”

Katsuki stared in disbelief. “Seriously? You want me to just ask ‘Hey, you were missing for four years, how’s the trauma? Please detail any and all abuse? Was it worse than what I did to you?’ Are you dumb?”

“You know I didn’t mean-”

“Shut up. Just… Shut up.”

Shouto stepped in front of him, stopping them all in the middle of a hall. “No.”

“Shouto, bro…” Kirishima tried, looking between the two helplessly.

“No. It’s not only Deku that is bothered, I can tell that you are bothered too. And if there is a chance this will compromise our mission, I will not just stand by. Besides, I dislike seeing you upset. If you and Deku cannot work out your differences until that visit to The Goldsmith, I will say something to Aizawa. There’s no shame in admitting you’re overwhelmed with this particular scenario. No one blamed Ochako when she had to bow out of this. No one blamed Shinsou for not wanting to get involved in the first place. We can find a different place for Deku, you wouldn’t have to stop being part of the operation. Tell the Auriculates he died, should they ask. That would probably be a good excuse to push for the auction.”

Katsuki was genuinely, honestly tempted to punch Shouto in the face. An urge he hadn’t had since first year. “I. Said. It’s. Fine.”

They glared at each other for a few tense moments. Just when Kirishima activated his quirk, ready to step between them, Shouto raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. You know I’m right.”

Katsuki remained silent as they resumed their walk.

“Hey,” Mina tried, “are you coming to our bar night? We missed you the last two times.”

“Because you had to pay for yourself?”

“Dude…”

“Nah, not coming, sorry. Can’t leave Izuku alone all evening.”

“I thought you didn’t get along?” Shouto asked with a slight uptick to the corner of his mouth. Katsuki gave him the benefit of the doubt and decided he was teasing this time.

“He’s still recovering; I can’t leave him completely on his own. And Shinsou has dibs this week.” Whenever someone got off night shifts, they were entitled to compensation in the form of free drinks.

Mina groaned in disappointment. “Aw man. Next week? You can bring Deku along, maybe?”

“And how would I do that?”

“Glamours?”

“Do I look like I’m made of money?!”

“More than I am, High-and-Mighty Mister Number Thirty-six.”

“You got a merch deal recently, don’t complain!”

“And you have at least a dozen!”

The bickering continued along those harmless lines until they parted ways at the entrance. Katsuki was barely furious with them anymore, but the discussion weighed heavy on his mind.

He arrived home in time to send Shinsou off towards the bar. Izuku nodded at him, then proceeded to hide inside the book he was reading, looking like he was trying to merge with the couch.

It was frustrating.

Frustrating, because for once, he could exactly point out what angered him. But despite knowing what the problem was, his search for a solution was less successful. In theory, he knew talking would fix it. Somehow. At least that’s what the tiny voice inside his head insisted. The one that sounded like his high school therapist.

But he did not know how to talk. Not to Izuku. It was ironic, they had so much history together, he should have at least one opening, right?

Wrong. Because those were all loud or sarcastic or teasing scathing the edge of downright mean. He’d put Izuku down, directly or indirectly, and Izuku would dodge the jab and shower him with praise for being the coolest. Katsuki didn’t do polite. Never had, never would. That’s just who he was.

Trying to pretend playing nice would be a farce, and Izuku would spot that in point two seconds flat. So how could one be nice without being nice (and not set off a traumatic memory in the process?)

“How was your day?” Katsuki asked after an hour of being home, when they sat down to eat dinner. Neutral territory.

“Fine,” came the reply.

The standard reply. Everything seemed to be ‘fine’ these days.

“Anything interesting?”

“Not really.”

Goddammit.

“The bosses saw your idea with The Goldsmith.”

“Uh-hu.”

“They’re considering it.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

With a tired sigh, Katsuki gave up.

As soon as they were done eating, Izuku started his usual offer of “Should I clean up?”, pointing at the dishes.

Katsuki was about to give his usual answer of, “No, I got this,” but damn Izuku kept asking, looking all sad and lost with those big puppy eyes every time he got turned down.

He knew Izuku was the type to believe he had to prove his worth, be useful to be appreciated. He didn’t know how much of this had been ingrained into him in the past years, that he was supposed to do work no matter what.

Katsuki ground his teeth. His own mother had it ingrained into him to be a good host, but this was really more of a roommate-type situation, wasn’t it? “Fucking fine. If I have to go looking for a single thing because it’s not in its place, that’ll be the last time, though, got it? And they better be fucking clean.” (If his mom could hear him talk like that to a guest, even she’d be disappointed. But fuck if Katsuki wasn’t fed up with this entire situation.)

How Izuku could hear that and still perk up (at the prospect of doing chores!) Katsuki would never understand. “Alright! Leave it to me!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes and went off to get started on the report that was due tomorrow. “I better not regret this,” he muttered to himself as he left.

And because he’d had to say it, the regret came predictably about seven minutes later, when he was startled from his forms by the distinct sound of porcelain meeting kitchen tile.

“Fucking hell!” he shouted as the unexpected noise made him draw a streak across the entire paper.

He tilted his head towards the kitchen, waiting for Izuku to appear, or to hear a stammered stream of apologies, but there was only… eerie silence?

“The fuck, nerd?” he asked aloud, already getting up and going to check. If that damned idiot had fainted on him-

And at first he thought that was exactly what’d happened, when he got no reply, but Izuku was there in his kitchen, doing the dishes. Or at least that was what he’d been doing, standing there with soapy hands and a towel. Right now, Izuku seemed frozen. He looked like he wasn’t even breathing, wide eyes fixed on the broken plate on the floor.

It felt like Izuku was re-enacting that scene of ‘They can only see movement’.

“Oi, nerd, what the hell happened here?”

No reply came, and Katsuki stalked closer, concerned. Was he having a panic attack or some shit? Did anything happen? Had he overexerted himself? …Shit, the nerd really was completely frozen.

“Oi! Breathe!”

With a ragged inhale, Izuku snapped out of his stupor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’ll fix it-” He dropped to the floor, muttering non-stop, not looking away from the shards as he started to gather them up.

“Stop that!” Katsuki ordered, now growing uneasy himself. He grabbed Izuku by the arm and hauled him back up to his feet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry-”

“Izuku.”

The stream of mumbles stopped, and finally, Izuku glanced at him. Now shaking up a storm. Great, was this a panic attack after all? Shit, he’d had training for that, hadn’t he? Just that theory was nice and all, but in practice it seemed pretty fucking useless.

“Don’t touch that with your bare fucking hands, if you cut yourself, Recovery Girl will get on my case faster than Raccoon Eyes on gossip.” He grabbed Izuku’s hands and turned them over, looking for cuts or splinters. “What’s going on, anyway? You’re trembling like a leaf on cocaine.”

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out of my hand, I don’t even kn-know why?”

“And?”

“And I’ll, I’ll fix it, or I’ll pay for a new one, when I can, I don’t know, I’ll make it up to you somehow, I promise…”

Finally something clicked inside Katsuki’s brain. “Wait. You’re this freaked out over that stupid plate?” He looked at the mess on the floor. “That thing was like four bucks at IKEA. And I think Jirou paid for it.”

“B-but-”

“Na-ah-ah, I don’t wanna hear it. Fucking hell, I thought something serious was going on.”

“It just slipped…”

“Because your grip strength is shot to shit after everything. ‘S expected. You’ll need to work on that, nerd. Now, don’t touch that, I’ll get a broom.”

He turned and left, keeping his expression in check until he was around the corner. Fucking hell! What the fuck had happened to the nerd? Who had done what exactly, that he feared capital punishment or something over a stupid accident?

Katsuki had destroyed a mug not that long ago! Shit happened!

He swerved from the storage room into his own bedroom and punched the mattress with all his might. It wasn’t very satisfying. He was livid.

He’d wondered how on earth the nerd had grown this confident and calm in the time he’d been gone, but fuck, of course he hadn’t! The only thing he’d learned was how to act, to pretend, out of self-preservation. Hell, he hadn’t cried once in all the time he’d been at Katsuki’s house, when before, it’d been at least three times a day. Over a bumblebee, on one occasion! That hadn’t even died!

Someone had hurt his Deku, badly, scarred him for life, and he wanted to break their necks. And no, the irony of the situation was not lost on him. He would’ve liked to think that whatever he’d done during middle school, it hadn’t been that bad, but then he’d be lying.

And that was another mistake Katsuki made.

Because Izuku knew him as that person. Because Izuku was also still afraid of him! Was that why he refused to talk? Why now, for the first time, wasn’t he coming back to him? Because he thought Katsuki would go back to his old ways and, shit, burn him or something?

As if! He would never! And he hated his old self for ever causing Izuku this much distress that it still lingered. If he could go back in time, he’d throttle his middle school self for being such a fucking disgrace to the very concept of being a hero. Fuck, how was he supposed to make up for that? There had to be something he could do.

Obviously he needed to apologize, maybe try and explain. Izuku liked knowing things. Izuku liked understanding things. Maybe tomorrow, when this whole mess had time to calm down and Izuku was not three seconds from losing it.

For now, he schooled his expression into something light and returned with a dustpan to sweep up the mess himself. Izuku stood by, rubbing a thumb over his scars. Still not meeting his eyes.

“How’s the hand?” Katsuki asked.

“…Fine.”

He was going to get that word deleted from all dictionaries. But okay. ‘Fine’ it was. He tried to channel his inner Tsuyu as he said softly “Alright then. Can you manage the rest?”

“U-um. Are you sure, I mean, I should…?” He gestured towards the rest of the dishes.

“What, you lost your ability to touch cutlery now? If you don’t want to do it just say so. Or I could help?”

“No, no, I got it… I think. Sorry.”

“’S what I thought.” He went back to his work without further commentary. If this cost him every single plate he owned, so be it.

After doing the dishes (without further incident) Izuku hid back in his usual spot, wedged into the corner of the couch. Katsuki wanted to sit down as well and play some games, but he felt like he’d be intruding. In his own house.

Should he try and just… go for it? Establish it as a routine like they’d always done it? But what if Izuku was still afraid of him, and he wouldn’t ever say something, but Katsuki didn’t want to stress him out even more, and why was this so complicated? That awkward silence hung over them like a perpetual cloud and Katsuki feared he was breathing too loud and disturbing it.

In the end, he settled for watching the newest episodes of his current shows at the table, wearing headphones, trying very hard to figure out how to say ’I’m sorry,’, or ’I care about you’ or even ’I won’t hurt you ever again.’

He was self-aware enough to know he was an emotionally constipated asshole, but usually people either didn’t care and stuck around regardless or cared and better fucked off, so there’d never been a reason to actually work on the issue. He just didn’t do this mushy shit. Period.

This whole sorry affair would’ve likely continued ad infinitum, if not for the distinct sound of his ringtone at half past ten. Not his mobile, that was on silent for everyone except important people, but his landline.

A glance at the display read ‘Cryptid’. Shit, so this had the potential to be important. “The fuck do you want?”

“Blasty! Good thing you’re still awake, it’s so late. Everyone wants me to tell you we miss you. You need to come out with us again!” Shinsou almost shouted.

“How fucking drunk are you guys? Do I seriously need to pick you up?” It wouldn’t be the first time this happened, but he’d thought they all knew their limits by now.

“No, no, we’re fiiiiiiiiiiiine. ‘S not about that. Hey, Blasty, I just talked to Shouto, you know? He’s a good guy. You’re a good guy too. All good guys. And normally we would never meddle like this, but we’re all concerned, and you know, you really need to talk to Izuku.”

Now hold on. “The fuck?”

“Look, Shouto says you told him you think Izuku’s like, scared of you or some shit. But I talked to Izuku and he thinks you just hate him! And I don’t think that’s true, but y’know, Shouto also said that it’s such a stupid misunderstanding, and I agree, so we thought we’d just tell you so you and your cute-”

There was a brief scuffle on the other end, and then Kirishima’s voice continued. “Bro, you need to just get that shit sorted out. Not saying anything, that’s not manly at all. That’s like a coward thing to do. And you’re not a coward!”

Katsuki answered with a long silence as he contemplated every choice that led to these fuckers being his friends. It had probably gone wrong sometime around the first sports festival, he felt.

“Fuck you,” he said weakly. He knew that Kirishima was right, he just didn’t want to admit it. Never mind that he’d arrived at the same conclusion and was just trying to hype himself up into actually doing it.

After ten or so more seconds, Kirishima sighed. “Fine. You have been informed. If you don’t sort this out soon, I’ll sic Mina and Uraraka on you. Your choice.” He sounded way too sober as he threatened that. With a quiet beep, the line went dead.

Carefully, he put the phone back in its designated place. He didn’t think Kirishima had been bluffing, but more importantly, Shinsou just told him that Izuku, like, what, was convinced he wasn’t even welcome here? Katsuki thought they’d been over that. He’d tried his fucking best to be nice and accommodate the nerd and they’d even had something close to a conversation about this once!

Now that he was thinking about it, he realized that Izuku didn’t know Katsuki wasn’t the same person he’d been when the other disappeared. And Izuku wasn’t that same kid anymore, either. Still, they’d both tried to pick up where they left off, out of habit. Made sense this wouldn’t work. They had changed.

This situation needed to change, too.

Defiant, Katsuki walked over to the couch and sat down in the middle, two cushions between them. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, intent on establishing that new routine. They’d watch some shit anime together like they were having a sleepover, and then maybe he’d eventually find the right thing to say.

“Did something happen?” Izuku was quiet, curled into his corner with his knees drawn up. “That was a very late call.”

“Nah. They get talkative when they’re drunk, and they wanted to say hi.” He flicked through his series until he found the episode he’d been watching. “Do you know this show?” he asked casually, watching Izuku out of the corner of his eye.

“Um. I- not really. Heard about it.”

“Ah. It’s good. Do you want to watch?”

Izuku waved his hands. “No, no, it’s fine. Don’t let me disturb you, I’ll just…” Without finishing his sentence, he shot up and started to leave. Fuck. This wouldn’t do.

“Izuku, wait.” At this command, the other stopped dead in his tracks. “Shit – I mean, you can do whatever you like, but I wanted to…” To what? He still wasn’t sure. His arguments had been half thought out at best, and now he’d thrown himself in at the deep end on Kirishima’s stupid dare. “We could just watch something together. If you’d like.”

Again, Izuku took a half-step away. “It’s really alright, you watch your thing, no need to go out of your way, watching the entire series again is probably going to take forever-”

Katsuki stood, too, and walked around the sofa so they were at least in appropriate talking distance. “I don’t mind. I’d just… We haven’t really done anything together since you came here, and I thought it would be… nice?” Real fucking smooth. “I mean, you’ll be here for who knows how long, it’s not like we can avoid each other forever.”

Izuku frowned. “Look, I’m sorry that it is like this, I didn’t exactly know it’s impossible to take these things off. I wasn’t planning on living here, and I’ll stay out of your way, so just…”

Katsuki felt himself shrink, as if an immense weight just slammed down on his shoulders. “Shinsou was actually right about this, wasn’t he?” he muttered. “That you think I hate having you here?”

Izuku crossed his arms, looking off to the side. “Well, you’ve sort of always barely tolerated me, so…” He broke off, and his voice took on a strained note. “I never even knew what I did.”

“What you did?” he echoed. “You didn’t – Izuku, you never did anything. That was never your fault, that was me!” He carded a hand through his hair and dragged it over his face, trying and failing to put his thoughts into words. “You didn’t do anything. That whole thing, it was just me being a fucking asshole. So I thought you weren’t talking to me because you were angry at me. I wouldn’t- It’s not like that. I don’t mind having you here. I’m actually really glad you’re alive. You know?”

“Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice was high and strained, as if he were close to tears. It was a plea.

Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat at the old, too familiar nickname. He’d missed this, he realized. Missed hearing this, to the point he’d often imagined it in the past. Like that one time – hang on. “You called for me. On The Playground.”

“I did.”

“I didn’t- I thought I hallucinated it.” He had heard the whisper on the wind. And then he’d dismissed it as wishful thinking. A weird trick of his mind. “I didn’t come to check, I didn’t bother, and you were- you could’ve-”

He couldn’t get himself to say it. Izuku had been right there, and if the slightest thing had gone differently – if Katsuki hadn’t set off that explosion, if he’d moved on right away, if Izuku had been the least bit slower, or someone else had been the slightest bit faster – he could’ve died mere metres away from Katsuki, and he wouldn’t have known. Ever. And that thought made him sick. “I should’ve, I should’ve looked, I should’ve called back, I-”

“Kacchan, what is going on?”

“I don’t know!”

He could hear Izuku shuffle a little closer. “Look. I don’t hate you, and I am not afraid of you. When I saw you, on The Playground… I thought that I was going to die that day. And then there was an explosion, and I saw my chance, and I just wanted to go home. I didn’t think past that. I never meant to intrude like this.”

Katsuki had to bite his lip hard, doing his best to retain control. “Yeah. Shame it had to be me. I was awful to you. But-” he swallowed hard, “-I’m glad it wasn’t someone else.”

“I just- Then why are you like this? I hate it when you treat me like this!”

Katsuki looked up slowly. Izuku stood there, hands balled into fists, arms trembling slightly. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, it’s- You’re always speaking as if you rehearsed it, all quiet and serious and trying to be polite, as if I don’t know what you’re normally like! Whenever you get all like that, it usually means you’re pissed off beyond recognition.”

“I’m not! I just thought you’d prefer me to stay away, because of all the… stuff. Back then.”

“Well, I don’t! I thought you were upset because you’re stuck with me of all people, but if this is because of your little guilt trip, then just stop it! If you want to make up for it, I’d rather you try and fix it instead of ignoring me! Why the hell are you punishing me for the mistakes you made?”

The shout was like a slap to the face. Izuku had a point, didn’t he? Katsuki had been so busy feeling guilty, he’d convinced himself this was the best course of action, even if it wasn’t doing anything to actually help Izuku. But he wasn’t the only one pretending here. “Okay! Once you stop lying when you say you’re fine like I can’t tell!”

“I didn’t want to bother you!”

“You’re not! You’re the one that’s trapped here against your will! I’m trying my damned best here, and I want to make this easier for you, but I can’t read your mind and I don’t know what you want! I knew what I signed up for, and I’m sorry, okay?”

That made Izuku pause. The green eyes widened, and Katsuki wondered if he’d ever said that word to Izuku before. Izuku, who was the embodiment of every awful mistake he’d swore to never repeat, who deserved it the most.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. I was horrible to you, and I know it’s not an excuse, and I’m not asking you to forgive me, but you have to believe me I’m sorry.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he decided to shut up before it got worse.

Katsuki remembered, when it had been February 21st for the second time after Izuku went missing. Inko had come over, as she did most days, seeking comfort with her best friend, and after listening to his mom and auntie cry from downstairs, he couldn’t take it anymore. His mom never cried.

So he’d left, just aimlessly wandering around the neighbourhood. Eventually his feet took him towards a small creek by a playground - more a trickle of water this time of year. He could probably stand in it without getting his socks wet. It looked so small and harmless.

And here, he’d asked himself if things would’ve turned out different if he’d just taken that hand. If they’d stayed friends. Their high schools weren’t that far from each other, and it wasn’t a stretch to think they would’ve travelled home together, and things would have been fine.

He remembered with vivid clarity how he’d told his mom that he and Izuku hadn’t interacted for months, before… it happened. And that was true. He hadn’t talked to him, and he’d had no plans to ever change that in the future. He’d been completely fine to go separate ways.

There, in the cold and dark, he finally admitted that he still missed the nerd, somehow. Not talking was different than not having the option to talk. Izuku had been around for his entire life. He’d become who he was thanks to him. Izuku had been the first to believe it when Katsuki announced he would become a great hero. Izuku had been the one who saw the potential for good in him, and Izuku also had never, ever, no matter what, strayed from that belief. He’d always been around, with his chatter and theories and his emotions so plainly on his face. He’d been loud. He’d been noise, the sort of noise that was just ambience after a while, that belonged like the birds and the wind and the traffic and the cicadas in summer.

If he’d been a better hero, he wouldn’t have pushed Izuku away. If he’d been a real hero, he’d have gone searching. Izuku hadn’t disappeared on his own. Someone had taken him. There was no doubt in Katsuki’s mind.

But Izuku had been alone, and scared, and there was no telling what they’d done to him, what’d happened, and the not knowing was the worst part.

Katsuki sat down at the place their friendship had died. Izuku didn’t have a real gravestone. It was like he’d never existed, in a way. No closure.

And the world sounded so off.

It was here that Katsuki learned what regret was. And it was here that he’d sworn to himself that this would be his biggest, his first and his last mistake. The two of them had promised to be number one together. So number one he would be. The new symbol of hope. So no one else would have to vanish quiet and alone and barely be remembered.

And now, against all odds, Izuku was back. Katsuki had gotten a second chance, the one thing he’d never thought possible, and he’d try his absolute hardest. “I’m sorry. And I’m so glad you’re alive, you’re here, you have no idea.”

Wide green eyes stared back at him, open and honest. “It’s alright, Kacchan. I’m glad I’m alive, too.”

The eyes grew shiny. “I’ve just been so, so alone.” And then Izuku started crying, and something inside Katsuki gave in and shattered.

He didn’t think about pulling Izuku close and wrapping his arms around him. And god, he felt so small, so frail, bones poking out at all angles, and his skin was oddly cool to the touch, the idiot must’ve been cold all day-

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” was all he could say, on repeat, apologizing for all the things, the things that were his fault and the ones that weren’t, the bullying and the names and not being there when he was needed most, four years ago and then again now, that he couldn’t be what Izuku needed, that he’d failed to find him, that he’d given up, that he’d never searched in the first place, that the universe was cruel for all the things that Izuku had to endure on his own. “I’m sorry.”

“I want my friend back.” Izuku gripped him tighter, moving his arms around his ribs and pressing infinitely closer. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m here.” He pulled Izuku closer as well, like he could hide him away behind his own heartbeat, somewhere safe if he only tried enough. “It’s not the same without you around.” It was as much of an admission as he was able to speak aloud.

“Can we be friends again?” Izuku’s voice was muffled, almost too quiet to hear.

Katsuki nodded. “Sure.”

And then he couldn’t speak anymore, fighting against the lump in his throat and the hot sting in his eyes.

Izuku lost that battle already, crying openly into Katsuki’s shirt, holding on as if his life depended on it, and Katsuki let him, because might as well, because Izuku deserved to let go for a while.

Later, they ended up on the couch, quietly exhausted, with Izuku leaning against him. They hadn’t talked any more, both content to stay like this a bit longer. The difficult talks could come tomorrow. Right now, the night outside protected them, made things easier, less substantial.

In this liminal space, when everyone else was asleep, the stores closed hours ago and the bars and clubs were about to follow suit soon, they sat there, together.

Izuku was still hiding his face in the crook of Katsuki’s neck, although the crying had been over for a while now. His best guess was that the nerd was too embarrassed to come out again.

Katsuki tried not to be bothered. He wasn’t, not really, somehow. More concerning was the cold feeling when the nerd moved his head and the tip of his nose brushed Katsuki’s neck. Izuku’s skin felt a few degrees cooler than his own. It occurred to him that Izuku maybe just enjoyed leeching his body heat at this point. Not that Katsuki could blame him; the nerd was skin and bones with neither muscle nor fat to generate or retain warmth. No wonder he was cold.

“Wanna watch something?” he asked, as an excuse to keep sitting a good while longer.

“Depends on what you say next.”

He grinned. Seemed like Izuku had an opinion after all. “Well, if I remember correctly, you missed quite a bit of the best show ever.” He didn’t even have to touch the search bar; it was the first thing that came up when he opened the app.

He let the trailer play quietly, and the familiar voices lured Izuku out far enough to glance at the screen. “I haven’t seen that one in ages,” he commented idly. “I’m surprised they’re still showing this.”

Katsuki chuckled. They’d followed this show since they’d both been eight. “Yeah, there’s a lot of hype right now before the new episodes drop.”

Izuku craned his head back, green eyes peering up at him in wonder. “There’s new episodes? Are you serious? How are they still not finished?”

“Yeah. It’s been kinda crazy. His brother is back,” he said off-handedly, pointing at the main character, who was in the process of absolutely annihilating an enemy.

Izuku seemed dumb-struck. “His brother- Didn’t he die?”

“Ah, yes, I mean the other one.”

“There’s another one?!?”

This time the chuckle morphed to a full laugh. “Yes, that was what I thought. Four years ago, that was season… I don’t even know… we can watch if you’d like?”

“Please.”

Katsuki obediently searched until he found the approximate point where Izuku must’ve left off, then hovered over the episode selection. “Remind me how far you got?”

“Um… The part when they got separated?”

“What!” Katsuki quickly went through the timeline in his head. “That’s almost three-hundred episodes,” he whispered, scandalised. Of the two of them, Izuku had been the hardcore fan.

“I know,” Izuku whispered back. “My engineering courses took up all my time, I stopped watching a while ago.”

“You’re not going to believe the shit that is about to happen!”

They had to skip back and forth a little bit until Izuku picked up the plot again, but after that, Katsuki had a great time just watching. Watching Izuku, that is. There were the animated expressions, the hesitant muttering as his nerd theorized with every new bit of background information, no matter how innocuous.

He had to bite his tongue to prevent confirming or denying anything. It was difficult, especially with how accurate the predictions were. Izuku deduced things that Katsuki hadn’t noticed until some of the extras in school pointed it out for him.

For the first time in years, Katsuki felt… oddly calm. No desire to do anything, the stress at work was far away, beyond the weekend, and he wasn’t to blame for Izuku’s death.

His hand itched where it lay on the backrest of the couch. If he moved it just a bit forward, he’d be able to touch Izuku’s hair. Why he wanted to do that, he had no idea.

But Izuku had already fallen asleep, head resting heavy against Katsuki’s shoulder, breaths even. Waking him felt like a crime. So he turned the volume of the TV down until it was barely audible, carefully stretched his legs out on the couch, pulled the covers there over them both and allowed his own eyes to close.

Chapter 7

Notes:

DISCLAIMER
I am very busy this week. This means that I did not have the time to edit this one as far as I planned (read: splitting it in 2 Chapters like it's supposed to be.) The only 'downside' for you is reading a chonky lad. And there may be more spelling errors. If you find one, point it out so it can be shot on sight thanks.

For the first time in his recent memory, Izuku felt warm. Everything was warm, it reached down into his very core and felt just unbelievably good. He could understand what reptiles were all about with the basking.

He knew that he felt cold easier than the average person - when everyone else ran around in short sleeves it was a telling sign – he just hadn’t known how long he’d gone without freezing in some capacity. Long enough to get so used to it he no longer noticed.

But the real bliss was that feeling of being well rested and safe. All lingering traces of anxiety and paranoia that normally kept his sleep fitful at best were just… gone. That nagging part of his brain that kept tabs on the other people in the house was silent.

Maybe because the only other person was right there, rendering such a tab redundant.

They were side by side on the couch, Izuku half on top of Kacchan since the alternative was falling off. Kacchan’s arm was lax around him, where it had kept him from doing just that. The blanket was pulled over them both, and it was morning. He’d slept at least seven hours!

No wonder his back and neck felt a little sore. Kacchan was very warm, but also very… firm. Sleep experts probably wouldn’t recommend this.

Izuku craned his head up a little so he could get a glance at Kacchan’s face. The even breaths tickling his hair made him fairly sure the other was still asleep, which was easily confirmed: Face relaxed and peaceful, without that constant line between his brows. If he could learn to keep that expression awake, Kacchan would surely have potential as a model.

Izuku grinned and was about to go back to sleep when his cheek met something damp and slightly cool on Kacchan’s shirt.

Oh no.

He hadn’t drooled on Kacchan in his sleep, had he?

He had.

To say he was mortified would be an understatement.

Carefully, Izuku sat up and then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Staring at the wet patch on Kacchan’s shoulder, he decided that praying Kacchan would just… sleep a bit longer was his only option. No one would ever have to know.

He still was a little (okay, a lot) apprehensive on the status of their new (old?) friendship. They hadn’t been on common ground for so long, he wasn’t even sure how they’d interacted four years ago, let alone fourteen. Realistically, he knew Kacchan wouldn’t really be bothered by it, but the ammunition for the teasing that’d follow… No thanks. Absolutely not. He would never hear the end of it.

In case feigning ignorance failed, he might as well attempt to prepare breakfast as a peace offering. He tiptoed into the kitchen and stared into the fridge, a little at a loss. He hadn’t cooked in years. Looking around at Kacchan’s fancy chrome appliances - the weird dials and utensils he’d never seen before - he wasn’t sure where to even start.

Maybe with figuring out coffee. Kacchan always drank coffee in the morning. Not that the machine was any less intimidating. There was no immediately obvious ‘on’ button, and locating the water tank took forever.

“Come on, me! How hard could this possibly be?” he muttered.

Very, it turned out. According to the mess of hot coffee water and half-powdered beans that spilled over, and the worrying noises the machine made. “No, no no, come on, don’t!” he hissed as he frantically tried to get the thing to stop.

When he finally found the power button a second time and flipped it, there was definitely chaos in the kitchen. Worse, he could feel the prickle of eyes on his back and just knew Kacchan was standing in the door, watching all of this.

Izuku didn’t even dare to turn around. This was awful. He was already messing up everywhere. He’d just tried to do something nice, and now he’d made a mess and maybe potentially wrecked the coffee machine. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” he muttered, unsure if Kacchan even heard it.

The other stepped closer, until Izuku could feel heat radiate against his back. “Hm. You didn’t close this correctly.” Kacchan clicked the compartment with the filter shut, reaching around him in the process. It felt a little like a hug, and Izuku was sorely tempted to lean backwards and enjoy it for a moment.

“You need to use a little violence on that one sometimes, it sticks. Although I haven’t seen it cause this before.” Kacchan motioned at the mess, tracking the stream that trickled off the counter.

Izuku glanced back to get a look at him. “I really don’t know what happened?” he tried.

Kacchan looked like he was about to laugh, so that was… a good thing? After a moment of loaded silence, he sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “That’s too bad, because I’d’ve never thought this possible. At this point, I’m honestly just amazed. And I say that knowing the people I know.”

“Thanks? I’m sorry.”

A warm hand came down on top of his head, ruffling his hair. Izuku ducked down a little bit, leaning into it before he could think too consciously about it. Then the hand paused. Kacchan pressed his palm against the skin of his neck. “Are you seriously cold again? Fucking hell, you feel like someone put you in a fridge overnight.”

He shrugged, a little helpless. He didn’t really feel cold right now. Well, just his hands and feet. But cold hands and feet were simply his fate, he thought.

“Tch. Go get- Why don’t you get something warmer? A hoodie or something, I don’t care.”

“Mine’s in the wash.”

“Are you serious? There are at least fifteen hoodies somewhere in this house, take one of mine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t just wanna…” he broke off, muttering something purposefully unintelligible. He wasn’t quite sure what the argument was, after all.

“Yes I fucking am. In what universe will I need that many clothes in the next few days?”

It was a valid point, so Izuku shuffled off towards Kacchan’s bedroom. He’d kindly cleared some wardrobe space for Izuku, but going through Kacchan’s side felt… almost invasive. He took the oldest one he could find, a simple black one without any designs, well-worn and with a small hole near the cuff of one sleeve. He could stick his thumb through that.

Upon return, the mess around the coffee machine had miraculously vanished. “There, that’s better. Here.” Kacchan shoved a mug in his direction, and Izuku accepted it to find...

“Er… I don’t drink coffee?”

“What? Why not? Then what were you doing with the coffee mach…ine…” Izuku didn’t deign it with an answer because it was obvious, really, and Kacchan could damn well figure it out himself. Apparently. “Right.”

Kacchan snatched the mug back and took a long drink. “Whatever. Let’s get some food started. Eggs okay?”

“Yep!”

With Kacchan taking over and Izuku’s new ban from even approaching the coffee machine, he turned to setting the table instead, and then he had nothing more to do except stand there in awkward silence. Oh, how he despised the silence.

“So, I’ve been doing the maths,” he started carefully, before it could grow too thick to break. “If I am three-hundred episodes behind, that roughly equates to a hundred hours, a little less maybe if you skip the intros and stuff, which means I could be caught up in a month or so. Maybe two.”

Kacchan tilted his head, probably doing some math himself. “I guess. Although I would recommend reading the manga between certain points, it just starts dragging on forever.”

“If you say so. That’d be faster too. So then, once that’s done, what was that other thing you were watching? Stone… something?”

“Oh. That. I’m only watching it because Shitty Hair and Pikachu insist, but I’d bet money you’d be all over that, it’s right up your alley.”

“Guess I’ll give it a try.” It worked, mostly. Izuku stayed on the safe topic of their show and just started chattering away, growing bolder with each time Kacchan encouraged him. The other seemed weirdly happy with that. Like, actually-suppressing-a-grin-and-associated-facial-expressions-happy. That was new.

It was good.

Kacchan insisted on making the food all by himself, “Because I can’t take another loss this early. And your cooking is bland as fuck.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “What is ‘to taste’ even supposed to mean? Who thought that was a good measurement? Give me grams, you cowards!”

Kacchan peered at whatever spice mix he was holding. “If you measured this in grams, I think you’d die.”

“Even worse! Ban the spice!”

“Without the spice it just tastes like nothing.”

“Says the guy who drinks tabasco straight out the bottle.”

“That was one time! On a dare!”

“That was- Wait, what?”

“Nothing.”

“Elaborate!”

“We were playing truth or dare, okay? And I cannot tell you more, or Raccoon Eyes will actually end me should she find out.”

Izuku grinned hesitantly at him. “I’m guessing she won that one?” It made Kacchan narrow his eyes and fixate on the stir fry, grumbling something.

He was chased off his counter with a spatula when the food was ready, and Izuku thought that this was definitely the best thing he’d eaten since he got here. “Raccoon Eyes, that’s Pinky, isn’t it?” he wondered aloud.

He found Kacchan’s way of picking nicknames delightful, but it was hard to match a face sometimes. Working off the assumption that most of Kacchan’s friends were pro heroes and/or former classmates, he’d figured out ‘Icy-Hot’ (or Half ‘n’ Half) referred Shouto, ‘Earphones’ was Jirou, ‘The cryptid’ was Shinsou, and ‘Pikachu’ was Kaminari. His guesses on ‘Frog’ (Froppy), ‘Tape Arms’ (Cellophane) and ‘Emo chicken’ (Tsukuyomi) felt justified. He had no clues on ‘Shitty Hair’, ‘Round Face’, ‘Four Eyes’ or ‘Ponytail’.

“Yeah. Mina Ashido. She’s evil.” He said it so seriously, Izuku almost had to laugh again.

“Izuku.” Kacchan looked uncomfortable all of a sudden, avoiding his eyes. “Speaking of my work… I mentioned how it has been requested you should come to the next meeting of this operation?”

Izuku frowned. “I think?”

Kacchan sighed heavily and rubbed both hands across his face. “So someone wrote down this glorious idea where we visit The Goldsmith, Aizawa read it and when he suggested it to the rest, it was met with general approval. And now they want to plan this in more detail. Since you’re the fucking specialist on the topic, you’ve been asked to attend. And you’ll have to come with me to meet the Auriculates.”

The way Kacchan said it made Izuku feel like it was less ‘asked’ and more ‘required’. “It’s an easy way to meet up with them,” he said resolutely.

“Yes, but what for? We’re already pretty sure The Goldsmith isn’t registered in any database we have access to, so getting more information on their quirk is not going to help us catch them. And to set up an ambush with this is just not feasible. They’re too heavily protected, and they are wary of me as a Pro Hero already. The Auriculates won’t disclose a meeting location beforehand, smuggling a tracker of any kind or bringing backup could get us killed immediately. They won’t hesitate to protect themselves, and unfortunately they are organized and powerful.”

Izuku had come to the same conclusions. Still, he was a little disappointed the heroes didn’t have some ace up their sleeves he didn’t know about. “But in any case, it’s as good a chance to get more information as any. Just by engaging with them you’ll catch their interest, and if you can get them to trust you even a little more, you might get an invite to their auction. The next one should be in three-ish months. And don’t underestimate your influence. Having a Pro Hero on their side would be huge for them, they’ll be wanting to count you as an ally. Besides, I was hoping it would be an opportunity to give the both of us a little more lenience with this.” He pointed to his necklace.

He’d complained about the way Kacchan watched everything he said around him, but he also knew it was a necessity. They’d had enough accidents already – the ‘Wake up’, ‘Sit’, ‘Eat’, and then the ‘Don’t’s and ‘Come on’s. It was never intentional, just Kacchan’s way of speaking, and of course he’d slip up sometimes, fall back into habit. There had been one really scary incident where Kacchan was on the phone, but the force of his ‘Get lost!’ had Izuku halfway out the door before anyone knew what was happening.

“You are a civilian. You have no training. Getting you involved like this is against all kinds of regulations. It’s borderline illegal. No, wait, it is illegal. And you’re acting like you don’t care!”

“I do care.” Izuku could feel his hackles rise. “But guess what: They don’t care about me. I’m an accessory to them. Not even worth any money, with this!” He pushed the sleeve of his right arm up, revealing the darker pink patches of shiny scar tissue.

“That’s not-”

“It is. I’m saying this as an observation. What I’m trying to get at is this: They won’t waste a second thought on me. The only scenario where I am in danger is the one where there’s a fight and you die. Which is not going to happen, let’s be real. If everything goes even vaguely the way I think it will, we’ll be the ones winning. Big time.”

“I take it you have an idea?” Kacchan prompted, still looking like he’d rather bathe in acid than go along with this.

“Yes! I need to fine-tune the phrasing a bit, but if you had them add a clause where you can set a condition in which you can apply a new ruleset and have it overwrite the other commandments without a time limit, most everything else could be worked around somehow. I just have to make it so it doesn’t sound too suspicious…”

Kacchan rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked upward the tiniest bit. “I’ll just let you handle the logistics, shall I?” he drawled, sarcastic.

And like that, it was settled. Or rather, the talk was over. Kacchan seemed truly upset with the entire thing, and he had this tension in his shoulders and back that told Izuku to not bother him lest he explode.

And since he was too happy that he and Kacchan were finally on some semblance of the same page, he dropped it as well. Even though he was burning up with curiosity, wondering who exactly he’d get to meet, which Pro Heroes Kacchan was working with, what their plans and strategies were, and how Izuku could help to put an end to this whole horrible human trafficking ring.

But first, there was work to be done.

Their Saturday was spent cleaning up the spare room. It was a decent size, Izuku thought, or it would be once it was empty.

“It was always intended as a guest room,” Kacchan told him as they started to haul the cleaning equipment to the cupboard built into the hallway wall. “Just never got around to it.”

Izuku had figured; the room was mostly filled with cardboard boxes containing miscellaneous items that Kacchan apparently never bothered to unpack after moving in. Like a disassembled drum set he vaguely remembered, and a whole box with hero merchandise. “Didn’t you say it took like two months to convince Ueda to allow you into an event? Wasn’t there, you know, time?”

Katsuki chucked an old shirt at him. “There was a lot going on!” he defended himself.

Izuku laughed and glanced at the shirt. “Umm… What is that?” It was black with yellow and purple colour splashes, and there were some remnants of glitter. It was also several sizes too small to have ever fit Kacchan.

Kacchan’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, I think that’s Jirou’s. It must’ve gotten mixed up with the laundry back then…”

Interesting. Izuku filed that away for later. He knew it was not his business at all, but he was curious about Kacchan’s relationships. (Since he didn’t have any of his own, he needed to live vicariously through somebody else.) There was nothing going on at the moment, he was fairly sure, not when Kacchan’s bed had one side shoved against the wall and he didn’t stay out either.

He was curious about everything, truth be told. He wanted to know more about Kacchan’s life, how he liked the hero work, who his friends were, what they did for fun together, the kind of music he listened to, whether or not he still thought dogs were the coolest pet or if he’d changed his mind.

And the relationships. Not that Izuku believed this Jirou had ever been or would ever be Kacchan’s type. That shirt had probably gotten here by some other means. “At U.A.?”

Kacchan ignored him, yanking the shirt out of Izuku’s hands and stuffing it far into a box. “Ex-roommates. She accused Pikachu of stealing it. He doesn’t even like that band. Dammit.” He gave Izuku a stern look. “This never happened, we did not find this, this shirt was never in my house.”

“Aren’t you giving it back?” Izuku wondered, nodding nevertheless.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get Shinsou to get Kaminari to sneak it into their house for me.”

“Sounds about right.” Izuku peeked into another box, which was full of books and folders and loose notes. Remnants from school, he gathered. Curious, he fished out a notebook with a plain black cover, leafing through. What was taught in Hero classes, he wondered?

Only that it was definitely not Kacchan’s handwriting he was seeing, next to that one sketch on Kacchan’s first gauntlet design which looked awfully familiar. Izuku flipped through a few more pages – a rough sketch of a modified costume, notes upon notes with further corrections scribbled in the margins, whole sections scratched out when a theory was disproven… “Is this mine?”

The steady rustling from Kacchan’s side of the room stopped abruptly. “…Obviously. As if I’ve ever had that unreadable of a handwriting.”

Izuku tore his eyes away from the page and glanced up at the other. He didn’t understand what this notebook was doing here.

Kacchan seemed to get his unspoken question. “Auntie gave it to me, after you… vanished. She’s okay, by the way. As okay as she can be. She spends a lot of time with my old hag nowadays. And they forced a dog on her. Well, not forced, she loves her dearly, but it was a rather spontaneous surprise. So she’s not alone. The whole neighbourhood looks out for her.”

“Good. That’s good.” Izuku hugged the book close to his chest, careful not to bend the pages. It had been one of the things that haunted him the most, the not knowing how his mother was dealing with everything. If she was alright, or if she’d shut the world out in her grief. He’d been too scared to even ask.

“Kacchan,” he asked carefully, before he could talk himself out of it. “Can you tell me what happened? When I was gone?”

He could hear Kacchan exhale slowly. Then the other came over to where Izuku sat on the floor and lowered himself as well, angled away from him. Their shoulders almost touched.

“I… didn’t get a lot of it, in the beginning,” Kacchan began. “On the day, auntie called my old hag and asked if anyone had seen you, when you weren’t home on time. I didn’t know what was going on until I saw the news a few days later. The police came and questioned people in the neighbourhood and at your school, I think. Nothing ever came of it. One of them even suggested you’d just taken off on your own. We all knew better, of course. And- it wasn’t like there was anything we could do. At U.A., they once told us that the first forty-eight hours after someone disappears are the most important. After that, finding them alive is apparently the exception. And then it was a year, two, and eventually, most of them just assumed…”

“I was dead,” Izuku finished the sentence.

“Yeah. Auntie didn’t, of course. She had to believe. And my mom at least never contradicted her.”

“What about you?”

Kacchan laughed, strained. “Me? I don’t know. I didn’t know. And that was the worst part. I… didn’t really allow myself to believe it.”

“Still a pessimist in some cases, hm.”

“Better to be pleasantly surprised than the other way around,” Kacchan said. Then he stopped talking altogether, and Izuku wondered if he dared to ask for more details.

But Kacchan beat him to it. “What really happened?”

The question took him by cold surprise, and for a moment Izuku wanted to bolt. But he also wanted to tell, he wanted someone to know. “I don’t really remember,” he began, tilting sideways until he could rest his shoulder against Kacchan’s back. He felt Kacchan straighten up, pushing back so Izuku had more support.

“The last clear thing I remember is going into the city with a bunch of classmates. We went shopping, and then… it gets blurry. I know I must’ve been on my way home. I remember someone grabbed my arm and pulled me into an alley, and I think there was a small fight. But they knocked me out with something, and it’s all just hazy. The next time I woke up, I was in a room full of other people, and they were getting us ready for an auction. I had no idea what was going on until they shoved me onto the stage.”

“Were you scared?”

“Not at first. More confused. I was waiting for someone to come looking for me.”

Kacchan’s voice was quiet as they sat on the dirty floor littered with childhood and teenage memorabilia. “No one knew where to even start.”

Izuku leaned in further, resting his head against Kacchan’s neck. “You did it in the end.”

Kacchan didn’t respond. Izuku sat there, just enjoying this moment. A bird sang outside.

Just as he was about to nod off, the support under him shifted. Kacchan pulled the notebook further towards him, leafing through. “Would you let me keep this, or do you need it back?”

“You want to keep it?” Last time he’d checked, Kacchan hadn’t been a fan of these.

“I still use that, you know.” Kacchan pointed at the open page. The sketch detailed a thin layer between the shell and the inner workings of his signature gauntlet, filled with fire-suppressing chemicals that would expand into foam should they come into contact with oxygen. Twisting a metal ring above the wrist would allow airflow, and the foam would explode through the outer shell.

It had been the last project Izuku finished at school, and an important one for him. When he’d seen a gas station explode in an action movie, he’d quickly become concerned about Kacchan. Because the theory was the same – if there were any highly volatile substances around, it would only take one spark to create a hellfire inferno. And Kacchan wasn’t immune to that. In fact, all it would take was one water balloon filled with gasoline and Kacchan would be completely defenceless, if not worse.

If he saw it coming, he could potentially explode it far enough away, and it would ‘only’ create a big fireball and shower the entire area with flaming fuel.

If he didn’t – he wouldn’t be able to use his quirk without killing himself.

And if Izuku could figure that out at eleven, villains would be able to do it too, once Kacchan was a famous hero.

“You use this?” Izuku couldn’t really believe it. “But it’s such a flawed design – the condensed foam is too heavy, and I haven’t found anything for the outer shell, the tensile strength is always way off. Also, it requires two free hands to trigger, and that could turn problematic real fast, in an emergency-”

“Please, spare me,” Kacchan interrupted, but he was laughing. “I’ve heard it all from the support course. Ponytail sorted most of the materials, and honestly…” he looked to the side, seeming far away all of a sudden. “No one else had ever considered this. Not even myself. I knew about the problem with the flammable materials, of course, but I just thought I’d avoid them… Stupid, I know. This,” he tapped a finger on the drawing, “actually saved my life when I went after a villain inside a distillery.”

“It did?”

“Yes. Don’t look so surprised. It’s not the first time you got me out of trouble.”

Izuku felt his face heat inexplicably at that.

Kacchan rubbed his arm, not looking at him. “So. Thank you.”

“It was no problem,” Izuku whispered, not trusting his own voice.

After a pause, Kacchan carefully brushed Izuku’s shoulder with his fingertips, almost as if it was an accident. “Hey, let’s- Let’s go do something else. Do you want to see the gauntlets? We’re at version six point three, I believe.”

“Can I?”

“Sure. I may even have the blueprints.”

Izuku got up, silently thankful for the break. They left the memories behind closed doors, ready to be sorted another day. Only the unassuming notebook came with them, landing on the stack on the couch table with the newer ones.

As promised, Kacchan fetched his gauntlets, and Izuku marvelled at how light they were – for their size, at least. He knew he would struggle to keep his arms lifted for more than five seconds with these attached.

But Kacchan had the necessary muscle for it, not only in the arms and shoulders, but his whole upper body, so he could wield them like they weighed nothing. The recoil played a big part in it, and Izuku wondered if there was a way to reduce that. His theory about Kacchan not wearing sleeves voluntarily seemed to hold water so far, and- He was staring, wasn’t he? Face heating, he averted his gaze, praying that at least he hadn’t talked out loud.

Thankfully Kacchan didn’t act like he had, instead handing him blueprints from version 4.1 upwards. “The problem with those was that they occasionally melted whenever I pulled the pin for the big explosions. I appreciate that they’re lighter, but not at the price of needing them to be cut off me.”

“They did not!” Izuku was appalled. “I mean, even I know that you always upscale any and all temperature resistance requirements. Amateurs!” He flipped the gauntlet in his lap over to its other side. At least there was an additional safety pin on the release now. He’d seen on TV how during his early hero days, Kacchan had apparently walked through masses of people with a literal live grenade strapped to his arm. A curious magpie could’ve pulled that pin!

“I just hope they didn’t do a similar job on the tank. How does it break?”

“Break?”

“Yes, how does it break. If it gets damaged and goes up? The explosion itself probably wouldn’t kill you, but the things that the explosion blasts towards you sure could. Do you have a screwdriver?”

“You are not taking apart my gauntlets.”

“Why not? I’ll put them back together! I did support tech engineering; I know what I’m doing.”

Kacchan scoffed. “I’m aware, but I’m technically on call right now, so I can’t wait for my gear to be reassembled if anything comes up.”

Izuku looked up at him, pouting. “Mean.”

“Oh for- Hang on, there’s an old set somewhere.” He stomped off, fetching an almost identical pair covered in dust to drop into Izuku’s lap, handing him a toolbox at the same time. “Knock yourself out.”

Izuku tensed as the command compelled him, but he resisted as best he could. Immediately the dizziness kicked in, and he could feel his necklace heat up, growing uncomfortable fast. “Kacchan!”

“Don’t!”

Izuku pulled his head back from where he’d been about to smack it against the table, taking deep breaths. “So about that visit to The Goldsmith.”

Kacchan ran a hand through his spiky hair. “Fine. I’ll talk to the bosses.”

Izuku cocked his head to the side, rubbing at his neck. “Ah, I hate how this stupid thing burns, it’s the worst.” They had experimented a little, however never pushed things this far.

“Are you hurt?” Kacchan asked, leaning down to look closer.

“No, it’s fine. Just got uncomfortable for a while.”

Kacchan sighed and shot one last glance at the necklace. “We really need to get a breakthrough in this case.” He went and got some folders from his office, trying to work out some ideas, using Izuku as a sounding board. The rest of the day was spent like that, both working semi-quietly on their projects.

“Want to look at anything else? I think I have some of Jirou’s old gear still flying around.”

Izuku tore his gaze away from the innards of the gauntlet. His neck had a terrible crick in it from sitting hunched over so long. Kacchan stood over him, holding out a glass of water. The sunset that came through the window painted the whole room a warm orange, and a cool breeze had the curtains billowing for a second.

“Can I look outside?”

Kacchan’s easy smile fell away, turning into a frown. “Okay…?”

“It’s just, if anyone saw me, that’d be bad for you. And the commandments say we can’t contact the outside world in any way, so…”

“Wait - Are you telling me you haven’t looked outside in all the time you’ve been here?”

“I have. From the kitchen, and the window over there. I just can’t get closer than a metre or so.”

He was met with incredulous silence, before Kacchan shook himself out of it. “Come on, then.”

Kacchan walked into the bedroom, kneeling on the bed to open the window above it. “Here,” he ushered, patting the space next to him.

Carefully, Izuku climbed onto the mattress, shuffling until he was kneeling next to Kacchan. He could see a garden that seemed shared between two houses, connecting the back doors. The sides were marked by tall, blooming hedges and bushes of various kinds. Bees buzzed around the fragrant flowers, and Izuku spotted a small decorative pond further back.

“And what if people see?”

“They won’t. The house opposite is Kirishima’s, and he’s hardly home these days.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s been hanging out with Shouto a lot in the last half year, since they’re partnering on patrols, and one day he just forgot to come back.”

“Wait. Kirishima and Shouto are…?”

“Oh GODS, no. Thank you for a disgusting image I didn’t need. No, they’re just really good friends. The whole squad is, since year one. It makes sense to share living expenses. In my first year working, I roomed with Jirou and Kaminari. Bad decision. Then our paychecks kept coming and privacy is indeed a luxury, so houses it was. I’m honestly a little pissed Shitty Hair just abandoned me. But it’s a lot closer to the office, and Shouto needs an extrovert around.”

“You make it sound like Kirishima is his service dog or something.”

“Honestly, not far off. Shouto has… really weird areas of expertise. He aced most of our exams, but then he once asked ‘Well, how do we know they are really extinct? Did they look everywhere?’” Kacchan shot him a pained stare. “The fucker seriously asked us whether or not we could be sure there weren’t any stray mammoth populations in someone’s basement.”

Izuku laughed at the image. “That’s… kinda sweet, somehow.”

Kacchan scoffed. “You say that now. Fucking Candy Cane can recite the law front to back, but he also had to be under supervision for most basic household chores for months after we moved to dorms. He’s still banned from most our kitchens.”

“Sounds like you’re good friends with him.”

Another scoff. “Someone had to make sure the bastard didn’t kill himself with his incompetence. You’ll get to meet them tomorrow.”

Izuku hummed an agreement, wondering what it’d be like to meet all the Pros face to face. Strangely, he wasn’t the slightest bit nervous at the prospect. That they were also Kacchan’s friends concerned him more. He hoped he’d get along with them.

The sunset painted the sky in spectacular colours, and from here they had a perfect view as the last pieces of the sun vanished behind the rooftops. Swallows flew low, and Izuku saw the odd bat as well, already out for a hunt. He leaned his crossed elbows on the sill and rested his head, taking it all in.

After a moment, Kacchan mirrored his pose, leaning down on folded arms. Their elbows touched.

“This is nice,” Izuku hummed. He could see the first stars appear in the darkening sky, but the air was still pleasantly warm. “It’s very nice here. I like it.”

He sensed Kacchan’s eyes on him, but he was too relaxed to bother lifting his head. Izuku felt like he was melting across the window sill. He let his head fall sideways a bit, so he could lean against Kacchan’s arm.

“…It is.”

They sat there a long time, until the sun was fully gone and the stars had spread everywhere. Izuku tried to look for Taurus – it should still be visible this time of year – but the light pollution and his limited view had him concede defeat. While he sat there looking, he realized that between being trapped in a basement and waking up in the very bed he was kneeling on, he’d completely missed Kacchan’s birthday for the first time ever.

He carefully glanced over at the man beside him, looking towards the skies, lost in thought. Twenty-one years. Their entire lives. Izuku thought he became more amazing every year. Kinder now, too. Brave. Strong. A little stubborn. A lot trying to appear tougher than he was. Caring. Talented. Reliable. Cursing like a sailor whilst adhering to every rule ever, unless there were extenuating circumstances. Kacchan.

If Izuku were a compass, he’d surely point towards him.

Their Sunday was spent sleeping late (at least for Izuku), and then binge-watching more of the show together. In the afternoon, Kacchan went back to working. He was always working, Izuku found – either patrolling, doing paperwork or keeping up with his training regimens and spending hours in the kitchen, doing proper nutritional calculations and all. Even this weekend, he was on call for bigger emergencies, ready to race out the door and save the day at a moment’s notice.

Izuku thought it incredibly impressive. Kacchan was so dedicated to being a hero! If the press knew how much he invested in this, they’d surely have to stop questioning his attitude. Izuku hated when they did that, which was unfortunately frequently.

When Kacchan disappeared into his training room, Izuku decided to go to work too. He started by dusting the living room and bedroom, then got the laundry started. After that, he had to take a break.

Goddammit. He couldn’t carry one hamper of clothes from the bedroom to the washing machine without getting winded. How exactly had he managed to run for half an hour straight on The Playground?

Sighing deeply, he pushed himself back up. He’d just have to take it slower, because giving up was not an option. So he swept the kitchen floor, and then went on to vacuum the rugs in the living room. It was then Kacchan emerged again, saying something he couldn’t hear.

“What?” he asked after turning the vacuum off.

“I asked what you were doing.”

He motioned to his supplies. “Cleaning. What’s it look like?”

Kacchan crossed his arms as he took in the room, which was notably tidier. “You don’t have to do that, you know. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

Izuku wiped the sweat off his face with a sleeve. “I know. But I don’t want to be completely useless in this household.”

“That’s not how I meant that.”

“I know. But you’re busy enough as is. You said you’re working double shifts! And I just sit around. If I don’t get to do something, I’ll go insane!”

Kacchan dropped his arms. “Makes sense, I guess. Thanks. I was about to cook, wanna join?”

Izuku smiled hesitantly and nodded. He still wasn’t used to Kacchan thanking him. Cleaning wasn’t even that much of a bother. And truth be told, Izuku had gotten quite good at it during his time with the Lady.

He watched closely as Kacchan made them dinner, thinking that he could maybe take over the cooking too. That would save Kacchan a lot of time. He’d done it for his mom, in the past, when she worked long hours. It had never failed to make her happy.

The day ended with them sitting on the couch yet again, doing their own thing. Kacchan played a video game, and Izuku alternated between watching and reading one of the old schoolbooks he’d found the day before. All in all, it was very uneventful, but he found it to be very enjoyable for that.

It was only on Monday morning things started to kick off again. Izuku woke with a washcloth to the face (“Fucking finally, I thought you fucking went into a coma”) at six. Which was too early. His high school self would’ve been fine, but Izuku supposed this was the price of getting old. He felt like an old man when he got himself ready grudgingly.

He agonized over what to wear to the meeting for a good five minutes (a record time for him), before he picked the black shirt with the orange X. Ground Zero was his favourite hero, might as well show it. ‘Nerd’ was basically his middle name after all. He paired it with a light jacket he could reasonably keep on indoors to hide his arms. Then he was handed a cap and sunglasses to hide his face, since he couldn’t be spotted with Ground Zero of all people. It would certainly draw attention, one way or the other.

Funnily enough, the Auriculates weren’t the biggest concern. It was the bloodthirsty reporters from the gossip magazines, which would be delighted to spot Ground Zero walking with an unknown person, and then hell would inevitably break loose once someone found out just who Izuku was.

He sat tensely through their breakfast, nerves and anticipation bubbling inside his stomach.

When Kacchan finally grabbed his stuff and said “Let’s go, then,” Izuku shot off towards the hall. Kacchan had bought some shoes for him when he went clothes shopping (“Red? Seriously?” “You know I had to.”) and this was the first time he had reason to put them on.

They were a little big on him, but better this than the other way round.

Kacchan opened the door to the pale blue hue of an early morning sky, checking quickly for any people around. “Alright, follow me.”

Izuku obeyed. Ordering him to come along was the only way he’d be able to leave the house, and Kacchan would have to overwrite a lot of commandments that way today. Oh joy.

He stepped over the threshold and glanced around. There was a front lawn, or rather garden, housing some big, flowering bushes that smelled very familiar. He looked and sure enough, there was the Carolina allspice. One of the very few plants he could name. Aunt Mitsuki had them in her garden, and he and Kacchan had sat by those for picnics often when they bloomed. It eased his nerves, reminding him of those carefree days. He ran a hand over the leaves.

“Something the matter?” Kacchan asked, standing in front of the garage door as it automatically opened to the press of a remote button.

“No.” He trailed a finger over a blossom and came over to stand by Kacchan. He noted that the house looked very nice from outside, painted a light yellow with red shingles. Oddly… suburban.

He guessed they were in a suburb. The houses were one or two stories, but comfortable sizes, with gardens and garages, all looking rather peaceful.

His thoughts were interrupted when he laid eyes on the car. Definitely not peaceful, definitely custom made, definitely with lots of special permits. Simple black with tinted windows, but sleek and fast and expensive.

“You have a car,” Izuku whispered, awed.

“Of-fucking-course. How else would I get around? I’m not taking fucking public tin sardines to work.”

“Right.” Theoretically, he’d known Kacchan must have a car, but as he slid into the passenger seat, he found the sight of Kacchan behind the wheel a little odd. New, at least, and nothing he’d ever really thought about before.

And before he could think about it, Kacchan reversed out of the garage and took them into the city at a speed that had Izuku covertly holding onto his seat. The scenery flew by, and he saw that they weren’t as far out in the suburbs as he’d thought. It took them a mere fifteen minutes until Kacchan pulled into the underground garage of a big office skyscraper that advertised itself as Fat Gum’s, Mount Lady’s and Kamui Woods’ offices.

Izuku hadn’t known they’d scaled up, and also shared a building now. It made sense, he guessed. Easier to cooperate and coordinate big scale dispatches. The car park was empty save for the vehicles.

“This way,” Kacchan said, opening a metal door. It looked heavy and the creaking echoed in the vast space. Izuku glanced around and noticed cameras as well. He reasoned it made sense, it was a hero office and all. They came into a stairwell, where Kacchan turned left and pressed a button for the elevator.

“Um. Are we not taking the stairs?” Izuku asked.

“To the sixteenth floor?” Kacchan asked back, glancing over.

Sixteen floors? Oh drat. Still, he nodded. “Might be good exercise!”

Kacchan now turned fully, just as the elevator dinged and opened its doors. “You would die and you know it. What’s the matter?”

He swallowed hard and tried to come up with an explanation. It was just an elevator. Just a sealed off metal box. They could get out anytime. Well, not anytime, but they would get out eventually. It didn’t even properly lock.

“Nerd?”

He shot a pleading look towards Kacchan. “I don’t like enclosed spaces.”

Understanding flitted across Kacchan’s face, and he glanced between the elevator and the stairs. “Right. Shit. I hadn’t considered that. I can call the folks upstairs and ask them to clear the stairwell?”

It was a tempting offer. However, Izuku was fully aware that he would not be able to climb sixteen stories on his own, and what were the people supposed to think, that he needed even more special treatment, and getting carried up was a bit wounding for anyone’s pride, and he really did not want to inconvenience anyone.

Before he could think better of it, he stepped on, eyes firmly fixated on his shoes. “It’s fine. Let’s just go.”

“If you say so.” Kacchan stood next to him and pressed a button.

As the elevator started moving, Izuku felt a warm hand on his back, keeping him steady. He focused on that instead.

“Okay, fair warning,” Kacchan said as they rode up, sounding grim. “You’re about to meet my co-workers, who happen to be my old classmates mostly, who happen to be the sort of people that voluntarily hang around me. They’re weird, they’re loud, and they can be fucking idiots. Don’t let them get away with any bullshit. And for the love of god, try not to nerd out just because they’re pros. I’ve seen three of them admit defeat to a clogged toilet. The same one, mind you. They don’t deserve it.”

The idea had Izuku crack an involuntary smile. “Got it, Kacchan.” Not that he had planned on it. The last time he’d met a personal hero of his, it hadn’t gone too well. It taught him to keep himself and his expectations in check.

The elevator dinged open and revealed a huge guy with red hair, a more appropriately proportioned blond guy and a pink woman with black eyes, all camping in front of the elevator and nearly falling in as the door slid open.

“And here they are,” Kacchan said drily. Then he kicked the red-head - who Izuku of course recognized as Red Riot – square in the chest, hard enough to send the lot stumbling back several steps. “It’s rude to block doors, you fuckwits. Clear the fucking way!” he shouted as he guided Izuku out into a nice foyer.

“Sorry,” pink lady – well, Pinky – chirped. She didn’t look sorry at all. “We were just so excited to finally meet the guy. I’m Mina,” she said, turning towards Izuku. “Very pleased to meet you.”

Izuku nodded politely, a little unsure. They stared openly at him, and he wondered if their curiosity came from the stories Kacchan had allegedly told them or if they saw him as more of a specimen in the human trafficking case. He hoped they wouldn’t start asking questions. Well, of course there would be questions, but at least he wanted them to be matter-of-fact and not of personal nature.

“Kaminari,” the blond guy said, getting back on his feet. He pointed a finger at Mina. “What she said. And sorry about the ambush. We just heard a lot about you. It was Mina’s idea.”

Izuku nodded again. They didn’t seem too bad. They were colourful, literally and figuratively, but they had a certain air about them that made Izuku want to like them. If they were Kacchan’s friends, they couldn’t be bad. “I heard about you too. From the news, mainly. And Kacchan probably, but he doesn’t use names, so I can’t say who’s who.”

Mina’s face turned into one of pure delight. “He calls him Kacchan,” she whispered to Kaminari, still loud enough to hear.

Kacchan glared at her. “Yes,” he growled, “and if any of you even think about trying that as well, I will be seriously angry.” The lack of swear words and graphic descriptions of mutilation made Izuku think it was a genuine request threat.

“Got it,” Red Riot laughed, stepping forward. Good god, he was huge. A literal tank. Even Kacchan seemed small in comparison.

“Hi, I guess you may know me as Shitty Hair, but please call me Kirishima!” He held out a hand and Izuku went to politely shake it. He was about to introduce himself in return when his fingers got crushed in that grip and he was too busy trying to fight off a pained yelp. Kirishima didn’t seem to notice, eyes crinkled with… what was this, even? Positivity? Kindness? Condensed sunshine in human form? “So you’re Deku! We’ve heard a lot about you!”

“Oh, um, that’s not actually my-”

Kacchan’s growl overshadowed his meek muttering. “Don’t fucking call him that, Shitty Hair!”

Kirishima seemed puzzled, but at least his grip relented. Izuku took his smarting hand back. “But that’s what you call him all the time.”

Kacchan’s glare turned scalding. “I get to call him that. You don’t. He calls me Kacchan. You will refrain from doing that if you value your life, Eijirou. I’m not letting anyone call you Shitty Hair, am I?”

Kirishima shrunk to half his size. “Yes, sorry. Geez, please don’t say my name like that.”

“You don’t call me Deku,” Izuku whispered, just to be contrary. ‘Anymore’ went unsaid.

“I said I get to, not that I have to. Get with the fucking program, nerd.”

“If you are quite done harassing the poor man,” a new voice joined in, “I have been sent to ask you to come to the office, since we’re all here now.” Todoroki Shouto stood in the hallway, crossed arms the only thing betraying his mood as he stared at the trio.

“You are such a spoilsport, honestly,” Mina complained, obliging nevertheless.

“I am truly sorry.”

Izuku could not tell if that was deadpan sarcasm or the guy was serious. As he followed behind Kacchan, Shouto stepped towards him, bowing slightly. “My name is Todoroki Shouto. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Um, likewise. Midoriya Izuku.” He nodded back, then hurried to catch up to Kacchan again, who waited several steps ahead.

“Told you they’re a bunch of weirdos,” he said, bumping Izuku’s shoulder lightly as they walked into a bigger office with a giant table in the middle. Kacchan indicated a chair by pulling it out, and Izuku sank down, glancing around the room.

Endeavor was there, which he had not expected at all, as well as Fat Gum and underground hero Eraserhead, who at this point was more ‘Aizawa, U.A. teacher’ to Izuku. He recognized Earphone Jack, another undergrounder, lounging in her chair that was tipped back dangerously. Lastly, there was the second Ingenium, sitting straight with his palms on the table and looking quite serious indeed.

“Now then, let’s begin with introductions, all right?” Fat Gum started with himself, and they went around the table, exchanging the usual pleasantries. Izuku nodded politely, a little intimidated when all these Pro Heroes’ attention was on him as he stammered “Midoriya Izuku, pleased to meet you all.”

“With that out of the way,” Endeavor said, “let us get to the main point of today’s meeting. Keeping in mind that Midoriya is a civilian who is involuntarily involved but offered his help nevertheless we devised a plan for a meeting with the Goldsmith. We are trying to keep risks at a minimum, so the mission will be reconnaissance only. Do not engage in combat unless absolutely necessary.”

Kacchan tensed. He still seemed against this all. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Very well. Now, I’ll go over the main points first. Ask questions at the end.” He launched into a jargon-heavy talk, and Izuku felt a little superfluous as he tried to follow. For a moment, he felt again that no one in the room even saw him, acting like he wasn’t there. Only Kacchan’s arm on the back of his chair kept him from freaking out.

The discussion moved back and forth, but a loud pounding in his ears prevented him from fully paying attention. It was hot in here and he was sweating, which he hoped no one noticed, and really, were they almost done? Why had he agreed to come here again?

“Are we absolutely positive this is our best course of action?” Kacchan’s low timbre broke him out of his own head, and he glanced sideways, noticing how Kacchan’s eyes narrowed at Endeavor.

“Are you saying he can’t do it?”

The narrow eyes were enforced by a challenging tilt of the chin. “No, he’s perfectly capable, as the plan, which came from him, should aptly demonstrate. What bothers me is that this will put someone without training in harm’s way, and if anything would go south we all know our chances of getting backup there in time are fucking slim, no matter how nicely you phrase your contingencies.”

Eraserhead broke the argument off before it could start. “Which is why we’re having this briefing. Midoriya can decide afterwards if he wants to go through with it.” He nodded towards him, a contemplative look on his face.

Izuku set his jaw and nodded back, determined.

Fat Gum grinned that wide Totoro-smile as he turned towards Izuku to address him directly. “We’ll make sure you will be as safe as possible. I had a wonderful talk prepared about the dangers of this mission, specifically since you are a civilian, but I have been told you are fully aware. Every precaution that can be taken will be taken. On that note, is there anything you might want to add to this? Observations, theories, any knowledge you have?”

A heavy silence settled into the room. Izuku froze. His throat worked around syllables that never came out. He hadn’t paid attention to half of the talks and didn’t understand the other half.

“Way ahead of you,” Kacchan threw into the room, leaning his chin on a fist. All eyes turned to him, some confused, some… accusing, almost? “What?” Kacchan let out a snort. He tossed the notebook Izuku made specifically for this excursion towards Fat Gum.

“Oh. And this is…?”

“All the knowledge we have on the Goldsmith and then some. Whilst you read that, can we go take a break? I’m starving.”

“Bakubro!” Kirishima hissed. “Be nice!”

“Er-herm.” Fat Gum cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention… In light of this, a break seems reasonable, wouldn’t you say?”

Izuku listened with one ear, but he was too preoccupied glancing at Kacchan. He had just… helped him out there, right? In his weird, roundabout way.

And he’d pulled out a notebook, where he kept his plans and analyses… So Kacchan had not only read this, but was also impressed? He felt a little mortified at the idea of Kacchan reading these, but they were often enough lying open on a table, so it was really Izuku’s own fault.

“We’ll take a break here then to review the new input Midoriya gave us. Please be back in twenty minutes,” Endeavor said, dismissing them.

“Better make that forty. Nerd has terrible handwriting, and that book is filled,” Kacchan said, waiting by Izuku’s chair.

“Um, the important parts are highlighted in yellow and orange, sir,” Izuku stuttered at Endeavor’s irritated glare.

Eraserhead nodded. “We’ll keep it in mind.”

Kacchan tugged him along, and Izuku followed. “We can’t go down to the cafeteria, but the entire floor has been cleared for us, so we can at least enjoy the view.” Kacchan led him to a small seating area by a floor-to-ceiling window, decorated with some benches and potted ferns, separated from the hallway by an ornate wooden folding screen.

His reprieve was short-lived, though, as the trio that had ambushed them at the elevator came to join them, spreading out over the benches. They weren’t as focused on him anymore, but the way they tried to keep their glances covert was almost worse.

Mina broke the silence rather fast, though. “So, Midoriya. You came up with that entire plan pretty much on your own?”

He ducked his head, raising his shoulders. “I mean, it is built around the information I wrote down, sure, but I wouldn’t go as far as to say I had any part in the actual logistics.”

Kirishima and Kaminari exchanged a glance, before the latter turned towards him. “But you’re the one who has to go. Surely you’ve got some input on that?”

“I mean, I’m really coming along as an accessory more than anything else. It’s not like I’ll be doing anything besides stand there and watch.”

“But why do you have to go in the first place, then? Bakubro is right, that’s unnecessarily risky,” Kirishima said. “I mean no offense, but you’re still recovering, and you don’t have a quirk.”

Izuku felt the blood freeze in his veins. He stared at Kirishima, wide-eyed.

“Bro!” Kaminari slapped Kirishima on the arm, to little effect. “You can’t just say that!”

Of course. Of course they knew. Kacchan had talked about him, this would have come up.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Kirishima immediately apologized, eyes wide and clearly embarrassed about what he just said. “It’s just, I meant like mine or Tetsutetsu, where he’d have a defence for himself. With your commandments you’re not able to fight, this is just something we have to take into account, like we’d take it into account if he had one, and if something happened to you that would be so bad, I mean-”

“There there, Kiri,” Mina said, patting him gently on the head. “We know. He just worries,” she said to Izuku, “Don’t mind it, he has no concept of how normal people survive,” she grinned. “He calls us squishy all the time.”

Kirishima nodded fervently. “Really sorry, bro.” He looked like a kicked puppy.

Izuku carefully nodded back.

“It’s not about that,” Kacchan said. He seemed completely unfazed by the sudden tension. “Lord knows they had to nerf him somehow. I mean, look at this and be glad he’s a nice person.” He fished another notebook out of his pockets and tossed it into the fray. Mina caught it and immediately went leafing through.

“I’m more worried that someone,” he shot at pointed glance at Izuku, “is going to try and single-handedly solve the entire thing in one fell swoop, and do something stupid without thinking it through.”

Izuku crossed his arms, defiant. “When have I ever done that?”

“You charged a villain without any-”

“Because no one else would! I had no choice!”

The pointed stare faltered. “Yes. You did.”

A sudden silence filled the space, before Kaminari suddenly shot up. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving. Wanna go grab food?”

The rest scrambled up to follow him, too fast to be casual about it.

“Oi Shitty Hair!” Izuku jumped as Kacchan yelled towards the elevators. “Get me and the nerd some food! And it better be good!”

“One day they’ll find your body in a ditch and we will have alibis! We’re not your slaves!” Mina’s voice shot back, drowning out whatever Kirishima said.

“No, you’re even lower, because I get to sit here and chill!” Izuku piped in, not about to waste this spectacular comeback he’d just thought of on the spot. His sense of humour had become rather skewed in regards to this particular topic. Usually the other people he’d talked to were in the same boat, though. “Was that too mean, Kacchan?” he whispered.

No reply came. Glancing to his side, Kacchan had one hand clapped in front of his mouth, eyes wide with either shock or surprise.

“Kacchan?”

“I feel like I should not be laughing about that.” His voice sounded strained.

“What, am I not funny enough? Is thy court jester not entertaining you, your majesty?”

That did it, Kacchan burst out laughing, albeit reluctantly. “You can be such a little shit.”

Izuku shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “What can I say, I learned from the best.”

“That being…?”

Izuku’s stare turned deadpan. “Are you actually fishing for compliments?”

“No! As if I needed to do that.” It was very interesting to watch the tips of Kacchan’s ears turn pink, and then watch further as the colour proceeded to spread over his neck.

Izuku saved them both into only slightly awkward silence by approaching the big window, stopping half a metre back.

“No one’s gonna see you, we’re too far up and its one-way opaque glass.”

Izuku now noticed the slight dark-blueish tint. Right, hero office that deals in highly sensitive information, he thought. He stepped forward to get as much of a view as possible, accidentally bumping his nose against the window.

The city sprawled out below them, and he had a vague idea of where they were. Near the city centre, but not quite downtown, rather off with the other boring office buildings. He could see a bus stop that’d been on his commute to school, and further back there was a park where he and some of his classmates sometimes went to feed ducks and stretch out in the grass.

He wondered what they were doing now. They’d graduated years ago, moving out into the wide world.

“Oi, nerd. What’s the matter now?”

“Just wondering where my classmates ended up. If Akihiko and Hina are still dating.” He wrinkled his nose. “I hope not. He could do so much better.”

“I could probably find out for you, if you’re that curious.”

Izuku contemplated that. “Hmm, maybe. It’s not like I could talk to them, and I don’t think I would want to, honestly. I just thought… They all graduated by now, and have cars and jobs and stuff. I don’t know how many of them are even still in contact with their high school friends, there were a lot of plans to move all across the country or even overseas. But it might be interesting to see if they’re making support gear for someone we know!”

Kacchan hummed, but Izuku didn’t turn around, and they stayed like that until Kirishima, Kaminari and Mina returned, carrying food trays for everyone. He turned as soon as he felt their foreign presences prickle on his back, and was surprised the group had gotten bigger still: In their wake followed Jirou, Shouto and Iida, keeping a little to the edge.

From the curious looks they shot his way, Izuku surmised they were trying and failing to be professionals and give him some space.

Kirishima handed Izuku his notebook with a bow and a solemn expression. “I would like to apologize if I upset you with anything I said earlier and also should I ever do so in the future.”

“We are very glad you are a nice person,” Kaminari added, trying too hard to appear calm.

“What did you hand them, Kacchan?” He opened the book and found his analysis on the different quirks of Kacchan’s old classmates.

“And keep in mind,” Kacchan drawled, leaning his head against the back of the bench, one ankle resting on his knee, “that he did all this with nothing more than his own knowledge. No input from me at all.”

Izuku felt his face flame again. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I mean, I saw you sometimes, when there was a TV in the room, over the years. And I watched the first sports festival, too. Also, the internet. There’s a lot of information available to the public. And Kacchan told me two days ago that I was going to meet some of his colleagues, so I quickly looked up some of you guys’ interviews and fights online, it really wasn’t a big deal…”

“I didn’t tell him any names, by the way, he somehow figured that out himself, too.”

“Bro,” Kirishima whispered. “Are you telling me that you did this all in two days? There’s… this, right here!” He held his hands out for the book, and after Izuku handed it over, flipped to the pages about Shouto. “What the hell, man?”

“Oh, that? I saw him create a glacier on TV, and I was wondering who was going to clean that up, and then I wondered how long it would take for that amount of ice to melt on its own, so I did a bunch of rough calculations, and then I was curious, because at first glance that quirk seems to break several laws of physics… It’s really just a side scribble, ignore that.”

“Oh yes, Shitty Hair, ignore the side scribble, it’s just advanced thermodynamics,” Kacchan drawled.

“I already apologized for the glacier,” Shouto intersected.

Mina took Izuku’s hand between her own. “If you ever decide to go villain, hit me up. I’d like to be on your good side.”

“Er,” Izuku glanced between the lot of them, unsure if she was joking. He hoped she was joking. “I don’t think Kacchan would let me, to be honest.”

Mina winked, grinning. “Guess I’ll just have to get rid of him for you. I have a plan already, and an alibi.” She laughed again.

“Oh, I… do need him alive. If you tried, I’d have to kill you first, and that would be sad. Maybe afterwards?” He carefully pried his hand free.

Kacchan barked a laugh that startled them all, and Mina turned to him, pouting. “Blasty, you never told us he’s scary!” she whined.

Kacchan’s grin turned almost feral. “I tried to warn you. Your fault for not believing me. Oi, nerd!”

Izuku snapped his eyes away from the way Kacchan’s posture put his pecs on display. “Yes?”

“There’s food for you. Here.” He shuffled up on the bench so Izuku could sit with him.

They balanced their trays on their legs, and Kacchan eyed the options. “Food here’s pretty good in general,” he commented, digging into his rice with grilled steak.

Izuku tried his own portion, and found that yes, this was definitely where Kacchan worked, because the sauce was spicy as hell. “Here, have that.” Izuku moved his bowl to Kacchan’s tray without looking up, and got Kacchan’s pulled chicken salad in return.

“Sorry, should’ve warned you,” Kacchan replied, tossing his strawberry into Izuku’s yoghurt.

He saw Mina’s mouth drop open in shock, and she mouthed something that looked like “Oh my god.” Izuku wasn’t sure he liked that spark in her eye. It looked like some form of enlightenment.

They finished their meal in companionable silence interspersed with casual banter between the Pro’s that Izuku mostly just watched. They did seem oddly… human, sitting on the floor around the bench, having a late lunch. It did remind him a bit of his first days at high school, truth be told.

Kacchan shoved his tray at the others and stood, stretching. “I need to go find Aizawa real quick. Meet you back in the office. And extras!” They exchanged some complicated looks that were probably supposed to be some sort of Super Secret Communication We Can Do Because We Know Each Other, but unfortunately Kacchan apparently forgot that Izuku had a degree in that too. ‘You are responsible for him so do not fuck it up’, he said. His friend’s answers were harder to decipher, but the general mood was that of good-natured indulgence.

Without another word, Kacchan walked off, hand ruffling Izuku’s hair as he stalked past.

“So,” Mina said as soon as he was out of earshot. “I’ve been told the two of you knew each other for forever. Give us some dirt on him!”

Izuku continued chewing to buy time. This was not the interrogation he’d expected, but knowing Mina for all of three hours, he wasn’t surprised, either.

Thing was, he’d known her for three hours. He wasn’t about to tell her Kacchan’s secrets. And any other topic he could think of was either his absolute adoration for Kacchan, which he didn’t want to talk about, or that time Kacchan had been an absolute ass in middle school, which he didn’t want to talk about.

“He once connected most of my freckles like they were some sort of connect-the-dots picture,” he settled on eventually, looking them all in the eyes as he added, “With permanent marker.”

They burst out laughing, wincing in sympathy. “Oh no, how long did it stay?” Kaminari wheezed.

“Almost three days. To be fair, we were five, so it wasn’t like either of us could read.”

“Aww. Were they nice pictures, at least?”

Izuku shook his head, grinning now. “No. He tried to match them to constellations using an astrology book as a reference, but there’s really only three that worked. The rest were a lot of fantasy and goodwill.”

“Which ones did he get?” Kirishima asked, leaning back on his hands where he sat on the floor.

“Ah, well.” It was a little weird how they stared closely at his face. “There’s Taurus right here, which is one of the few we knew, since it’s Kacchan’s zodiac. It’s not really that accurate because although there’s a few interpretations where the zodiac is represented by three lines like here, there’s often a fourth one that connects Taurus to the Pleiades – that’s this big star cluster, which was arguably the more important part of that zodiac, at least for the people back in Babylon, they used these as sort of seasonal calendars, and other civilisations adopted it later into the evenly split twelve segments – did you know that the bull was a sacred animal in a lot of cultures throughout ancient Europe? In fact, Europe is only named Europe because according to a greek myth, a woman of that name got carried there, by a bull of course, and… I am totally rambling, aren’t I?” He put his face in his hands, embarrassed. He’d already forgotten what he’d originally been trying to say.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Kaminari assured. “That stuff’s fascinating.”

Mina was peering hard at his face, probably trying to see the pattern.

Oh right, that’s what he’d been trying to show. “If you squint you might see one of the dippers here,” he traced the dots over his nose and right cheek. “There’s Libra on my shoulders somewhere. Or Orion’s bow, depending how you look at it.”

“That’s honestly disgustingly cute. You interested in astrology?”

Izuku shrugged. “Kacchan’s parents had a telescope on their roof, and we loved stargazing when we were little. I think it was mostly because we were allowed to stay up later if it was for some semblance of educational reasons. It did get me into sciences and stuff pretty early, and I had a phase where I was obsessed with space and NASA and all that.”

“I had that space phase too,” Mina admitted, “although the maths part had me drop it pretty fast. Is that something you’re interested in working at?”

Izuku began to see why Kacchan liked these people. They were comfortable to be around. “Not really. I’ve always been more fascinated by hero work, and I got into a support gear engineering course in high school.” It hadn’t been anything remotely close to U.A., because even the support students there had exceptional quirks. Just because they were not suited for fighting didn’t meant they were not valuable. But since Izuku hadn’t been blessed with such a quirk either, he’d had to go to an average school with the goal to score above average grades, so he’d be noticed by the pro’s later.

Shouto eyed the notebook. “I can see you were good at that.”

He grinned. “I dare say yes.” He looked at the floor as he continued, “Kacchan said he uses my idea for the fire-suppressing foam in his gauntlets.”

“That was you?” Kirishima exclaimed. “Bro! That shit had Hatsume lose so much sleep, but it was such a great idea.” He leaned in closer to whisper, “One of our final exams had us go against Pro Heroes who played the part of villains, and Bakugou and I were up against Endeavor. He tossed one of the gauntlets straight at his face and rendered him useless for nearly ten seconds. We got an A+ for that one.”

Then the red-head actually bowed to him. “I am totally in your debt!”

“We all are,” Shouto said. “My father still hasn’t lived that one down. It was beautiful.”

With the way he said it, Izuku got the feeling there was something more to this. His suspicions solidified when Jirou continued, “Best prank we ever pulled on the asshole.”

“…I take it you’re not on the best of terms?” he asked carefully.

All eyes went to Shouto, who seemed pretty indifferent as he explained. “We are not. But we agreed to a ceasefire for the duration of this mission.”

“For which I am very proud of you all!” Iida said, louder than necessary. “Even if Endeavor does not know about the vendetta we have going against him.”

“Again, thank you so much for the gauntlets, his face was priceless. Please engineer for us, too!” Kaminari added.

Izuku waved his hands frantically. “Oh, no, no, I could never. My design wouldn’t have worked in a hundred years, you got your own support course to thank for that! I don’t even have a degree!”

“But that’s hardly your fault,” Mina pointed out. “And degree or not, I dare say those gauntlets have been of more use already than most of our other stuff.”

Izuku felt his face heat and quickly hid behind his arms. “I-it’s nothing! Really!”

Jirou let out a snort. “Blasty doesn’t praise people for ‘nothing’. I can count the times he complimented me on one hand. You’re something else alright.”

“Yeah! How did you get him to… to be like that?” Kaminari demanded. “Tell us your secrets!”

“Be like what?” Izuku asked. “He’s just Kacchan. Maybe a little nicer overall. Less… competitive.” Not that Kacchan needed that anymore. Being in the top 30s was proof enough. “And maybe a little bit calmer.” Again, he credited that to Kacchan’s overall life experience.

“Just ‘Kacchan’,” Mina repeated, miming quotation marks. “Honey, we’ve known the guy for about five years now, and he’s never been like that. He called Kiri by his name earlier, because he didn’t agree with us using the nickname he taught us.”

“I was scared for my life!” Kirishima agreed. “I wasn’t even sure he knew my name at this point!”

“And he took an entire day off work when he came back from that dreadful manhunt with you in tow,” Iida added. “I don’t know the last time that happened.”

Shouto tilted his head, thinking. “Never.”

“He’s just so… wholesome about this. Real manly. Protecting his old friend like that.” Izuku could swear there was a manly tear in Kirishima’s eye. “He’s been the one working the hardest on this case, but now he refuses to chase a lead because it would put you in danger.”

“Oh, I’m sure he cares about you guys just as much,” Izuku deflected. Kacchan was being civil about this whole affair, sure, and they had a new start on their friendship, but it wasn’t anything special. The difference was just in the time they’d known each other.

Mina jabbed a finger in his direction. “He shared food with you. He was nice!”

Izuku cocked his head, genuinely puzzled. “Yeah. Kacchan is nice.” Kacchan cared a lot about many things. When he didn’t have a personal grudge against someone.

But Mina shook her head. “No, we know that. He’s all bark and no bite, and he’s gone to great lengths to help us all get where we are today, but never like this. I’m pretty sure he would not hesitate to cause serious injuries if it came to it, at your meeting with The Goldsmith.”

“Disgustingly cute,” Jirou muttered.

“Are you really sure you are okay to go there?” Shouto asked, brows furrowed in genuine concern.

“I am.”

“He has Blasty to protect him,” Kaminari added.

Mina smirked. “Honestly, at this point I’m more convinced Izuku going to protect them from Blasty.”

Izuku shook his head. “No, never. He could delete them for all I care. But I’m worried the war crimes will look bad on his record.”

“You know, I think you are going to be an amazing addition to the squad.” Kaminari clapped him on the shoulder, sending the slightest zap through Izuku, like he’d gotten a shock from touching a door handle. “Now let’s head back before mother hen comes looking.”

They came back just in time to catch the end of a heated argument between Kacchan and Endeavor.

“Yes, whatever,” Kacchan barked, glaring at the older Pro Hero that was technically his superior.

Izuku looked around the room really fast – no one seemed bothered by this exchange. Was this a regular occurrence? He felt perplexed. Endeavor had always been one of Kacchan’s favourite hero idols growing up: The Number Two Hero, who proved it was possible to rise to the top with an objectively destructive combat quirk.

Sometime in the last four years, something must’ve happened that changed Kacchan’s mind drastically. Izuku had also looked up to Endeavor, because he was just awesome (not as awesome as All Might. Who’d also turned out not to be what Izuku’d imagined, when the Hero had told him Izuku’s dream was just that.) Maybe the saying ‘Don’t meet your heroes’ had merit, after all. He wondered what exactly the history was. It certainly connected to Shouto somehow, but Izuku forced himself to put that mystery aside in favour of more pressing matters.

The argument died as Eraserhead called for order and they sat down, resuming the meeting with Izuku’s information taken into account. This time around it was easier for him to listen and participate, which was not in small part due to the encouraging glances and smiles from his new acquaintances.

By the end of it, they had Kacchan draft an inquiry to Ueda via email, stating simply that he had some issues with his newest acquisition and asking about a meeting with their craftsman to fix it.

“I think that will be everything for today, then,” Fat Gum said. Endeavor nodded. “Dismissed.”

There was a chorus of scraping chairs and shuffled papers as the meeting concluded.

Izuku, without anything to gather, pushed his chair back in and stood by the wall to not be in the way. It allowed him to notice the sure way in which Eraserhead approached him from the other side of the table, a far enough advance warning to not be surprised at being addressed.

“Midoriya. Might I have a word with you?”

“Um. Sure.”

“In private?”

“Er.” He glanced towards Kacchan, who seemed to have developed a sixth sense for these sort of things, as he immediately turned to look back, head cocked in question.

“Sure,” he told Eraserhead, stuffing his nerves back down into the pit of ignorant oblivion. This was probably about his participation in this particular plan. He followed the older man as he led them through a side door to a smaller office.

“I’ll borrow him for a few minutes,” Eraserhead said over his shoulder. Kacchan nodded, crossing his arms and leaning back against a table, facing the door as it closed between them.

“Please, sit.”

Izuku obeyed, perching on the edge of a chair as Eraserhead took the seat on the other side of the desk.

“And do try to relax,” the man continued with a slight smirk. “I promise whatever horror stories Bakugou told about me, he deserved the detention every time.”

He cracked a smile. “I can imagine.”

“I figured. Which is sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. Now.” Eraserhead folded his hands on the table, “is there anything you would like to tell me concerning your relationship with Bakugou? In confidentiality.”

The weird question left Izuku stumped. He had no idea what the other was getting at. “Um… No? I’m not sure I understand.”

“So you’re alright with your current living arrangement?”

“Yes?”

Aizawa regarded him for a long moment, long enough for Izuku to start fidgeting. “Could you tell me the most negative thing about Bakugou?”

“What?”

“Whatever you can come up with on the spot.”

Izuku was confused, but he somehow wanted to not get a bad grade in whatever he was doing here. “He’s way too reckless in fights. And he has a bunch of trust issues when it comes to relying on other people. And he’s really annoying with all the weird insistence on doing all the chores on his own, but it’s his house and all so that’s not really a problem…”

Aizawa raised a hand to cut him off. “Alright. Thank you.”

Izuku crossed his arms. “What’s this about?”

“To be perfectly honest with you, I’m just making sure that you’re able to speak freely and Bakugou hasn’t ordered you to keep certain things secret.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m aware of your history together.”

Izuku sank further into his seat. “Ah.”

“Yes. As his former teacher, I learned about your case a few years ago, and you are easy to recognize. What I am very curious about, however, is why exactly Bakugou hasn’t brought that to our attention at all. I came over on the very same evening he brought you to his house, and he did not deem it necessary to inform me of your identity. I had to figure that one out for myself. I guess I just want to make sure that this is another stupid trust issue on his part and not some deeper problem concerning your rather complicated relationship.”

Izuku was stunned. “Are you serious?” He stood abruptly. “Kacchan is a good person,” he hissed, fully aware of the thin door being the only thing between them and the rest. He didn’t want this to get out and escalate. “He’s doing his very best to make sure I’m comfortable, even if he’s awkward as hell about it. I came to him on The Playground. He’s my friend and he’s a hero, and that you would even entertain the idea tells me you know nothing about him at all! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

In response to his verbal assault, Aizawa seemed to look more and more tired by the sentence. “It’s gonna be like that with you two, huh? Lord have mercy.” Then, surprisingly, he smiled. “Alright then. I’ve seen Bakugou make bad decisions with the best of intentions before, so I just wanted to make sure keeping the relationship between you two a secret wasn’t one of those. Glad to see those fears are unfounded.”

The lack of pushback took the wind right out of Izuku’s sails. “Oh. Okay.” He sat back down. Frowned. “Why would Kacchan keep this a secret?” It had been the same with Shinsou, he recalled. He just hadn’t gotten around to asking about it.

Aizawa tilted his head, thinking. “My guess is that he feared an intervention from our side. Your relationship as it is documented on paper is technically a conflict of interest when it comes to the mission, and people who don’t know either of you might’ve decided to place you somewhere else.”

Izuku was horrified at the idea. “You can’t do that! Don’t I get a say?!?”

“Not if you’re unconscious. Like you were the first two days.”

“I’m not leaving!” Not now that he was finally comfortable in that house. And had a friend.

“And you won’t have to. Don’t worry, I’m on your side here. Your situation is very unique as is, too.”

Izuku fiddled with his sleeve. “Will Kacchan get into trouble for this?”

“If there’s nothing wrong, there’s nothing to be troubled about. Although you probably can look forward to another talking to once the rest of our little group figure out they were kept in the dark.”

Izuku averted his eyes, staring hard at a spot on the floor. “They might already know?” he tried. “Kacchan’s friends, at least?”

Aizawa huffed a small laugh. “They would know what you look like. Bakugou spoke about you rather frequently, although he used some nickname. But that lot can’t leave anything alone. Are they giving you trouble, actually? Bunch of nosy villain magnets.”

Izuku smiled. He agreed with the statement, they were unashamedly curious and had no reservations in pestering him for dirt on Kacchan. “I think they’re really nice.”

“One of the best classes I ever had. Even if the stress took years off my life. Now, about your meeting with The Goldsmith. You sure you can handle it?”

“Yes.” He stared defiantly ahead, as if he could send his determination out like radio waves. “The risk is minimal and outweighed by the benefits tenfold. Short of admitting we’re there to spy on them or starting a fight, there is no way this could backfire. They have nothing to gain by attacking us, and no reason to suspect anything.”

Aizawa nodded. “Fine then. Welcome to the team. If there’s nothing else, you’re dismissed. I’m glad to see you’re doing well despite the circumstances. If there’s ever anything you need help with, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

They stood, and Izuku bowed slightly. “Thank you for your concern, and the offer.”

He opened the door to see Kacchan scowling right at him, face softening as he stepped out. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, very.”

“What was that about?”

“Just some formalities, don’t worry about it.”

“I asked him if he was sure about the plan,” Aizawa added. “Please don’t fuck this up.”

Kacchan scoffed, offended. “Your lack of faith is astounding. We have a date, by the way.” He held up his phone, showing them the short reply Ueda had sent, and so the entire office was informed they’d have two days’ time to finish any and all preparations.

Chapter 8

Notes:

A chapter about the case? In my case fic? It's more likely than you think.

Thanks again for all the nice comments you left me under the last chapter. Replying is hard bc how talk to people but I appreciate them all a lot <3

Doomsday dawned entirely too bright and cheerful for his liking. There was a weird, foreboding feeling of ‘danger’ that grew in his chest, wove between his ribs and settled there to stay. Much like that night on The Playground, it reminded him how insignificant his struggles were and how little the universe cared.

But unlike Kacchan, who was in an even worse mood than usual, Izuku tried to not let his worry show. He feared that if he let the tiniest bit of stress slip, Kacchan would call the whole thing off. And logically, there was very little to even worry about. The plan was sound. Unless the Auriculates decided for some reason to set up an ambush and assassinate them (which they wouldn’t because it made no sense whatsoever and everyone involved knew it), this would be a perfectly safe social call.

They had been instructed to arrive early at Ueda’s house, where Kacchan got out to greet the man and exchange a bunch of pleasantries. And probably subject himself to a check for weapons. Izuku had been allowed to look at a few profiles of people Ueda associated with, for preparation and also to ask if he’d maybe seen them before, so he recognized the small brunette woman as having a quirk classified as ‘EMP’.

He strongly suspected she had better control over it than her official statement on her quirk made them believe. Zero chance of contacting backup, then.

Izuku stayed in his seat, hidden from passer-by’s by the tinted windows, and surreptitiously watched the proceedings. There were two other men he recognized as Ueda’s henchmen – they helped deal with the people in the basement and kept them intimidated with their combat quirks.

The house looked so… unassuming, from the outside. White façade, big front yard with a nice fence that was just a little higher than needed. He never would’ve guessed there were people inside, held captive.

And Ueda, too. Izuku was used to seeing the man sneer, face contorted in rage as he let out his frustrations on whoever was unfortunate enough to be the victim of the day. That cruel, patient stare as he watched them deal with personal horrors he created, just because he found it fun.

Izuku had known it would be Ueda who would meet them. It made sense – why give away the identities of the other Auctioneers to a Pro Hero?

He thought he’d been prepared – he’d known this, he’d gone through the logistics of the plan over and over again and convinced himself that Ueda couldn’t do anything to him, at least not without Kacchan’s swift and painful retribution. There would be no point.

Still, as he watched Kacchan and Ueda shake hands and get into their respective cars, Izuku shrank down in his seat, holding his breath and praying to all gods that Ueda would not look his way.

He scolded himself for doing it all the while. It made no sense. He was fine. Kacchan was right there! If he couldn’t keep it together for half an hour, this might be for nothing. Kacchan was good at what he did, but it was Izuku who held the information, and no matter how detailed his reports, they were always second best to actual experience. It was up to him to observe, to look for anything remotely useful. The tiny details he couldn’t expect any outsider to catch.

The door on the driver’s side slammed shut as Kacchan got in again and immediately pulled out to follow Ueda’s car. “You good so far, nerd?”

Izuku straightened and concentrated on their route. “Nothing even happened yet.”

They followed the other car in silence for almost twenty minutes, through the suburbs and further away from the main city without ever quite taking the highway out. Izuku noticed the unnecessary twists and turns they made, probably to confuse them about their actual destination. He saw Kacchan check his phone with a quiet curse. No signal, then. The radio only played static, and Izuku turned it off.

“You know,” Kacchan began as the houses grew more and more dilapidated and eventually gave way to warehouses, “this goes against pretty much everything the folks at U.A. taught me.” He looked grim, narrow eyes fixated on the road as he evaded the potholes, lips pressed into a thin line.

It was one thing to be nervous himself, but to see Kacchan this anxious, it somehow undermined his confidence. “We could always leave, if you really think this is a bad idea.”

There was a brief pause as Kacchan contemplated. “Not a chance in hell. They’d never talk to me again if I bailed now. Besides, we need to get these chains fixed. They’re just a fucking disaster waiting to happen.”

Izuku took a deep breath, in and out. “You’re right. I’m good. I’m fine. Just wondering where on earth we’re going.”

“Oi, it’s your plan, you moron. Weren’t you confident enough when you presented it to the old geezers? Don’t give me that crap now. It’s foolproof.”

Izuku hummed, trying to focus on their path, in case they needed to get out fast. His head felt hazy, like it was stuffed with cotton, and he couldn’t grasp a coherent thought. He leaned his head against the window. The vibrations of the car made it worse.

He sat up straight again. Breathed.

“Izuku. Keep calm and don’t freak out.”

Like a warm summer rain over a parched field, the command washed over him in soothing rivulets. His muscles involuntary relaxed, easing the tension from his shoulders. Only now did he realise it’d actually hurt. “Okay. Yep. Calm.”

Ueda’s car pulled to the side of the gravel pathway, into knee-high grass, and Kacchan parked a few metres behind. “Just stay close to me. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

That dispelled the last of his worries, allowing his determination to take the reins again. Kacchan always kept his promises. “Let’s do this. I just hope they don’t get suspicious. And the change of the commands actually works.”

He glanced towards Kacchan, all that raw power, here for him to hide behind. He’d be safe. The other glared ahead with narrow eyes, waiting for Ueda to get out of the car probably. “Why wouldn’t it?” he asked without taking his attention from their surroundings. “You got the phrasing down to a T. Everyone agreed it was genius. My biggest concern is that these fuckers demand I work for them as some sort of informant as a repayment. The longer we can avoid that shit, the better. I could only lead them on for so long before they’d get suspicious.”

Izuku knew that recruiting Kacchan to their own side was probably the Auriculates end-goal; he’d be too much of an asset to even believe otherwise. “Remember,” he said, gently nudging Kacchan’s shoulder with his own, “they want your money. They want your influence. It’s in their best interest to keep you happy, and you know it. Act like you own the place.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I’m amazing, tell me what’s new.”

Izuku grinned. “If they start asking questions you don’t want to answer, just tell them to fuck off. Be yourself.”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” He shoved Izuku lightly. “Now, we should probably go and see what’s up.”

Ahead of them, Ueda exited the car and went towards an abandoned-looking shipping container that was rusted through in one corner. He gave them a sign to follow, and Kacchan got out first, coming around to Izuku’s side. He grabbed him by the arm as Izuku moved to get out, making it look rougher than it actually was.

Izuku was grateful for the warm hand around his bicep as they walked into the container; it gave him an excuse to press himself closer to Kacchan. He’d seen horror movies start like this: Remote location, plenty of places for people and monsters to hide, their backup too far away to matter, no weapons, no gear, and Kacchan would certainly be hindered in battle by having to look out for Izuku as well.

The tension in his spine spread through his bones in cold alarm as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior and found it empty. Beside him, Kacchan ever so slightly shifted his stance to a combat one. The hand on Izuku’s arm warmed almost imperceptibly.

“Please excuse the inconvenience,” Ueda explained, palms up in a placating gesture. “We will have to wait a little bit for our craftsman to arrive, I’m sure you understand. They’re very important, very busy, and they detest wasting their time by waiting, I’ve tried to tell them many times it’s rude, but they just won’t listen-”

“And how long will it take for them to show up,” Kacchan growled, drawing himself to his full height and giving Ueda that annoyed glare he’d perfected at thirteen. “Since I agree that waiting around is bullshit I don’t have time for.” Kacchan’s eyes flicked around the interior, landing back on Ueda as he adjusted his and Izuku’s position so their backs were to a wall. Casually.

Ueda rubbed his hands together, smiling apologetically. “No longer than ten minutes, I assure you.” Izuku noted with faint amusement that the man was not immune to the full brunt of Kacchan’s annoyance. Then again, Kacchan was serious, for once. No empty threats here.

Izuku was very grateful for the order to keep calm and not freak out, because it allowed him to actually analyse this information. And what interesting information it was. He filed it away for later.

He tensed the arm that was in Kacchan’s grip, nudging the slightest bit so Kacchan would please keep that conversation going.

“Fine, I guess. If it’s a second longer, I’m out of here, though. I had to take the morning off work for this shit! I don’t have enough time to stand around here wasting it, you got that?”

Oh, Kacchan was a force of nature when he was angry. Izuku almost felt bad for Ueda. Poor man didn’t have a clue he was talking to the future number one Pro Hero, who would take the whole organization down. Wouldn’t it be really poetic if this case was what propelled Kacchan to the top?

“Oh, I assure you, we wouldn’t inconvenience you like that. Our craftsman is never later than they announce. In the future, please don’t hesitate to name a timeframe yourself and we will try our best to make it work – Your mail just sounded rather urgent, so I offered you the earliest appointment possible. May I ask, what exactly seems to be the problem?” The man looked at Izuku for the first time, and after a moment, there was definitely recognition in his eyes.

Again, Izuku was overwhelmed by affection for Kacchan, because the command still kept him calm, able to stare back with his hatred and contempt hidden behind a mask of carefully crafted indifference. He would not cower. He would not cry or freak out or be scared. He would not waste a single one of his thoughts on that man beyond their mission, because Izuku had better things to do with his time.

Kacchan sneered. “The problem is your stupid setup with the commands. He’s in the house with me all times, and I’m fucking tired of watching what I say in my own home, lest he takes my suggestion to ‘Get lost’ too seriously. I was on the phone! Can you imagine what would’ve happened if he’d ran out the door?” The hand around Izuku’s bicep grew warmer still.

Ueda wrung his hands, concentrating back on his customer. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that happened. I went over the basic commandments with you before the event, I believe?”

“Yes, but you failed to mention just how easy it is to trigger the thing. And that I have to repeat myself over and over again when I want him to do something that goes against it. It’s a fucking hassle.”

Ueda nodded fervently. “Yes, I understand. I’m a bit surprised, honestly, this is normally not an issue. But I assure you it will be an easy fix. You’re happy with your purchase otherwise? I know Playground Items are always a gamble.”

The silence that unfolded after that could be cut with a knife. Kacchan went still, too still. “He’s definitely not what I expected to find there.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. This one was quite the item at a few auctions, but every resale tanks the value, naturally. And that was without… that,” Ueda motioned vaguely at the scarring.

Ice water spread through Izuku’s veins. He tried to draw his hand further up his sleeve with sheer force of will.

“What, the scars? You got a problem with scars?” Kacchan said casually, flexing his arms to display his own more prominently.

Ueda’s smile dimmed a little, unsure how to respond to that. “I meant no offense, sir. It’s just a different matter when they are on the merchandise, you see. The standards are obviously different for that.” Ueda kept talking, oblivious to the grim reaper that was about 0.2 seconds from claiming him. “I’m glad you’re not bothered, but let me see if I can maybe secure an invite for our next proper event for you. We appreciate your patronage.”

‘There’, Izuku thought. ‘That’s exactly what we want.’ He repeated the motion against Kacchan’s leg, tips of his fingers barely grazing cloth. ‘Don’t fuck this up for everyone. We can always kill him later. You know where he lives.’

By some miracle, it worked. Or maybe Kacchan came to the same (logical) conclusion. “That’d be fucking something, finally. See to it.”

Izuku’s ears picked up the sound of gravel crunching outside. The others heard it, too, everyone turning towards the entrance now.

Ueda confirmed the obvious. “There they are.”

Indeed, several more people filed in, all masked and cloaked. The Goldsmith stood out, wearing a golden cloak, matching pants, boots and mismatched gloves, the look finished with an intricate facemask. It looked absolutely ridiculous, in Izuku’s humble opinion.

The bodyguards took positions with a practiced routine, securing the main asset of the operation against any and all threats. Ueda and the Goldsmith exchanged a nod in polite greeting as the latter swanned into the middle of the space, joining their little conversation circle.

“Please state your requirements,” they demanded, voice muffled behind the mask. Izuku still couldn’t tell if they were male or female, never could.

Kacchan carefully recited what Izuku had written out for him. “I would like it so that I can set conditions to create exceptions for the established commandments which last until I explicitly declare them void.” Short, simple, and ambiguous enough to warrant no further inquiry.

“Very well. Your hand, please.”

Kacchan reluctantly held out his right arm.

Izuku watched closely what happened next, even if he’d seen it in variations before.

The Goldsmith touched his own right wrist, underneath the bulky cuff of his leather glove, and then plucked at the air above Kacchan’s bracelet. They pulled a chain that connected it with Izuku’s necklace from the aether. Then… nothing really happened. The chain glowed a little as the Goldsmith stared at it intently for a few seconds before turning their gaze on Izuku with a sharp tilt of the head. “Listen well: The rules shall be amended as the owner of this chain intends.” Then they dropped it, letting it vanish into thin air. “If that is all.” They inclined their head and strode out, taking their entourage with them. It had been barely thirty seconds since they entered.

“Ah, our dear smith is always so short-tempered. Please don’t misunderstand, it’s a common occurrence. I always say, ‘My dear friend, you need to stop being rude to our customers’, but does it help? No.”

Kacchan, who seemed a little baffled by the fast retreat, apparently decided that maybe the Goldsmith was at least onto something when they avoided Ueda’s company. Izuku agreed, the man sure loved to hear himself talk, it was obnoxious.

“I gather we’re done here,” Kacchan intersected, turning around and putting a hand on Izuku’s back to gently push him out the door. “Do let me know should there be anything interesting happening,” he threw over his shoulder in favour of any goodbyes.

“Certainly!” Ueda called after them, perplexed.

Izuku got practically shoved into the car and they left without a look back. Only when they escaped the warehouse area did the tension in Kacchan’s shoulders finally ease. The whole ordeal hadn’t taken longer than fifteen minutes. “Please tell me about all the useful knowledge we gained there.”

“Well,” Izuku laughed, a little shaky, “I’m basically convinced that we’d have a way to capture The Goldsmith like this.”

Kacchan tilted his head towards him, eyes never leaving the road. “How come?”

“They arrived really soon after we did. Ueda said that they’d be a maximum of ten minutes out. And I didn’t hear another car, did you?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Exactly. And given that we were in a remote area, I think we’re safe to assume that they had to be around somewhere, waiting for Ueda’s okay. My guess is that they arrived first, secured the location, and then just put in a tiny buffer so they could reasonably rule out a trap on our part. If we were to set up a perimeter around the hiding places that are within ten-minute walking distance, we could probably net them.”

“I highly doubt that they’d use this location for another meeting anytime soon.”

“Yes, still. Their modus operandi should be the same. It would need a lot of manpower, but it could be reasonably done. Besides, did you see what they’re wearing? You can’t seriously think they’d walk around like that. I bet you they arrive beforehand, change into their costume, and then change back before heading home. They would stand out otherwise. That gives us a frame of around twenty minutes to set up a cordon.”

The image of the Goldsmith arriving early just to get into costume for their thirty-second stint had Izuku giggling.

Kacchan joined after a moment, until they were both laughing. “True. Are we sure they are not secretly the boss themselves?”

Izuku shook his head. “I heard them talk about the boss in third person with Ueda. And they’re definitely ranked lower, overall – I’ve heard Ueda interact with The Goldsmith via his assistant a couple of times.”

“Assistant?”

“Yeah, this guy always follows him around… It was something with O… Tall, kinda thin, black hair in this weird office worker style?”

Kacchan clicked his tongue. “Don’t think I’ve met the guy.”

“Really? Well, I guess he’s only needed for the organisation and logistics and stuff. Anyway, point is The Goldsmith is very unlikely to be the boss. I don’t think it would make sense. Besides, you see how little they cared about the whole thing. They take the payment and leave.”

“Shame.”

Izuku agreed. Even if they had a feasible chance of removing The Goldsmith, it would be a hollow victory without capturing the boss. Sure, it would prevent more people from getting enslaved, but the ones that were already taken would be lost. It was logical for organized crime rings like this to supply each member with as little information as possible without keeping them from doing their job. If anyone had buyer lists, it would be the boss. And they couldn’t risk messing that up.

“Are you good?” Kacchan asked when Izuku remained silent for a long while.

“Fine.”

“Izuku…” the other warned. It was a serious one. He suddenly understood why the Squad feared hearing their real names spoken by Kacchan.

He let out a small sigh. “It’s… not what I expected? I mean I knew it was going to be him, but still. It was a lot less scary in my imagination.” He laughed, high and strained. “Good thing you told me not to freak out.”

“You did fine.” Kacchan reached a hand over blindly, feeling for Izuku’s arm and following it up to his shoulder to squeeze there.

Without conscious input, Izuku’s own hand came up to grip Kacchan’s wrist, keeping it there. “It was my idea in the first place. You were the only one who was against this.”

“Still.”

“You know, I would’ve so liked to punch him in the face. It was so tempting.”

“He has a very punchable face.”

“Right?”

“Talking shit about you like that, fucker was this close to losing his teeth.” There was a small pause before Kacchan added, “Scars are fucking cool,” sounding like a petulant child.

Izuku smiled, waving a hand in the air. “I know, right? They make you look so awesome! And each one is like a badge of honour for the villains you beat!”

Kacchan grumbled something unintelligible, and Izuku could swear the tips of his ears turned slightly pink. “Did it work, at least? With the chain?”

Izuku shrugged. “I don’t know. Tell me to go back and kick his teeth in, we’ll see!”

Kacchan laughed again, seemingly delighted by the image, and Izuku felt warm throughout.

“Alright, let’s try this again: Commands only count as such when they are prefaced by ‘Midoriya’.”

They’d settled on this during their experimenting a few days prior. It was an easy stipulation, and Izuku couldn’t remember a single instance in which Kacchan had ever called him that, so it wouldn’t slip out on accident.

He waited for anything to happen, for his chain to tingle or change temperature, but…

“Did it work?” Kacchan repeated.

“Dunno.”

“Hm. Okay. Give me my hand back.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He let go of Kacchan’s wrist.

“…”

“I was not supposed to do that, was I? But what if you need it!” he immediately defended himself. “You’re driving! That was a stupid example. Give me another one.”

“Alright. Hand me your left shoe.”

“Why would I hand you my left shoe?”

“Because the chain makes you, dumbass. Well?”

Izuku stared down at his feet, where his shoes remained firmly in place. “You know, I don’t think I will. Sorry.”

“Hm,” was all Kacchan had to add to that. “Then this was really worth it after all. Good.”

Izuku, on the other hand, got lost in thought for the rest of the car ride as he tried to grasp all the possibilities. There were so many things he could do with this, as long as Kacchan said the right words, but Kacchan would not refuse, would he? No, never. If anything, he was the one most invested in Izuku’s freedom. Probably so he wouldn’t have to play nanny all the time.

Back at the house, Kacchan parked the car, and Izuku quickly fled the garage after being given the all clear. He felt weird, being outside like this, knowing that he shouldn’t be spotted. Like a local cryptid.

He stood anxiously by the door as he waited for Kacchan to finish checking the mailbox, like there wasn’t a missing person right here with him. “Kacchan!”

“Gimme a sec – he better not forgot I wanted this shit today, fucking incompetent-ass discount mascot…”

“Kacchaaaan!”

Pulling a letter from the stack of mail, Kacchan finally got moving. “Yes, I got it, calm the fuck down.”

“You know what, I don’t think I will,” Izuku shot back. Then he started giggling, quietly at first, until he was almost doubling over with laughter. “It worked! It worked, Kacchan!”

“Of fucking course it did. Scoot.” Kacchan unlocked the door and Izuku stumbled inside, still grinning like a lunatic.

“Oh, this feels good. That was definitely worth it.”

“Hmmm.” Kacchan didn’t even look at him as he pushed the letter into Izuku’s face. “This one’s for you.”.

Izuku stared at the unassuming white envelope. It was a little thicker than the rest, and he saw neither a sender nor a postmark on it – whoever sent this must’ve brought it by personally. It did however indeed have his name on it: ‘To: Midoriya Izuku’.

“Why do I get mail?” he asked, not entirely trusting this. He could count the number of people who knew where he lived on one hand. Almost.

Kacchan rolled his eyes. “I’ve told them to send it here, that’s why, captain obvious. Are you gonna open it?”

Curiosity winning out, Izuku ripped the letter open and took out a stack of at least ten pages. Unfolding them, the first thing he noticed was the unmistakeable… U.A. crest?

Mr. Midoriya,

Upon reviewing your application, we are delighted to offer you a position in U.A.s support course. U.A. prides itself in offering the best education for future heroes and support engineers. Due to your unique circumstances, we sadly cannot provide you the full scale of what our school has to offer. However, we are positive we will work out an amended schedule for you whilst still giving you the necessary education and practice needed to graduate with full credit. Please contact us via the details listed below after filling out the attached forms to set an appointment for planning your revised schedule.

Principal Nezu
U.A.

The letter was signed with an inked pawprint.

Izuku stared. Then stared some more. Finally, when it registered he wouldn’t make sense of this anytime soon, he lowered the letter and looked to Kacchan for help, who… was watching Izuku with something like apprehension.

“Kacchan. What am I holding?”

“Um.” The other scratched the back of his head. “If everything went as Aizawa said it would, that should be an invitation to U.A.s support course…?”

“Yes. But why?”

“I’m going to be honest, that’s not the reaction I expected. So. Remember when you said how it fucking sucked that pretty much everyone else got to graduate and shit? I mean, I obviously couldn’t get you back into your old school, but U.A. ‘s pretty good, and that fucking weirdo Nezu owed me one regardless. He’s trustworthy, too. So I told him what was going on, and he seemed pretty excited to get you a place. It’s obviously not gonna be ‘normal’ school, but what about U.A. was ever normal… Anyway, I think it’ll come down to a lot of self-study and shit. If you go all out on that, you can probably have your certificates by the end of summer.”

Izuku stared dumbly at the paper. Shuffled through the stack, finding forms that were already half-filled out by U.A. as if it wasn’t even a question whether or not he’d take the spot.

He would take it, he knew that. He would be stupid not to. The best school in the country, making him an offer that was too good to be true. But something bothered him, and he gathered his courage and finally said it aloud. “I – this is great, but I tried to apply before, I didn’t meet the qualifications… It’s nice you’re trying to pull some strings for me, really, but what if I’m still not good enough? I don’t want this just… handed to me.”

Suddenly, Kacchan’s fingers were under his chin, forcing his gaze from the floor. They disappeared just as quickly, but Kacchan stood very close, looking very serious (and very pissed off). “Don’t you fucking think that. First, the only fucking thing I did was hand in a regular application along with one of your nerdbooks to Nezu and asking him to take a look at it. I could not get that labrat to do anything, so if he accepted you into a course, it’s because he was impressed. Second, don’t fucking sell yourself short like that, you’ll make me look bad by proxy. I don’t associate with losers, you know that. For fucks sake, allow yourself to have a nice thing, you always wanted to get into that fucking school.”

Izuku blinked up at Kacchan, who stood there, all defiant, and he couldn’t help himself, he threw his arms around Kacchan’s neck and tackled him in a hug. It was a little like jumping at a solid brick wall, but the brick wall was warm and awkwardly put a hand on Izuku’s back. “Thank you, Kacchan. You’re the best!”

He was the best. Kacchan was amazing. Kacchan did… did this. For him. Because he wanted to. Izuku felt his eyes get all itchy and his vision became blurry, but he didn’t cry. It was just the overwhelming feeling of triumph. He had him back. Izuku had his best friend, his Kacchan back. “You’re the best.”

“I- I know that! Fucking nerd.”

“Well, I’m saying it anyway and you cannot stop me. Ha!” Izuku let go, whirled around, doing a little pirouette and a hop into the living room. He felt great. This was the closest he’d been to freedom in forever. “Kacchan, can you allow me into the backyard? Just once? It’s so nice outside,” he asked, feeling like he weighed nothing at all. He wanted to feel the grass and the sun.

“Kacchan?” When no response came, he peeked over his shoulder.

Kacchan still stood there, in the hall, one shoe toed off as he stared blankly at Izuku, looking like he was seriously spacing out there. Which was not something Kacchan did.

“Kacchan…?” he tried again.

“Backyard…? Of fucking course you can go into the backyard! I told you already that only Shitty Hair can see there. You can go there all you like, stupid.” Somehow, the insult lacked bite. “We need to get that chain… In fact, you probably have a whole list of things already rattling around in that brain of yours. I’ll run for groceries real quick and then we can go do that.” Kacchan put his shoe back on, and muttered something about Vitamin D and idiots and being surrounded by morons.

“Alright!” Whilst he waited for Kacchan to get back, Izuku started a new notebook and wrote down the most important changes they needed to make. It felt sensible to keep a list in any case. These were the rules of his life, after all, equally important to the laws of physics for him. And he was about to get a lot of leeway.

He’d filled two pages with bullet points by the time Kacchan came back and showed him to a small garden table. “I got us some watermelon, and I can make us some iced tea if you like?”

Izuku stared, hopeful. “Like the one your mom always made?”

“The very same.”

“Yes, please.” That tea was the embodiment of summer holidays.

“Coming right up then.” Kacchan hesitated, one hand in his pocket. “Hey, um. By the way. You like flowers, right?”

What? “Yes?” He did. Flowers were cool. And pretty. And they attracted bees and bumblebees and butterflies. Who didn’t like flowers? Did Kacchan get him some? There didn’t seem to be any around, which was good, because bouquets and all that were stupid gifts in his opinion. What exactly was romantic about watching plants slowly wither?

And why was he thinking about romantic things now? This had nothing to do with the question. Kacchan wouldn’t get him romantic flowers. Or any flowers. What had they been talking about again? “Flowers. Cool.” Someone kill him now.

“I found these, so I thought you’d have something to do out here.” Kacchan pulled two little seed packets out of his pocket.

Izuku took them, looking for the species and the care requirements, but the package simply read ‘Wildflower seeds’ and then went on about the importance of biodiversity. “Thank you, Kacchan! These are perfect!”

There was a place by the hedges were they would be in half-shadow, and maybe he could put some by the small pond as well, that would probably look really nice, and maybe they’d even attract some dragonflies. Was that how dragonflies worked? They liked tall water plants, right?

“Is that a waterfall by the pond?” he asked, pointing at the little stack of rocks. A shallow groove led back to the water, and it certainly looked like it was supposed to be something along the lines. “Can you turn that on? I think it’d be nice to grow a row here.”

“Um…” Kacchan scratched at his neck. “It technically is, but… I don’t like turning it on.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“No particular reason. ‘S just. I don’t like the sound.”

“You don’t like the sound?” That was curious, for sure. Izuku thought the sound of running water was one of these universally liked things.

“It’s annoying.”

Well, he could see that, too. Maybe it was one of those things one couldn’t stand after becoming aware of them. Like the ticking of a clock. “Alright. I’ll put them by the hedges, then.”

“I’ll leave you to that,” Kacchan muttered as he headed inside to make that tea.

“By the way, Kacchan? What’s that?” he pointed up at the small round plastic eye above the door.

“That? Camera. For the security system.”

“You have a security system?”

“Duh. Can’t think of any Pros who don’t have one. We make enemies on a daily basis. There’s one at the front and one on that side, too. Haven’t you seen the console by the door?”

“I have. Makes sense.” The panel was unassuming, but there was a screen above it that showed who was standing outside whenever someone rang the bell. It came with a number pad and a few other buttons. He hadn’t paid it much mind. It was true enough, he thought – every villain Kacchan sent to prison would have a reason to hold a personal grudge.

“It’s a bit weird, but you get used to it,” Kacchan explained further. “I’m the only one who can access the feed, anyway.”

“It’s fine. I was just curious.” Truth be told, he felt a bit better to know about it. An extra line of defence. He turned back towards the bit of grass by the hedge, wondering if he should dig the soil up.

They ended up sat on comfy chairs on the lawn, next to the small rectangle Izuku had cordoned off as the flower bed. Kacchan got them watermelon and iced tea, and Izuku was very happy.

“Okay, so how exactly are we going to do this?” Kacchan asked, leaning over to read the bullet points.

“Well,” Izuku began, twirling his pen, “The commandments are listed in order of priority. Like, ‘Obey’ is always first, then comes ‘Do not run away’, and so on, because sometimes one has to override the other. When we went to your workplace, the ‘obey’ made it so I could leave the house in the first place. Then there’s the ‘No talking with people you’re not supposed to speak to’, which is sort of along the lines of what we’re trying to do here, an exception on a condition.”

He scratched the commandments onto the top of the page. “So basically we need to consider what these would apply to and then work around it.” It seemed tedious already. The worst part was that he was going off assumptions and his very limited own experiences. He wasn’t sure why the quirk worked like that, much less how.

“Okay, so first off would be… You can talk to anyone you want to,” Kacchan read out. “Hm. We should first try one we can test.”

“Fair enough. Um, you could give me permission for the garden?”

“What?”

“Permission, for the… I can’t go outside without permission.”

“Wait. That’s why you haven’t been out here?” Kacchan looked around. “But no one can see here. It’s closed off!”

“Sure, but leaving the house and ‘Contacting the outside world’ kind of contradict. If someone saw me, they’d know I was here.” He frowned at his notes. He hadn’t had this problem at the Lady’s mansion, but maybe that was because he’d been told to go out and work. Not to mention her garden was walled off and bordered a forest on all sides. “This whole thing seems to have so many weird grey areas. I don’t get it.”

“Well, it’s what we have to work with. How about this one: You can go wherever you’d like.” Kacchan pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Go see if you can get out the front door with that, would you?”

Izuku nodded and hopped up. He quickly walked to the front door, put his hand on the handle, pulled it open, and then stood in front of an invisible wall. With a sigh, he closed it and trudged back. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Calm down, Kacchan. Let’s try this: You can go wherever you deem necessary.”

Kacchan dutifully repeated the phrase back, and they went up to the door together. Izuku opened it, and with two steps found himself by the Carolina Allspice. Outside. On his own.

It felt unreal. No one seemed to be around this time of day, so he pulled the hood of his shirt all the way down over his face and took a few tentative steps down the driveway. He could get all the way to the sidewalk before the invisible wall stopped him again – probably because he had no idea or any desire to go further. If he could think of a necessity, would it go away?

What if… he wanted to go to the corner store Kacchan had told him about? To get some… chips? They were out of those. With another step, the wall vanished.

He did a little victory hop and hurried back inside. “Kacchan!” he whisper-shouted. “It works!”

“Great.” He leaned against the door with crossed arms. “Now we only need the other five-hundred things and I’ll be done with custody.”

“Why does that sound like you plan on kicking me out?”

“Tch, as if. But I’ll finally be allowed to say things without censoring it for the other people in the room,” he grinned, poking him in the forehead. “’S been real fucking annoying. All the extras think I’m too nice all of a sudden.”

“Really?” Was it that big of a difference?

“Apparently my catchphrases at this point are Die and Fuck you.”

“…I see.” He was suddenly doubly glad Kacchan had watched his words around him. “What would happen if you told someone to die?” he wondered as they walked back to the garden. “Would I just drop dead, or would I have to do it myself?”

“Great question, shame we will not ever figure that out,” Kacchan shot back.

“Mean.”

Kacchan rolled his eyes and presented him with a pencil. “Quit whining and start writing. We have things to accomplish.”

It took the majority of the afternoon to get most things sorted out – permissions to talk, to go places, to call strangers in an emergency, and then they had one really big breakthrough when Kacchan declared that the only rule inside his house was that there were no rules.

Afterwards, Izuku typed out an email to U.A. (without any permissions at all), agonizing over every little detail, until Kacchan sneaked up behind him and, in an act of betrayal, pressed ‘Send’ before Izuku even knew what was happening. “I take everything back, you’re the worst.”

“Like that fucking test-tube residue is gonna care. He’s already offered you the spot, hasn’t he? Now you’re done, and we can all go to sleep, it’s fucking late.”

“It’s barely ten.”

“Did I stutter.”

Izuku complied, rolling his eyes at the familiar banter. But Kacchan was onto something – it turned out getting up at six AM sharp did have the side effect of leaving one exhausted at a reasonable time. Especially with everything else that’d gone on this day. He blamed the lingering stress of meeting Ueda and The Goldsmith.

Because, in theory, Izuku should’ve been asleep by the time midnight rolled around. Ghost hour.

He wasn’t.

Instead, Izuku stared ahead into the room, eyes wide. There were no blinds on the windows, and the light from the streets and the moon washed everything in white and blue. Something had thunked just now, a sound from inside, followed by an electric hum.

He reasoned it must be some appliance in the kitchen, the fridge most likely. Just doing its job, no need to investigate. He closed his eyes again and curled himself tighter in his corner. Sleep had been hard enough to come by as it was, after he’d gotten over the perpetual exhaustion and the healing. If he went to check on every sound he could hear, he’d never fall asleep.

The house was alive, groaning and shifting with the temperature, the weather, electricity and water. The city outside never slept, cars went by in unpredictable intervals and occasionally, he could hear people talk loudly when they made their ways back home late at night.

Clack. His eyes flew open again, and he pushed himself up on his elbows to get a look at the window on the far side of the room. Nothing was there. His heart raced.

Slowly, he sat up properly, feet sinking into the plush carpet. He pulled his blanket tighter around himself. The room was too big, too open, too empty. He felt exposed and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep like this, despite his exhaustion, and the frustration about it all made his throat feel tight.

Slowly, he got up and carefully padded down the hallway. There was an uneasy feeling, and he knew it was only paranoia, but the imagination of turning around to see someone, some mysterious black figure standing there heightened the prickle against his neck, which in turn made him afraid to look, which made it even worse, until he was caught in a downward spiral. The feeling of foreign presences crawled all over his skin like ants, and he couldn’t shake them off no matter how hard he rubbed at the spots.

He stopped in front of Kacchan’s door, and because he hesitated, the urge to turn and check got overwhelming. He spun around. Nothing. But the uneasy feeling stayed, and the tight feeling in his throat got worse, and turning back around again took an equal amount of courage. It felt like the shadows were pressing in from all sides, waiting to get him.

With a sharp inhale, he knocked twice and pushed the door open without awaiting an answer. The sound was too loud in the eerie silence.

It was very dark inside, blinds drawn, and his eyes needed a moment to adjust.

A grunt came from the direction of the bed. “Wha?”

He heard rustling, and then a lamp turned on, spilling soft, golden light. “Izu? Something the matter?” Kacchan looked barely awake. His hair was pressed flat on one side, and he squinted against the light.

“I can’t sleep,” Izuku whispered, suddenly guilty for waking him and simultaneously glad he did.

Kacchan blinked at him, and then fell back into his pillow. “What’dya want me to do ‘bout it?”

Izuku wondered about that as well. Theoretically, Kacchan could order him to sleep, that would most likely work. But the idea of walking back out into that ghostly blue corridor frightened him. “Can I sleep here?”

There was another groan that morphed into a long sigh. “I- Sure. Told you to take the bed in the first place but no…” He broke off into unintelligible grumbles. “Come on, then.”

Izuku climbed onto the mattress from the foot end of the bed, between the wall and Kacchan, who got up and- “Where are you going?” he asked as Kacchan got up.

“Couch.”

“No!”

That thankfully got Kacchan to pause, frowning, and Izuku fiddled with the corner of the covers. “I meant- I wanted you to stay here. With me.” He swallowed around the tightness in his throat. “I don’t want to be alone. It’s scary.”

There was no response he could hear, but after a moment, he felt the mattress dip next to him. “If you snore, I’ll kick you out.” Kacchan turned the light off again, and the darkness settled back in.

Izuku wriggled into he covers, pulling his own blanket tight around him, laying as still as he could to not be a nuisance. He could feel Kacchan’s presence. Everything smelled a little like burnt sugar.

“Here.” Something soft was pressed against his head, and he lifted it obediently, pulling the pillow over further with one hand.

“Thanks.”

“Shut up.”

Izuku grinned into the darkness. With heavy eyes, he idly recalled the last time they’d done this. He’d slept over at Kacchan’s house all the time when they were little, since his mom had to work so much. The smell had been almost the same then, and they’d have whispered conversations until one of them fell asleep or Aunt Mitsuki reprimanded them one time too many.

Even back then, Kacchan would proudly proclaim himself as Izuku’s protector, vowing to fight any monster that would dare hide under their beds. He smiled at the memory, and was asleep in minutes.

Chapter 9

Notes:

PSA for all the new people binging this (and my faithful chapter 1 readers who haven't heard before): All chapters are written and only need to be edited so fear not, this story WILL finish!

We've all been burned by WIPs before but let me assure you: I got you.

There was a sound. A loud sound. A loud annoying sound, one he hadn’t heard before. And his back was suddenly cold. Izuku cracked an eye open, struggling to wake up faster. For a moment, he wasn’t even sure where he was, much less when. Fortunately, he recognized the white wall and its stark contrast with the black sheets under him. Bedroom.

Using every ounce of his strength, he turned around towards the soft light. Kacchan was out of bed, and the noise stopped when he pressed his phone to his ear. “Who, where, what?” Already he was grabbing things from his wardrobe, exchanging his sleepwear for his hero costume too fast for Izuku to even consider averting his eyes. He saw a big scar on Kacchan’s back, pale and long faded, but it was wide and ran parallel to his spine for at least six centimetres. As if someone had tried to cleave him in half. How’d that gotten there?

“Alright, I’ll be there in twenty- What?” Something that’d been said had Kacchan freeze completely for a moment.

Izuku crawled out of bed and picked up the gauntlets, dutifully checking them over once before handing them to Kacchan.

“Ten it is.” The other put the phone into his pocket without hanging up and accepted the gauntlets. “Sorry, emergency,” Kacchan said. “Don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“I figured. Don’t do anything stupid.” He couldn’t help the concern. The entire urgency of the scenario made him nervous.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Be sorry for them.” Kacchan seemed equally hyped as he’d seemed worried just then. Probably eager for a good fight, even if the circumstances were dire. “I’ll get you muffins from that breakfast place on the way back, how about that?” He ruffled Izuku’s hair, hand heavy with the weight of the gauntlet attached, and then raced outside.

Izuku followed him and watched through a window as a motorcycle stopped at the curb in front of the house. He recognized Ingenium by the costume. His engines seemed incorporated into the design of the machine, and Izuku just knew this thing could go unreasonably and dangerously fast.

He was proven correct when the two of them took off with incredible speed. Only seconds later a helicopter flew overhead, heading in the same direction, and he felt a tremble as the giant form of Mount Lady grew over the rooftops, moving towards the city as well.

Silence descended as he stared out into the night. A few windows in the neighbourhood lit up and then went dark again as other people checked what the commotion had been about. When nothing else happened for a while after, he went back into the bedroom and sat down on the mattress, looking around at nothing particular.

It was the middle of the night – barely two AM – and he knew he was exhausted. However, he could already tell that he’d not be able to fall back asleep, no matter how he tried. This was the third night in a row he’d snuck into Kacchan’s room, since the eerie paranoia wouldn’t leave him alone otherwise. It was embarrassing, but at the moment it couldn’t be helped, and he’d never be able to express his infinite gratitude towards Kacchan for indulging him.

He’d joked the other day that he just came here for the mattress (which was a lot more comfortable than the couch), but it was really the assurance of having another person around. To know he wasn’t alone.

Now that he was alone, the bed didn’t look very appealing at all. The near total silence didn’t help either. During the day, the sounds from outside kept him company, but now he might as well be the only person alive in the immediate area. With a sigh, he got up with the goal of putting on some background noise. And whilst he was at it, he wondered… Whatever was happening right now sounded like a big deal. Big enough to warrant live coverage?

Unable to fight the curiosity born from his old fanboy days, Izuku grabbed the remote. There was no need to search, the first three channels showed live footage of a fight. Well, almost live. They were required to delay it by three minutes, so they had a buffer in case things turned… gory. And so villains couldn’t stream-snipe.

Already the fighting had taken over an entire city block, and it seemed to be spreading outwards still, like ripples in a pond. He could see a skyscraper on fire, a bright beacon signalling the centre of destruction. Flames billowed out of every window, and he guessed this to be the initial attack. No one was going in or out, so Izuku hoped there wasn’t anyone left inside.

Instead, the heroes were locked into battle with a rather impressive amount of enemies, and Izuku could only hope reinforcements arrived fast. He saw a red flash streak over the rooftops, followed by none other than Mirko, who literally curb-stomped an unlucky villain. Didn’t even see her coming.

On the other side of the battle zone a floating field of debris gave the illusion of a space movie set. Civilians fled underneath the rubble, where no villain dared approach for fear of being crushed. A horde of crows, rats and pigeons seemed to scour the buildings and marked anyone still trapped.

The footage went on to show a small heroine in a green costume jump five stories, where she stuck to the glass and used her tongue to carry someone back down again. Halfway, something impacted on the pane she clung to and shattered it into a stardust cloud.

Izuku held his breath. Thankfully, it seemed Froppy had managed to land safely, sending the man she rescued in the direction of Uravity. But she wasn’t fast enough to evade a second projectile - where did they even come from? - which catapulted her into a wall. A villain emerged from an alley, hurtling another boulder-sized piece of concrete at someone off-screen.

The villain lifted a huge piece of brick wall over his head, ready to flatten Froppy, who was too slow to get up again. Injured? Just as Izuku reminded himself “Three-minute delay, three-minute delay, they wouldn’t show it if she died, plot armour come on…” - the piece of wall shattered in front of a backdrop of orange fire and smoke, individual bricks now raining down on the villain himself, taking him out. And there he was! There was Kacchan!

Izuku jumped in his seat, and he didn’t care how insane he must look, grinning like a lunatic. “Yes! Get them, Kacchan!” The heroes had this one in the bag now.

Kacchan and Froppy exchanged some short sentences. Unfortunately, the footage was taken from a helicopter far overhead, so there was no telling what was being said. From the way they stood and gestured – brief and serious - Izuku guessed they were giving each other the rundown. Then Kacchan nodded, Froppy pointed somewhere, and Kacchan gave her a smirk and shot off. She gave him the middle finger in response, but it seemed good-natured. If they had time to snipe at each other like that, Izuku guessed the situation was still under control. He wasn’t sure what was actually going on, the news reporter hadn’t given an update on that yet.

The scene switched to another fight. Thorned vines encircled an entire skyscraper. They were the only reason the thing was not collapsing on the spot as walls were crumbling or missing entirely. Occasionally, forces from inside would take out another piece and allow a glimpse of movement through the holes.

The vines originated around a young woman, who was barely visible amidst a cluster of roots. A man made completely out of metal stood guard by her together with Chargebolt, who zapped anyone coming too close.

The helicopter circled the building, and Izuku spotted none other than Red Riot emerging through a crumbling doorway, dragging a villain with each hand. A third one jumped down from a window above, striking him on the head with a metal pipe, which bent into the shape of Kirishima’s hair. The red-head turned and said something to the villain, before a streak of black and orange tackled the poor guy to the ground.

Kacchan didn’t even bother chaining the now lightly injured villain up, he just tossed him at Kirishima and gestured towards the building.

Kirishima shook his head, and Kacchan ran on, down the street to meet another villain. He slid to a stop a few metres in front of the guy, and Izuku could see his smirk as he shouted something. Then he launched his explosion.

To Izuku’s immense frustration, this was the point where the reporters decided to switch to a fight between Creati, Cellophane and another villain with what looked to be a slingshot quirk, given how his arms stretched to launch projectiles.

Izuku watched, hoping it would be over fast so they could go back to Kacchan. At this point, the commentary finally informed him that this group of villains seemed to have started a gang-fight with a rival organisation in the area, which was probably why some of them were fighting each other. Or maybe that was Shinsou’s work. Who knew.

Thankfully, the current fight got decided when a huge bird-shadow-monster reared up behind Creati and Cellophane, clutching the villain and immobilizing him.

“Back to Kacchan?” Izuku implored the TV. Orange fire filled the screen. “Back to Kacchan!”

His friend was in the middle of a duel a little ways off – securing the perimeter without getting in anyone’s way – and used the space to launch the proper explosions, chasing after a villain.

Just as Kacchan caught up with him, the fleeing man suddenly turned and stretched out a hand. For some reason, the fire froze in place. It was only a split second, and Izuku thought the TV was at fault. Then the blast raced on, funnelling into the villains palm it seemed, vanishing without a trace.

For a moment, everything was silent. Then the villain splayed his fingers and returned the explosion to Kacchan, with more force than before. The whole street became clouded in dust, smoke and fire, and it didn’t seem to clear anytime soon. The camera panned on, switching to more interesting footage.

Izuku huffed. That fight had just gotten interesting. He impatiently waited for them to turn back to that duel, but it took forever. Occasionally, he could see the cloud of dust in the background, lit up red and orange in intermittent flashes like storm clouds full of lightning.

In all fairness, there was a lot going on. He could see Ingenium and Uravity working as a team, Mount Lady, Endeavor and Present Mic were there, he could see some streets coated in ice, and someone’s capture scarfs shot out of a dark corner, taking a villain with them. It was mayhem. It was the fight of the year.

The screen went black suddenly and without warning. Izuku startled a bit, but he concluded that the fighting downtown might’ve claimed a sending mast as a casualty.

He sighed and muted the sound for now, so he wouldn’t be too surprised should it come back. Then he padded over into the kitchen and put on some water for tea. After all that, he needed to calm down again. They were running dangerously low on coffee, he noticed, so he shot a text to Kacchan, asking him to pick up more on the way back. He’d be unbearable without it.

He frowned a little as the message failed to go through. Right, the phone masts would likely be ash at this point, too. Resigning himself to waiting, Izuku took his tea and glanced at the TV, which still showed no actual footage.

It took another one and a half hours for that to come back. Izuku actually missed it, he just glanced up from a new notebook only to find Endeavor being interviewed, which he had no particular desire to listen to. The Number One Hero was still talking when he heard the lock turn a short while later. Five in the morning.

Izuku bounced up and dashed to the hallway. “Ohmygod Kacchan, what on earth-”

“Hello.”

For some reason, Izuku’s focus zeroed in on the little Red-Riot keychain. He knew it was Kacchan’s.

But that wasn’t Kacchan.

Shouto Todoroki stood there, staring back at him with a solemn expression, looking a little helpless.

“No,” Izuku whispered.

“Listen, Midoriya-” Shouto began hesitantly, lifting his hands as if approaching a wounded animal. There was blood on his sleeve.

“NO! Shut up! It’s not true, I don’t want to hear it!” Why was Shouto here? He must’ve hurried over as soon as the fighting ended, if he could arrive mere minutes after they had footage back. And he was injured, too. Not badly, but still. Why wasn’t he seeing a doctor? Why did he have to come here immediately, bleeding and exhausted? Where was Kacchan?

“Please, listen to me-” Shouto tried again, and Izuku hated seeing his face right now. He shouldn’t be here in the first place. How dare he walk in like he owned the place, expecting Izuku to just go along with it?

“No! No no no no no! I don’t want to. NO!” Izuku’s shouts dissolved into wails as he sank down to the floor, burying his face in his hands. Shut the world out. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t!

Something ice-old and wet touched his neck, shocking him into silence for a moment. “Listen to me!” Shouto shouted. Actually shouted. “He’s alive, okay? He’s alive!”

Izuku didn’t let that calm him. “Then why is he not here? Why did you have to come? What’s going on? I want to see him!”

“Listen,” Shouto repeated, calmer now as he crouched down in front of him, “he got badly injured and had to go to the hospital immediately. He was completely out of it, and they rushed him into surgery straight away. I don’t know anything more than that. He’ll probably have to stay at the hospital for a few days.”

Izuku looked up through the veil of tears. “He’s going to be fine, right?”

“I don’t know.”

Izuku appreciated Shouto for being honest. Right now, he’d prefer a lie. His hands came up to clutch at the chain around his neck. As long as he had this, it was proof that Kacchan was alive, he reasoned. He silently prayed to anything and everyone that would listen that the chain would stay right where it was.

“Take me to him.” Izuku didn’t wait for an answer, this was not up for discussion. He put on the shoes that still looked brand-new, and threw the front door open without hesitation.

He shook the dizziness from his head as he stepped out. Down the driveway he spotted what he presumed to be Todoroki’s car parked in front of the garage. It couldn’t be the commandment, but he felt faint all the same. He leaned onto the wall of the house as he made his way over, trying not to throw up. This was a nightmare.

With a shaking hand, he opened the passenger door and climbed in, closing his eyes as black spots danced around his vision.

Shouto leaned in after him. “Midoriya, stop this.”

Izuku shook his head in defiance. “Just go already, dammit.”

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Hospital would be a good place, then.”

“And how am I getting you in there? How do I get you past security? There’s security, and you’re not listed as next of kin or a close friend.”

Izuku thought Shouto didn’t mean that statement to hurt like it did.

“And besides. What am I going to tell Katsuki when he wakes up and finds out you’ve gotten yourself into trouble like this?”

Izuku closed his eyes as more tears slipped out. He couldn’t go to the hospital. Best case scenario, he’d cause trouble and would be found out. Kacchan would be mad. Worst case, he’d attract unwanted attention for both of them, from the Auriculates. Kacchan would be in danger.

He cried quietly, frustrated beyond belief, terrified like he was back on The Playground. “What if he doesn’t come back?” he sobbed.

Shouto gently guided him out of the car. “I wouldn’t be concerned about that, he’s too stubborn to let something simple like this slow him down for more than a week. Just stay here and stay safe, so he won’t have to worry about you too.”

Izuku followed back inside, where Shouto sat him down and made them both some simple breakfast. Neither of them really wanted to eat, but it was something to do, and Kacchan had always been so happy when Izuku finished his portion…

Dammit, Kacchan promised to get him breakfast on the way back. Izuku wanted that. Pushing the plate away, he wordlessly left to crawl back into bed, Kacchan’s bed, where he buried his face in a caramel-scented pillow and cried until he fell asleep.

Then began the limbo of waiting. Shouto kept him company, in a quiet sort of way, until Shinsou showed up in the afternoon and sent him to the hospital, too. “Get your arm seen to, and whilst you’re at it, bring Blasty some clothes and stuff. He’s gonna be unbearable otherwise.”

On day one, news came through that Kacchan’s surgery had gone well.

On day two, the quirk-healers had been over and he was expected to recover swiftly. Even though his doctor prescribed a week in the hospital.

When the overwhelming relief subsided somewhat, Izuku was quickly overtaken by rage at the fucker who did this to his Kacchan. “Do we know who it was?” he asked into the round consisting of him, Shouto, Kirishima and Kaminari, who claimed to be here to keep him company but looked equally shaken.

“His villain name is ‘Reject’,” Kirishima said. “His quirk absorbs stuff and sends it back. We don’t know much about him.”

Izuku nodded, typing the name into the search bar of his browser. “It’s enough to work with, apparently.” The engine spat out a few results, mostly newspaper articles about attacks the man was involved in. Loads of property damage, a few people injured in one incident.

“Whoa, what’re you up to,” Kaminari wondered, leaning over his shoulder.

“Give me a week and I’ll have this bastard’s name, address and blood type for you,” Izuku hissed out between gritted teeth.

Kirishima patted his shoulder. “Calm down, bro. We’ll get him. This isn’t your fight.”

“It is now. Trust me, if I could leave this godforsaken house, the police would find pieces of him for three months, and he’d be alive for two of those. If the only thing I can do is deliver him to you on a silver platter, that’s what’s going to happen.”

Silence followed.

“You know, as a person I agree, but as a hero, I feel I should intervene?” Kaminari whispered.

“Yes,” Kirishima whispered back. “Makes me almost feel a little sorry for the guy.”

“Should’ve thought twice before attacking Kacchan, then,” Izuku grumbled.

He put all his energy into his new task, anything to keep himself distracted. The Squad came and went over the course of the day, never leaving him all by himself, but Izuku kindly and firmly sent them home late at night. “You need to keep it together, and go to sleep. I got nothing better to do, but do you really think Kacchan would let you get away with it if you slacked off whilst he was recovering? You don’t need to babysit me. Go fight villains.”

In the early morning of day four, Izuku slammed his laptop shut with satisfied finality as he texted a name and an address to the Squad. “Fuck you, Reject.” People always overestimated their anonymity on social media. What an idiot, getting caught in tourist selfies.

He contemplated going to sleep, given how he’d skipped on it this night, but he had passed ‘tired’ and was back to normal wakefulness, so would he even be able to? Or would the attempt just give him time to overthink and bawl his eyes out again?

In the end, he decided to wait. Someone would surely come over soon. Kacchan’s friends had been godsends when it came to delivering him food, arriving every morning with breakfast and bentos without fail.

Sure enough, a key turned in the lock a while later.

Izuku cocked his head to listen, trying to discern who it was by their footsteps alone.

“You are supposed to take it easy.”

“Don’t gimme that shit, IcyHot, I know what the old fart said. Repeated it often enough.”

In a flash, Izuku was up and at the door, laying eyes on an exasperated Shouto, and more importantly, “Kacchan!” He flew forward, but caught himself in time, aborting the instinctive full-tackle hug. His hands flailed, unsure whether or not he was allowed to touch. Kacchan looked fine, on first glance.

The other send a tired smile his way. “Hey, nerd.”

“What are you doing here? Are you okay? I thought you were supposed to be at the hospital. Kacchan!” He couldn’t help the tears. Kacchan was back.

“Oi, stop crying. I was discharged.”

“You discharged yourself,” Shouto said.

“Because their beds are shit and everything is way too loud. If they want me to rest, let me go home, where I can actually relax.”

“Kacchan! Are you sure that’s okay? What happened? Are you still hurt?”

Kacchan opened his mouth, no doubt to let off a sarcastic non-answer, but the only thing that came out was a tired sigh. “Fucking hell, nerd, let a guy inside before you start nagging. I’ll tell you in a mo.” He grabbed a small bag from Shouto and ducked into the bathroom. “If you wanna be useful make something to eat, even the water in that shithole tasted awful.”

“Yes, Kacchan!” Izuku glanced at Shouto, who still carried the sports bag with Kacchan’s clothes. “Do you want something to eat too? You can put that down, I’ll sort it later.”

“That would be very much appreciated, thank you. I’ll help.”

They went to the kitchen, where Izuku prepared some easy and quick snacks. “Is it really okay that Kacchan is back? Can you tell me anything?”

“I don’t think I’m at liberty to discuss his medical data, so I’m just going to say that although unwise, it’s not bad for him to be here. I think the doctors were worried he’d have no assistance in case something did happen. He officially lives alone, you know.”

“Makes sense.”

“It may also partially be my fault.”

Izuku paused in slicing an apple. “Huh?”

“Well, he asked how you were doing, and I said you reminded me of that dog at the train station.”

“What dog?”

“Oh, you know that one, where he waited for his owner to come from work every day? He’s pretty famous, he has a statue.”

“You compared me to Hachiko?”

“Was I wrong?”

Funnily, Izuku would be lying if he said ‘yes’. Because the idea that one day, Kacchan would just not be coming back anymore was definitely his new worst nightmare. And that was saying something.

Instead of answering, Izuku felt himself frown. Scowl. “Well, maybe that fucking idiot should worry about his own sorry ass!” Seriously? Kacchan came back because he was worried about him? When he could barely walk and would be of no help whatsoever? When he should be at the hospital, where people actually knew what to do in an emergency? What if something happened and Izuku had to call an ambulance? How would he explain that?!? Did Kacchan really not trust him to be on his own for a week?

“Izuku.” A warm hand on his shoulder broke him out of his mumbles. “He was worried about you, yes, but he also prefers the comfort of his own house over a hospital. He feels bad enough already. No need for you to go lecture him just because he missed you.”

Izuku stared. Shouto was not even looking at him, trying (and failing) to evenly dice a bell pepper.

“Did he say that?” The notion was… ludicrous. Kacchan didn’t miss him. Kacchan didn’t rely on other people.

Shouto shrugged, still not looking up. “No. It’s just the most logical conclusion. Hospitals are awful. I prefer to have my friends around, too.” Now he looked up, mismatched eyes glancing at him. “Am I wrong?”

Izuku wanted to say ‘yes’. He’d always chased Kacchan. Always looked up to him. Always craved the slightest confirmation the other still cared, that their friendship hadn’t been a figment of his imagination.

Never the other way around. He’d never had Kacchan seek him out. Except - Izuku could be living here with Kacchan in a civil manner. But ‘Civil Manner’ didn’t get him so many of his favourite things. ‘Civil Manner’ didn’t get him an offer for U.A. ‘Civil Manner’ didn’t allow him to sleep in Kacchan’s bed because he was afraid.

“Kacchan and I are friends.” The words tasted odd. “We are friends.”

“I know?”

“Huh.” He’d known, of course. But he’d been too blinded by his own happiness of being allowed in Kacchan’s orbit again to properly think about the other side of that. It wasn’t that Izuku was allowed, it was that he was welcomed. Kacchan wanted him around, however alien the concept was to grasp for him. He’d spent so long chasing the frayed threads of their old friendship, he’d kept it up out of habit even after catching them.

He had no idea why Kacchan enjoyed his company. Izuku wasn’t anything special. He knew he was small and unassuming and too much of a nerd and his muttering must be annoying for others and taking care of him was a real bit of work since he was a far cry from self-sufficient, even if it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t even contribute to the costs, and really, there was nothing in it for Kacchan to be his friend-

“Half’n’half! Where the fuck did you put my phone!?” Kacchan shouted from the other room.

“It was completely destroyed. You need a new one. I told you that.”

“Yes, I was there, fuck you. I just want my SD card!”

“Oh. I have that here. You should sit down. Food’s ready.”

“Tch. Whatever.”

Shouto nudged Izuku with an elbow. “And hey. You’re very smart, you’re funny, and you’re cute in the sexy way. Not that I know anything about that. And it’s admirable how much love and affection you have to give. Of course people want to be your friends. I’d like to be your friend.”

Izuku stared. “But we are already?”

“Oh, good. It’s sometimes hard for me to understand, too.”

Izuku smiled at him. Then he realized he must’ve said all of his thoughts out loud. Oh no. There was a brief moment of panic before his practical side took over. Shouto wasn’t going to snitch on him. There was no time for stupid insecurities. Kacchan needed him now. Meaning Izuku would have to go find out what exactly that fool was allowed and not allowed to do.

Thankfully, that turned out pretty simple. The injuries to Kacchan’s spine and ribs were all healed, it was just the muscles and tendons that were left to recover a little on their own. Apparently, the doctors purposefully left them just a tad injured, so the pain response would keep their patients down for the minimum time it took to recover. In Kacchan’s case, it was sorely needed.

Rest for another five days and two weeks of lighter activity after should do it, with no further restrictions. It was a little bit like their situations were reversed now, minus Izuku’s ability to do pretty much anything that involved going outside or interacting with other people. Like apothecaries and grocery store clerks.

Shouto left Kacchan in Izuku’s care after handing him a copy of the doctor’s instructions (against Kacchan’s protests. “He’s going to follow this to the letter! Just paraphrase it!”)

The gist of it was ‘do nothing’. Which Izuku could already tell would be the biggest challenge. Kacchan had been seen by all the expert healers, and they’d done their job well. There wouldn’t be a trace of the injury left. Which, in Kacchan’s mind, translated to ‘I am fine and at 100%’.

“Kacchan, I swear to god,” Izuku said, hands on his hips and trying his best glare, “If you don’t sit down I’ll call Shinsou and he’ll make you walk back to that hospital in ten seconds flat.”

“Calm down, nerd. ‘S just some reading!” ‘Some reading’ were the five folders Kacchan carefully balanced in his arms.

“I could’ve gotten those for you. It says ‘no heavy lifting’ right here!” He pointed at the doctor’s note taped to the fridge.

“These aren’t heavy.” The awkward shuffle he did around the table as he tried to put them down without having to lift his arms made Izuku doubt that.

“Kacchan, please. Take it easy for once. Those doctors and your bosses want you back in the field yesterday, so when they say you need a week, then take a week! If you make it worse by being careless you’ll have to stay home longer!”

Kacchan rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, get off my dick already! Overreacting much, you all? I still have all my limbs, I can fucking well use them. No need to treat me like I’m senile just because some asshole got a lucky hit in.”

Izuku threw his arms up, exasperated. “Well if someone hadn’t gone up against a villain they knew was a bad matchup on their own, then this wouldn’t be necessary in the first place. What were you even expecting? You knew what he could do!”

“Well, was I supposed to just let him get away? He’d’ve been out of there, and we’d have to wait until he showed his ugly face in another attack.”

Izuku stopped everything he was doing. “You mean he was already running away, and there was no need for you to fight him, when there were a dozen other villains to pick from, who weren’t a counter for your quirk?”

Kacchan rolled his eyes at him. “Oh my god, would you stop throwing a hissy just because I had one accident? It’s annoying.”

“Oh so when I want to help with a perfectly reasonable and well thought out plan to meet The Goldsmith you get to be pissy for days on end because I could potentially get hurt, but when I am mad because you nearly got yourself killed that’s overreacting?”

“It’s my damn job! That’s what being a Hero is like!”

“If you really think that, maybe you shouldn’t be one!”

Immediately, regret flooded him. “No, Kacchan, I didn’t mean it like that, you know I didn’t…” Telling Kacchan to stop being a hero was like telling the sun to stop being bright. Oh, he’d be mad at him for that. Izuku felt stupid.

“That really freaked you out, huh.” Kacchan’s soft tone was at odds with what Izuku had been expecting. The other stood by the table, leaning on one hand for support, regarding Izuku with an uncanny lack of a scowl. He almost looked a little guilty.

“I’m sorry. It was just a lot.” Thinking you’d seen your friend’s last moments on TV.

“I wanted you to not go because you’re completely defenceless,” Kacchan said without remorse.

Izuku ducked his head. “I know, I’m-”

“Not because you’re useless in a fight – well, partially that, that’s not the point. But because I just knew you’d try and help if there was even a hint of trouble. You would’ve never just run away to hide, and it would’ve gotten you killed, even though it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“You realize what you’re saying, right?” Izuku asked, crossing his arms in defiance. Hypocrisy much?

“Yeah.” Kacchan looked down. “I’m sorry.”

Carefully, Izuku moved around the table to stand next to Kacchan. “I know you want to be the best,” he began, “and I know you are strong. But you can’t become number one if you get hurt like that. Sometimes, especially when you know the matchup is not in your favour, would it really be that bad to leave it to someone else? You’re not the only one out there. You’re not the only one who can fight. The other heroes aren’t rivals, they’re your colleagues. And this stupid ranking system pits you against each other!”

“Tch. Yeah. But that’s not it – if I wait, they can get away. I will not let them get away.”

Izuku swallowed hard. He didn’t want to guilt trip Kacchan into being more careful. But the crux of the matter was, Kacchan wasn’t alone. Kacchan was needed elsewhere. “And what about me?” he said quietly.

Kacchan’s eyes searched his face, then widened in shock when he arrived at his neck. “Fuck. The chain, I didn’t- fuck. Izuku, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about that! Shit!”

Izuku averted his eyes. Now that he thought about it, he should’ve probably been worried about that. He wasn’t exactly sure what would happen if Kacchan died, but it stood to reason that it would be a similar effect as simply breaking the bracelet – namely the potential for his swift and painful death via insanity. “Yeah. That too. But that’s not what I meant. Just… be careful, in the future. Promise!”

Kacchan nodded jerkily, not meeting his eyes. “’Kay.”

“Good.” He figured this was enough of a scolding, for now. He was still a little mad. But the alternative was being scared, so he embraced it, because he’d had enough of being scared to last the rest of his lifetime.

He made some curry for lunch, a peace offering, and they were back to their normal side-by-side. Kacchan took over Izuku’s spot on the couch for the day, mostly napping or just resting. Seemed like even the great Ground Zero was bested by the aftereffects of healing quirks.

Izuku didn’t mind, reading through various PDFs on engineering.

“What’re you doing there?” Kacchan asked, suddenly manifesting next to Izuku’s chair.

“Just going through the lesson plans and stuff.”

“Oh yeah. Your talk with Nezu. How’d that go?”

Izuku shrugged. “Dunno. I emailed and postponed it to next week, since my best friend was in the hospital,” he jabbed.

“You shouldn’t have-”

“Kacchan. I was pretty much useless these past three days. Aside from getting Reject arrested.”

“…Aside from what?”

Izuku couldn’t help it, he laughed. Kacchan looked so perplexed! “It wasn’t that difficult. And don’t worry about U.A., Nezu was very understanding. Wanted me to tell you to take your time recovering, actually,” he added, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Kacchan stood right next to his chair, so it was easy to lean that way and rest his head against Kacchan’s chest.

“What now, nerd?”

“Hmm. Nothing. You’re warm.” He put his hands on Kacchan’s, where it lay on the table.

“Fuck, and you’re freezing again. Are you a vampire or what?”

“At this point, I think you’re just unusually hot.” He scrunched his nose as he realised what he’d said. “Temperature wise, Kacchan,” he added tiredly. He could feel that smug grin directed at him.

“No, I know what I heard. And you’d be correct: I am.”

He rolled his eyes and lightly swatted at Kacchan’s chest. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Speaking of, come on, it’s past your bedtime already, old man.”

“You little shit, I swear on everything-”

Izuku laughed, carefully pushing a grumbling Kacchan in the direction of the bedroom. Given how willingly the other followed, he must’ve been beyond exhausted.

Izuku dutifully checked Kacchan’s back, cataloguing the colourful bruises and making sure nothing was swollen or inflamed before he helped to put on some ointment that was supposed to prevent just that. It wasn’t a pretty picture, but he could already tell that miraculously, there wouldn’t be any scars left. It would all heal. It would all be fine. Kacchan would be fine.

The next day, Izuku woke rather harshly. By nearly slamming onto the floor. “Urgh. Why.” He’d forgotten he was on the couch again. Kacchan’s bed was so big, and the edge was so far away. He’d slept there for the past days, surrounded by that comforting scent, and he missed it already.

But Kacchan was injured, and he didn’t need Izuku to accidentally aggravate said injuries by flailing around in his sleep.

Not that anything could wake Kacchan at the moment. Izuku’s call for breakfast went unanswered, and he was left on his own until almost noon. Kacchan finally emerged, yawning, hair ruffled and red eyes soft from sleep and Izuku was so glad he could still witness this, he could be right here and Kacchan was right here too and perfect. “Morning, Kacchan! Did you sleep well?”

“No.” The other sat down heavily at the kitchen table. “Back hurts like a bitch. Is this how old people feel?”

Izuku took a look at that endearing, grumpy face and laughed. He couldn’t help it, everything was so light and bubbly and easy now.

“What you doing, anyway?”

“Breakfast. Or lunch, at this point. Wait.” He abandoned his cutting board, fishing for Kacchan’s favourite mug and approaching the coffee machine.

“Oi! What did we say about touching that?!”

“Calm down, Kacchan. I know what I’m doing now.” Indeed, he’d watched and learned, and now it took him all of a minute until he presented Kacchan with a fresh serving of hot, bitter brown bean soup. No milk or sugar. “I don’t know how you can drink that.”

“Usually with my mouth.” Kacchan took a sip to demonstrate and stared dead-pan at Izuku over the rim of the mug.

“Ha-ha. You’re so funny. Truly the king of comedy. Why ever didn’t you consider that as a career option.” He fondly rolled his eyes and went back to making lunch, humming a little tune to the radio. “Do you want tomato salad or the one with broccoli and apples?” he asked over his shoulder, where Kacchan watched from his seat at the table.

“Tomato’s fine,” came the grouchy reply. Coffee hadn’t kicked in yet, then.

Izuku sighed in exasperation and grabbed a few apples. “It’s not a bother.”

“…’Kay.”

Over the chop-chop-chop of the knife, the radio and his own humming, Izuku didn’t really register the sound of metal turning and wood clacking.

“Oi, brat!” a woman’s voice shouted. “Who the fuck allowed you to leave the hospital? You better be decent, because I have things to say! We’re coming in!”

Izuku froze. The knife clattered onto the counter as he spun around, meeting Kacchan’s wide eyes through the doorway. “Shit. She has a key- Give me a fucking second, hag!”

“Hurry up, son,” a deeper voice joined.

“We brought you some food, Katsuki,” another woman said.

Izuku felt his breathing pick up. He slowly shook his head, eyes never leaving Kacchan’s. He couldn’t do this, not here, not now, not so suddenly.

Kacchan stared back, looking paralysed by shock for the first time Izuku could recall. “You don’t want to see them.”

It was more a statement than a question already, but Izuku’s headshaking intensified as he gripped the counter behind him for support. “Can’t.”

“Shit,” Kacchan cursed quietly. “Okay, you’ll have to just… stay there.”

Izuku stood there, helpless, understanding without words. He would be seen if he tried to run to the bedroom, so the kitchen was his only option. He stared at Kacchan, pleading. This was a nightmare. “Kacchan, please, I can’t.”

The other nodded, but he wasn’t calm, either. “I know. It’s okay. Just stay in there, I’ll get them to leave.”

Footsteps approached, and Izuku quietly closed the door between him and their parents. The silver key in the lock caught the sunlight, and without thinking, Izuku turned it. Then, slowly, he leaned his back against the door and sank down.

He strained his ears as best he could, but took a moment until the agitated drum of his heartbeat calmed down enough so he could make out words.

“- and just walk out! Those nurses don’t want your sorry ass there either, so if they say you’re staying, they say it for a reason!” Yep, that was aunt Mitsuki alright.

“Goddammit, hag, they agreed that I could go so long as I take it easy, fucking sue me!”

“Hey, you two, quit it,” a calmer, deeper voice said. Uncle sounded tired already. “Shouting matches are not considered ‘taking it easy’. How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Really. Thanks for checking, thanks for the fucking food, you can put it on the table, have a nice day.”

“But Katsuki!” Izuku’s breath hitched as he heard his mom, just a few metres away, with that all too familiar tone that said ‘I don’t want to argue but you better listen’. “You’ve been injured, of course we’re here to help. At least let us do the grocery shopping and the cleaning.”

“Don’t need it. I said I’m fine. Meaning you can leave.”

“I’ll just put it in there, then.”

“Oi, auntie, I said the table-”

The handle above him moved and there was a thump against his back as someone tried the door. “Oh, I’m sorry…” His mom.

Mitsuki sounded almost smug as she spoke up again. “Oho, what’s this? You know what, honey, I think our little brat is having guests here! And look at that, too.”

“Give that here!” A small scuffle ensued.

With rising terror, Izuku catalogued all of his things that were just openly lying around in the living room. His notebooks, a discarded shirt, a few printouts on engineering and chemistry, his laptop… That was all fine, as long as no one looked at it twice, right? The half assembled gear and the Ground Zero merch Kacchan had gifted him, that looked natural. Those could be his.

The two plates already set out for lunch. The sour candy they all knew Kacchan would never touch.

He took a deep breath. It was alright. All they could figure out would be that Kacchan maybe had a friend staying here. A shy friend.

“’S just one of the extras that’s already volunteered to play nurse. So you see, I am well taken care of. Now scram.”

“Awww, who is it? I can tell you’re hiding something,” Mitsuki drawled. She’d definitely caught on that something was strange. “If it’s just a friend, why not let them say hello? Unless you have someone new hidden away. Do you not want to introduce us? Or tell us what they’re like?”

“Absolutely not. Uh. They’re out?” It was a poor try and everyone knew it. The kitchen was locked from inside.

“Then whose shoes are those?” Masaru laughed.

Izuku froze. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Funny, they almost look like-” he broke off, and Izuku could feel the pieces clicking. Each of these items on their own? Harmless. Together? They practically screamed his name.

“I’m not going to sa- Oi, auntie, don’t touch that!” Kacchan’s voice rose in pitch at the end.

There was a strangled gasp. “This is his handwriting. This is my baby’s handwriting. But I’ve never…” A pause. “Katsuki. What’s going on?” Her voice was muffled, as if hidden behind a hand. “Is he… What is this?”

And Izuku wanted to despair, because no matter how badly people talked about Kacchan, how many negative attributes they ascribed to him, ‘Liar’ had never been one, and for a good reason. Because he was abysmally bad at it.

He sounded strained, and Izuku could perfectly picture that face, the slightly embarrassed, slightly annoyed way he glanced down and to the side, the way he brought a hand up to scratch at his neck. “Look, you guys really need to leave-”

“Oi, brat, the fuck?”

“Katsuki, please, you need to tell me!”

There was another pause. Kacchan obviously warred with himself, trying to find an out without hurting anybody. “Look, you were not supposed to be here, and I’m really sorry, but there is so much confidential shit going on, I literally cannot. I really, really need you to go. Please.”

“Where is he?” His mother’s shriek cut through the door, right into Izuku’s brain, into his very bones and heart. “Where is my baby? Is he alive? You have to tell me!”

And she sounded so worried, so heartbroken that Izuku really, really tried to talk himself into opening the door.

And that was just the point, he realized. She would be worried. She would be crying and desperately hug him, demanding all the answers, trying to make him feel better by attending to his every need, hovering 24/7, and the mere thought of it made him feel smothered already, like he had no room to breathe.

She’d always fretted over him, always coddled him, always made sure he was safe and sound, because he was her little baby boy and she loved him dearly, but it was too much. If she got her arms around him, she’d never let him go, ever again. He’d suffocate.

He didn’t want those big, sad eyes on him all the time, the pity and the concern. He didn’t want to be reminded of everything he’d gone through, all day, every day, with the way she’d hover around him, never quite breaching the subject, the elephant in the room.

A single gasp escaped him, immediately muffled behind a hand. There was a commotion now, he wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, until the door handle moved above him, like a monster about to drop down and devour him. When the door didn’t budge, a couple of knocks followed, vibrations shaking the air from his lungs. He couldn’t think.

“Izu? Izu baby, are you in there? It’s me, it’s your mom. Say something? Are you alright?”

He pressed his other hand over his mouth too, covering the entire lower half of his face to keep any sound from escaping. He couldn’t. He couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t. The room was spinning, tears obscuring his vision like a veil, like he was underwater.

“Inko, please-” Mitsuki tried, even though she too sounded faint.

Izuku could feel more vibrations at this back, he heard the door handle rattle above.

“Izu, baby, please, are you really there?”

“Oi, auntie, c’mon, stop it-”

He curled up tighter in his ball, tears leaking from his eyes as his breathing spiralled completely out of his control.

“Izuku, open the door! Please! I just want to see you’re okay!” his mother wailed.

“I SAID ENOUGH!” An explosion sounded through the door. Everything went quiet. Kacchan’s voice continued, a low growl, as if he was holding back by a thread. “Everyone, I apologize for this, but you are here in my house, uninvited, breaking several clauses of my NDAs. I could get in major trouble for that, first off. Second, no one here was prepared for this situation, and I get that this was a surprise for all of us, but I am asking you to leave right the fuck now. He’s not ready to see you, you’re not ready to see him.”

“I will not leave here without my baby!”

“Then I will not hesitate to call my colleagues about this. Now. Leave. Please. He doesn’t want to see you.”

There was the distinct sound of a slap.

Silence.

“Oi, Inko, you can’t just fucking-!”

“Katsuki, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t. Just go.”

Izuku brought his hands up to cover his ears, pressing down until all he could hear was the thump-thump-thump of his heart, hiding his face against his knees.

After a while, he felt three sharp knocks at this back. They were different than before. Controlled, precise. Carefully, he lifted his right hand from his ear. “Oi, nerd! I said they’re gone. You can come out!”

It took him a while to unravel the meaning of the words.

“Oi, Izuku! Are you there?”

He didn’t want to come out. He didn’t want to face his own mom. Wasn’t he a terrible human being? An awful son. She had to be so worried about him. He was crying openly now, tears just spilling and spilling. His hands clawed at the air in front of his mouth, trying to get more oxygen in because he was choking, he couldn’t breathe-

“Fuck! I’m sorry, but Midoriya, open this damned door right now!”

He didn’t even register how his arm moved and turned the key. The door pressed harder into his back, and he found himself shoved across the tiled floor as it was forced open.

“Fucking- Hey. Hey! Izuku!”

Suddenly, Kacchan was in front of him, kneeling on the floor, and Izuku looked at him, trying to see through the tears, trying to make out Kacchan’s face, silently begging for help because he could. Not. Breathe.

“Shit, fucking shit, you’re having a panic attack, okay, okay. Shit. Can you hear me? Izuku?”

He nodded, a jerky motion that hurt, somehow.

“Okay, good, that’s good. Can I touch you?”

Izuku wanted nothing more right now. He nodded fervently, trying to somehow get his legs to unfold so he could get closer to Kacchan, to safety. Strong hands on his shoulders helped, manoeuvring him like he weighed nothing, until he was safely surrounded by warmth, a relief because he felt frozen.

“Okay, listen to me. Listen.” A hand came up to the back of his head, slowly, turning it until his ear was pressed against Kacchan’s chest. He could only hear his own frantic heart, but the feel of a second, slower pulse thrummed steady under his hands.

“Breathe with me. In and out. Just try and match. It’s alright, it’s going to be alright, I promise.”

Izuku tried, he really did. But it was like breathing against the weight of a brick wall, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to breathe in or out right now, had no idea how much air was in his lungs, much less how to move it. Kacchan’s breaths were so deep and even, and it was impossible to hold for that long, much less breathe in, was he supposed to breathe in? He decided to start with breathing in. Couldn’t, really, so breathing out it was. And then in again. He could do that.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’ll be fine.” A warm hand stroked up and down his spine in tandem with Kacchan’s breathing. It felt nice. He focused on that instead. Gradually, he found he could match the set rhythm, and with it, the dizziness in his head died down as well. His fingers and toes prickled, and his face itched from the drying tears. He unclamped a hand where it was scrunching up Kacchan’s shirt, and wiped them away with his sleeve.

“You okay, nerd?”

He carefully nodded. “Fi-ine,” he stuttered out, hiccupping once on the lump in his throat. “I’m just, that was, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, and she was, and I couldn’t…” He knew he wasn’t making sense. Trying to sort the jumble of thoughts inside his brain into words seemed entirely impossible.

“Oi. Nerd- Izuku. It’s okay. I get it.”

“She’s my mom, and I couldn’t, to see her…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to. Especially not out of the blue like this.”

“She would’ve, and it’s all so much, and it wouldn’t have mattered what I said, I can’t deal with that right now, I don’t want her pity, she’d blame herself for everything, and I just can’t.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to make her sad, but I can’t-”

“I know! I know how she gets. You don’t have to see her if you don’t want to. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.”

“I hid like a coward.”

“Not a coward. You just stood your ground. And for what it’s worth, I think that was pretty impressive, too.”

Izuku smiled weakly. “Thanks.” It was worth a lot, somehow. Kacchan wouldn’t lie to him.

“Don’t mention it.”

“She’s going to come back soon.” It was a fact.

“’s okay. I’ll talk to her first, I won’t let anyone in unless you want it. The hag left her key. This won’t happen again.”

“She’ll want me to come back home,” Izuku continued. He just knew it would come up. And he knew he should probably consider it. Be glad to go back home.

But the memory of that house felt… off. Too dark, too cramped, too silent. To stuffed with memories of just him and his mother, of a time when he was happier, but not happy.

“D’ya wanna go home?” Kacchan asked after a while, softly.

Izuku took a shuddering inhale. Kacchan would probably be glad to have his own space back, too. He knew he wasn’t required to be at this house. With the way the chain worked now, he could easily live on his own. The biggest challenge would be grocery shopping, and there were delivery services for that, too.

But the mere idea made his eyes grow misty again. He burrowed his face deeper into Kacchan’s shirt. Kacchan just said he standing his ground was a good thing. “I wanna stay with you, Kacchan. Please. It’s better with you here.” Because Kacchan was strong and unshakeable, the rock Izuku could cling to, the wall he could safely hide behind, where he wouldn’t be judged or pitied and he wouldn’t have to be afraid, because no one could hurt him.

He could feel the other tense, lean back a little, probably to crane his head down at him. Izuku didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to be sent away. “But I understand if you’d prefer. I’m sorry.”

Strong arms wound tighter around him, and a chin came to rest on top of his head. “Stay here all you want. It’s okay.”

“Don’t wanna impose…” And he was imposing, wasn’t he? He was here, being useless, a crybaby, a stupid Deku who couldn’t even face his own mother, who couldn’t do anything right, who’d made them all worry, and now Kacchan had to take care of him when it was supposed to be the other way round for once, he couldn’t even last a day without causing problems, it was all his fault really, Kacchan should be at the hospital, he should be allowed to have his parents over-

“Stop that!”

With a hiccup, Izuku’s mouth clicked shut.

“If anyone’s to blame here, ‘s me. I should’ve fucking known this was gonna happen, honestly. They never failed to visit me at the hospital, and unfortunately, they also never stopped sticking their noses where they don’t belong. ‘Course they’d come by when they heard I’ve gone back home. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“No, Kacchan! I don’t blame you.”

“Then you’re not allowed to blame yourself either. Now come on. This is actually kinda hurting my back.”

“Sorry!” Izuku shot up, and then held both hands out for Kacchan. The other took them, smiling, and Izuku would’ve liked to think he actually helped Kacchan get up. They stood there, both swaying a bit.

Izuku felt exhausted. About as exhausted as Kacchan looked.

“I think I need to take a nap for a few hours.”

“Fair enough,” Kacchan conceded. “What about food, though?”

They both turned and surveyed the kitchen. Nothing was quite on the stove yet, and the vegetables would keep. “Later,” Izuku decided. “I can’t be asked right now.” His appetite had temporarily vacated the premises anyway. Too much fight-or-flight.

He led the way to the couch, but a hand on his back pushed him onwards, down the hall towards the bedroom.

“Um, Kacchan?”

“You can sleep here.”

“But-”

“You were sleeping here when I was gone. I don’t mind, I got stuff to do anyway. Just get some rest. It’s more comfortable.”

Izuku sighed. He didn’t care to argue about this. Actually, this was great. He liked that bed. He crawled in, moving all the way to the other side until he could feel the wall at his back. “Kacchan?”

“Hm?”

“…I’m cold.”

He more felt than saw Kacchan lie down as well. “Five minutes. Ouch.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright. I did this to myself.” Kacchan closed his eyes and patted the space next to him. “Are you trying to merge with the wall over there?”

Izuku obeyed, not stopping to think about it as he shuffled closer, resting his head on Kacchan’s outstretched arm. He really must look a mess. “Warmer?” Kacchan asked.

Izuku nodded, grateful. “She’s going to demand I move in with her,” he repeated after a while. It was the only thing he could think about. “Or she’ll want to stay here.”

“You can just say no.” Kacchan shifted, and Izuku felt a hand card through his hair, down towards his neck. It made him really tired. Boneless. “First things first, I’ll have to let the bosses know what happened today. I’m sure they’ll help us, both with advice and in dealing with them. And no matter what, your mom can’t force you to do anything. The only person you answer to is yourself.”

Izuku raised an eyebrow, even if Kacchan couldn’t see it. “Well, technically-”

“You know what I mean. I’m not forcing you to do anything, either. And for the love of god, put your own wellbeing first for once. You need to care for your own sorry ass before you can take care of her.”

Izuku stayed quiet. He would be caring for his mom, wouldn’t he? Even if it was supposed to be the other way around. He would have to be strong for her sake, when finally, after four years, he was allowed some weakness.

“But Kacchan, she’s my mom. I am supposed to be there for her.”

Kacchan sighed heavily. “Oi, remember all that shit about needing to be fine by yourself before you can go save the world you threw at me yesterday?” he asked, making a circling motion with his finger. “That.”

Izuku pouted, but the drawback of being presented with your own argument was that he understood perfectly. “Still-”

“I’m not saying you have to keep away from her. Talk to her. Call her. Move back home if you feel like it. But don’t let them pressure you into something you don’t want to do just because you think you’re supposed to do it. Set some boundaries, ‘s all I’m saying. And if you need anything, tell me.” He finished the sentence with a long yawn.

“’Mkay.” Izuku felt drowsy, too, copying the yawn. The adrenaline was fading, leaving him sleepy. As if the commotion earlier had burned everything out of him, hollowed him out like a tree, until there was just blank space left. “Gonna go take a nap,” he decided, trying to turn around.

The fingers in his hair curled and pulled softly, keeping him in place. “Stay here.”

Izuku tilted his head back, blinking blearily up at Kacchan. “You sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said it otherwise. Okay?”

“Hmmm.” He felt a slow grin spread across his face as he wriggled deeper into the sheets. “Okay.”

Notes:

*checks plot like a wristwatch* Yeah we've had it too good for too long sorry.

Chapter 10

Katsuki woke with a start and a hiss as he turned around and felt all the sore spots in his body at once. “Fuck.” He carefully turned back onto his side, cataloguing the offending bruises in his mind – across the shoulder blades, over the spine, and worst of all his tailbone. For the first two days, he could see the imprints of his bones in the pattern of black and blue. Izuku was right, he shouldn’t have picked that fight. Not worth it at all.

Speaking of… the room was suspiciously still. He couldn’t feel or hear anyone else. There were blankets draped over him, warm with long sleep. And he was hungry, too. His stomach felt like it was gnawing at his ribs already. Cracking an eye open, he noticed Izuku was gone, and the clock told him it was late afternoon. Shit. He had so much stuff to sort out!

So much for relaxing at home.

With a grunt, he pushed himself up. Food would have to wait, he needed to call the bosses ASAP. Not that he feared their parents leaking information – he’d told them in no uncertain terms there was a mission and Izuku’s whereabouts needed to be kept secret at all costs, for his own safety. But there was most likely a bunch of other protocols for this scenario.

Shit. Aizawa was going to kill him.

He cursed himself for not seeing this entire problem coming. This was hands down his dumbest oversight since that one time he took that fight into the distillery. What had he expected to happen? Of course his parents would have some choice words when they figured out he just left the hospital like that.

And now Izuku was a wreck because of it. Which was not entirely a bad thing; Katsuki was secretly (and to his shame) a little bit relieved. It was the first time he’d seen Izuku confront and process his own situation.

He wasn’t glad that it had happened like this. He wasn’t glad that Izuku’d had a full-blown panic attack, crippling self-loathing issues and again that stupid idea to put everyone else’s wishes above his own needs. But he was glad that Izuku could still feel these emotions. He’d been so detached whenever the topic of the four years came up. Too nonchalant about the whole issue. Katsuki had been afraid that at some point, Izuku’d stopped feeling anything at all.

Apparently, he’d ‘just’ been avoiding the sensitive topics with all his might. Which explained why he’d never even mentioned his mother past that one curious question one time.

Katsuki rubbed a hand across his face and decided to get himself some coffee started. This was going to be an issue. There was a perfectly good reason why he hadn’t mentioned auntie either. On paper, Izuku was an asset in a secret operation, and that secret operation was bound to secrecy. Aside from the fact his own mom was the biggest gossip their side of town, there was a whole host of problems in getting their parents involved. Most of them personal in nature, but he hadn’t lied when he’d said there were NDAs involved here. And that he could get in trouble.

It was a completely fucked up situation. He couldn’t even blame Inko for freaking out like she did. He knew what it must look like from her perspective – that he was keeping her son captive just like the people before him had done.

The one thing Operation Peregrine could never clearly decide on was whether or not they’d allow contact between whoever it was Katsuki ‘rescued’ and their families. Eventually, the general consensus had shifted towards ‘sort later depending on the circumstances’.

Initially, he’d expected Izuku to demand seeing his mother immediately. But the question never came, and the other actually avoided even mentioning her. After the events of today, Katsuki could sort of understand.

He’d glimpsed part of a picture earlier. Izuku didn’t want to go back home, because he didn’t feel comfortable there, and the reason lay somewhere with his mother. Izuku said he’d need to care for her, and Katsuki could kinda see it, if not explain.

With the way auntie had all but moved in with his own parents for a while, he’d gotten to experience the way she fussed and worked and always needed someone to dote on first-hand. She needed something to do, trying to take care of people when it really wasn’t necessary. The way she’d tried to get involved in his own issues when he’d been at U.A… Urgh. Empty nest syndrome, hello. It was the main reason they’d eventually gotten her that dog. That woman needed to care for something. Inko meant well, they all knew that. And Katsuki felt like the scum of the earth for thinking all those things about her, and even worse for not telling her about Izuku, but there had to be a line somewhere.

And… he wanted to keep Izuku here. Izuku wanted to stay, too. However, there was the little voice of doubt in his mind asking if it was truly the best course of action. He couldn’t tell. What if this was doing Izuku more harm than good?

Was it selfish? Was he really the right person? He thought he was doing the right thing. But he also had to admit that his decisions were a far cry from unbiased. Maybe some bias was needed here. Maybe he was making a mistake. He didn’t know.

“Oh, you’re up! Perfect timing.” He jumped in surprise when the freckled menace called out from the kitchen. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts, he hadn’t even noticed him there. Looking into the room, he could smell something delicious sizzling in a pan, and his stomach growled. Loudly.

Izuku laughed at that, and he felt his neck heat in embarrassment. “Good thing I’m basically done. Go sit down.”

“In a moment,” he said, distracted as he tried to gage Izuku’s mood. He looked fine. Normal. Doing normal stuff. “I need to call the bosses, I didn’t mean to fall asleep-”

“Oh, I already talked to Aizawa, don’t worry. He said he’d take care of it and then call back.” Izuku breezed past him with two laden plates.

Katsuki blinked after him. “You did?”

“Hmm. I explained the situation and he basically told me the same thing you did. Wanted me to tell you to get better soon and not overdo it.” Izuku set the plates down, and it smelled too good to ignore any longer.

Katsuki took his seat, mumbled “Thanks for cooking,” and took a half second to appreciate the effort Izuku’d taken to make it look nice before digging in.

“You’re welcome.”

They ate in companionable silence, and then Izuku snatched the plates and disappeared to clean up before Katsuki had a chance to even offer help. “You go sit on the couch and relax, I got this!”

Perplexed by the sudden speed at which that all had happened, he sank back down. So the food and chores were taken care of, as was the parent situation. That left him with his immediate circumstances.

Which left him with… nothing. Nothing urgent, at least. “I’ll just…” he looked towards the couch, a little at a loss. There was a little pillow fort set up in the corner, so he took a seat there.

Should he watch something? Read a book? Wait. “Hang on! Nerd!”

Izuku appeared by his side out of nowhere. “Yes?”

“What the fuck is going on? Are you okay?” He’d been asleep for a couple of hours only, and yet he felt like he’d woken up in some sort of alternate dimension.

“I-”

“And don’t you dare use the word ‘fine’!”

The other took a deep breath and sat down next to him. “I’m… okay, for now. It was a lot, and I’m just tired right now. Like I don’t have any capacities left to think about this any more.” He laughed. “You know when something shit happens and you’re like ‘Yeah, schedule that crisis for another day, we can’t be asked right now?’”

Katsuki nodded. He knew exactly what Izuku meant. Sometimes, when he’d come off a mission or a shift late at night, after an emergency with hours of action, he’d hear the death toll and see the damage and realize it was bad, but his part was over one way or another and he could finally go home to normalcy. Knew that the fallout would take a while to rear its head.

Izuku smiled weakly. He looked so small, Katsuki wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay. It was hard to resist. “I’m not even sure what to think of everything, right now. It depends a lot on what Aizawa says later. Until then, I’d prefer not to worry about it too much. There’s just no point. I did everything I could on my end.”

“If there’s anything you need…” he began, not sure what he could even offer. Izuku seemed fragile, right now, like the slightest push from the wrong direction could shatter him again like porcelain. At the same time, there was and underlying current of determination that was woven from steel. Katsuki wanted to find that, to hold onto that.

“I know. Thanks. But I want to sort this out on my own. This isn’t your problem.”

“It actually kind of is,” he retorted, and they both grinned weakly at each other.

“You know what I mean. You get better yourself. I got this.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Izuku leaned back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m not moving back to that house. Ever. And I don’t think I can see her anytime soon. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel really nervous. Like I’m already failing at something. Is that stupid?”

Katsuki shook his head, even if Izuku wasn’t looking. “No, of course not.”

“And it’s funny, because as soon as I considered maybe visiting her or something, my first thought was: Not while I look like this.” He gestured down at himself. “She absolutely can’t see me like this.”

He tried to look, really look. Izuku was better; clean and fed with a healthy colour to his face and no recent injuries. Katsuki could look at him and be happy about the improvements.

However, when he detached his observations from that, he saw someone thin as a reed, with scars peeking out under his sleeve and the sharp lines of exhaustion around his eyes. “You look fine, you’re just thin as fuck. But you’re right, it’s probably for the better. We would’ve drowned in food if they saw you like that.” He poked a finger at Izuku’s ribs. There was no give, he immediately met bone.

“Ow.” Izuku rubbed at the spot and glared back. “I don’t know what you mean, I gained two kilograms already!”

“Tch. Yeah. Most of that is probably you being properly hydrated.”

The other pulled his knees up onto the couch. “I’m trying, okay? This stuff is harder than you think.”

“Point. Guess I’ll have to feed you more.” He pushed at Izuku’s shoulder until he started tipping sideways and had to unfurl from his ball to keep balance.

“Maybe. I want pancakes.”

“How about something healthier.”

“With strawberries.”

“Not what I meant.”

“And cream.”

“Great, now I want those.” It did sound very tempting. He nearly got his spine shattered, he damn well could have some comfort food.

“I can make some. We got strawberries in the fridge.” Izuku sat up straighter, but didn’t actually stand. “I wanted them for myself, but I guess…”

“Oi, that’s gonna be my flour and shit you’ll be using! I’m entitled to shares!” he protested. “Scarecrow-looking ass.”

Izuku tilted his chin up. “My ass looks fine!”

“If you say so.”

Izuku side-eyed him, failing to keep the slight uptick of his lips concealed. “Well, you wouldn’t know anything about that, I guess.”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?”

His only answer was a cheeky grin. “Nerd, what does it mean!” He reached out a hand to poke him again, but was met with valiant resistance when Izuku grabbed his wrists and tried to wrestle him away.

It felt a little like fighting with a very determined bunny – there was an effort made, but unfortunately it was a lost cause from the start.

“Ha!” Izuku grinned when he pinned his wrists to the cushion and proceeded to kneel on them for added restriction. And so he had a hand free to poke back at Katsuki’s side. “Now let’s see how you like that… You’re not ticklish. Dammit.”

“You tried.”

“Mean.” Izuku leaned back with a disappointed pout. “Hey. Would it… really be okay if I just stuck around here?”

The sudden change of topic left him reeling. “Duh? I said it was. Why the fuck are we talking about this again?”

“Just making sure, I guess?”

“I’d tell you if I changed my mind. Now stop asking.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“And stop apologizing! There’s nothing to apologise for, fucking hell.”

“Oh. Sor- Nevemind. Um. Thanks.”

“Whatever.” He wondered, the question on the tip of his tongue, ready to leap out at the slightest opportunity. It may be insensitive to ask now, but the curiosity was burning his insides. Besides, if he was to pick a side, he needed to know what he was signing up for. “Nerd. Can I ask what happened? With you and your mom?”

Izuku’s head lolled against the backrest of the couch to look at him. His brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just-” he made some vague gestures, unsure how to get his point across. “I mean, I get that the entire situation is pretty fucked up right now, but even before that, I don’t think you’ve really been… on the best terms? I mean, auntie all but lived with my parents for a while. And she and I didn’t really talk all that much, but I got the feeling she never really knew what was going on with… well, us.”

Izuku cocked his head. “You mean that we weren’t really friends?”

“Yes, she knew that. And it seemed like it was the only thing she knew. She didn’t seem to know that I was being a downright asshole to you, or that a bunch of the other extras jumped onto that bandwagon. Hell, she once asked why I wasn’t coming over anymore. You never told her anything about what was going on in middle school, right? In hindsight, I kept wondering why she never did anything about it. She loves you a lot, she would’ve gotten my hag to stage an intervention at the least.”

Izuku’s eyes had trailed from Katsuki’s face down to the floor. His hand came up to massage at his right shoulder, almost unconsciously. “You’re right. I never said anything. Partly because… I don’t even know. I didn’t want to disappoint her? She’s always been working so hard, since dad left, and I didn’t want to add my own problems to that. And then it piled up and I just felt like I couldn’t talk to her even if I wanted to. I was always nervous she’d find out somehow and confront me and ask me why I didn’t say anything, and that would end in lectures about every life decision I ever made, which I didn’t need, and it just… happened.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t even sure what to say to that. “Sounds to me like you two weren’t close for a while, then?” he tried. Just to get the full picture.

Izuku shrugged. “I guess. I mean, she wasn’t home that much in the first place. I understand she was doing her best to care for me, but we never really had the time to do anything together. We were living in the same house, and she always listened when I asked something or talked about my day, but that was it.”

Katsuki asked himself again just how it was possible he knew so little about all of that.

“Hey.” Izuku’s voice was accompanied by a gentle touch to Katsuki’s arm. “It happened. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I’m sorry that happened.” He wasn’t the closest with his own parents either, but at least he knew he could rely on them if he truly needed it. It was tough love with them, but their house would always be open, and his hag would move heaven and earth to help him out. Cursing at him all the while, but still.

“Really, it’s okay. I stopped telling her a lot of stuff at some point. The biggest news she got were my grades after exams. When I started my part time job, I made up some excuses to be away because for some reason, I just did not want to tell her. No, I felt like I couldn’t tell her.”

Katsuki’s mouth moved before his brain could hit the brakes. “When was that?” Was he prying? Was this a bad topic?

“Um, last year of middle school, I think?”

“Really?” He hadn’t even noticed anything along those lines.

“Yeah. I wanted some extra money for hobbies and stuff. My laptop gave out on me that time. And I needed stuff for my projects. The school provided the basic materials, but if you want to go beyond that you had to get it yourself.”

“Sounds kinda stupid, but I get it.” U.A. provided things like costumes and support gear to the students, but all changes and additions had to be approved and at some point people just did the minor adjustments themselves. “Did you not get money from the hero students for re-tailoring their shit?”

Izuku shook his head. “We just had support courses.”

“Shame. Our engineers got stupid rich on us, especially the tailors. Whenever a growth spurt hit, you know? Although we had it easier than most thanks to the 3D-printer.”

“3D-printer?”

“Yaomomo – er, Creati. She got us the materials for basically free as long as you made her food for a week or so. Which was funny, because she actually wasn’t a disaster in the kitchen. She just didn’t like doing dishes.”

Izuku perked up at that. “Oh, I would’ve loved to be at the same school as her! The possibilities!”

He grinned at that. “Yeah. The support guys basically worshipped her. She could’ve made a cult out of that. There was that one time they started bribing her so she’d make them a fuckton of tungsten for something or other, and our dorm ate like royalty for four days.”

Izuku grinned at the image. “Sounds like you guys had a lot of fun.”

“Tch. Yeah. But it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine. We had to fight for our lives every other week. Do you know what The Hazing is?”

“The what?”

Oh, he couldn’t believe he was about to tell that story. “Okay, so it’s this thing where the second year classes go and harass the first years in combat exercises. It’s a tradition, I suppose. The teachers enjoy it immensely. Anyway, I got paired with Shouto, and because we were too busy bickering with each other, one of the first years got a pretty decent hit on me. Just bonked me right over the head. I had to see Recovery Girl. The girl who hit me insisted on coming with me to make sure I was alright, and she was so sorry it was almost funny, I’ve honestly had worse the week prior.”

He shook his head as he remembered the day. “And for some godforsaken reason, this girl would not leave me alone afterwards. I literally only said ‘hello’ and ‘thanks whatever’ to her, and in her mind that translated ‘Oh my god we’re about to get married’. I had to run for two weeks whenever she came around a corner until Shitty Hair tried to hold her off for me and in his panic fabricated me a fake girlfriend, which the entire school knew about ten minutes later, and at that point I had to get Round Face and Raccoon Eyes involved for damage control.”

That did it - finally, Izuku burst out laughing, really laughing. It filled Katsuki with a weird sense of accomplishment, something soft and glowing.

“I’m not going to lie, that is hilarious to me. I can’t believe it. Also, very brave of that girl to hit someone over the head and still try. Did she think giving you a concussion was the way to go?”

Katsuki laughed, too. “Given that I otherwise wouldn’t have looked at her long enough to allow her to say ‘hello’, she might’ve been onto something.” That sent Izuku into another incoherent laughing fit, and the sound was infectious.

“What about after that?” Izuku asked after they calmed down. “You’re a top thirty hero, I imagine people are throwing themselves at you left, right and centre.”

Katsuki shifted, suddenly unsure how to answer. “Eh, you know how it is. I’m focusing on work, first.” He hoped Izuku would leave it at that.

He wasn’t quite ready to divulge his sorry (not to say non-existent) love life. Sure, there’d been the occasional hook-up, but he’d never ever actually dated someone. He’d just never felt an appropriate amount of interest, and he couldn’t understand how some people met with randoms three or four times and then declared they liked them to a point of planning a shared life. Affection didn’t come that fast. He hadn’t considered his own group ‘friends’ until they were halfway through second year.

“Makes sense, I guess,” Izuku agreed. “But going back to that hazing thing: Did you guys also get beat up in first year?”

Katsuki scoffed. “They tried.” He launched into a retelling of that day, and the betrayal they’d all felt when Aizawa led them onto a training field, wished them luck and declared them fair game without ever explaining anything beyond that. Izuku listened with rapt attention, and so Katsuki moved on to talk about the provisional license exam, their internships and other random stuff he could remember, sticking to the more amusing ones for now.

It was fun; Izuku listened, really listened, even if it was just mundane stories on their day-to-day school life. He’d never really told some of these things, like how he’d accidentally exploded a handle off a window once and tried to put it together just enough so the next person who came along thought they broke it. (Which was something he obviously had never shared with his classmates, lest they rat him out to Tsuyu, who was still being teased whenever she went near a window.)

Izuku was in the middle of telling one of his own stories, about the friends he’d made living in the attic of the Lady’s mansion and how they’d made up a fiercely competitive game without any actual rules about naming songs they heard on the radio as fast as possible when the doorbell rang.

He exchanged a puzzled glance with Izuku, who looked back with a wary expression. “Are we expecting someone?”

Izuku shook his head, so Katsuki took it upon himself to investigate. “I’m not letting anyone in who’s not with our squad,” he promised. He might be injured, but he’d still win most fights against the potential extras that might fit those criteria.

Izuku nodded, but retreated into the far hallway nevertheless, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“Who’s there?” he asked through the door as he approached, squinting at the camera feed on the security panel. All he could make out was black, and some grey.

“The poor guy who has to clean up your mess, problem child.”

The surging curiosity and the hope that somehow the problem would just be solved had him covering the last few steps in a haste as he hurried to let Aizawa in. “If you have bad news I’m asking you to leave now.”

His old teacher didn’t react the slightest bit, stepping around him and heading inside without even taking his shoes off. “Who gave you a promotion that allows you to give me orders?”

Katsuki grumbled some obligatory choice words under his breath before he slammed the door shut and turned to follow. Slowly. If anything devastating were going on, Aizawa wouldn’t be making jokes, so he allowed himself to be slightly annoyed at the unannounced visitor. He was tired, he was in pain, and he’d been frankly looking forward to Not Doing Anything for at least the rest of this day. Plus, he’d had fun talking with Izuku. “Oi Nerd!” he shouted into the house.

Izuku emerged from his hiding place at his call, eyes flitting between the two of them. “Hello?” he tried, attempting some small talk.

Aizawa set down the slim manila folder he carried, and took a seat. “I have here your birth certificate, ID and your credentials from your schools up until four years ago. There is also a letter your mother insisted I bring you, when I made quite clear that I would not facilitate a visit or a phone call. Do with that as you wish.”

Izuku’s eyes were wide, whether from confusion or surprise he couldn’t tell. Katsuki found himself fascinated by the way the sunlight tinged honey into the green, but he probably should do something else besides stare dumbfounded at the sudden barrage of news. So he put a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, pulled out another chair and shoved him towards it.

As he took his own seat, he spotted the envelope sticking out of the folder – not that he was looking for it. Since it wasn’t his business. It seemed quite thick, for a letter.

“So,” Aizawa began, “the summary is that the secrecy of the operation is ensured. I had to go through all the more or less official channels, and your parents will not utter a word unless they want to face serious legal repercussions. They are also forbidden from coming within a block of your house without invitation – not that anyone’s really going to enforce that – but if they give you trouble you can use their agreement as leverage. Make something up.”

With the technicalities taken care of, he turned his focus towards Izuku. “Now. Your mother was quite… agitated, but I assured her your continued wellbeing and your voluntary participation in a not further specified mission. I also said you’re free to leave this arrangement at any time you wish and that you did explicitly not want to do just that in accordance to your requests earlier.”

Izuku nodded, but stayed silent. He tugged the envelope out of the folder, weighed it in his hand and then put it back down.

“There are some ethical grey areas in this whole scenario,” Aizawa continued after a beat, “but from a legal standpoint, there is nothing anybody can do against your wishes. You are your own person, you are an adult and capable of making your own decisions. If I may make one suggestion: Don’t decide rashly. Emotionally charged situations make people say and do things they don’t mean, so maybe take some time to think things through calmly. And allow your mother to do the same before you next contact her.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Again, your decision.”

Izuku chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating. “You’re a teacher at U.A., you’ve got to have some experience in dealing with these types of situations.”

Aizawa let out a weary sigh. “Don’t I know it.”

Even Katsuki winced in sympathy at that. Hero work was dangerous business, and he’d seen more than one drama episode of overly protective parents in his time. There was an incident at least once per semester.

“So do you have any ideas on what I even can say to her? I don’t really know what my options are at this point.” Izuku turned his pleading eyes towards Katsuki’s former teacher, who, for all that he claimed not to care and to hate every single one of them for making him lose sleep, never managed to actually not help a kid when they asked.

“I can try. But in all honesty, I don’t have a really clear picture of the issue. What exactly is it you hope to achieve?”

Already Katsuki could tell this would take a while. “If you don’t need anything from my side, then, I think I’ll take a walk to the store. Do you want anything, nerd?”

Izuku’s expression switched between concerned, relieved and accusing. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Don’t worry, my legs are fine, and I only need some small things. We’re out of coffee.” It was a poor excuse to give them some privacy since it looked Izuku would have to dig up that same conversation they had earlier. And Katsuki felt like that was something better done without his presence.

“Well, speaking of coffee, we also need some filters, I think. Oh, and whipped cream. More strawberries!”

“You’re really stuck on those pancakes, huh?” He nodded anyway and took his leave, pocketing his phone just in case. The walk was bearable, and he actually felt better for getting even a little exercise. Halfway to the store, he decided to call his mom to try and figure out what happened. And apologise, probably.

“Brat,” she greeted wearily.

“Hag,” he retorted. “I heard teach came by. How’d that go?”

“What, you mean the threat of getting executed by the mob should we as much as hint at what happened? It was lovely, really,” she drawled.

He rolled his eyes, even if she couldn’t see it. The sentiment would carry through, somehow. “I told you it’s sensitive.”

“More than you admitted, apparently. Just what exactly have you gotten yourself into?”

“It’s… nothing overly dangerous. I swear!” he said into the disbelieving silence. “’S just… I can’t talk about it.”

“Then shut up before you get your ass whooped, too. More importantly, what’s that all about with…” she trailed off, probably purposefully avoiding the name.

“Auntie there?”

“Downstairs. Should I get her?”

“Nah. I’m out on a walk anyways.” He made it half a block in silence.

“So, he’s alright?”

“Yeah. Mostly. Doing good, considering… Y’know.”

“Good to hear. And he didn’t want to…?”

“Not out of the blue like that.”

“I want to ask what happened, but I suppose that’s secret, too.”

“Yep.”

“And how’re you holding up? With the whole thing?”

He thought about it. “I’m… doing good, honestly. It’s fine.”

“Aww,” she cooed. “Someone’s happy.”

“’M not.”

“I can hear you smiling.”

Dammit, he was. He put some effort into subduing it. “’S your imagination.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, brat.” She sounded like she was smiling too. “It must be such a relief to have him back. I know you missed him.”

“Did not.”

“You were always so cute together, it was a delight to watch. I have the photos somewhere-”

“Mom!”

“I do! Anyway,” she lowered her voice, “I gotta go, we have dinner on the stove. Take care. Of both of you, alright?”

“Whatever.”

“Or maybe tell him to do that. He was the more responsible one. Sometimes.”

“I will not.”

She turned stern. “Fine. But you will tell him we all said hello, and that we’re always there. For both of you. Alright? Take care, brat.”

“You too, hag.” He hung up, and turned back around. He’d walked past the store already.

Aizawa was gone by the time he returned. Izuku still sat on the same chair, turning the unopened letter over in his hand.

Katsuki pointedly didn’t ask, and Izuku didn’t tell. Their earlier talk had already far exceeded his capacity of ‘Processing emotions’ for an entire month in advance. If Izuku wanted his input, he could say something then.

For the moment, they were both glad to slip back into a semblance of mundane normalcy.

Well, there was the Weird Thing They Didn’t Talk About, which was that Izuku simply didn’t go back to sleeping on the couch like he had the night before. Neither of them really said or did anything, there was just a mutual understanding that this was temporary and for the better. Maybe.

It didn’t bother him that much, he barely noticed the nerd most of the time. He was always on the far side, curled up in his corner with his back to the wall. He also did a weird thing where he absolutely had to hold something in a full body hug, which meant that most nights Izuku wrapped his arms and legs around his pillow and put his head on a bunched up corner of his blankets. It looked adorable enough.

Until the middle of the nights, when Izuku would toss and turn and mutter some snippets that spoke of truly awful dreams. Katsuki wanted to keep him close, to offer comfort however he could. By gently stroking his arm until he woke up, or by ruffling his hair to assure that everything was alright.

It felt a little selfish, somehow, but it felt also sort of good to take care of these things. To be able to do something, to help, not matter how small. He couldn’t really explain it himself.

He hoarded these small moments, memorizing the way Izuku looked completely relaxed in sleep, listening to the small mumbles and noises, tracing the constellations of the freckles like he needed to memorize them again. It was… different, having another person in his life like this. His house. His room. New, yet familiar. A thing he’d thought outgrown, sharing a bed with his oldest friend. True, he was woken up at random times and there was a weird subconscious awareness of ‘someone else’ that should logically bother him for the lack of his privacy, but somehow he wasn’t entirely sure he minded.

The other noticeable event was the evening after Aizawa’s visit, when Katsuki came out of the shower and found Izuku hunched over the letter, just staring at the pages.

He stood and stared, unsure what to do. Izuku raised his head from his hand and made the decision for him by shoving the pages in his direction.

He took them wordlessly and skimmed the contents. There was a lot of worry, a lot of questions, three different pleas/demands to come and see her, some retellings of events that happened while Izuku was gone, and also some choice words asking why she was being kept away in the first place. At least there was also an apology directed at Katsuki.

“Hm,” was all he commented as he put it back down.

“Yep.” Izuku popped the ‘p’, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair to look up at Katsuki.

He still didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow in a silent question. What are you going to do about it?

Izuku pushed himself up, looking weary to his bones. It made something inside Katsuki itch to comfort him, somehow. Maybe hug him? No, that would be… stupid. “Well, I guess I’ll sleep on that, first. I… I’ll have to send a letter back? If I haven’t done that by the end of the week, do me a favour and make me.” He gave a wry grin.

Katsuki scoffed at the lame attempt to lighten the mood. “Sure. I’ll make sure to sue you. Final call on Saturday.”

The other inexplicably lightened up drastically at those words. “Oh, and there’s something else!” Izuku sprinted across the room, dove into the couch cushions over the backrest and bounded over to him, hands behind his back and a big grin on his face. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Er. Thursday?”

“Not wrong! But it is also the release date for this!”

Thankfully, he was still aware enough of his hurting back to refrain from excited jumping. “Is that Final Fantasy? Oh my fucking god, I completely forgot about that! Let’s go!”

“Curtesy of Kaminari, who ran to the store for himself but then gave it to me when I asked.” Now Izuku started bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Wanna play, wanna play, wanna play?”

Katsuki tried to don his best flat stare a la ‘do you even have to ask’.

Izuku jumped a little higher. “Yes! I am hyped! Do I get to play first?”

He laughed. “You found out this is a thing like half a month ago. I waited for two years! Hand me that controller, peasant!”

In a fit of rebellion, Izuku threw it towards him. “Fine, but hurry up! I wanna see what this is about, I don’t know anything besides that one trailer, which only told me people are hot again!”

He snorted a laugh. “Duh. I blame this franchise for my unrealistic expectations in men.”

Izuku froze halfway through unwrapping the case. The look on his face was close to that distinct panic of someone who was just informed about the test they were writing in ten minutes. “Your what in what now?”

He watched very carefully, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on right now. “Taste. Men.”

Izuku gaped. “You’re gay?”

He wouldn’t even deign that with an answ- “Hang on, you didn’t know that?” Back the fuck up. How the hell was this news? The nerd knew everything else about him!

“How do I not know that?” Izuku whispered, probably to himself. His eyes were glazed over like a computer screen with a system error. He sat down directly on the floor, staring into the void. “What the hell.”

“Is there a problem?” he asked. He honestly wouldn’t have taken Izuku for the type to react negatively. The shock he was seeing shocked him in return, made something uneasy crawl through his guts, like an army of insects eating him from inside.

“Yes there is! How did I not know that?!” He hung his head.

“Oi nerd, quit the theatrics. I’m gay, so what?”

“This is, you know-” He made some wild gestures that explained nothing “-the type of thing you should know about your friends. I think.”

“Is it?”

“Yes! This opens up a whole new area of humour!” Izuku shouted. “And how else am I gonna point out the hot people for you?”

Katsuki reclined back into his pillows. It wasn’t an issue. Thank fuck. Just surprise. “Well, you could start by getting this game running.”

“Right.” Finally, that got the nerd moving again. He fed the disc into the console and hopped onto the couch next to him as they waited through various loading screens.

Although he kept his focus on the progress bar, he could sort of feel the glances Izuku kept shooting him. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Another glance. “I’m just… nothing. Nevermind.”

“Tch.” He picked ‘New game’.

“…you can point out the hot men and women for me, please.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Oh. “You’re right. This is weird.” He couldn’t say it was out of the blue, it was more that he’d never considered who Izuku might like. They’d known each other long before these topics had been remotely relevant in conversations, and then it’d just been a certain status quo that hadn’t changed ever since. Fuck, they’d grown up.

“See? It kinda does feel a litthmpf.”

Katsuki clapped a hand in front of Izuku’s face. “Shh. No talking during cutscenes.”

Izuku nodded, earning himself renewed freedom. The silence lasted, predictably, for about five seconds. “Fuuuuck, everyone is hot,” he whispered.

“Unrealistic standards,” he whispered back.

They played for about five hours without breaks. Neither of them realized how that time flew by, they just looked up at some point to find it dark outside. “Aw, fucking hell, it’s late.”

Izuku made an agreeing noise. “I’ll go see what I can whip up for dinner. Or… do you want to order pizza?”

He thought about it for about three seconds. “Sure. There’s some flyers in the kitchen, pick one and get me the spiciest shit they have.”

“Aye aye.” Izuku went to do just that.

In the meantime, Katsuki stretched, or tried to, at least. “Ow.” His back and shoulders were stiff from sitting so long. He tried to knead the spot, heating his palms a bit, but when he put a hand on one shoulder it pulled the bruises in the other. Being injured was hell.

A gentle touch to the back of his neck startled him. “Want some help with that?” Izuku asked.

“What?”

“Like this.” Izuku pressed his knuckles lightly against both sides of his neck, swept them downwards and then to the sides over his shoulders in one arc, with just the right amount of pressure.

It felt amazing. He let out a breathy exhale, tipping his head down on instinct to allow better access, so Izuku would hopefully please do that again.

He did, without commenting on it, as if it was the most natural thing ever. And then he kept going, in seemingly random but calm movements, massaging at his neck, his shoulders, down his back, turning the pressure into the barest feather-touch around the bruising. It made pleasant goosebumps shiver down his spine. Then Izuku moved back up again, drawing blunt nails lightly up Katsuki’s neck and then continuing up, into his hair, and that time he definitely made a sound, between a whimper and a hum. This felt great. Hell, great was an understatement. Fuck, he’d missed out in life.

“Does the injury bother you?” Izuku asked, climbing over the backrest of the couch to get seated more comfortably. Katsuki scooted forward without prompting, somehow just assuming this would keep going.

“A little. Feeling a bit stiff. I’m not used to sitting this long.”

“Hm. C’mere.”

He wasn’t really sure what that meant. Still, he gave in with the barest resistance, allowing Izuku to pull him backwards, until he was resting against Izuku, using the other as a make-shift pillow. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d imagined, but he had to adjust himself a few times until he was content.

All the while, he was aware of how awkward and embarrassing this was, cuddling up to someone and not even doing it right, if Izuku’s careful correcting nudges were anything to go by.

Then he tucked his head in that space underneath Izuku’s chin, and it felt like his body was a puzzle piece finally clicking into place. He could hear and feel the other breathe beneath him.

Izuku’s arms came up on both his sides, hugging him lightly as he took up the controller and continued their game. It was grounding, in a way.

He felt so good, he was close to tears for it. Shit. Embarrassing. He tensed up, half a mind to get up and leave and never mention this ever again, but his body was molten wax and refused to cooperate.

“Sorry.” The game paused. “Is this uncomfortable? I used to be a great pillow, at least that’s what Yukan said, but…”

“No, ‘s fine,” Katsuki grumbled. Then, for whatever godforsaken reason, he added, “This is just… different.”

“Oh. Sorry. I can stop, it’s just…” Izuku fumbled for words for a moment. “I don’t know. I thought you felt cold.”

“Maybe.” He was glad Izuku couldn’t see his face. It was burning. “Dunno. No one’s ever done this before.”

There was a long, confused silence, and he could practically see Izuku’s face morph from puzzlement to something daringly close to pity as he did the mental calculations. “Oh. Well. I love doing this kind of stuff, so you’ll have to get used to it.”

After warring with himself for only a moment, he conceded. Any damage to his dignity was already done. “I guess.” Izuku’s fingers scratched lightly through his hair. “That. ‘S nice.”

Izuku kept repeating the motion, and Katsuki felt his eyes grow heavy. He was so tired all of a sudden. Izuku was indeed warm behind him, that special warmth that only came from another person and never faded or got too hot for comfort.

“You can take a nap, if you like.”

“I don’t have time to take a nap.”

“Why not?”

“…I feel like I should be doing something.”

“And what would that be?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted. There were several overarching issues: He should be looking to solve his current case. He should try and find a way to finally set Izuku free. He should be making sure that Izuku was okay with the more immediate issues, not ask him to take care of both of them. But there was nothing he could actually do about any of it.

“Then don’t worry about it for now. And if something comes up, I’ll take care of it.”

“But-”

“Kacchan. Relax. I’ve got you, trust me.”

Funnily enough, that simple request was all it took to send the last bastion of his worries crumbling to dust. This was okay. Everything was okay, right now. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Izuku smelled like apple shampoo, his own laundry detergent and a bit of something else, something unique, something Katsuki associated with playing outside during the summer and huddling under a shared blanket to look at the stars on a rooftop. He never wanted to move ever again.

He watched Izuku continue their game through half-lidded eyes, barely registering what was going on.

He cursed the food when the doorbell forced him to go get up.

They went to sleep right after, and again he wondered how the hell Izuku had managed his own injuries. Katsuki felt completely exhausted all the time, and he was otherwise fine!

A weird sound woke him the next day. The sunlight was already high on his wall. He’d slept late again he realised as the rude sound of something ripping started again, like cardboard and plastic being torn apart. Close-by.

With bleary eyes, he went to search for the source, absently noting that his back felt leagues better today. The sound came from the storage/guest room, although it looked like neither of these things right now.

His own belongings were neatly stacked in a corner, probably to make room for the dozens of unidentifiable objects now strewn all over the floor. Another stack made purely of packaging sat waist-high by the door. In the middle of it all, Izuku sat cross-legged on a folded-out cardboard box, surrounded on all sides by highly detailed sketches, doing some measurements with a calculator, a metre and a roll of black fabric.

“Nerd.”

Izuku’s head shot up, and Katsuki found himself at the receiving end of a blinding grin. He wished for sunglasses. “Kacchan! Perfect timing! Can you try this for me?” He tossed a wadded-up ball of fabric in his direction, which Katsuki caught without looking.

“What on earth is going on in here?”

Izuku took a look around the mess, and had the common sense to look a little embarrassed. “Sorry about that. I’m just doing some testing, really. A few ideas on your costume.”

“My costume,” he echoed, glancing down at the object he was holding. It looked like his usual mask had merged with safety goggles and then produced a child with some sunglasses.

“You need something to protect your eyes.”

“This’ll look stupid,” he protested. He didn’t wanna walk around out there looking like he was trying to imitate a fly.

Izuku’s answering stare was just shy of annoyed. “At least you’ll be able to look! You deal with high velocities, heat, fire and explosions on a regular basis. That is really just a recipe for disaster. I tried to keep it close to your current style, but if you don’t like it, I can just go full visor. Like Uravity. Who is a reasonable person and respects her eyesight.”

As much as Katsuki wanted to find a counterargument that would protect his dignity, he couldn’t. So he had no choice but to fasten the mask, already expecting Izuku to laugh because he certainly felt like he looked stupid. It fit surprisingly well, and Izuku’s only reaction was a critical glance. “How’s peripheral vision?”

He turned his head a few times. Nothing obstructed his vision, and even the tint was barely noticeable. It was actually a little better than before, since the fabric wasn’t so close to his eyes. “Good. For now. But what if they get dirty?”

“You mean the dirt that would be in your eyes without them?” Izuku inhaled slowly, and then let it out. “If you’re so concerned, go look in a mirror, and then try to imagine what you’d look like with only one eye whilst you’re at it.”

Katsuki complied for a lack of clever retort. It should be illegal to be ambushed like this before coffee. On an off-day, too. But after a critical onceover, he had to admit that it wasn’t that bad. The lenses hid his eyes completely, so it would be hard for enemies to tell what he was looking at, and if he turned his head just right they caught the light from the lamp and did this weird anime-glasses-flash thing. That was kinda cool, if he could learn to do it on purpose. They were blocky and… different, but he could probably learn to live with it. If his merch contractors could, too.

Branding was important this far up the rankings. The big money in hero business was in merch deals, and he needed to keep the ones he had. He was still paying off the car and the house, and his gear wasn’t cheap either, what with the frequent replacing he had to do. To say nothing of the other person he had to take care of beside himself, even if the mission funds took care of the basic necessities. And that was all beside the fact major costume changes had to be tested and approved first. Ideally from licensed people.

On the other hand, Izuku was right. He could only work if he was physically able. “Fine,” he sighed as he walked back into Izuku’s new workshop, “I guess it’s not that bad.”

“And?”

“And you have a point, fuck off.”

Izuku grinned slyly. “Alright. Try and make a small explosion. Bright. And look into it.”

It was a little counter-intuitive, but he got what the other was after, and dutifully popped a few explosions, as bright and hot as he dared. “Huh,” he said as he looked at his palm afterwards. Minimal bright spots, no strain on his vision. “I take everything back. Neat.”

That had the nerd grinning at him again, and he found the sunglasses didn’t protect from that after all.

“Can I get you to stand still enough for me to measure?” Izuku asked, tape already in hand.

Katsuki complied, carefully stepping over the various piles of whatever. “What for?” he asked as Izuku made quick work of measuring anything and everything around his torso, scribbling notes directly onto his arms and hands, which were almost black with ink already.

“I’m trying to find a way to incorporate more armour into your costume,” he answered. “The problem is of course protection versus mobility, and also how to protect against both shock and piercing objects. I’m looking at equestrian and motorcycle vests for comparison, and I think I am onto something, I just haven’t figured it all out quite yet. Do you think you could get me some rarer materials if you asked your support department nicely?”

Katsuki smirked. “I can do you one better, I’ll just call the 3D-printer and that stuff will be free.” He looked around again. “Speaking of, where did you get all this?”

“Ordered it. You left me your card details and blanket permission to use them, so I will not apologize. I did try to keep the sample materials cheap.”

An exasperated fondness crept up inside him. “Don’t worry about it.” Izuku hadn’t used that permission even once, and when he finally did, it wasn’t even for himself.

“And you also maybe should revise some of your battle tactics.”

“Excuse you?” His battle tactics were peak!

“I’ve seen that scar on your back, so this isn’t the first time this happened, either.”

Katsuki felt his face heat. “Yeah. About that scar. That was just- an accident.” Izuku raised a sceptical eyebrow, so he decided to get it over with. “I fell over a water hose.”

“A water hose.”

“Yes, a water hose. Scraped the skin off on a low wall behind me.” It hadn’t even hurt that much, so he’d thought it fine until Kirishima saw the blood a few hours later. It was the reason it’d scarred in the first place, normally the healers made sure no trace was left whenever he got wounded.

“Huh. I guess that’s good.”

“Good?” It was embarrassing, that’s what it was. And stupid. He hadn’t even been drunk, or distracted with a dog or anything. He’d just forgotten it was there.

“I thought it was another fight. But a water hose is hardly going to kill you, is it?”

“Point. Although that one tried its best.” He looked around the room again. Now that he had a vague idea of what he was looking at, he could see parts of his costume in the schematics, and the matching raw materials in various states of assembly. There were a lot of notes, attached to their respective blueprints with paperclips, detailing measurements and calculations. He had no idea how fast Izuku was with that calculator (his best guess was ‘very’), or how many ideas had been rattling around inside that head (a lot), but still, the amount of work Izuku must’ve sunk into this already… It resonated somewhere inside Katsuki’s chest. He felt warm at the idea Izuku would go to all this trouble, above and beyond, all this work, just to make sure Katsuki was the tiniest bit better protected.

And here he stood, worried about some barbs that might potentially come his way for it. Like he was trying to be one of the cool kids in grade school, who thought they were superior for not wearing helmets on their bikes. Foolish, really.

“Alright, then. First off: Keep your chaos contained, for fucks sake. Second: I’m going to pay you by the hour. And that’s not negotiable.”

Izuku looked like he wanted to argue, but his need to get on with it seemed to override his want to argue for hours and probably still lose the discussion. “If it makes you happy.”

“It would. I won’t have anyone say the support departments favour me.”

“But the support department does,” Izuku shot back. Cheeky bastard.

“You know what I mean. So, what ideas did you have?”

Notes:

Whoaaaa, we're halfway there~

(Probably not bc I've never wrote a short thing in my life but I won't complain if you don't)

~Pigeon on a chaaiiiiiiiiir!

Chapter 11

“Kacchan! Welcome back! How was work?” Izuku skidded into the entry hall only to stop short there and bounce a little on his feet. “I made dinner!”

“Cool.” He toed his shoes off. Something did smell great. Izuku had completely taken over cooking by now, and the nerd was even getting the spices right. Most of the time. He also never failed to come greet him with the force of a dozen puppies combined whenever he went out, even if it was only for groceries. It was kinda adorable.

When he wanted to head inside, Izuku took a quick step to the left, blocking his path. He had his hands clasped behind his back, and that sunshine smile had a little bit of a manic hint to it. “Hey, Kacchan? You know I really like you and appreciate you and you’re a real great hero who always does the right thing? I think you’re amazing. We’re having curry today.”

“…What did you do?”

“Look, it was an emergency and I could in theory fix it really easily but I needed that part for a small project, it was totally relevant for school and I had no choice.” After his little speech, Izuku hesitantly stepped aside, worried frown etched on his face. The entire scenario reminded him of those pet videos where you could tell they’d done something before even finding the mess.

Said mess was on the carpet and it was less a mess and more of a warzone: Plastic and metal parts strewn about, together with screwdrivers, a hammer and… was that a razorblade? In the middle of it all sat something that was probably supposed to be… A Thing. If he had to guess. There was wiring, too. “What is that?”

“It’s just a simple artificial joint – We were supposed to do a project for the final exam of second year. I had something finished, but I totally forgot I never got around to handing it in… Nezu asked me to showcase something so I can get the credit. And I kinda panicked.”

Katsuki looked closer. The thing resembled a hand with three fingers. And also… “Why does this look like my coffee machine?”

“It had a lot of good parts… I’ll put it back together!”

“You made this. From my coffee machine.” No matter how hard he tried to connect the two things, the sheer absurdity of the situation made his brain refuse.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but it’s not broken, I can fix it-”

“That’s fucking incredible.”

“- and I… Huh?” Izuku glanced at the contraption. “It’s really not. It barely functions and looks disgusting. There’s open wiring.”

“Tch. Don’t sell yourself short like that. Show me one other person that could’ve done a better job with a coffee machine. Until then you don’t get to talk.” He really couldn’t find it in himself to be even the slightest bit irritated, the whole concept of this was just too insane. “What did Nezu think?”

“Oh. He said he was, uh, very impressed? He didn’t expect me to call back two hours later – I was apparently supposed to do this in a workshop, not that he bothered to elaborate that point – this isn’t really that good, he was probably trying to be polite, and honestly there are so many things I could’ve done better, it doesn’t even look nice - Can I order some stuff, by the way?”

“Like what?”

“Nezu sent me a list for things I would need for the practical parts…” Izuku clicked around on his laptop and presented a sizeable list to him. Most of it seemed to be lab-related – tools, safety equipment, drawing paper and the like. A bunch of words Katsuki had never seen before.

“What does ‘Project materials’ even mean?”

“We’re supposed to come up with our own designs and stuff – the first two years cover the basics, and then in third year everyone sort of finds their own niche and specializes. Final exam is a written part and a presentation of something we designed and built all on our own. He said the school provides those materials, though. I just need to figure out what I need beforehand.”

“So you just need the basic stuff? Sure. Order. You have the details.”

“I think I can make do with the toolkit you have here, if I can borrow it? Then I just need safety goggles, a labcoat and gloves. Shoes, too.”

“Why not get your own tools? You’ll need them eventually.”

“They’re expensiiiiiiiiiiive.”

Katsuki shot a questioning glance at him. “You ordered a metric fuckton of shit for my gear without batting an eye. Surely it can’t be that bad?”

“But those were for you! That’s different.”

Katsuki felt a nervous twitch coming in his temple. The nerd had not gotten a single thing for himself in all this time and now he even refused to get necessities because…? He wasn’t even sure. Suddenly, he was hit by a realization out of nowhere because FUCK, Izuku’s birthday was literally in three days. “Okay, you know what? Forget this. We’re dealing with this tomorrow.”

“Are you sure…?”

“You need stuff. You’ll get stuff. Just not today.” He had a vague idea that’d hopefully solve both problems at once, if he could get permission from his boss.

“Okay. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

He waved the argument off. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, nerd. Keep your afternoon free. Now, you promised me curry, I believe?” He carefully picked his way over to the kitchen. The entire floor looked like a minefield. This couldn’t be more dangerous if someone spilled Lego bricks.

“Ah! The food!”

The curry was excellent – even if he was fairly sure the nerd had to keep himself from crying because he couldn’t handle the spice. Katsuki tried to make a mental list of other stuff they would need – this was an excellent opportunity to go furniture shopping, too. Izuku was still sleeping in his bed, which was partly due to the fact the guest room was just A Room at the moment. They’d managed to get it cleared out, but with his injury, there’d been no opportunity to get new stuff – especially if it was gonna be that heavy.

He’d wanted to do it last Saturday, but since he’d been cleared for active work the Thursday before, he’d of course gotten the weekend shift. At least the office had been peaceful then.

That changed the next day.

“Yoooooooooo, he’s back!”

Katsuki heard Kirishima before he saw him, and that meant the entire floor now knew about his arrival. “Calm your fucking horses! And I’ve been back for four days!” he yelled, quickening his steps before he could get swamped by curious extras with their useless well-wishing and catching up. “We saw each other three days ago!”

“Oh, he’s back!” one of the interns said (redundantly) as she entered, and he took this as his sign to get the hell out of there. It was Monday in the middle of holiday season, which meant a bunch of extras saw him for the first time in a while. “By the way, Shitty Hair, remember how you still owe me for that wax villain incident? Keep your phone on, I’m calling that in later!”

“Okay?”

Thankfully the door to Fat Gum’s office was open, so he simply knocked on the frame as he stepped in and shut the mayhem out. “Hey boss.”

His boss glanced up from his files, clearly not expecting to see him. “Ah, Bakugou. What a nice surprise. How was your patrol?”

“Uneventful. I have a request.”

“Oh?”

“I know I’ve only been back for a few days, but I wanted to ask if I could get the afternoon off? I can take my paperwork back home; you’ll get the reports on time.” He was ahead of it anyway. There hadn’t been much else to do the last couple of weeks.

The old man gave him a scrutinizing look. “Any particular reason? You’re not feeling unwell, are you?”

“Tch. No, I’m fine. It’s just that Iz- Midoriya needs a bunch of stuff – basically I need a day to go shopping with him. Shit got a little neglected over the last couple weeks.”

“Well, it is a bit short notice, but with all the overtime and vacation days you still have, I’d be more than happy to give you the rest of the week off.”

“If it’s a problem, I can figure out something else-”

“No, no, it’s perfectly alright! Go take your afternoon, and don’t worry about the reports. If I get them by Thursday it’ll suffice. Now off with you!” He made a shooing motion with his hands.

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

That’d been surprisingly easy. It felt weird to leave in the middle of the day like this. Like he was skipping school or something. Curiously, no one greeted him at his door when he entered his house, so he walked right on through as suspicion set in.

He could hear voices, too quiet to place. Were they having guests again? For the last weeks, the Squad had taken turns dropping by at least every other day. At first they’d had the decency to pretend it was to visit him, but he’d gotten the sneaking suspicion they came over just to hang out with Izuku by now. Shinsou and Shouto didn’t even try to deny it anymore.

The living room was a mess – still or again, he couldn’t tell – and he heard metallic scraping noises from somewhere nearby. No people in sight, so the voices from the direction of the couch were probably from another podcast episode. The nerd always had them on when Katsuki was at work, and he went through them with alarming speed. He couldn’t tell what this one was about. There was a lot of shouting about a goldfish and a cliff.

“Oi, Nerd!”

A head popped up from behind the couch table, where Izuku sat cross-legged on the floor, dismantling something. “What?” he asked, silencing the laptop.

“Are you free right now?”

“Well, I was in the middle of tweaking the joints here…” Izuku trailed off, glancing back between the carcass of whatever he was working on and Katsuki, who felt close to bursting with barely concealed excitement. The other saw it too, judging by the way he tossed the tweezers and screwdriver down. “But this thing has been an annoying little shit so far and I frankly don’t want to anymore.”

“Great! Because I got us something.” Katsuki proudly pulled a hand from behind his back and held up two tiny bottles on silver chains, small enough that he could fit them both in his closed palm.

“That’s… nice?”

He grinned. “Wait until you find out what they do. These,” he proclaimed, “are super-rare support items for our undergrounders, called ‘glamours’. You twist the lid open and they make you unrecognizable to other people. These ones only last for around six hours, but I figured its high time we go shopping for you.” He glanced around the mess on the floor. “You need shelves. And if we have time left over, I thought we’d go into the city. The weather’s nice, we could go watch a movie or pick a restaurant for dinner. Your call.”

Izuku’s mouth opened and closed a few times. Katsuki could practically hear the cogs turning in that nerd brain. “Before you ask, no, I don’t know how they function. From what I understand there’s someone with a quirk that’s like a concealing mist, and they somehow managed to preserve it in these bottles for field use.”

“How did you even get that? Aren’t they like, specialty issue then?”

He shrugged. “I went and asked Aizawa for them. He uses them from time to time. He put me in contact with the developing support team, and they were willing to sell me some.” He wisely kept his mouth shut on the exact prize. No wonder HQ handed these out sparingly.

“And no one will recognize us? Are we going to be able to find each other?”

“Yes, I got us linked ones. No, I don’t know how that works either, and I don’t care. C’mon, get up, I’m taking you out.”

“On a date or permanently?”

“I was thinking more like walkies,” he shot back with a grin.

Izuku jabbed an elbow in his direction as he squeezed past him. “That sounds like I’m a dog that needs enrichment.”

“Are you not?” Truth be told, he dreaded the day Izuku would become truly bored. That would be a bad day for everyone involved (mostly himself).

“So do we put these on now or…?” Izuku asked.

“Nah. We’ll wait till we get there. It’s a half hour drive.”

“Where are we going?”

“Surprise.” And with that, he refused to elaborate on the topic. It became glaringly obvious when he pulled into the giant parking lot anyway.

“We’re really going furniture shopping at IKEA?” Izuku’s head was trying to turn every direction at once. If the window weren’t closed, he’d be halfway out already.

“Problem with that?”

“No, no, I just… I don’t know. I never considered furniture shopping.”

“It’s like a theme park for adults.” The trip he’d done with the squad after graduation had been indeed legendary. And nearly gotten them banned. He handed Izuku one of the small bottles. “Fair warning, we will have to speedrun this a little because these only last for six hours and we want to get some other stuff done as well.”

Izuku put the bottle necklace on and stared at it as if trying to discern the secrets of the universe.

“Just pop the lid off.” Katsuki did the same with his. A fine blue mist flowed out and coated his skin, where it stayed like a heat haze. “And here.” He gave Izuku a wallet too. “This is your budget for the day.”

Izuku accepted this as well, looking slightly overwhelmed. Katsuki had to squint a little bit at him to make out finer details like the freckles and the hair colour. So the glamours worked. “Kacchan, this is way too much…” Izuku protested.

“It honestly isn’t. Besides, I got that from the operation specifically for you.”

“Did you?” Izuku asked, clearly doubtful.

“Believe it or not, they did promise me child support after I agreed to take care of an extra. This is all yours.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

It wasn’t even that much money, truth be told. Sure, it might seem a lot for someone who’s only ever had an allowance to spend, but for furniture and school supplies, it’d be barely enough. Katsuki was fully prepared to fund any extra expenses in case Izuku found something he really liked. “Okay then. Off we go!” Their timer was ticking and they had stuff to accomplish.

Izuku scrambled to get out of the car and keep up. “Hang on, what are we even buying?”

“Dunno, it’s your shit.” He handed Izuku a folded note. “I measured the room for you. Go wild.”

He watched Izuku closely as they walked inside. This was the first time he’d seen him out and about, aside from the time they went to the office. There was no denying he was a little curious as to what Izuku’s reaction would be – set loose with more money that he’d probably ever had before, first time making adult decisions. (Not that his own first visit had been very adult. Kirishima had gotten them all matching cacti and forced them to pick names for them. Cactus still lived on his kitchen windowsill.) Anyway. It was the principle of the thing.

Contrary to his expectations, Izuku didn’t immediately shoot off to look at the first thing. In fact, he was weirdly… intense. Staring around with narrowed eyes, as if he were searching for something specific. Was he trying to be an adult about this, he wondered? If so, this was adorable. Maybe he was taking the ‘mission’ a little more seriously than intended. After checking where they needed to go, he led the way there without getting side-tracked once. Katsuki followed, not particularly doing anything besides watch and offer the odd piece of advice or an opinion. Still, he was having a good time, too. It was surprisingly entertaining to see Izuku marvel at the sheer size of the place, trying to pronounce the furniture names or even hear him curse once at the confusing layout.

In the end, they probably set the record for his fastest trip to this particular place yet: Two and a half hours, and they were done. The nerd had picked out a bed, desk with a chair and a bunch of shelves and called it a day. No decorations, no stupid trinkets or knickknacks, not even one of the plushies.

Katsuki only had to take over in the end, when the lady at the register asked a bunch of questions. “Yeah, if you could get this all ready, a friend of mine will come pick it up in an hour.”

“Really? Who?” Izuku asked.

Katsuki took a photo of his receipt and the number and sent it off. “Shitty Hair. He owes me. Besides, it’s not like we’ll be able to actually fit this into my car. His is much better suited for that task.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Tch. As I said, he owes me. And it’s not like we’re done here.”

“We’re not?”

“Nope. Now we need stuff for your little engineering workshop. Follow me.” There was a hardware store literally across the street, and this time he was rewarded with that ‘kid in a candy store’ face he’d expected. After staring wide-eyed at the maze of shelves and displays for a moment Izuku grabbed a cart with one hand and his arm with the other and dragged him off into a seemingly random direction.

He decided to just go along with it, since he had no idea about anything inside here. Izuku, on the other hand, seemed very familiar with the place. He’d probably been here before, Katsuki realized, unsure what to make of that knowledge. Had he been often, to get materials? Would some of the staff recognize him if it weren’t for the glamour? Given the surety with which Izuku guided them, it seemed likely. They passed some of the giant overhanging signs that announced rough locations like ‘Lighting’, ‘Plumbing’, ‘Ponds’ and ‘Electronics’ until they veered off into ‘Tools’ after trekking for perceived miles.

Izuku didn’t even slow down as he turned corners and squeezed through aisles that became increasingly more narrow. Somehow, a pair of safety goggles was already in the cart. Katsuki could not recall passing by them.

Without warning, Izuku stopped dead in his tracks. Katsuki nearly bowled him over for it. “Oi, watch it.”

“Hm, sorry,” Izuku muttered, pulling two square white things wrapped in plastic and comparing them for details Katsuki couldn’t see. “Where does it say… Sleeves yes or no…”

Ah, lab coats then. “Aren’t they all supposed to have sleeves?”

“Yeah, but there’s loose and tight sleeves – I prefer the looser ones because they are easier to pull off if you do spill chemicals or set something on fire, but they are dangerous when handling heavy machinery as well… I’ll just get both,” he decided, tossing one package in and exchanging the other with an identical looking one that too went into the cart.

“How likely are you to set something on fire?” he asked cautiously as they travelled deeper into the maze.

Izuku shrugged. “It happens on occasion. I’m aiming for inorganic chemistry. Setting stuff on fire is the point, like, half the time. The other half is preventing stuff from being set on fire, by the way, and for that you have to – take a wild guess – test it by trying to set it on fire.”

“Ah. Inorganic chemistry?”

“Yeah, maybe some quirk biochem as an adjacent field, but the benefit of inorganic chemistry is that it has broader opportunities for application. Quirk biochem is always highly tailored to individuals, but most people with fire-related quirks would universally benefit from something like the fire suppression system you have in the gauntlets. Now, we are looking for earbuds, so shout if you see any.”

“Way ahead of you.” He fished a package from his jacket’s pocket and held them out. “Those are the good ones.”

Izuku took them, looking them over once before pocketing them with an approving nod. “Dare I ask why you just seem to always have those on you?”

“I make explosions for a living. What do you fucking think?”

“…Point. But then how do you hear anything on a battlefield?”

He shot him a challenging smirk. “You tell me, genius.”

“Hmm.” Izuku regarded him with the full force of his analytical stare. “I’m guessing… You have that earpiece already for communication with headquarters, so… You’re getting the feed from your own mic with a noise cancellation filter?”

“Not so complicated, is it?” It was not foolproof, since he could indeed not hear the quieter sounds like that, but with the way his battles went those were drowned out most of the time anyway. It certainly beat blowing his hearing out completely. “So, what next, then?”

“Uh…” Izuku fumbled for a folded note to check his list. “Tools?”

“Why does that sound like a question?”

“Well, I could really just use the ones you have at home, that would work… I can borrow most of the specialized and heavy equipment from U.A., they’ll have that in their workshops. It’s not like I can do all of it at your house anyway, that would be a severe safety hazard. But I do need a new screwdriver. For the emotional support.”

“That sounds like something a lunatic would say.”

Izuku grinned up at him. “Well, all support engineers are a little crazy. The screwdrivers are the actual MVPs. The true omnitool. If a screwdriver is not the answer, then the question is wrong.” He sighed, a little forlorn. “I miss Svetlana.”

“Who?”

“My first screwdriver. She was Swedish so I called her Svetlana. They also all have names, by the way. Or maybe that was my class’s unique brand of insanity, I honestly couldn’t say.”

“Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me.” Support engineers were indeed weird, but this was certainly not on the top 10 weirdest things he’d seen them do. Most of those spots went to Hatsume. All of them, actually. No, wait, the coffee machine was also on there. Around number five. “What happened to h- it?”

Izuku’s eyes glazed over as he stared into the middle distance. For a moment, the only sounds were their footsteps and the mad squeaking of the loose wheel on the cart. “Dunno. All of the stuff I had on me was gone by the time I came to.”

“Oh.” Fuck. How had he managed to shove his foot into his mouth with such accuracy? What was he supposed to say? ‘I’m sorry’ would be lame as shit. Was he supposed to say something? Did he make Izuku remember something he’d rather not? Was he ruining their trip? Should he crawl into a hole never to see the light of day-

“Now these are the dream,” Izuku said wistfully and reverently ghosted his fingertips over a box that held every tool Katsuki knew and then some more. But the other didn’t even slow as he walked past. “If they weren’t so fucking expensive. Shame these places don’t accept kidneys as payment.”

“You need those.”

“I didn’t say anything about my kidneys.”

“Should I be scared?” Katsuki didn’t have time to take a closer look at the box as Izuku rounded a corner and he hurried to not lose sight of him. He’d been totally prepared to take that set and be done with it, but… Izuku clearly already hated how much money they were spending today (which would have been less of an issue if the idiot had gotten himself these things over time, before Katsuki called an intervention.)

“Not yet,” came the answer. “And here we are. The holy walls!” Izuku stopped in front of a wall that held everything from screwdrivers to hammers and chainsaws, arms raised high as he tried to encompass it all. “May the contest for Svetlana the third begin.”

“Third? What happened to the second?”

“There was no second one,” he replied, which didn’t answer anything really, but he seemed too caught up selecting… a screwdriver. They pretty much all looked the same. Katsuki kept watching him for a moment, commenting Izuku’s monologue with occasional affirmative noises at the right moments. Then he began inching backwards in tiny steps, until he could round the corner whilst Izuku was caught up in his little nerdspace.

He found his target thanks to his amazing short term memory and navigation skills and brought his phone up to take a picture of the exact thing Izuku wanted, because he knew he’d be lucky to even find the right aisle tomorrow. (He decided to graciously ignore the price tag for now.) This place was worse than the labyrinth of the minotaur. Probably more deadly, considering the many potential murder tools.

He’d been gone for no more than thirty seconds. When he turned the corner to screwdriver alley a second time, his whole attention immediately locked onto Izuku, who stood in the middle of the aisle, staring around wide-eyed and frantically turning his head in all directions. He was pale as a sheet.

“Nerd!” Without knowing what was going on, he hurried over, checking their surroundings for anything out of the ordinary.

Izuku’s head snapped around, expression immediately turning into relief before his face shuttered completely. “Where were you?” he asked, almost accusing in the way he crossed his arms and cocked his hip out.

“Just checking something I saw earlier.”

“Well. Okay. Do you- Would you mind letting me know before you sneak off?”

“What, you my mom or something?”

“No, but how on earth are we supposed to find each other in here if we get separated?” Izuku’s voice had taken on a slightly manic pitch at the end.

“Tch, sure. I was literally just around the corner.” He hoped he hadn’t given away his exact intentions with that admission (because Izuku was definitely smart enough to put that two and two together), but he considered ‘Avoid ruining this’ a tad bit more important.

Izuku still didn’t seem placated, now pouting up at him and probably trying to figure out something to say.

“Relax.” He brought one hand up to ruffle Izuku’s hair, turning that pout into and indignant squawk. “I wouldn’t just abandon you here. You’d find your way back and I’d have to try again, it’s not worth it.”

Instead of quipping back like he expected (or even smiling a little) Izuku just stared at his shoes harder. Suddenly, Katsuki dearly wished Kirishima or even Tsuyu were here, they’d know what to say in this situation. Fuck.

Izuku wordlessly went back to picking out his things, glancing at him every few seconds, even when they resumed walking side by side. With a sigh, Katsuki held out one arm in his direction. “Hey, d’you wanna…?” He wasn’t even sure what he was offering. Izuku had his own hands full wrangling the cart. Instead, the nerd stepped in at this side, so Katsuki’s arm was now wrapped around him in an awkward half-hug. After a moment, he settled for putting his hand on Izuku’s waist, just below his ribs. He was glad they were incognito - the press would have a field day.

But no one bat an eye when they walked past. They probably just looked like two random people going about their day. Not even when they stood in the queue at the register (a dreaded place for him) did anyone as much as look at them twice.

“Got everything you need?” he asked Izuku, who was double checking his list. The nerd had calmed down again. Still standing close, though.

“Pretty sure, yes.”

“Great.” He glanced at his watch. Still about three hours left. “Do you want to go into the city? I got an idea for a place.”

This finally got the nerd to smile again. “I’d like to. Um. Just…” He seemed torn. “Nevermind. Let’s just go, I’d love to.”

Again, Katsuki tried to gage Izuku’s mood as the queue moved forward. Again, to no avail. “We don’t have to.” The main issue was that he had no idea how Izuku was feeling about all this being outside. Was he happy to get out? Overwhelmed? Was he getting tired and refused to say anything because this was such a unique opportunity? He’d been confident the nerd was up to the trip – he’d started working out in their small training room – but the treadmill was a very different thing from being bombarded with all these decisions and shit.

Izuku softly shook his head. “No, no, it’d be great. When am I going to have that chance again?”

Good point. As much as he’d like to, he couldn’t get them the glamours that often. He’d gotten away with it this time citing necessities, but these were supposed to be used sparingly for a reason. If everyone went around with glamours all willy-nilly, the villains would eventually catch on. And worse, the press.

Well, he’d just have to figure something out. Hiking, maybe. If he could find a beginner-friendly, secluded trail…

“That’ll be five-hundred forty-nine and ninety-five cents. Are you collecting the points?” the guy at the register asked in the most bored monotone Katsuki had ever heard.

Izuku’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he stood there, money in hand. Frozen.

“No, we’re not,” he interjected, handing over his card whilst the nerd quietly kept packing up their things.

“What was that?” he whispered as they walked out.

Izuku shrugged, seeming a little at a loss. “I don’t know? I couldn’t- I actually couldn’t talk to him.”

“But you should be able to! We changed the orders.”

“Well, I know that! I’m as confused as you are.”

“Fuck. We’ll need to take a closer look at that when we get home.” He couldn’t remember the actual adjustment, but he was fairly certain it should’ve taken effect. They hadn’t had an opportunity to try them all out for obvious reasons. Maybe there was an accidental oversight. “You still good to go to the city?”

“Yes! We’ve gotten this far without me needing to talk, I’m sure it’ll be fine?” He glanced up at the last bit, grabbing onto the cart to course-correct them around a family.

“If you say so.” Truth be told, he was a bit worried. If this adjustment was the only one that failed to take effect, it was ultimately no big deal – even without talking, Izuku would be able to manage on his own. However, if this complication extended to something else, there may be unforeseen trouble. In any case, Katsuki would have to keep him close.

It was so easy to get lost in the big crowds and many stores, and just imagining it, Katsuki had half a mind to call it a day and head back to proofread their notebook. If only Izuku didn’t seem so genuinely excited at the prospect of extending their day out. It felt cruel to ruin that small smile and the bright eyes staring around as they drove.

He nearly regretted his decision not two minutes after leaving the parking lot. They got swept up in the current of the crowd, and within moments some inconsiderate bastards forced them to separate to let them pass. Somehow, that brief moment was enough for Katsuki to nearly lose sight of Izuku.

“Nerd, stay with me.” He grabbed Izuku by the wrist and hauled him in, forging their way ahead with glares that made the other people retreat a little. Why where there so many people? Didn’t they have better things to do? Were they giving something out for free somewhere? Actually, that question was answered by the faint music and the smell of popcorn, cotton candy and roasted almonds. A fair or something. Right. It was that time of the year.

He decided to head down the opposite direction first, to get some relief from the crowds. On the bright side, the glamours passed every field test with flying colours. “This is fucking insane,” Katsuki mumbled to himself. “Look at this! We’ve walked all this way and I haven’t been stopped once. This shit is great!”

“Do people really want to talk to you that often?” Izuku teased.

“You’d actually be surprised.” He was left alone when he was on patrol (hindering hero work was a criminal offence), but as soon as he tried to step outside in civil, he got swarmed. Probably because blasting civilians when they asked for pictures and autographs was also a criminal offense. He couldn’t outwardly mind it, and he was glad he had the support of the people – always a good indicator of a hero’s quality of work – but it made getting places incredibly difficult.

And then there were the ones that didn’t agree with the way he did his job – every hero had a few of those, but his image was a little more controversial than for example Uravity’s or Red Riot’s. Most complaints came from annoyed parents who blamed him in particular for ‘teaching their kids swear words’ (as if schools and TV and the literal outside world didn’t exist) or ‘failing to be a role model’ (nowhere in his contract did those words even show up so sue him). Worst of all were the fangirls that needed him to know how much they adored him. He wouldn’t mind them doing that quieter and from very far away. Katsuki couldn’t care less about them.

Point was: Strolling through the busiest shopping streets without being stopped once was a novel experience. This suddenly promised to be fun for him, too.

As they passed the shops and restaurants, Katsuki kept an eye on Izuku. Again, the other had that weird intensity around him. Walking through more familiar terrain, he finally recognized the pattern: It was exactly what any hero did on patrol. Looking around at the people, the cars, glancing at the alleys and darker corners, keeping tabs on potential threats, making a mental map of exit routes and possible cover.

He was slightly impressed at Izuku’s efficiency – Aizawa made them do these drills over all three years and he’d almost always found a reason to take points from them. The nerd had probably seen too many hero documentaries and learned that way. Then again, Izuku had always been incredibly perceptive.

It was the question of ‘why’ that made Katsuki feel something slimy and cold crawl across his imagination. As a hero, he watched these points out of habit, ready to step in at the slightest sign of trouble. And Izuku… was probably afraid of that trouble. Suddenly, he realized this was likely how ‘it’ happened – Izuku, walking along a busy street, when someone pulled him into a side alley too fast for him to react. Only that time no one had been watching.

“Nerd. This way.” He tugged on Izuku’s wrist to direct them at another store and steered him towards a display of the current mobile phones. “Pick one.” He made sure his tone brokered no argument.

Trust the nerd to argue anyway. “But Kacchan-”

“I said pick.”

“I don’t even know what these do,” Izuku grumbled, but he reached for one to weigh in his hand. The criteria were apparently ‘Comfortable to hold and as hard to break as possible’. It constituted a quick decision making process – Izuku picked the cheapest one from that list.

“You hungry yet, nerd?” he asked as they left.

Izuku nodded hesitantly, clutching the little cardboard box.

“Anything in particular you’d like? Otherwise I know a few good ones in the area.”

“Um… Is there an Italian place maybe?”

“Great idea. There is, actually.” It was a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant a little ways away from the main shopping lane. Round Cheeks’ parents were friends with the owner, who was always very discreet about having a bunch of pro heroes in her establishment. Another bonus was that it wasn’t terribly busy, especially this early in the afternoon, so they shouldn’t have a problem getting a table.

Somehow, he nearly fucked that up two times in a row when he barely remembered that he probably shouldn’t beeline for ‘their’ table since they were only two people and then he almost ordered his usual when the poor waitress had no idea who she was actually dealing with. “I’ll take the Pasta e ceci,” he managed to correct at the last moment, still butchering the pronunciation.

The waitress jotted it down and turned towards Izuku expectantly. Who opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. A slight glimmer of panic in his eyes made Katsuki decide to step in. “He’ll have the same.” It was in his humble opinion the best dish here, and Izuku shot him a grateful look as the waitress retreated.

“Again?”

“I don’t know! I suddenly couldn’t talk to her!”

“But you have explicit permission. And you talked to the cashier for this!” He gestured at the phone. “What happened?”

Izuku folded his hands on the table and squeezed his fingers until his knuckles turned white. “I guess the commandments took precedence again?”

“Fucking… We’ll have to look into that when we get back home.” This was not exactly the best discussion to have in such a public place. As if to prove his point, the waitress snuck up behind him and placed their drinks down.

“Thank you,” Izuku said politely, before frowning. “So it works this time?” he hissed after she left. “I don’t get it!”

“Calm it, nerd. We’ll figure it out.” He tried to be reassuring when inside, he was eaten alive with concern. Either the Goldsmith had played them for fools, or there was a grave mistake in their assumptions about how the chain worked. He’d probably have to call a meeting about this, he realized. But that was a future problem. He was determined to make this a nice day for the both of them. “I hope you’re alright with your order?”

“It sounds good, yes. I’m just scared it’ll be spicy.”

“I can reassure you there, then. It’s perfectly suitable for weak people.”

“How very considerate of you. I’m sure the staff here loves you, if that’s how you rate their food.”

“They greet me by name every time I come here.”

“Which can only be a good thing, I’m sure. Must be your winning personality.”

They drifted into silence. It was companionable for now, but he could tell Izuku was bothered from the way he absently toyed with the candlestick – if it could be called that. It was really just a repurposed wine bottle with a candle stuck in. The Nerd took to peeling the hardened wax from the glass in tiny bits and strips.

Normally those were always lit. The restaurant was half underground and the high windows permitted barely enough light. Katsuki glanced around. No one seemed to be paying attention to them. “Hey, nerd, wanna see a cool trick?” he asked, already holding his palm over the candle. With a few little sparks and pops, the wick caught fire.

“That’s so cool!” Izuku’s eyes went wide in amazement, reflecting the flickering light. He stared at the tiny flame like it was a world wonder.

“I know.” Finally, someone who appreciated the trick for what it was. It’d taken him ages to manage that fine of a control. The squad had barely glanced at it. Just because Shouto had it easier and made it look effortless in comparison.

He was glad Izuku at least seemed to like the place. They had chosen a little corner table and the nerd looked around the interior with an approving smile before he turned back to the conversation. “Do you come here often?” he wondered.

Katsuki leaned forward with a grin, propping his chin on his hand. “Really? I thought you’d be more original.” The joke was too easy to let pass.

The predicted blush came instantly, but Izuku just rolled his eyes at him. There was a hint of an indulgent smile. “It was a genuine question. If I were trying to flirt, you’d know, but please don’t flatter yourself. Also,” he tapped a finger on the phone packaging, “what about this? I thought your bosses were against getting me one for various reasons?”

‘Various reasons’ included the easy traceability and showing up in the phone companies’ records with the new phone plan. There was a high chance the Auriculates were investigating him as much as they were investigating the Auriculates. “Well, tough luck.” He’d bought the thing in disguise and could easily hook it up with his own accounts as a work phone. There. Problem solved. “This way, if we get separated, you can just call me.”

Izuku’s stare turned incredulous. “You got this for the two hours we’ll still be out?”

“Fuck off, course not. We can do this more often in the future, if you want. The Squad wants you to come to bar night, for example. Besides. You’ll need one eventually. And you can get in on the groupchats and stuff.” The idiots at work were weirdly enamoured with the freckled menace, and Katsuki refused to play carrier pigeon for their messages any longer.

Izuku opened and closed his mouth a few times, but the argument was already lost and he knew it. He ducked his head and glared at the ice cubes in his water. Katsuki would swear they were melting faster under it. “Thank you,” he mumbled reluctantly.

“Don’t mention it. Let’s just get this thing working.”

It was an… interesting process.

“Why are these so complicated? Only four years and I understand nothing!”

“Beats me. Most of this shit is unnecessary anyways. Fucking money grubbers.”

“I fucking hate software. It’s the worst. The devil. Software and its programming can go rot in hell.”

He laughed at the unexpected swearing. “What did software ever do?”

“It knows exactly what it did. Every single one of its sins. Plus I barely passed that exam and it dragged my average down so far.”

“You had to learn software programming?” That seemed pretty advanced for high school. Not that he knew anything about it.

Izuku shrugged. “As I said, we got a rundown on all of the basic support branches. You’d be surprised how much of it relies on software these days. I personally find any combat gear that needs Wi-Fi to function highly flawed, but to each their own.”

“Sounds about right.” Did he have anything that relied on Wi-Fi? He didn’t think so. The closest was the earpiece, and he was fairly sure that transmitted via… something else. He didn’t care to know this shit. If it broke, it broke, and he wouldn’t be able to fix it during a battle anyway. “What else did they teach you?” So far he’d seen the nerd handle wiring, chemistry, tailoring, prosthetics and whatever category the gauntlets fell under. It seemed like a lot.

“Urgh, don’t get me started. It’s insane. With the way technology advances the lesson plans are basically impossible. Our lecturers came in with a PowerPoint they created the day before and told us not to learn that for the exam because it would be outdated in a year anyway. One of them still hadn’t lived down the waves the quirk-suppression technology caused – oh, thank you.” The waiter arrived with their food, and conversation was put on hold for a moment. Only a moment, though. This was Izuku, after all.

“So anyway, I can admit a basic knowledge of all fields involved is necessary, but it’s also overwhelming for almost everybody. I think everyone should pick their specialised fields after first year already – most support designers work for a group or an agency, and then they’d have their peers to consult anyways. It’s better than them thinking they can work something out themselves with just rudimentary understanding of the topic, that leads to disaster in the field.”

He made an agreeing noise through his mouthful of pasta. This was interesting shit, he had to admit that. He’d stayed close to his original costume, at least in terms of functionality. That first design had been delivered to them based on their specifications, and he’d never been involved in the process beyond providing the ideas.

There had of course been the odd instance where he’d really made adjustments, like that one time he’d stumbled upon those sketches for the fire foam. Again, not his own idea. He knew some in the class, like Pikachu, had agonized over their suits and gear for weeks on end. Like Half’n’Half, Katsuki could get by without fancy knickknacks, and he preferred to rely on his own strength and skill instead of gadgets. Those could fail, after all. His own quirk was pretty straightforward, so he’d had a far easier time streamlining his designs. Ironically, about half of the features were at least inspired by Izuku’s observations even back then.

“Fuck,” he said aloud, interrupting Izuku on the topic of his favourite costume designs. He had to get the nerd something really nice ASAP, he realized.

“What? I don’t think it’s that bad. The popularity it gains her is really gonna be offset by the added risk in the field. OSHA is shaking somewhere.”

“No, not that. I forgot something. You done?”

“Yeah.”

“Great, let’s go then.” He signalled for the check and practically shoved Izuku out the door, taking a right back towards the main street. “Hey, nerd. Do you trust me?” he asked as they approached their destination.

Izuku eyed him warily. “Normally I’d say yes, but the way you asked worries me.”

“Cool, close your eyes and follow me.” He put a hand on Izuku’s back to guide him.

“But Kacchan-”

“Hush. Eyes closed.”

Izuku reluctantly obeyed, clinging tightly to his arm as he guided them carefully through the crowd, around a corner and into a store. “Okay. You can look.”

Izuku’s eyes opened, blinking against the neon lights overhead. Then they went wide as he took in their surroundings.

“Take a look around and pick whatever. I’m paying.” He put his hands in his pockets and stood back as he watched Izuku turn in a slow circle, trying to take in everything the Hero Merch Store had to offer. It was futile, this was only a small part of the first floor, but the sheer wonder on Izuku’s face made it worth the next two hours he’d surely spend here.

“Kacchan. This is amazing- Look, there’s already merch for Ingenium and Uravity. And oohh, they have stuff on the undergrounders too, I always thought they got too little recognition is that an entire section on foreign heroes!”

Finally, this was the reaction he’d been after all day. Katsuki watched his Nerd bounce around the store like a ping-pong ball on caffeine. He tried his best to appear casual whenever Izuku bounded up to show him something, but there were enough mirrors in the clothes section to tell him he was grinning like an idiot, too. The salesgirl had a weird knowing expression and even winked in his direction.

Half an hour in, they’d made their way up to the next floor, and Izuku’s hands were surprisingly empty as he perused the shelves. He pulled out a few items here and there, only to return them after a onceover.

“Hey. Nerd.”

“Hmm?”

“When I said ‘Pick whatever’ I meant it. You don’t have to limit yourself to one thing, I’m not that fucking cheap.”

Izuku looked up at him with honest eyes, but there was no reading his expression. “Anything?”

Katsuki nodded. “’Course. If you like something, just grab it.”

Izuku stepped up to him, reached out both hands and gently closed them around Katsuki’s arm. And then just… stood there. Looking at him expectantly. “Then what?”

It took him a moment of dumb staring until his brain caught up to the situation. “Ha?” There was no way he could possibly begin to formulate an answer to whatever the fuck was going on here. He knew he should be aiming for something clever, but nothing at all would come up, and this was getting worse the longer the silence went on. He could feel hot embarrassment creep up his neck.

Just as he was about to completely lose his mind, Izuku’s smile turned mischievous. He let go and stuck his tongue out. “See? Told you I can do a lot better. Feel flirted at already?” he asked with a wink. Fucker. Death. Prison. The nerd better sleep with one eye open.

He carefully tried to lure his composure back out. Thankfully, his voice seemed normal enough. “Really? You’re still hung up on that?”

“You made it so easy.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, hoping the heat on his face was not actually a blush. “Stay on the fucking topic, idiot. Go pick a thing.”

“But I already have all your cool merchandise at home!” Izuku pouted. “And I don’t really care about the rest right now.”

Gods above, who gave the nerd the right to be this unintentionally adorable? “I’ll let the Squad know about this betrayal of yours. Shinsou will be inconsolable.”

“Kacchan! That’s not what I meant. Besides, Shinsou’s and my love is not based on material conditions. He knows I’d never abandon him like that.”

Katsuki gave him a gentle shove. “Mina, then.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me. But what about it? Is there really nothing you like? Who are you and what have you done to Izuku?”

The other shrugged. “Anything I’d want I can get for free from my friends, so why should we pay for it?”

Katsuki sighed. Izuku did have a point there. The benefit of being friends with a bunch of Pro Heroes was that the merch was generally free. “Not even the All Might stuff?” he asked.

“Nah. He’s… I don’t know.”

“What’s the matter?”

Izuku rubbed at his arm, seemingly lost in thought. “I met him once, you know? On the day that slime villain attacked. I mean, everyone saw him there, but I ran into him later again… That villain came back, out for revenge, and there was no one around that time, yada yada, so it was really pure dumb luck that I got saved again. And then I asked him – I mean, I knew it was unrealistic, I didn’t know what I expected to hear – but I asked him if he thought quirkless people could be heroes, too. And he said no.” He crossed his arms and looked at the displays of their childhood hero. “It just stings, I guess.”

“Did he really say that?”

“Well, he framed it a little bit nicer.”

“Tch. Figures. That man can spout a lot of bullshit when the day ’s long. I’m not that much of a fan anymore, either. Kinda weird to see this version when you know what he’s really like.”

“No need to be mean, Kacchan.”

“No, I’m serious. I mean, think about it. He was there. And he didn’t lift a single finger until it was almost too late. He apologized to me for that once, you know? Only after I brought the topic up, mind you. He didn’t remember me, which I guess I can’t really blame him for since it was a casual Wednesday for him, but he remembered you.”

“He did?”

“Hard to forget when a little twerp does your job for you.” He nudged Izuku with his elbow. “You were the one that helped me. Not All Might. Pretty good hero work, if you ask me.”

In response to that, Izuku turned into a deer in headlights trying to impersonate a tomato.

To save him from an aneurism, Katsuki decided their Emotional Moment was over and directed the topic to safer waters. “Then what else do you wanna do, if nerding out doesn’t keep you occupied for more than half an hour anymore?” he teased.

Izuku looked at the floor. “Um. Sorry, I- Oh! There was a fair further down the street! Let’s go take a look at that!”

The fair? He hadn’t been to one of those in over a decade. “Fine, let’s go.”

Again, Izuku latched onto his arm, which was why he had to stop short when the Nerd suddenly dashed off. “Hey, look at this! I think I want that.” Glancing over, he saw Izuku holding up a phone case. Black with an orange X.

“Tch. Really? I didn’t even know they had those.”

“You should get one too. Hey, what do you think are my chances of getting this signed?”

“None.”

“Kacchan!”

He quickly put a hand over Izuku’s mouth. “Of course I’ll do it, but keep it down, will you? And don’t even think about licking me. You know better!”

Izuku grumbled something unintelligible he interpreted as an agreement. Then the nerd insisted on paying for the phone case with his own money, much to his chagrin. The phone didn’t really count as a gift, that was a necessity. He needed something good. That particular idea refused to strike, though. He had some vague notions he could look into tomorrow.

The fair was about what he’d expected: A bunch of stands with rigged games where you could win useless prizes, loads of food carts selling the three staple fair foods, and a bunch of rides for the small children dashing around everywhere.

He nearly lost his own child when Izuku immediately went to stare at some chocolate-covered fruits on display. “Ohh, I want those!”

“You just ate,” he grumbled, fishing for his wallet. “Can’t believe I let you drag me into this.”

Immediately, Izuku bestowed that crestfallen, pleading look on him. “If you don’t want to be here, we can go.” Not that he made any movement in that regard, probably because he knew that look would get him what he wanted anyway.

“I said it’s fine. I just like to complain,” he sighed, defeated.

With zero transition time, Izuku bounced back to being cheerful. “Let’s go over there! It looks stupid and I wanna try it out!” ‘Stupid’ was the right word; it was one of these ball-tossing games where you tried to knock over a pyramid of cans. There were a few other games to the right and left that all involved throwing some shit, seemingly run by the same old guy that sat on a chair in his little corner and handed out either balls, rings or prizes in exchange for money or tickets.

Izuku handed over some money to try it out, eying the people taking their turn as he waited for his.

“You know these are rigged, right?” Katsuki asked as he stood by.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun!” Izuku took his turn and threw a ball straight into the centre of a pyramid without any finesse. They clattered towards the sides, only three left standing. “See? That was satisfying.” His next one missed, the one after that took two of the remaining cans down, and then – “Ow!” Izuku yelped and held his hand as the ball fell to the floor harmlessly.

“What? What the fuck? You okay?”

Izuku had his right wrist clutched to his chest, expression pinched with pain. “Yeah, it’s just-” After a deliberate breath, he relaxed his hold and carefully rotated his hand. “That motion made something click in there. Felt like a cramp.” He glanced dejectedly at the game. “Probably not for me.”

“Probably. You good otherwise?” He bent down and picked up the ball, weighing it in his hand.

“I’m fine.”

“Cool. Watch this.” It was very loud on this fairground. He took aim and hurtled the ball straight at another pyramid, giving it just a little something extra with a small explosion. The cans flew in all directions, the shelf now cleaned off completely. The old man wordlessly slid some tickets their way.

“Kacchan! Were you cheating?” Izuku whispered, laughing.

He shrugged. “They were cheating first.” He was fairly certain magnets were somehow involved here. “I’m just evening the playing field.”

“If you can’t beat the system, cheat the system,” Izuku nodded. He handed over the last ball. “Do it again.”

He took it and repeated his trick with the same result. “Amazing!” Izuku cheered at his side.

“It’s just a stupid game,” he deflected. “You know, Aizawa had us do something like this on our first day.” He wordlessly put down another bill towards the stand owner. “This is child’s play in comparison,” he said, and continued to demolish the range. He had to do the last two without cheating as the owner grew more and more suspicious, but even that turned out to be perfectly adequate to win. Sometimes it was about raw power, he supposed, and given that this game was designed for kids and teenagers, he really had the advantage here.

They took a break after that and went to look at the rest of the place. Izuku got himself a crêpe with strawberries and cream and then some spring rolls as soon as his hands were free again.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick,” Katsuki pointed out as he watched the nerd inhale those with alarming speed.

“And I’m having the time of my life doing it. You can’t stop me!”

“I could and I’m honestly starting to think I should.” He swiped a spring roll for himself.

“No! My food! Thief!”

Okay, so this was pretty fun. Enough fun to have him start in alarm a while later when he glanced at his watch and noticed they’d been here for ninety minutes. Their time was almost up!

“Nerd, we need to leave soon,” he said.

“Hmm.” Izuku concentrated harder on his next throw. They’d gone back to the game, because Izuku wanted to get something out of it and they didn’t have enough points by far. The last can toppled, and Izuku did a little victory hop. “Yes, I’m so good!”

“Sure.” He ruffled the nerd’s hair.

More tickets came their way. “What can we get for these?” Izuku wondered, counting the points.

Katsuki shrugged, casually pocketing the tickets. “Just pick whatever you like. I’ll get it for you.” He’d be damned if his nerd would come home empty-handed after all this. If they didn’t have enough points, he’d buy the rest with money.

“I don’t know, Kacchan.” Izuku glanced over the stand, nothing seemingly catching his attention. “Why don’t you pick something for me?”

“Ha? ‘S not what I asked! Just grab whatever’s most interesting.”

Warm, scarred hands settled on his skin as Izuku grabbed Katsuki’s arm, looking at him imploringly. “But what if I want you to decide for me? The surprise is more fun!”

He looked so earnest in his request, green eyes bright and smile blinding, Katsuki knew there was defeat coming his way. “And if I get it wrong, nerd?” he teased, analysing he different knickknacks and trinkets. Did Izuku want him to pick something specific? How would he know? Or was it something super expensive? “What did we say about voicing opinions? Come on, tell me.”

Izuku glanced over the display. “I don’t really want anything,” he finally relented.

Fuck. He glanced at his watch, but no matter how he glared, they still had no more than fifteen minutes left. Not enough to go anywhere else. “I’m sorry. We can go out sometime again, and then you can pick the places beforehand.”

“What?” Izuku’s head snapped back up to stare at him again. “No, that’s not how I meant it! I had a lot of fun! I got to spend time with you and look at all the amazing merch and play games and eat food. I’m really happy!” He leaned up closer, standing on his tiptoes as if he could get Katsuki to understand him if he just stared hard enough.

“…Alright.” He gave it another try. Tried to find something that would be actually useful, which ruled out most of the cheap shit on display. Suddenly, he was struck by a genius idea when his eyes landed something dangling from the roof of the booth. “Oi!” he shouted at the owner, slamming the tickets down. “Get me that one!”

He handed the plushie over to Izuku, who looked at it with absolute adoration in his eyes. “Oh my god, he’s so cute. I love him!” He hugged the grey kitty tighter. It was essentially just a long tube with little feet, ears and a tail attached. The face was adorable, though, Katsuki could admit that.

More importantly, it seemed to have the perfect size. “Maybe now you can strangle that instead of your pillow.”

“Noooo, I would never mistreat-” he pushed his face between the kitty’s ears and inhaled deeply “-Miles like that.”

“Did you just smell the name out of it?”

“It’s the only way to name anything. Besides, look at him! He’s so long! Miles!”

“Alright then.” He glanced at his watch again, already calculating the rough distance to the car. “We gotta go, the glamour ‘s gonna wear off. C’mon.” Since Izuku now had his hands quite full with Miles, Katsuki resorted to putting a hand on his back to somehow make sure they didn’t get separated. Yellow streetlamps flickered to life around them just as they reached the car, with the skyscrapers already casting valleys of shadow around them.

Izuku climbed into his seat with the kitty still clutched tightly, somehow arranging him on his lap. When Katsuki glanced over at the next red light, the nerd was almost asleep.

“Someone’s tired,” he said quietly, over the rumble of the engine and the soft sounds of the radio.

Izuku yawned wide. “Hmmm. That was a lot today.”

“…But it was fun.”

“Yes. Very. Thanks, Kacchan.”

He hadn’t really done anything, but it felt moot to argue the point. “We could do that again, sometime.” Not too often, he knew, but they’d surely make an exception here and there if he explained why he needed so many glamours. Or they could go places without other people. Most things could be rented for private use if the money was right. He was sure the Squad would chip in if they got to come along. They could have a small holiday somewhere. Like a class trip, but with more alcohol and less supervision. He’d have to ask them about that tomorrow.

“That’d be nice,” Izuku murmured, slurring the words.

Katsuki had to shake him awake when they finally arrived home, and the nerd stumbled wordlessly towards the door and then inside. He could hear water run in the bathroom as he hauled stuff from the trunk into the kitchen, and by the time he put the last bag down, he just managed to catch a glimpse of Izuku shuffling into the bedroom.

He stared at the big IKEA packages through the open door of the future guest bedroom and conceded that it would have to wait a bit longer. Maybe over the weekend? Until then, he’d just have to put up with the nerd.

Who was dead asleep, curled into his corner, arms and legs wrapped around his new plushie in a chokehold. Poor thing. At least it seemed to help Izuku sleep better. His mouth was curled into a faint smile, no nightmares in sight yet. He shook his head fondly at the sight and went to prepare their breakfast for tomorrow before quietly slipping into bed himself.

Chapter 12

“Oi, nerd! Get up already!”

Izuku groaned into his pillow, contemplating whether there was any exploitable chance Kacchan would leave him alone if he only whined enough. The chain did not react to the demand. Unfortunately, Kacchan didn’t need the help of a hypnosis quirk to get people to do his bidding.

“Your exam is in forty minutes.”

Oh shit. “Whaaaaaaaa! Why, how, I’m late!” Izuku nearly fell out of the bed, legs tangled between Miles and the blankets. He was steadied only by Kacchan’s hand on his arm. “I can’t believe it, I set an alarm for an hour prior- Oh.” A look at the clock told him his exam was still ninety minutes away. He hung his head, sighing. “Why, Kacchan?”

“Because I made breakfast and your sorry ass takes hours to wake up. I don’t wanna hear you whine afterwards how you ‘could’ve done better if you didn’t have to rush’. Now come eat.”

“Yes, Kacchan.” Begrudgingly, Izuku made his side of the bed before he got dressed.

He hadn’t intended for this to become a thing. He really, truly hadn’t. At the same time, he really wasn’t looking forward to assembling the furniture in the other room. They probably should’ve done that yesterday, but Kacchan had been too busy working and Izuku too busy studying. His first exam was today, after all. And he still couldn’t thank Kacchan enough for making that possible.

During the first talk with Nezu, over video-chat, he’d gotten that spot in the U.A. support course, although it was mainly self-study. Izuku was given the lesson plans and materials, and two times a week, he and Nezu would meet virtually to discuss his progress and any questions he might have.

The course was accelerated, partially because he’d have to do all the practical parts in bulk later in the year and partially because he didn’t have to attend classes and was therefore free to set his own pace. He’d been aiming for straight A’s before… stuff, so he knew quite a bit more than the curriculum at his old school had demanded already. For the theoretical bits, at least. There was only so much hands-on work he could do at Kacchan’s house, given that there was no designated workshop nor any of the necessary safety implementations to go DIY. The practical parts would be the real challenge.

Izuku missed his workshops. Which was why the exam today was so important; it was the standard test for the permit for dangerous chemicals and volatile substances that was normally due at the beginning of third year. At least it had been at Izuku’s old school. U.A. seemed a lot more… chill with introducing teenagers to hazardous materials, claiming that it was a first year module with them.

This would finally allow Izuku to get to work on some more intricate ideas he had for Kacchan’s gear! Nezu had suggested he come to the school every other Sunday, when the other students wouldn’t be all over the place, so he could work then. It wasn’t ideal; this had the potential to hold him back for more than a year regardless of how fast he passed the written tests.

But Nightingale’s secrecy took priority. It wasn’t like he could work before this got resolved, anyway. Izuku dearly hoped there’d be progress soon. Ueda had promised to get Kacchan a spot at the next event, and if the assumptions about the auctions being held four times a year were correct, the next one was scheduled for August. Which was roughly two weeks away.

“Here’s to hoping,” he told the date on the alarm clock before he dragged himself into the living room. Coffee and tea were already steaming on the table, but food seemed to be a few minutes out still, so he directed his attention to the mess on the couch table. It was a mix of notes, open books, schematics and loose post-its. Their notebook with the amended rules lay open at the side, commandeering its own personal space as if nothing else wanted to come too close to it.

There was still a bit of apprehension regarding it. They’d sat down and looked through the adjustments, and Izuku had a theory as to why it had been impossible to utter a single word on occasion: You can talk to anyone you want to, it read. The only plausible explanation he could come up with was that he actually hadn’t wanted to talk to those people, and therefore been unable to. Kacchan thought it was stupid, and Izuku had to quietly agree. Nevertheless, the bottom-most adjustment now read You can also talk to anyone you need to, in the hopes it would fill the loophole like shoddy tape holding a broken pipe together. There hadn’t been any opportunity for testing.

What caught his attention, however, was the white envelope on top of all the chaos. Probably another letter from his mom. He sighed and picked it up. Such a small thing shouldn’t feel this heavy, but guilt still rode comfortable on his shoulders with no sign of leaving anytime soon. He would be forever indebted to Aizawa for having that face-to-face confrontation in his stead.

Izuku had only sent the one letter of real substance, explaining to his mom how he was fine and cared for. That he wasn’t ready to come home yet, but that he was studying and helping Kacchan. He’d left that part ambiguous, leaving his mom to assume he was there to assist Kacchan after the injury. That he loved her but was not able to talk to her quite yet, for reasons left unspecified.

Her letters back were more frequent, always asking if he was alright and when he’d finally be home, or at least call. Now that Kacchan was back in action, his excuse had gotten flimsy, and Izuku felt his stomach knot itself when he tried to find a way to tell her that he’d never go back to living with her. He was an adult now. Time to leave the nest.

It made his answers sporadic and short. He couldn’t find anything to say to her, no matter how hard he tried. He wrote about his day, what had been for food and such, the shows he watched, but he knew she didn’t know anything about them, so details would only confuse her. He wasn’t talking about his time away, and he couldn’t talk about the operation, so there was nothing left.

He knew procrastinating the issue would probably come back to bite him, but he didn’t want to think about this problem at all. Quietly, he put the letter down and reached for his notes instead. He was comfortably confident in his ability to pass, but he wanted to ace this.

“Really? You’re reading that for the ten thousand thirty fifth time? How hard can it be to memorize some warning labels?”

Izuku glared. “Well, not that hard, but we also have to know how different chemicals interact, learn the chain reactions so we don’t accidentally create, I don’t know, chlorine gas, do redox-reactions from scratch, learn appropriate emergency and first aid protocols… And carbon! Just… carbon! This is serious! I may pass the test even if I get some wrong, but in the lab that’ll have consequences!”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Still. You’re supposed to eat, not freak yourself out with last-minute cramming. That shit’s bad for your nerves.”

“It’s going to be bad for my nerves either way, so I might as well,” Izuku retorted, but he put the papers to the side. Breakfast and dinnertime were the two times a day he and Kacchan could really talk without either of them doing something else on the side. Mainly because of Kacchan. He’d adhered to his prescribed rest time, but once he was cleared for action he was out from morning till evening most days, except the weekends. Even then, he was on call every other.

Izuku admired him for his drive to become number one, and he got to meet other Pro Heroes on top! Kacchan’s friends from operation Peregrine came by whenever possible. They had adopted Izuku into their group, and even agreed to help him out with his design work for school.

He’d also gotten to meet Uravity, who, much like Shinsou, was not involved with the operation, at least not anymore. Something about not being able to deal with it, from what he’d gathered, not that he dared to push the clearly sensitive subject.

Despite their visits, he couldn’t help but feel Kacchan’s absence stronger than before. They’d been together all day every day for almost three weeks, and he couldn’t quite remember what he’d done to pass the time before. Studying helped, but he missed playing video games or just being in a room together, doing their own thing for hours on end. To have the option to show someone when he saw something funny or had a weird thought that needed sharing.

Well, nothing to be done about it. For now, he needed to focus. Or rather, distract himself from his slowly rising anxiety about the exam. “Urgh,” he groaned, “this is the one thing about school I did not miss.”

Kacchan, the absolute jerk, had the gall to laugh at his misery.

In hindsight, he needn’t have worried. The exam was done verbally, since he was the only one participating and Nezu just told him his grade right afterwards. “One-hundred percent, and some additional very detailed knowledge in the key areas,” the mouse-bear-what-actually-was-he told him. “I’m going to be entirely honest with you, Midoriya, I don’t think the support course is the right thing for you.”

Hold up. “What?” He had just gotten a hundred percent. They couldn’t kick him out for that! That was good!

“Let me rephrase that: I think your talents could be used for more than support engineering. Not that I am telling you to quit, I can see you enjoy it. But have you ever considered consultant work?”

With the adrenaline high of the shock still keeping his brain in emergency mode, Izuku blinked as a response. “Consultant?”

“It is a comparatively new field. With the hero society reform, there are now more Hero Partner groups, more collaboration between agencies and a general focus on information gathering for preventative measures against crime; like new patrol routes and better equipment for all areas involved. Consultants are employed by agencies to help with that, they are a sort of human data nexus that coordinates heroes in the field, keep an eye on things like statistics, publicity and safety, and also coordinate inter-agency deploys.”

“And you are telling me this because…?”

“Well, you have a certain gift for impressively innovative and quick thinking. Your quirk analyses notebooks were quite the read; I hardly ever have students paying this close attention to detail. The thing is: U.A. needs to update its support course program to keep up with the new demands in the field. However, we are not quite ready to implement them into the general schedule. I was wondering if you would be amenable to take on the two extra courses as a test run, so to speak. As I said before, you have good critical thinking skills, and I believe our school would benefit from any and all feedback you could offer. Us old folks sometimes find it hard to put ourselves on the other end of the classroom. The test is more quality control than tweaking the curriculum, so you would get full credit, naturally.”

“If I can pass.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that. Do think about it until our next meeting.”

Izuku thought on it. What Nezu said made sense, and if his feedback could help future support students, there was really no reason to refuse, was there? The only drawback on this deal was his own increased workload, but he had time to spare anyway. In the end, it was just another area of support work. They should really think about splitting those up.

But would this really be something he wanted? He’d always pictured himself in a workshop, developing gear day in day out, doing his very best to keep the heroes he so looked up to protected. His gauntlet design had been important, even Kacchan admitted that! But that dream had been made up so long ago. What did he want now?

“Oi, nerd. What’s got you so down?” Kacchan asked when he came home from work. “Exam didn’t go well?”

“I got an A.” Izuku listlessly poked at his dinner. “Say, Kacchan, what’s your opinion on consultants?”

“Consultants? Don’t get me started on that bullshit. We have one at our office and she’s the worst know-it-all, constantly nagging the shit out of everyone in the field. Last time I muted her she went off on me and snitched to the fat man. A week of paperwork! And her fucking ‘advice’ is wrong half the time. That lady hasn’t touched a battle zone with a ten-foot pole even once in her life!” Kacchan huffed and took another bite, chewing furiously. “Why?”

Izuku shrugged. “It’s just that Nezu offered me additional classes in case consulting work was something I’d consider. He was pretty adamant about it, saying I could be the test candidate for the support course updates. But I don’t know…”

Kacchan paused mid-chew. “Hm?” He swallowed hastily. “Now hold on. He wants you to do a consultant class?”

“Just to test it out. A trial run for the course, or something. But if you say they’re a hindrance...” He could see how consultants could be a detriment rather than a profit. It was a new practice, and the higher-ups loved their paperwork and order, but in the field, choices were traditionally made by the heroes themselves for good reason.

“Fucking – first off, that Chernobyl result doesn’t need to do ‘test runs’. If he wants you in there, it’s because he thinks you’re best suited. Second, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but please take that offer. You would be so useful. You could replace her, and Shitty Hair and I would be free.” He looked genuinely excited at the prospect.

“But you just said-“

“I know what I said, but that extra doesn’t know what she’s talking about even half the time!”

“Oh. Okay.” Izuku ducked his head, feeling hot all over at the open praise. “Well, if you and Nezu say I should, then it can’t be a bad idea, can it?”

Kacchan scoffed. “Damn right. But it’s ultimately up to you. Don’t do shit just because other people tell you to.”

“If I can help you and Kirishima, that’s what I want!” Izuku smiled, excited at the prospect.

Kacchan coughed, muttering something Izuku couldn’t understand.

“You alright, Kacchan? Spice got you?” Kacchan’s face was taking on a shade of red. Izuku supposed he had put too many chili flakes in there. His own bowl had a neat pile at the side.

“’m fine. Eat your food ‘fore it gets cold. Oh, and by the way, I have tomorrow off, so we can sleep late. Do you want to binge-watch the rest of the season?”

Izuku perked up. “You have a day off? Really?”

“I take vacations like anyone else.”

Izuku thought back on what he’d heard from Kacchan’s friends and decided to doubt that statement heavily, but who was he to judge? “Sounds like a good plan! I would love to!”

In the end, Izuku fell asleep pretty quickly, given how early he’d been woken. Come next morning, the scenario from the previous day repeated itself when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, nerd, wake up.”

“Hmmmnoooo.”

“Izuku, come on. Eyes open!”

Something about Kacchan’s tone was different today, so he reluctantly cracked an eye open to see what was up. Something smelled good.

Kacchan stood by the bed, already fully dressed, and it was almost nine.

“Oh shit, I slept in!” Izuku sat up. “Wait. I don’t have any plans today.”

“Yes you do,” Kacchan replied, teasing smirk on his face. “First of all, I got you breakfast, and then you can help me get ready for this evening. The Squad plus Round Face and cursed Furby are coming over. Here.”

Kacchan dropped a big rectangular box wrapped neatly in shiny paper into his lap. “Happy birthday, Izu.”

Warmth flooded Izuku from the centre of his chest all the way to his fingertips. He’d not forgotten, but he hadn’t expected much, either. “Oh! Thank you, Kacchan.”

“You haven’t even seen what’s inside.”

“I’m happy enough you thought of me,” he said quietly as he picked the box up to test its weight – rather heavy. He could feel things shift a little.

“’course I did,” Kacchan grumbled, crossing his arms. “Just open it.”

Izuku did has he was told, tearing the paper away and lifting the lid of the cardboard box. Beneath it sat another box, this time with the logo of a well-renowned hardware firm. “Are those tools?” Izuku lifted it to look at the packaging, and sure enough, it was a full set: Screwdrivers, tweezers, a wiring kit, a chemistry set – when he’d been in school, he’d always wanted something like this. But they were so pricey!

“Wow, Kacchan. This is… amazing. I don’t even know what to say. Thank you.”

Kacchan was still glaring into a corner. “You’re not finished, nerd.”

“Huh?” Confused, Izuku peered into the box again. Beneath the tools was a layer of… cloth? He pulled it out, unfolding it into one of Kacchan’s old hoodies. “Oh, so this is where that went. Er! I mean…”

His flustered apology got Kacchan to grin, at last. “You’ve stolen it so many times, just keep it.”

Izuku ducked his head. It wasn’t his fault the hoodie was soft and comfy like only well-worn clothes were, and that it smelled really nice on top. It was the one that he’d unearthed a few weeks ago, with the hole in one sleeve, so really, he’d figured Kacchan wouldn’t even notice. Whoops.

Something fell into his lap as he put the hoodie aside. A DVD box set of one of his favourite shows. Looking back into the gift box, he found… a lot more of them. And books he’d read. Video games. Posters. Bits of merchandise. All familiar, and yet brand-new. “What’s this?” he asked, pulling out a volume of his favourite detective series.

“Just some stuff. I think I got the most important ones, at least the ones you were always going on about. You can put them wherever, as long as it doesn’t get too overwhelming. If I find any hero shrines in my room, I swear I will set them on fire.”

“Kacchan, these are like… my things.” Most of them. There were new things, too, where series had continued after he’d been gone.

The other turned away, rubbing the back of his neck until it was a soft pink. “Obviously not, I didn’t go into your house, but... since you’re now living here and shit, you should also have some stuff. By the way, the Squad planned a fucking party, and they had the good grace to inform me about it last evening. You okay with them coming by? They get loud when they’re all in one spot.”

Izuku nodded. “I would love that.”

“Cool. Now come eat breakfast, it’s gonna get cold!” he barked, and walked out in three steps. Then returned. “Also! This isn’t a gift but people are coming over and its hotter than Satan’s balls outside, so I got you this too. Use it. Or don’t. I don’t give a shit.”

Something sailed through the air to land on the floor in front of the bed. He tried to fish it up with his foot, but in the end he had to get up. It looked like a black tank top at first. The fabric felt oddly light and flowy, some kind of synthetic fibre mixed in… jersey, maybe? He didn’t work with those fabrics often enough to know without comparison. When he held it up, he saw it was more like… Something else. There was crop top in there. And it had one sleeve, leaving it asymmetrical in a way that belonged to the fancy runways and fashion shows he never understood the point of.

It took him a moment to connect the dots – this was supposed to go under something else, and it would keep his scars hidden. Izuku felt himself tear up at the prospect of being able to wear a T-shirt at his party. It was completely ridiculous. He didn’t really mind the scars himself, but he knew how they inevitably drew attention. One of those things people couldn’t look away from. He didn’t hold it against anyone. After all, he found himself glancing at the scars of his friends often enough. They all had some. It just happened. But with this, no one would look, no one would ask, and he’d be able to forget for a while.

Kacchan thought of this. Izuku also found the fabric was really good in muffling his frustrated scream. Why did that damned, stuck-up, sexy, self-important, gorgeous, loud, foul-mouthed, reckless asshole have to be so damn thoughtful and kind and safe and caring and perfect?

After letting it all out, he pressed his fingers against his temples and tried to take deep breaths. He’d seen it coming a mile away, he had. In a way, it had been inevitable, but still… “Really? Again?” he asked himself. He didn’t necessarily believe in fate or anything, so the only explanation was that he was doing this to himself in a way. “I thought we were over this.”

The crux of the matter was: There really wasn’t much to be done about it. He’d have to just deal. So he pulled on a shirt, hugged two new manga volumes to his chest, intent on reading them maybe over breakfast, and hurried after Kacchan. The table was already set with all manner of things, most prominent the strawberry crêpe on his plate.

His grin got even wider, until it hurt his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop. He was happy. Very, very happy.

“This looks amazing!” he said, although the last word came out muffled through layers of dough and cream. Kacchan didn’t even admonish him for talking whilst chewing. What a day. He could probably get away with anything for the next few hours. His very own Purge.

“Hey, Kacchan?” he tried, doing his best puppy dog face. “We can do something fun today, right? I can pick?”

“Fine,” Kacchan replied, utter resignation on his face. “But only if the preparations are done first!”

‘Preparations’ meant that Kacchan scrubbed his house floor to ceiling, and Izuku helped to the best of his ability. He dared to say he was an actual help at this point, no longer tiring from standing and able to carry things like a normal human. As a result, they were finished with plenty of time to spare, and Izuku went to fetch one of the games.

“Do you want to play?” he asked Kacchan, although he knew the other wouldn’t refuse, not today. “It’s co-op!”

“Sure.”

It was an old game, remade for the newer consoles, and Izuku struggled a little until he got used to the controller. “Why do they all put the X button in different places, I swear to-”

The doorbell interrupted them about half-way through the story, and after Kacchan’s prompting, Izuku went to open the door.

He was greeted by excited shouts from Kirishima, Kaminari, Iida and Mina. Jirou, Shinsou, Shoto and Uraraka followed behind, at a more socially acceptable volume.

They all brought gifts and take-out together with a cake they insisted they helped make with a friend but looked like it belonged on the front page of a very niche baking magazine. It tasted delicious, too.

It was a flurry of congratulations, food, laughter and presents. Izuku thought how good life was. After the cake, they settled a little, seated on the couch that for the first time seemed a little cramped. “Okay, how about we play a game?” Mina asked, throwing her feet on the table.

Immediately, everyone leaned a little away from her, suspicion clearly written across their faces. “That depends entirely on what you say next.”

“Well, I would’ve just suggested the old card game.” She pulled a black and blue box out of her bag and waved it around.

“Haven’t we done that already?” Shouto asked.

“Well, yes. But! That was, one: years ago, and two: we have three people here that never played. It’s gonna be fun, come on.”

Kaminari returned from the kitchen carrying more bottles of beer than should be physically possible. Hands extended in his direction and he placed the bottles in them like a mother bird handing morsels to her chicks. “Izuku, do you want beer or shots?”

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, I have no idea. I’ve never really had alcohol before.”

“You haven’t?” Mina stared in disbelief. Kirishima jabbed an elbow into her ribs.

Izuku just laughed. “No, not really. I’ll try, tho. Unless it’s anything like LSD, then I don’t want it.”

The silence hung heavy with disbelief. “He’s joking, right? Please tell me he’s joking,” Kaminari whispered.

Izuku, embarrassed for the poorly timed sort-of-a-and-intended-as-a-joke, waved a hand. Sayaka would’ve appreciated it, but she was not here. Wrong crowd, he reminded himself. “Don’t mind me. Now, which one tastes better?”

There was another beat of silence. “Well, in this case, let me get you a Sex on the Beach!” Mina announced loudly.

“Mina! You can’t give him cocktails for his first drink!” Kirishima shouted, racing to the kitchen after her.

“Why? He won’t even taste the alcohol.”

“That’s precisely my point! Do you want him to get sick!?”

“Give him what he wants,” Kacchan shouted. “I’ll take a cocktail!”

“What should I get, Kacchan?” he whispered as the rest filed their orders with Mina.

“Okay, so it’s either lame wheat-soda that tastes like the worst parts of bread got liquefied and barely qualifies as alcoholic, or you could have something that tastes like candy and will have you fucked up in fifteen minutes flat for comparatively less money.”

“I feel you’re biased but I’m sold. Mina! Cocktails!”

“Yessir!”

“…Maybe go easy on me, though!”

“I’ll half the vodka, got it.”

“Okay, so here’s the rules,” Kaminari said as he shuffled the cards, “it’s pretty self-explanatory: You draw a card, read it out, and everyone who did the thing before has to drink. It’s one sip if nothing else is specified. It’s up to you whether or not it’s water or booze. We don’t want anyone to get sick, so if it says to down your drink and you don’t feel like it, just leave it. We’re drinking different shit anyway. Do not let Mina down an entire cocktail at all costs. Usually we also say if only one person drinks, you have to tell the story, but again, all voluntarily. We’re here to have fun.”

Izuku nodded along. “Sounds like you’ve done this a lot.”

“Yep,” Jirou said, popping the ‘p’. “And no one wants to clean up after a black-out drunk idiot. Or make anyone cry. Or accidentally break up a couple, or-”

“He gets it, Earphones.” Kacchan sat down next to Izuku with their drinks and shoved the stack of cards over. “Your party, you start.”

Izuku drew the topmost card. “’If’– oh jeez. ‘If you’ve ever been walked in on, down your drink.’” It was a pretty weird thing to read completely sober, and he hoped this was one of the outliers and not par for the course of the game. Those thoughts were put on hold when Jirou and Kaminari raised their glasses, toasted vaguely in his direction and drank. “Oh dear,” he said, as everyone snickered.

“Blasty will never forgive us,” Jirou grinned, a bit sheepish.

Izuku felt his mouth fall open in shock as he turned to look at Kacchan. He seemed about as cheerful as a wet cat, taking a long drink as if he were an old man about to bust out the veteran stories. And not the fun ones. “I wish I could bleach my brain.”

Izuku looked between the three. “What happened?” he whispered in gleeful shock.

“Remember when I told you we used to room together?” Kacchan asked. “Yeah. Until that day.”

“Like it was our fault!” Kaminari protested. “You were home three hours early! What did you expect!”

“Okay first off; I am not required to give you my schedule like a good little kindergarten kid. Second, if someone had cared to mention they were fucking, I maybe would’ve rung the bell in consideration, but you cannot expect me to expect you to be doing that in the middle of the living room! You had two beds to choose from!” Kacchan took another drink and shuddered.

“Everyone knew we were fucking,” Jirou said with an eyeroll. “Not our fault you’re about as observant as a kiwi.”

“Weren’t you going on about how you wished they would finally figure it out?” Kirishima asked.

“Yes, well. Not on the sofa I paid for,” Kacchan grumbled sullenly. “Different one,” he added when Izuku subtly peered at the furniture beneath him.

“Aaaaaaaaaanyway. Moving on.” Mina plucked the next card and read “Everyone who’s kissed a person in the room before, take a sip.”

This time, everyone drank. Izuku sipped his cocktail carefully, and found it tasted completely harmless. Good, but harmless. He tried another sip – there was something… sharp and spicy in there. Vodka, was it?

“Wait wait wait!” Kirishima’s shout made them all pause. “Izuku, what?”

“What what?”

“Why did you drink, nerd?”

“Um, because the card said to-”

“I know what the card said. But who? And when?” Kacchan glared into the round like he could find the answer via mind reading. No one even noticed, all too busy staring at Izuku, slack jawed.

“Izu, honey, spill the tea!” Mina cheered. “I’m betting Shinsou.”

“I wish,” Shinsou grinned, giving Izuku a good-natured wink.

Izuku put a hand on his chest. “All you have to do is ask, my love!”

“Awww. You’re too precious.”

Kirishima leaned in between Izuku and Shinsou. “But then who? Are you going to tell us?”

“Yes, nerd, tell us.”

Izuku laughed. “Calm down, guys. Kacchan and I kissed a bunch of times when we were, like, four. Does that not count?”

“It does,” Shinsou conceded, delighted expression on his face. “That’s so adorable I might get cavities.”

“I wanted to marry him back then,” Izuku laughed. “So it made sense to four-year-old me.”

“Awwww.”

“And he would not stop pestering me about it,” Kacchan scoffed.

“I mean, you eventually said yes, so it worked. To be fair, I just wanted to live at your house rather than my own,” Izuku admitted, vaguely remembering just how big it had seemed to him, and how nice his parents had always been.

Uraraka cackled. “Yes, get their money and real estate and keep what you can!”

“Would’ve been better for everyone involved,” Kacchan said quietly. “Not that you didn’t basically live there anyway.”

Izuku leaned onto Kacchan’s shoulder for a moment, just enjoying the warmth he radiated. “Hmmm. I really owe auntie and uncle for that.”

“Is it just me, or are we missing something here?” Shouto asked into the round.

Mina took a drink. “Oh, we definitely are.”

Izuku straightened back up. “Ah, sorry guys. I didn’t want to- my dad never really wanted a child, and then I was also quirkless, and my parents fought a lot before he left, so my mom was out all the time working, and… yeah.”

He took in the quickly falling expressions and decided to wildly swerve that topic to something else. “Wait a minute. Why were you drinking then, Kacchan?” he asked, raising an eyebrow for extra effect.

The other scoffed. “Everyone drank. Do you have any fucking idea how often we played truth or dare or some shit? Raccoon eyes made each of us go through the entire squad at some point.”

“True,” the rest chorused, raising their drinks vaguely in Mina’s direction.

“You’re welcome, sweeties.” She threw a wink in his direction and mouthed something that looked like ‘You’re next’.

“My turn!” Shinsou announced. “If this party were the start of a horror movie, who would die first? Vote, the loser takes three sips. Aw man, and Sero is not even here. Alright, three, two, one…”

A silence spread as they all seized each other up, contemplating. Izuku thought fast – and when the countdown reached zero, he pointed at Iida, together with Uraraka, Mina, Shinsou and Kacchan. The rest pointed at either Kirishima, Kaminari or Izuku.

“Are you seriously implying that I, a trained pro hero, would die before – and I really, really mean no offense here - someone without combat capabilities that is also the most harmless person ever? Really?”

“Oh come on, we’ve been over this.” Uraraka hooked her chin over Iida’s shoulder. “You would want to make sure everyone else is safe, and you would also volunteer to check out anything suspicious by yourself. It’s a statement how much we know you’d protect us all. Now drink.”

Iida complied with an eyeroll, but he was smiling. And blushing.

Shouto picked up the next card, but didn’t read it yet. “I honestly think Izuku would be the last person standing,” he mused. “I mean, I know I’d probably protect him with my life.”

Izuku felt his face heat, a warmth that spread throughout his entire chest like sweet syrup.

“I would, too,” Kirishima nodded.

Kacchan barked a laugh. “Yeah, and that’s how he gets you. If this were a horror movie, he’d be the thing we were running from.”

“Bakugou!”

“I’m right! You lot think he’s all cute and freckles and sunshine, well fucking think again. You’ve read the notebook, Shitty Hair. He has a plan to kill every single one of us and you can’t convince me otherwise. He turned my coffee machine into a robot arm like it was no big deal, and then put it back together in five minutes when I was taking a shower! This is some Phineas and Ferb bullshit, just that he’s also evil.”

Mina nodded. “So Izuku would die first because you’d go after him?”

Izuku watched Kacchan out of the corner of his eye, wondering where this hypothetical mass murder spree was going. The other took another swig, “That would make me the first one to die. I’m not taking that risk.”

“Izuku would never, right?” Uraraka asked, looking between them.

“She hasn’t seen the notebook!” Mina hollered, leaning over Kaminari to shake her by the shoulders. “Go on, Izuku, tell her how she dies! I’ll go out in a blaze of chemical fire and hazardous gases, it’ll be glorious!”

He turned his attention to Uraraka. The rest of the group had expectant looks and knowing grins on their faces, so he decided to think seriously about this. Despite the weird topic, their hypothetical horror movie plot was quite fun, he found. He liked the idea of chasing around a bunch of pro heroes in a deserted house somewhere (for a movie!), and he felt suddenly quite fond of them all for indulging him in this.

“Hm, let’s see… I don’t know as much about your quirk as I do about the rest, but I’ve heard a few stories and know you would absolutely destroy me in close quarters combat. However, there’s very little you could do against a ranged attack. A sniper rifle would probably do it, but that’s not very fitting for a horror movie. Your quirk is based on touching things, and you have to put your fingers together to release it, too. So, like with Kacchan, the first step would be rendering your hands useless. Or your arms entirely. Or… maybe I’d just put down a cute kitty or something, and then stab you when you’re distracted.”

Uraraka nodded sagely. “That would probably work.”

“No!” Shinsou protested with a strangled sound. “Don’t traumatize the kitty like that!”

“I wouldn’t kill the kitty-”

“Is this really your priority, Shinsou? I can die as long as the cat lives?”

“Well, yes-”

Kaminari threw a hand in the air. “How would you kill Blasty?”

“Don’t be silly!” Izuku laughed. “As if I would tell you that. Shouto, what does your card say?”

“Hang on, I’m sending this one to Sero – he may not be here, but that doesn’t mean he gets around it.” Jirou snapped a pic of the horror movie card. “He can do a shot for us, I’m sure.”

Shouto nodded. “He may be missed. Alright: Pick a player, then stare into each other’s eyes until one of you laughs. Loser finishes their drink,” he read, then glanced at Kirishima.

“Don’t bother,” Kirishima said with a sigh, lifting his beer. “Why do you always get that card?”

Murmurs rose around them as everyone waited for Kirishima to get himself a new drink before he could read his card.

Izuku felt Kacchan lean in next to him, whispering, “What, too afraid to admit I have no weaknesses and would absolutely demolish you?”

Izuku whispered back, not turning his head. “Well I sabotaged myself by not only telling you about your weaknesses but also developing a counter for them. But no, I just don’t want them to know that filling a room with fine-ground flour would probably do the trick, not when they’re gonna get drunk enough to maybe wanna try it out. I’m attached to this house. My stuff lives here.”

“Why did I even ask.”

The rest of the card game went by rather uneventfully (he learned a few things, like how Kaminari and Jirou had been to Australia, Shinsou could hold his breath for almost three minutes and how many Tinder dates each of them had been on.) He made it through most of his glass, feeling the slight buzz settle in.

“Okay, with that out of the way, let’s get the Jenga out!” Uraraka cheered, already pulling a big rectangular box out of her bag.

“Lesgo!” Kaminari agreed.

Shinsou leaned in on Izuku’s left. “That was the warm-up. You good?”

Izuku nodded. “It’s been forever since I played Jenga.”

“Mind you, this one is a different version. All the blocks have script on them, and if you pull one out-”

“I’m aware, thanks Iida,” Izuku interrupted. It earned him a few sceptical looks. “What? I’ve been to high school!”

“You were drinking at fifteen? That is rather irresponsible!” Iida protested.

Izuku stared right back into the round. “I wasn’t. But have you guys ever met any support engineers?” Their lot had done a lot of questionable stuff. Izuku’d never dared, too scared of his mom’s reaction should she find out, but he’d been at the parties, the chosen designated reasonable one. “No one had ever handled any heavy machinery or dangerous substances after drinking, they would’ve been judged heavily. And it was just on special occasions, a little beer and one time a bottle of vodka.”

“You know what, I think you’re right,” Jirou conceded. “They called us weird, but the support courses were plain insane. I’ve seen them sleep in the workshops, babysitting projects.”

“Hatsume scares me,” Iida whispered, far-away look in his eyes.

“Izuku scares me,” Kirishima added, grinning.

“Tech support is a slippery slope to madness.”

“I arrived there a long time ago,” Izuku admitted with a wry grin. “Am I going first?”

“Obviously. It’s your party, Nerd.”

“You just want to see me fail at the first block. Well, tough luck, Kacchan.” His right hand may not be what it once was, but when that ‘once’ entailed placing screws so tiny you had to do it with surgical precision under a microscope, a measly block was hardly a challenge.

He tapped carefully at one that slid right out with practically no resistance.

“Keep in mind, we wrote on both sides, and we always read the one that’s up,” Kirishima pointed out.

“Okay…” He glanced at the block. It was just a big X. “What does this mean?”

“Exes!” Mina hollered. “One sip for each!”

“Good riddance!” Kaminari shouted and downed a shot together with Shinsou, Uraraka, and Jirou.

Izuku contemplated his drink. This depended a lot on how one defined “Ex” and even more so on how one would describe that particular relationship. In the end, he shrugged and downed the mouthful left in his glass.

“What the fuck, nerd?” Kacchan seemed again taken aback.

He shrugged. “I had like a friends with benefits thing with one of the guys at the mansion. Although we weren’t really friends. Allies with benefits? Just benefits? We didn’t have much in common. I don’t think we would have gotten along under normal circumstances.” He wrinkled his nose. “He was, like, a total jock. Zero braincells. Believed in conspiracy theories. But he was nice. And he could sing.”

A silence unfolded after that. He left them some time to sort through this weird scenario. “You know, we could probably find out where they are,” Kaminari began. “Get them out of there, too.”

Izuku sighed deeply. “I already found the house.” It hadn’t been difficult. There were only so many mansions bordering forests in the country, and he could probably recite the Lady’s extended family tree from memory, given how often he’d dusted the plaques under the old oil portraits of her ancestors. It had been a matter of typing a name into the web browser and confirming the location via maps’ satellite images. One could even see the rosebushes in the garden. “It’s just, it’d be so easy to make a connection between me, Kacchan and a raid. It’s too risky. Plus, they’re not really in danger there, as long as they stay away from the roses. There are more important targets.”

“What did the roses do?” Uraraka asked.

“Eh. Well. I think she viewed us as living decoration? Like some people keep koi fish? Batshit insane, that woman. Pretty sure she murked her husband. Anyways, I got scratched up by some thorns,” he pointed at the scar on his nose, “and obviously she wouldn’t let that slide.”

Everyone squinted at his face. “I can’t see anything,” Shouto said.

“The scar,” Izuku said, as if that would enhance their vision.

“Yeah, it’s difficult to even make out in this light,” Shinsou said.

Uraraka seemed disbelieving. “Wait, she was upset over that?”

He shrugged. “As I said, she was insane…”

“I think it’s cute. Even if it ruins my constellation.”

When he turned his head, Kacchan was right there. “Um. Thanks?” Cute? Really?

“What’s ‘your constellation?’” Jirou wondered.

“The- the thing. Here. Taurus.” Izuku felt a hand on his chin and obediently turned his head so Kacchan could trace the shape out for her, a little clumsy in his movements. “If anyone has a marker…”

“Not again, Kacchan, please. I beg.”

“Spoilsport.”

“I’m going to make us new drinks,” Mina announced out of nowhere. Empty glasses where offered to her from all directions, not unlike bouquets declaring undying love.

“How did we derail this talk from ‘Exes’ to this?” Shinsou asked as she left.

“No idea.” Izuku freed himself and placed the block on top of the Jenga tower. “But really? Only, what, four people have an ex? No one else?” Izuku wondered, trying not to stare at Kacchan. “But you guys are all so awesome!”

Everyone “awwwed” in response, some blushing. Jirou shrugged, twirling her cables around a finger. “You know how it is, being a famous hero and all.”

Mina nodded. “The fans can get a little overzealous. Now if we count one-night stands…”

“We have a block for that. There’s also a ‘Perpetual single’ block, and it’s for some reason the only one that demands you down the drink,” Shouto grumbled. “You guys are unfair and traitorous.”

“We have to get you drunk somehow. It tallies up in the end.”

“So, Izuku, my man, tell me: What is your type?” Kaminari asked, leaning closer.

He raised an eyebrow. “Play the game and you might just find out.”

“Ohh, mean!”

He watched as the game continued, eyes half-lidded with happy exhaustion and alcohol, content to just bask in the moment. He cheered as Shinsou took on the challenge of doing push-ups with Kirishima sitting on his back (very impressive), then Shouto pulled a Joker card, using it to get out of Uraraka’s prompt where she and her neighbours had to put on their clothes inside out in a race. Iida gave out a compliment to everyone, then declined making out with Jirou, taking the drinks for them both. (“And they say chivalry is dead,” she deadpanned.)

Izuku laughed quietly at their antics.

“Hey, you good?” Kacchan suddenly whispered.

“Hm?”

“Your hand.”

Izuku flexed his right hand again, a movement he’d unconsciously begun. “’S just from holding something cold for so long,” he answered. It’d gone all stiff from holding his drink, lightly prickling with pins and needles. “Need to remember to use my left more.”

Kacchan let out a small huff and clasped Izuku’s hand between his own, heating them up just a little as he pressed his thumbs between the bones of his hand in a gentle massage.

Izuku sighed with instant relief.

“Better?”

“Very.”

Kaminari pulled a block free. “Bucket list!” he announced, then put his chin in his hand. “Uhh… Going to a Striped Racers concert with Jirou.”

Everyone cooed, and Mina continued. “Becoming more awesome and famous,” she joked.

Uraraka bopped her on the head. “No deflecting!”

“Fiiiine. I want to go on an adventure where someone sneaks me out of my window in the middle of the night and we run off along some train tracks. Or something with this certain vibe…” she trailed off. Everyone nodded in understanding.

Kacchan seemed oddly serious when he said “I want to go out hiking for a meteor shower.”

Again, everyone nodded. It was Izuku’s turn now, and he… had no idea what to say. “I never really dared to make plans beyond ‘Get away’… I’m pretty happy right now.”

Kacchan gently nudged him in the side. “C’mon, nerd. There’s gotta be something you want.”

“Well…” He leaned back against Kacchan, looking at the ceiling. “It’s pretty stupid,” he admitted. “But I’ve always wanted to be asked to dance. At an official event, even if it’s just the school dance.”

“That’s not stupid!” Uraraka shouted, backed up by Kirishima’s vigorous nodding. “Yeah, dude, I think we’ve all been there at some point. That’s so valid.”

“Honestly, mood,” Mina agreed.

Shinsou put a hand on his shoulder. “If I knew how to dance, I’d ask you right now.”

Izuku smiled, feeling close to tears. “And if I knew how to dance and were able to coordinate my movements, I’d accept.”

“Are you crying?”

“No!”

“Nerd always cries when he’s happy. Leave it.” Kacchan put one hand on the cushion behind Izuku. He could feel the warmth radiate against his back.

“I want to maybe open a cat café one day, where I adopt out shelter cats,” Shinsou continued.

Shouto said, “Finally get my agency open.”

“Beat my brother’s old hero ranking,” Iida said. “To continue the Ingenium name.”

Uraraka smiled at him. “Finally get our own house.”

Kirishima’s face went completely red, rivalling his hair. “Knock on Mina’s window at one AM and take her on an adventure, apparently.” Mina went equally red.

Jirou rolled her eyes and made a light gagging noise. “Ew, why’d you have to be like that? Anyway, I need to find someone to gift me a ticket for a Striped Racers concert.”

“Now look who’s talking!”

“Shut up, Mina, it’s your turn!”

Mina took off her shirt (without a prompt, just because) and ordered Kirishima to go make her some food when he chose ‘dare’ on his block.

Finally, it was Kacchan’s turn. He pulled out a block that Kirishima had almost pried loose with his own. And scowled. “Hottest person in the room finishes their drink,” he read.

“Oh well,” Izuku said. With an exaggerated sigh, he lifted his glass. “Here I go. Cheers,” he said, and downed the entire thing.

They all stared, part impressed, part horrified. “Izuku, my man, bro, take it easy!”

“Yeah, chill the fuck out nerd. Why you drinking in the first place? I can’t remember naming your freckled ass!” Oh, Kacchan had been supposed to name someone? Whoops.

Shinsou raised an eyebrow. “He has freckles on his ass? How do you know?”

His comment went ignored, however, as Izuku waved a careless hand. “Listen, I’m so hot, people literally stole me off the street. I doubt anyone would offer five dollars for most of you. I went for millions! I have the most net worth in any room I’m in. People should be grateful to be in my presence!”

He got rewarded for his small speech by a choked laugh as Kacchan glanced sideways at Izuku. “What the fuck, nerd? Where’d that come from?”

“Here, have that.” Shouto pressed a glass of water into his hand.

“Does Blasty go anyway?” Kaminari wondered.

Izuku narrowed his eyes at him. “What, you saying I’m not the hottest person in the house?”

“We wouldn’t dare,” Mina promised, hand over her heart.

“Would it be incredibly insensitive of me to ask how much money you’re worth?” Shouto said, slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Nah, I started it, didn’t I? Um… I actually only remember the first time, three two-five.” Ueda hadn’t paid and the third time he’d been too out of it to pay attention.

“Really?” Kacchan said, a little disbelieving. “I paid like one-hundred twenty five.”

Izuku’s eyes bugged out. “Million? How much do you make, exactly?”

“What? No. Thousand.”

Uraraka gasped in shock. “Wait, we were talking millions?”

“I just said that earlier, of course we were!” He crossed his arms. “Guess it tanked with those.” He tugged at the black fabric of his sleeve. “But really? A hundred twenty-five thousand? I’m offended. Is it weird I’m offended?”

“No, I would be offended too,” Mina reassured.

“Right? Oh well,” he sighed and leaned back. “If it landed me here, I guess I can’t be mad.”

“Well, we won’t complain either. But you’re right, those Auriculates were swindled. You’re steal. I mean, look at you,” Mina said.

He felt a small blush creep up.

“Hands off, I paid for that,” Kacchan intersected, putting an arm around his shoulder. “Guess we got lucky on the discount.”

The blush spread, and Izuku did his best to muster a flat stare despite it. “Are you guys calling me cheap?”

He could feel Kacchan freeze and saw Mina’s face turn blank as both tried to come up with an answer. It was the last straw to send the rest into helpless laughter at their faces.

“S’pose it’s my turn now?” Izuku asked, fixating the tower with all his might once they calmed down. He conceded this might’ve been a mistake, drinking that much. Still, he (barely) managed to retrieve a block. ‘Kiss ->’ “What? What’s that mean?”

“Kiss the person on your right,” Kirishima read over his shoulder.

“Ah.” He turned to look. The person on his right was definitely Kacchan.

“So it begins! Without me having to do anything!” Mina cackled.

He scanned the room, as if an exit from this situation would physically manifest on the couch table. His friends had expressions ranging from glee to drunk almost-indifference. Even Kacchan’s expression didn’t really change, except for the little put-upon eye roll he did.

Right, they’d all played that game before. A lot, probably. And they were all completely comfortable with each other, leaning on their neighbours or taking their shirts off without thinking twice about it.

So he could, theoretically, in this context, kiss Kacchan. He could do it and it would not mean anything and they probably would even forget it ever happened in a few months, because it was that insignificant of a thing. A game they were playing, that had been designed for high school and college kids and lost its dare to familiarity.

Izuku gripped his glass tighter. Kacchan was leaning closer, bracing himself on the hand that lay on the cushion behind Izuku.

He leaned as well. Backwards. “I don’t wanna.”

Somewhere, a cricket shed a tear at the missed opportunity for a solo in the ensuing beat of silence.

Jirou shook her head. “Wow. The instant rejection. Respect and sorry that happened respectively.”

“Aww, come on, freckles,” Mina tried to cajole. “One lil’ kiss.”

“You can just take a drink,” Shouto said, barely paying attention to them in favour of freezing Uraraka’s beer without her noticing.

Izuku glanced at his glass. “’S empty.” Now what?

“Here.” Kacchan, already back to his prior spot as if nothing had happened, shoved another glass in his face.

“That’s water.”

“Sherlock Holmes strikes again. C’mon.” Kacchan pushed the thing further in his face. Kacchan had nice hands. They ought to be intimidating, with the way they could produce fire and smoke, but they really didn’t look it, with the way his fingers delicately wrapped around the glass. Izuku wondered if they were smaller than his own.

Determined, Izuku took the glass with his left and slipped his right into the now free space, intertwining their fingers so their palms aligned. He squinted at the wobbly shapes. He thought his own hands were broader, but it was really impossible to tell without splaying their fingers for a proper comparison, and Kacchan probably wouldn’t do that. Since he could lose the competition. And then he’d be grumpy all day, and whenever the topic came back around, which thanks to the presence of the rest would be ‘at every opportunity’.

“What are you doing there?” someone asked. Jirou? Uraraka?

What had he been doing? He glanced down into his lap. He’d dropped the Jenga block. Ah, right, the rest probably wanted to continue with that, so he had to give Kacchan a kiss.

Izuku tugged so he could place a kiss on the back of Kacchan’s hand. “There!” he announced. Then he had to put down the glass so he could place the block on top of the tower. It wobbled precariously, but stayed standing.

“That doesn’t count,” Kirishima protested, grinning.

“Yes it does. There’s not specified where to,” Izuku retorted. …Had that sentence been grammatically correct? Eh, they would understand what he meant. “Right, Kacchan?”

Apparently not. Kacchan dragged a hand over his face and kept it there. “Just drink your water, nerd.”

“Okay.” He took a few sips. Water tasted good.

“And let go of me.”

Izuku squinted. “No. It’s a trap. He said that to me a few weeks ago and I was not supposed to,” he explained to the rest. They nodded sagely – at least the few that weren’t too busy laughing. Mina had her phone out.

“That’s not what happened. Less yapping, more water.”

“Okay.” He wasn’t sure what was going on with the game, so he tried to refocus his attention. His eyelids drooped against his will. He’d been awake for… close to eighteen hours at this point. Where’d the time gone? It felt like mere minutes since his friends arrived. Still, he soldiered on, refusing to let this moment end.

Shinsou now had the opposing prompt to Iida, insulting everyone. “Izuku, you’re so perceptive, and yet you have no idea when it comes to how people perceive you, it’s incredibly entertaining until it gets incredibly frustrating.”

It stuck with him, but he couldn’t unravel it now. Shouto pulled the block for the aces, scowling at the irony as he finished his drink with Shinsou. And then, inevitably, the tower toppled when Iida made a chopped movement in his own attempt.

“Noooo!” “Iida, why?” “The tower of Babylon falls!”

Izuku watched the ensuing chaos, fond smile on his face. This was a really good day. He was so glad he got to know these people. It hadn’t been long, but being with them all made him so happy, the word didn’t cover half of it. He wanted this evening to last for eternity, and at the same time he wanted to know what would happen next time they met, he wanted to celebrate their birthdays and go on silly adventures and talk about music and bands and dance and sing and share food and video games. Tonight, Izuku thought that being alive was just so beautiful. He loved them all.

Kirishima shed a manly tear. “Man, Izuku, we love you too!”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes!” Kaminari confirmed, “Now please let us hug you!”

They did, taking turns and ruffling his hair and sitting around him, all being happy and cute and probably way too mushy. Even Kacchan only grumbled a little, not participating but not abandoning his seat next to Izuku either.

“Hey, you guys wanna play the music game?” he asked, apropos of nothing.

“What’s the music game?”

“It’s… difficult to explain, really, there were never any set rules. Essentially, you put on a playlist or something and try to be the first to guess the song that’s playing. We’ve played it a lot, when I was at the mansion. Yukan had a mimicry quirk and we used him as our radio. It also works with categories like openings or specific decades of music.”

“We can do something like game soundtracks?” Kirishima asked, glancing at Kacchan for permission. “I’m sure there are dedicated playlists.”

Kacchan shrugged. “Sure.”

Izuku nodded, cautiously excited. “Keep in mind, I missed the last four years of whatever was happening-”

Kacchan smirked at him. “So we have a chance?”

“What, is Izuku crazy good at this?” Kaminari asked, also rearing to go. Izuku now noticed the guy was wearing merchandise of at least four different franchises.

Kacchan shot a flat glare into the round. “You guys. Take a wild fucking guess as to why I call him ‘Nerd’. He has these things memorized and because someone cannot be silent to save his life, I had to suffer too. From kindergarten throughout middle school.” The insult lacked bite, but Izuku ducked his head nevertheless. His incessant humming and whistling had driven more than one person insane. Even his mom, sometimes.

“Is this why you have a visceral pavlovian reaction to the Super Mario theme?” Shouto asked.

Kacchan’s stare went distant. “If I hear that song one more time, I will skin somebody.”

They set up the speaker in the middle of their circle, and Kacchan unlocked his phone for them to use. There was indeed a random playlist specifically for their purposes. Shouto, who had no idea about video games, volunteered to be the referee.

It started out insanely competitive, as the game always did (at least in his experience).

“That’s Zelda!”

“Which song? Just the game doesn’t count!”

“Uh…”

“Hyrule field, from Twilight Princess.”

“Correct.” Shouto made a tally for Izuku and skipped to the next one. It didn’t even take five notes.

“Spider Dance!” Another point.

The next one started as a soft piano, and Izuku kept quiet. Jirou eventually said “City of Tears?”

“Yep. The version with the rain.”

“If you knew, why not say it?”

“Here’s another unspoken rule: If someone gets it we skip it, and I like that one. So I see how far I can listen to it.”

“There, a wild nerd, see what I- Life will change! Izuku, you haven’t played that one!”

The music kept playing as everyone looked at Izuku like he’d committed heresy and also slaughtered a puppy. “It’s on my list!”

They went on like that for some more rounds, until he and Kacchan shouted in unison “Steel Samurai, best ringtone!”

Shouto looked down. “I’ll mark that as a point for both of you.”

“As fun as this is to watch, these two are like twenty points ahead of third place. Let’s just hand it to them and maybe get a different category? So Shouto can play?” Uraraka suggested.

They agreed, and Kacchan volunteered his own favourite song playlist. “I can be the next referee.”

It was overall a lot more balanced this time around, mainly because Kacchan, much like a magpie, had adopted songs from all of his friends at some point.

Even from Izuku, apparently. “Starlight Brigade!” Izuku shouted, nearly throwing himself across Shinsou’s lap to get the speaker and turn the volume up. Coordination was poor throughout the group at this point, and he sent a domino line of people toppling.

“Oh no! My drink. Urgh, that’s gonna be gross.” Kaminari looked down into his lap, mourning the remnants of his Swimming Pool.

“Goddammit, Pikachu! If that stains, you’ll get me a new couch!” Kacchan cursed. “Fucking imbecile. I’ll get you something to clean up, and that rug better be spotless when you’re done.”

“Can you get me pants, too?”

“If you weren’t dripping on my floors I’d say no, just so you’re aware.” Kacchan and Kaminari stood and went to clean up.

Izuku leaned back, nursing his second… third (?) water. The break in the frantic energy made him realize just how sleepy he was. It was close to three in the morning, he noticed. Time had flown by today. They made idle conversation, currently hung up on silly stories of their school festivals. Another thing he’d never experience.

Looking around, he saw the others still deep in conversation or halfway to passed out.

He got up and headed for the kitchen, where Kacchan tossed a wet dish towel at Kaminari. “Go clean your mess. Oh, hey nerd. Want a refill?”

He wasn’t sure why he’d come here exactly. His thoughts were muddled and bubbly. For lack of something else to do, he went and wrapped both his arms around Kacchan, who stiffened a little in surprise.

“Oi, nerd. You good there?” A hand came to hesitantly pet his hair. “You’re not going to throw up on me, are you?”

“No,” he muttered, burying deeper into Kacchan’s shirt. “I just like you a lot. Want a hug. I’ve really missed you.”

Kacchan’s answer was a strangely garbled sound. He did reciprocate the hug, finally, and Izuku felt very very warm. “Fucking hell, you’re a cuddly drunk. Figures- Pikachu, you will put that phone down or I will have your kneecaps!”

“Gee, man, calm down, I will…”

“You’re on thin fucking ice already,” Kacchan hissed.

“Don’t mind him, Kaminari,” Izuku mumbled. “He’s not gonna. Kacchan is nice. Look.” He turned his face until he spotted a glass of water – his glass of water, how’d that gotten here? – on the counter. Reaching out with his fingertips, he gave it a nudge and sent it shattering to the kitchen tile. “See?”

There was a lengthy, confused pause.

“Nerd. What the hell was that for?”

“’M just saying.” Unbidden, he found himself giggling, unable to stop. He squirmed in Kacchan’s grasp to turn his face the other direction, looking at Kaminari. “See, I broke that, and Kacchan’s not even gonna hit me,” he grinned. “It doesn’t matter! It’s fine!”

Kaminari stared at him, hand covering his mouth, glancing down at the shards. “…I wanna give you a hug.” Somehow, it sounded less friendly and more… sad?

Izuku would accept a hug. To make Kaminari feel better. If he were free. He frowned. Kaminari was standing all the way over there, and he couldn’t move for obvious reasons. “But I’m already hugging Kacchan.”

“You could switch?”

“…I prefer Kacchan. Kacchan is my favourite.”

“Ouch,” Kaminari said, but he sounded like he was smiling at least. “Well, in that case, I’ll just… leave you… and go clean…” He slowly inched out of the kitchen.

He frowned again. Kacchan was still there, of course, but he hadn’t said anything for the last minute. Or moved. Izuku awkwardly craned his head up, so he could look at Kacchan’s face. “Kacchan, are you mad at me for breaking that?” It had been a nice glass. Probably more than four bucks at IKEA. “I’m sorry I broke it.” Really, what had he been thinking? It’d been a perfectly nice glass and now it was broken for no reason.

Kacchan’s face was unreadable. “Doesn’t matter. More importantly; now I’m suddenly good enough for his highness?” he grinned, a bit crooked.

It took him a moment to follow the trail of logic until he could see what Kacchan was getting at. “That’s different. I didn’t wanna just because a stupid game told me to. Would’ve been weird.” He frowned. “Didn’t think you’d wanna. You shouldn’t make people do things they don’t wanna. ‘S not right.”

“See, that makes more sense. ‘S not like anyone would say no to this.” Kacchan wiggled around a bit, probably trying to indicate himself somehow.

“Of course not. Not to you.” His own – what had Kacchan called him? – ‘scarecrow-looking ass’ was another matter.

“Hm.” Kacchan tilted his head the tiniest bit, and Izuku felt soft, warm pressure against his forehead. He thought it accidental at first – this was just the way their height difference lined up – but the touch lingered too long. It felt like warm affection being poured into his body, all soothing and cosy like a hot water bottle and blankets in front of a snowy window. “You know I would never hurt you, right?” He could feel Kacchan’s lips move against his skin.

“I know. That’s what I just said.”

“And I won’t let anyone else either. If someone tries – if you think someone would try, you’ll come straight to me, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Promise.”

“I promise, Kacchan.”

“Good.” The arms around him squeezed tighter, and he tucked his face into the crook of Kacchan’s neck. He smelled nice.

“Can you… do that again?”

“Do what?”

“The-” he broke off, afraid even saying it would break something. Instead, he tilted his head, hoping Kacchan would get the message.

“Tch. You’re drunk.” Nevertheless, he felt careful fingers brush some wayward strands of hair aside before Kacchan placed another soft kiss on his temple.

“So are you.” He wouldn’t be doing it otherwise. He knew Kacchan cared, but it was always hidden beneath three layers of annoyance and grumpiness. Receiving such a direct confirmation, unprompted that first time even… It made Izuku feel a little special. “Kacchan.”

“Hm?”

“Kacchan.”

“What?”

“Kacchan.” He tried to somehow hug Kacchan more. He knew this wasn’t going to last, that he’d have to let go soon, and he hated the thought.

“…you’re something else alright.” Kacchan huffed and rested his chin on Izuku’s head, enduring the embrace for a while longer.

They stood there for an indeterminate amount of time, until Kacchan started to shuffle them both back towards the living room. “Come on, let’s get back. The others are staring already.”

Izuku couldn’t care less, but sitting down was preferable to standing up. If he closed his eyes, the world started swaying a little. He wasn’t even sure how they made it back exactly.

“Oi, Denki. Do me a favour and go clean the kitchen.” Kacchan said.

“Right. Sure.”

Shinsou fished for the speaker and put it back in the middle of their round. No one was really playing anymore. Shinsou, Uraraka and Kirishima took turns putting very specific things in the queue, and the rest was making idle conversation. The party was winding down, but Izuku bravely fought on to stay awake a bit longer. As long as he could.

“I think we’ll help clean up,” Iida suddenly announced, coaxing Uraraka, Jirou and Kaminari to get up with him. Izuku forced his eyes open at the sudden volume, unsure where or when he was.

That got Kacchan to get up and stretch, leaving Izuku to fall onto the couch sideways as his support vanished. “Alright, let’s get you to bed.” He picked Izuku up despite his protests and carried him down the hall to the bedroom, where he put him down on top of the covers. “Can you get ready for bed on your own? And I dare you to puke in my bedroom.”

“’M fine, Kacchan.” Izuku yawned again and curled up as he was. “Not drunk. Just tired. Was a lot.”

“Oh, just great,” Kacchan muttered. He sighed and returned to the living room.

Izuku breathed deeply a few times and got up again. He was really not that drunk, it was the exhaustion that kept him glued to the mattress. But he didn’t want to fall asleep in his day clothes, and he needed to brush his teeth. After saying proper goodbyes and help cleaning up.

Kacchan’s voice, bristling, made him pause in the hallway. “What?”

“I mean, where do you sleep?” Mina asked, sounding way too smug.

There was a small pause, and Izuku knew Kacchan had crossed his arms and raised his chin. “In my room.”

“With Izuku?” The statement was followed by some whistles, and someone muttered “Get it.”

“Oh come off it, asshole. As if I’d ever do that. He has nightmares to the point of insomnia. So he sleeps there because he feels safer. Is that a problem? Are we going to make jokes about it?”

Silence followed. “Sorry,” Mina muttered.

“Let’s clean up so they can get some rest,” Iida conceded. They tidied quietly and efficiently, a seemingly practiced routine by now.

Giving it a moment so no one would suspect his eavesdropping, Izuku finally stepped out to help, but was shooed off instantly. “It’s your birthday, we do the work!”

He went to brush his teeth and wash his face whilst they cleaned before saying goodbye to his friends. “Thanks so much for coming today. That was the best birthday I ever had,” he told them truthfully.

The front door closed, and Izuku sighed, trudging back to bed and flopping down face first.

“Are you bothered with me here?” he asked a few minutes later, when he felt the mattress dip beside him.

“You heard that.”

“You weren’t exactly whispering.”

“D’you really think you’d be sleeping here if it bothered me?”

“…No.”

“And there you have it.”

Izuku turned around so he was facing the other. “Kacchan?”

“Hm?” Kacchan seemed half asleep already.

“Thanks for today. I had a lot of fun.”

“Welcome,” the other said weakly, clearly drifting off.

“Kacchan?”

“…”

“I’m so happy I get to have you in my life.” Because what were the odds? Two people, being almost the same age, growing up side by side and then finding each other in a one in a million chance event after being separated.

Carefully, he shifted closer, bringing the back of his hand up to rest against Kacchan’s. “You’re my favourite person in the whole world. Love you.” He closed his eyes and wriggled deeper into the sheets, fishing around behind himself. Miles was nowhere in reach, so he begrudgingly conceded defeat. He couldn’t open his eyes if he wanted to.

“…You’re never drinking again.”

Chapter 13

Notes:

Okay, before anyone wonders about the wordcount: Technically this was supposed to be two chapters, but I figured most of one was completely irrelevant and did not contribute to the story, so really, it's kind of shortened down. It just wouldn't have made sense to post them seperately. So there. I am not in denial.

Also not really proofread because I had a crazy long day today. If you spot mistakes, point them out so I can execute them for their crimes.

“You are never drinking again,” Katsuki whispered under his breath. Izuku didn’t react, probably because he was still dead asleep. And being a menace.

It was half an hour before the alarm, but he’d woken up from the sweltering heat. Which wasn’t unusual, given it was the middle of summer, but the feeling of something overwarm and heavy confused him. He’d tossed the blankets aside days ago. Reluctantly, he cracked an eye open, only to find his right arm trapped in a death grip, with the nerd cuddled against his side like he’d been superglued there. When Katsuki stretched to look past the mess of green hair, he could see Miles sitting by the wall, happy cartoon face smiling in the early morning sun like nothing was amiss. Probably proud he managed to shirk his duties.

Katsuki didn’t really mind the cuddling (not that he would admit it aloud). Izuku was a touchy person, was touch-starved, really, and he had no issue providing some affection. (He couldn’t care less about the boggled expressions of his extras yesterday). In a way, he felt honoured, being Izuku’s chosen person. Not that there was much choice, but still.

The problem today was: Izuku was still fast asleep, and Katsuki was supposed to go to work, but there was no way to extract his arm without waking Izuku. Which would not have been a problem if their positions weren’t so… this.

Izuku had a firm grip on his upper arm, face buried somewhere against his shoulder. Harmless enough. However, true to the trademark full-body-chokehold Izuku kept his pillows in, he’d also curled up to wrap his legs around Katsuki’s wrist. Which left his hand trapped between Izuku’s thighs, and if they were a sliding scale where ‘One’ was marked by the knees and ‘Ten’ was Parts That Should Not Be Touched Without Consent… well, he was at a solid eight. Eight and a half. Gracious nine. Which was just plain weird. And uncomfortable in the emotional way. It just seemed wrong, and the longer he kept trying not to think about it, the hotter he felt.

Given how violently Izuku had recoiled at the idea of a kiss yesterday, Katsuki wasn’t too sure what words he’d have when he woke up essentially being groped.

…Hang on. This was the nerd’s own fault! He shouldn’t have to care about this!

With a final sigh, he swiftly pulled his arm free as he got up, and Izuku… slept right through that. “Never drinking again,” he muttered. “Oi, nerd! Wake the fuck up!”

“Hng.”

“Nerd!”

“Wha?”

“I need to go to work soon. Do you want breakfast?”

There was a lengthy, thoughtful silence. “Yes.”

“Cool.” With that, he grabbed his clothes and decided to head for the bathroom to get dressed there. Upon return to the kitchen two minutes later, he found Izuku up and about against all expectations. Then he promptly had to stifle a laugh when he noticed the red imprints of little chainlinks on the back of Izuku’s thigh, where his wrist had just been. Whoops.

“And how are you feeling?” he asked instead. “You absolute lightweight.”

Izuku glared at him, although his slouch nullified the effort somewhat. “Excuse me for not looking like I want to compete in the local body-builder competition. I’ll weep my loss during all the free time I have due to not being at the gym.”

Katsuki valiantly stifled his grin at the venom in Izuku’s voice. He rarely saw him grumpy – couldn’t recall ever seeing him this grumpy, actually – and it was kinda cute. Definitely different. “Hungover, then?”

“Dunno. Probably not, don’t have a headache. Just really tired, still. I think I’ll go back to bed later.”

“See, you mock me for my bedtimes, but this wouldn’t happen if you had a regular schedule,” he said airily as he walked past Izuku to raid the fridge for breakfast. He surreptitiously glanced at his reflection whilst he was at it. It wasn’t that over the top, was it? He certainly did not look like these ridiculous body-builder types. His muscle was actually useful. Nothing more than he needed. He could wear commercially available clothes without issue. And anyway, hadn’t Izuku yesterday sort-of confessed to being attracted to that type? ‘A jock’ was what he’d called his… benefits. But then he’d also said how he hadn’t really cared for that guy, somehow, and there was no deciding whether the jock part was a pro or a con.

He slammed the fridge closed after retrieving some ingredients for scrambled eggs with mushrooms. “So you won’t need Ibuprofen? Good. It’s in there anyway.” He pointed at his little medicine drawer.

“Urgh. No. How can you be so… awake? It’s disgusting. We slept…” Izuku glanced at the clock, “…we slept four hours.”

“Not enough,” he admitted. “But some of us have to get our asses to work.” He tried to multitask putting oil in the pan and retrieving his cutting board, only to nearly swipe the eggs off the counter. Maybe that was too little sleep.

Izuku looked like he was about to keel over into his cup of tea. He jolted up in surprise when Katsuki placed a plate in front of him. “What! Thanks.” He took a bite in slow motion. “Wait. Who has to work today?”

“Everyone that’s not specifically on vacation. You do know how jobs function, right?”

Izuku’s eyes went comically round. “But that – and I thought – Huh?”

“What? You thought the lot of us could all get a vacation on the same day? No one would be patrolling!” he laughed. “Although most of them asked for afternoon shifts, if that helps you sleep later.”

“Oh. Yeah. Makes sense.” Izuku continued to make his thinking face as he chewed on his toast. “But then why are you out so early?”

“Because, between me and Shitty Hair, someone does have to take morning patrol. And I lost the coin toss. On the bright side, it’s just the patrol today, so I should be back in four or five hours.” Fat Gum was surprisingly lenient with letting him do his paperwork from home, and he abused this newly discovered knowledge to the fullest.

“Well, good luck with your patrol, then,” Izuku chirped as a goodbye. In hindsight, this was one of these phrases that just asked for shit to go wrong.

Barely two hours later, he found himself cursing violently as the villain he was chasing ducked behind an upturned desk and threw another knife in his direction. It embedded itself in the frame of the door, causing him to turn his head to look at it - just in time to catch movement from the stairwell.

Out of nowhere, another villain appeared. Katsuki immediately deduced a speed quirk, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to get away in any direction.

Instead, he levelled both hands in the rough direction of the guy, trying to cover a wide field in a cone-shape in front of him to make dodging more difficult. The explosion created a brief smokescreen, and he side-stepped, making his own position harder to predict. Luckily, it was the correct move – a lightning-fast punch rippled the dust by his ribs and a shockwave threw him out of the window. “That’s for ruining my catch, fucker!” a voice he thought he recognized shouted.

As he fell, he saw a wall of the building shatter into fine dust to the sound of a sonic boom that hurt his ears even through the plugs. The noise thankfully masked his own explosions as he stopped his freefall and shot off into another building across the street.

He pressed a finger onto his mic. “Ground Zero, requesting backup immediately, speed quirk in the office that just got fucking pulverized.”

“Urgency?” came the voice of their tactical support. It was the annoying voice of their official consultant, who had sent him to the skirmish as a backup and violently undersold the number of villains in the area. He was completely cut off without ever meeting the main squadron of heroes.

He considered the question. He would be able to buy some seconds hiding in here, and he could hold his own now that he knew what to look out for. “I’m managing.”

“Backup is on the way. ETA thirty seconds.”

Carefully, he glanced over the top of the half wall he was hiding behind. He spotted the speedy bitch down on the road, looking for him. Two other villains had joined him from god knows where, and the fourth was looking down from the hole in the wall above.

“That was Ground Zero, right? Did you get him?”

“Dunno. I hope so.”

“Should we go looking?”

Speedy Bitch glanced around, probably taking in the sound of sirens and fighting close-by. “Nah, too risky. Let’s get out.”

Katsuki tensed, ready to blast out and stall them. His backup was still twenty seconds away, and he didn’t want to urge them. For their own safety. So he’d just have to last a few seconds four against one. Two quirks unknown. Easy.

Izuku’s face flashed in his mind, looking devastated and positively sick with worry the last time he’d gotten himself landed in the hospital.

With a quiet “Fuck,” he crouched down lower behind his cover as he watched them leave. By the time Kamui Woods and Cellophane appeared, they were well gone.

“Bakugou!” Sero shouted after spotting him through the doorway. “Where’s the enemy?”

He waved them down, getting up and dusting himself off. “Taken off. There were two more, so I had to retreat.”

Sero shot him a dubious look. Kamui Woods sighed, using his own radio to update the rest of the heroes in the area about this development. “Nothing to be done about it now,” he said. “That attack was well coordinated. I’m just glad we managed to chase them off before they could cause further damage.”

“Think these are some remnants of those gang fights?” Katsuki asked. He’d been near the area only coincidentally, and there hadn’t been time to ask for details like that when he’d rushed in to help.

Sero nodded. “Most likely. They’ve been squabbling more and more the past week. I can’t set foot in my sector without hearing them scream at each other like alley cats.”

Katsuki grimaced in sympathy. His own sector was generally pretty quiet since his reputation proceeded him at this point. “At least you have something to do. The most exciting thing in my area are the actual alley cats.”

“In that case watch out so Shinsou doesn’t steal your route,” Sero said.

He grinned at the idea. “Anyway, I better check in with my own higher ups. I wasn’t supposed to get in a gang fight today.” Fat Gum still acted like a cursed mother hen whenever his employees failed to check in after the most minor altercation.

He raised one hand in a wave as he walked off. Which was then grabbed without warning.

“Bakugou! Stop! What the fuck?!”

Sero’s panicked screeching had him re-enter fight mode immediately. “What? Where?”

“Bro!” The other looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Okay. Don’t move. I don’t know if you know, but there’s a knife in your back.”

“Huh?” He tried to twist around to look over his shoulder, and when that failed he felt around with his hands.

“I said don’t move!”

“He’s right,” Kamui agreed, looking very much unperturbed. “You should get this seen to by a medic.”

“It’s not even-” he finally got a grip and pulled the knife out, a small blade no longer than five centimetres, “See? I’m fine. Didn’t even hit me.”

“Are you sure?” Sero walked around him and poked at the area around the tear in his suit. “Huh. It’s not bleeding. You must’ve had a crazy guardian angel there.”

An image of Izuku, cross-legged on the floor and slaving away over the costume design at four in the morning flashed in his head. “Yes, he’s quite insane.”

“What is this?” Sero knocked against his back, feeling the unforgiving protective layer under the black fabric.

“Suit upgrade,” he replied and stretched to showcase the stiff lining of armour. “It’s still in the testing phase, but I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume it’s working as intended.” He’d only caught glimpses of the process since Izuku insisted he did his best work late at night and unperturbed, but it amounted to a sort-of chainmail made from something that wasn’t metal and allowed him movement whilst still protecting his back.

Sero clapped him on the back. “Nice work.” He shook his hand out subtly. “If it gets approved, sign me up for one of those.”

“Will do,” he promised as he walked off, waving goodbye without looking. The office wasn’t far. Easier to show up in person and prove he didn’t break a bone or something. His boss was thankfully at the agency, looking at several TV screens that showed a familiar destroyed office.

“Mornin’”, he greeted, coming up to glance at the news. “Professor Oak has already sent you the details?”

“Not yet, but he’s called in. Good work out there.”

“They got away.”

“It happens. More importantly, no one got injured and property damage was kept to a minimum.”

“Right.” He wouldn’t call an entire floor ‘minimum’, but compared to the aftermath of the small war they fought a while back, it was really not that noteworthy.

“Is there anything else to report?”

Katsuki shifted. “Actually,” he began, and then closed the door. “That villain with the speed quirk,” he whispered urgently, “I’m fairly sure he was on The Playground. He hinted at it, too. So if we can somehow figure out who that is…” he trailed off with a meaningful glance.

Fat Gum turned serious in an instant, nodding. “It’s Kamui’s case, but I’ll try and ask him for the reports. Good thing you were there, that gives me an excuse.” Not that they really needed one, the offices cooperated willingly enough, but maybe it’d expedite the process. If they had any useful information, he could hand it to Izuku – they’d have the guy in three days tops. “Anything else?”

So his awkward lingering hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Um. Actually.” He poked his head out the door again. No one seemed to be around, so he closed it firmly and walked over to the desk, phone in hand. “I’ve gotten an Email. From Ueda.” He showed the text in question to his boss.

Please let us know if you’ll RSVP at the upcoming event.

“That’s not a lot of detail,” Fat Gum masterfully deduced.

“Damn right it isn’t. They haven’t told me anything else, either. I’m assuming I’m going, though?”

“Naturally. This is what we are after. Now, I’ll call a meeting with Peregrine for this, probably in two days’ time. I’ll leave you to handle the invitation until then.”

“Cool. Um. I had a question?” Upon his boss’ inquisitive ‘go ahead’ nod, he asked the one thing that had bothered him a while now. “Can’t we get Izuku involved with this? Properly?”

“And why would we take such a security risk?” It wasn’t a flat dismissal, more of an invitation to state his case, so he went with it.

“Well, first off, there’s no real risk involved as far as I am aware. It’s not like he’d go telling people what we’re trying to do. The only people he really does talk to are in on it, too. He’s aware of what’s at stake, and if anyone has a motivation for this mission to succeed, it’s him. And he could be a huge help! He figured out Reject’s name in three days. I’m sure he’ll have that speedy fucker from earlier in less time. He’s really fucking clever, to the point that even Nezu insisted on getting him into a consultant course. Helping us would also be good for him,” he added. “He could get some experience and all. And he knows more about the Auriculates and specifically the auctions than anyone else we have at our disposal. Come on, you can see why he’d be useful.”

“Hmm. I can. And you’d vouch for him?”

“Absolutely.”

They stared at each other as the seconds noisily ticked by on the wall-mounted clock. Katsuki did his best not to fidget.

“Very well,” his boss eventually sighed. “I assume that means getting him up to speed on the proceedings. And I’ll need him to sign the NDAs.”

“Knew you’d see reason. I can do that.”

After finishing his patrol, he arrived at his house with an armful of papers. It took an awful long while after closing the door before Izuku skidded into the hallway on bare feet. “Kacchan! You’re back! How was your day?”

“Went okay. Got a souvenir for you.” He handed Izuku the small knife he’d ‘collected’ earlier.

“What’s that?”

“That was thrown at my back and got stuck there. Nice work on the suit. Tape arms promoted you to my personal guardian angel.”

“Tape arms…? Cellophane? Does he know about me?”

“No, he doesn’t. But that’s what he said when he saw the knife. I hadn’t even noticed. Anyway, can you meet me in the office in a mo?”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed. “Without noticing…? Hm. That’s not good. If there’d been a second impact, it might’ve been driven through… I need to see the suit…”

“Oi, nerd!”

“Maybe do some testing on how much pointed pressure they can take, but it’s good that this got stopped…”

“Izuku! You listening? This is important, meet me in the office in ten minutes. You can party, so you can work.”

“The what?” he heard as he left for the shower. When he booted up his computer afterwards Izuku traipsed into the office on bare feet (still in his pyjama pants), clutching pieces of prototype chainmail and occasionally stabbing them with his new knife. He’d managed to crack two already, somehow. “What’s going on, Kacchan?”

In lieu of an answer, Katsuki waved Izuku around the desk to come look at the screen.

“Oh.”

“So, I have been invited to an auction, and we need to get as much as we possibly can from that event. You’ll be helping with the planning, so sign this and familiarize yourself with the mission. I’ve put the most relevant folders out here.”

Katsuki pointed at the stack of papers. He still wasn’t a huge fan of getting Izuku involved in this, but he was the only one that had been to an auction and therefore their best source of intel. He could admit that. It was only planning. Nezu thought Izuku was suited for consultant work? Bloody hell yes he was. So consultant work he was going to do. It would give him a nice bit of experience to put on his resume. ‘Brought down a human trafficking ring with a super-secret special squad’. People would fall over themselves to get him employed.

Izuku thumbed at the three huge folders on Operation Peregrine, which… didn’t seem much. That may be because most of the background information was in the Operation Nightingale files, which were stacked in two waist-high towers next to the desk. “Those are just the most relevant ones?” Izuku asked, flipping through the indexes. “At least they are organized,” he added with the weak laugh of the overwhelmed.

Katsuki laughed, too. “As if we both don’t know you’ll be done by tomorrow, even if you had two and a half weeks’ time to go through that. And you can ask me most of it.”

“Alright, where do I start?”

Katsuki skimmed over the labels on the back. “I recommend these,” he replied, pointing at the history they had compiled on the Auriculates’ activities over the last decade.

“Mkay.” Izuku grabbed the folder and sank down to sit cross-legged right on the floor.

“…You’re gonna get dressed and eat something first or so help you god.”

Izuku glared at him, even though he hadn’t really started reading yet, looking put-out. “Fiiiiiiiiine.”

Katsuki watched him get dressed in record speed and wolf down his late lunch in two minutes flat before he disappeared without another word. “Looks like now we’ve done it.” Izuku on a mission was frightening and disturbing in his intensity. Katsuki didn’t even try to step foot into the warzone that day.

By dinnertime his pet cryptid crawled back out of the information rabbit hole he’d gone down, mind visibly churning with all the new facts. He only tabbed back into reality when he sat down and got confused about the new colour of the table. “Has this always been white?”

No, it hadn’t. It was still the same colour underneath the white tablecloth – one of the disposable paper ones. A cup filled with pens of different colours sat at in the middle, “So you don’t have to jump up every ten seconds to get a new piece of paper,” Katsuki explained.

“That’s great,” Izuku commented. Then he fixed Katsuki with a glare, inhaled slowly and asked “And when exactly was anyone going to inform me that there is a mole in this operation?”

Katsuki shifted, feeling oddly… scolded? “It’s not like it matters to you.”

“Yes it does? This is very important context? I thought Peregrine’s goal was to capture key figures of the Auriculates, when actually they’re after the mole? And Nightingale still works mostly as intended? As in it’s their job to do the raids and the arresting, and not at all ours? This renders the idea we had to potentially capture The Goldsmith useless? Expands our list of potential suspects on boss?”

“You think the boss might be a hero?”

“I don’t know, he could be! I haven’t had time to think about that! What are you doing to suss the mole out?”

Katsuki launched into an explanation, even though most of their internal work was done by the undergrounders and the people that were in on Nightingale. “They brought me on to get a new angle on the topic, in the hopes that maybe the mole would approach me if I cozied up to the Auriculates.”

Izuku nodded earnestly, drawing a conspiracy sheet onto the table and connecting the dots with different colours. The cloth filled rapidly with random notes, comments and doodles from the both of them, and when there was no space left, Katsuki just got another one.

It was very effective in their planning, and the faces of the others when Ground Zero showed up to their meeting with a tablecloth as a whiteboard were definitely a bonus.

“ –and so using that as criteria, we can deduce that although they have Fishermen throughout the country, their main base of operations is somewhere around the Kanto region, with strong indication that their bosses have their main residence further away, maybe in Kansai.”

Earphone Jack whistled lowly. “And you deduced that all from the advance notice for the events and the meeting with The Goldsmith?”

“There were other factors as well,” Izuku interjected. Of course, he’d been requested to come along again, and Katsuki thought that Izuku was definitely at home in this environment. When he was confident, and not a stuttering fanboy mess. “Mainly things I inferred from the talks I overheard at Ueda’s house. There were also a lot of different regional accents at the auctions, but the amount of Kansai accents was notable. The Goldsmith and some of the Auctioneers also have them, so I’m inclined to believe they started out as a smaller group there and eventually moved to the Kanto region.”

“Good observations,” Eraserhead said. “And what are those calculations?” He pointed to a convoluted set of scribbles in a corner, with lots of letters and divisions and brackets.

“Ignore that,” Izuku said, keeping his voice normal with all his might. “That’s just where I calculated the best catch rate for Suicune for a speedrun.”

“I understand some of those words,” Eraserhead nodded.

“SO,” Izuku barrelled on, “when we’re at the auction, the people will of course be cloaked and masked. Customers’ masks are white, Auctioneers are blue, and the Goldsmith is, well, gold. I have never seen any other rank present, but I wouldn’t rule it out the bosses are there, wearing white to blend in. It should be said that the customer’s masks at the auctions will be painted and decorated, probably so they can recognize each other. We can use that, too. Our main goal should be to try and gather information to identify the auctioneers. If we can find out who they are, they’ll lead us to the boss eventually. We could also keep an eye out for customers with Kansai accents that are easily identifiable, there are a bunch with mutation quirks. Should they be long-time customers, they might know something interesting, too.”

“Hang on, ‘we’?” Katsuki interrupted.

“Yes. I’m coming with you, since I’ve been before. Don’t worry, a bunch of people will bring their hires. I won’t stand out.”

Katsuki ground his teeth, trying to keep it together. Izuku hadn’t told him about that part of the plan, on purpose. He could feel this was a bad idea, but that wouldn’t convince his bosses. He needed a rational reason. Izuku wasn’t completely helpless, he knew – at least not in the way he’d been when they’d found him. He’d gotten some weight back, and a little muscle, too. He almost looked like an average person again.

And his knowledge was valuable, there was no denying that. He would definitely find out more information that Katsuki could ever hope to gather on his own. Still, if this went south… “I can’t look out for another person in there.” This was the lion’s den, where all the big shots would congregate. Political games everywhere. And if they truly knew who he was, which at least Ueda did 100%, and they wanted to rope him into this whole organization as an informant… Or maybe there were some that had a personal score to settle, where he’d helped in busting houses of what might’ve been their mutuals… He would be a target in there, either way.

“If it comes to a fight, I couldn’t guarantee for your safety, Nerd.”

Izuku glared back at him, drawing himself up to full height. “I’m coming along to prevent you starting a fight, Kacchan. If it comes to it, you’ll have bigger problems, anyway. Fighting is strictly prohibited, and I have never seen what exactly the retribution is, but no one would dare start something. Like with The Goldsmith, this is going to be a perfectly normal event. Friends close, enemies closer. We want to be right up there in their good graces.”

“Speaking of,” Eraserhead intersected, “how would we best do that? Because I believe that waving money around would surely get us attention, but-”

“I am not going to actually buy during this fucking theatre show!” Katsuki hissed. “I’m busy enough with this green bean freeloading.” He poked Izuku’s cheek, speaking without any real heat. But it was true, he just did not have the capacities to take care of another person.

“Besides, if the, what, three point something million the Nerd mentioned is considered ‘normal’, there’s no way for me to reasonably explain how I got that money. I’m pretty sure they’d smell bullshit from a mile away.” He had more money than most people of his age group, because he’d gotten lucky with the merch deals. Thanks to some sponsorships and networking in the fashion industry, curtesy to his parents. But even so, that Playground entry fee had hit hard. (Or would’ve if the operation hadn’t sneakily provided those funds.) He suspected he’d be a very little fish at that auction.

“You could still bid into the higher amounts and drop out when you reach a reasonable limit. It’d show your willingness to spend money,” Earphone Jack suggested. “It’s about the networking anyway, and everyone knows it.”

Izuku nodded. “Yes. There’s always way more customers than items. Some visit auctions over ten times without ever buying anything. And the bids start from anything between two hundred thousand and one million. There’ll be an opportunity.”

Katsuki sighed, knowing he was fighting a lost cause. “If that’s the exact point the others stop bidding, I will make you responsible for whoever I end up stuck with. I’m not running a fucking charity at my house.”

“I think we can concede to that,” Fat Gum offered with a benign smile. “I’m sure Midoriya can help you judge a stopping point.”

Katsuki opened his mouth to protest. But what else could he say? With every argument, everyone else turned it around to make Izuku more useful than a hindrance. Short of his own reluctance to put him into a potentially dangerous situation, there was no reason for Izuku to stay at home.

He glanced to the side. Izuku stared ahead into the room, chin high, one hand on his hip, the other hovering near the notes where he’d explained something. He looked confident. There was no scenario where Katsuki could call him weak and not make himself a liar.

He hated it. That fool wanted to sneak into the lair of evil? Fine! Let him! Katsuki refrained from voicing his distaste. Silently, he dared anyone come complain to him should anything happen. Not that he’d let it. But if no one else was on his side, he’d have to just take the responsibility and bear it.

“Alright. Let’s just hope this doesn’t spectacularly backfire. If it does, I expect you to take custody of the cactus, Shitty Hair.”

“Yes!”

The details for the appointment on the auction came through almost two weeks later, barely 24 hours before the event, which left them… not necessarily with anything to prepare, but it caused this weird energy of ‘waiting’ that Katsuki hated with every fibre of his being.

“Sheesh, relax, Kacchan,” Izuku said from his room (yeah, that was finally a thing), where he was laying out different clothes on the cluttered bed. “What’s your problem?”

“My ‘problem’ is that you’re coming along, into a dangerous situation, against all reason, and no one deems it necessary to fucking listen to the hero that’s actually going to have to deal with the fallout!”

“Kacchan,” Izuku said, way too carefree, “there won’t be any danger. I’m going to be perfectly safe. No one’s going to even look at me.”

“Everyone’s going to look at us, should they actually know who I am.”

“You’re overreacting,” Izuku scolded, eyebrows drawn in an angry line, “I told you that it’s really quite impossible for anyone to start something without drawing the ire of the Auriculates. Really, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“You tell me! You’re wearing long sleeves in the middle of the summer, why is that, I wonder? They’ve tried to kill you before, and they were damn near successful with it!”

Izuku flinched back for a moment, before gearing himself up for a counter. “You can’t compare that! That’s a completely different issue! They won’t even look at me twice! They couldn’t do shit to me if they wanted. And what, you think I’m that helpless of a person that I can’t be trusted not to screw this up if anyone as much as looked at me wrong, which again, they cannot?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Then what’s your issue?”

Again, his mouth opened, but no words would come. He had no idea how to put his distaste for this plan into words, he just knew it felt wrong. “You know what, forget it,” he said instead. “’S not like we can change anything on such short notice.” He paced another line up and down the hallway before Izuku could continue the argument.

“Damn right. Now, what do you want me to wear?”

“Wear?”

Izuku’s expression turned to something that conveyed ‘I cannot believe you are this much of an idiot’. “Kacchan. This is a high class social event. You’ll be expected to dress accordingly, and I should probably not show up in jeans and a t-shirt, either.”

Shockingly, there was an undeniable logic there. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before?!”

“Because I thought this was one of these things that are quite self-explanatory!”

“Urgh, goddammit-” He had his suit from the last event, and he wasn’t ashamed to be an outfit repeater. “I don’t think I have anything in your size.” He pulled out his phone and dialled. “Thank god I know someone who could help us out.”

“Mina?”

“Absolutely not- Oh, hey, Half’n’Half. What’s your clothes size? Or your brother’s? Izuku needs some shit for the auction stat, please tell me you’ve got something around…”

At least this way there was less waiting around. They got ready in the early evening of The Day, two hours early. Katsuki stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to get his hair to do as he wished. He should’ve probably done that before putting on the new vest. Half’n’Half had taken one look at the outfit Katsuki originally planned and wordlessly handed over a charcoal grey vest with black embroidery to replace the jacket. Katsuki had gratefully accepted it. This allowed him much more freedom of movement in his shoulders, should he need it.

“Hey, Kacchan, can you help me with… the…” Izuku’s speech faltered as he entered. Katsuki pretended not to notice him, but he silently preened at the stunned silence. Hell yeah. “Wow. You actually look good.”

And there was the mother of all backhanded insults. “Oi, what’s that supposed to mean? You saying I normally don’t?”

“No, no, that was not at all- You always look good, but in the kinda No-Effort way? And now that you put effort – you know what, I’ll drop this conversation before I dig this hole deeper. Can you help me with the stupid tie?”

“Sure, let me just-” he glanced over, and now it was his turn to be stunned. He knew Izuku couldn’t care less about clothing or his own appearance, since he was a firm believer in spending his time working instead, but damn the Nerd cleaned up nicely.

Mina had offered another haircut, just to tidy the green mess a little, and since they hadn’t really had any idea what would and would not be acceptable for Izuku to wear, they’d gone with a standard set of black pants, matching shoes, a white dress shirt and a teal vest, so they’d match at least a little. Upon request, Izuku had added some white gloves as accessories. Katsuki couldn’t begin to speculate how the Nerd felt about potentially meeting the people that had given him those scars, but if he wanted to hide them, it couldn’t be good.

Only the tie was left to sort out, hanging open around Izuku’s neck. Katsuki stepped in close, and then decided to walk around Izuku instead. “Sorry, I can’t do this mirrored…” He reached around Izuku and began to tie a simple knot, glancing in the mirror now and then to make sure it was nice and tidy. “You look quite nice yourself,” he said, watching with a bit of malicious glee as Izuku turned tomato-red. It was so easy to get him to blush. Looking at him long enough would do it. “There. Ready?”

“Uh-huh. Let’s go. Thanks.” The nerd darted towards the door, and Katsuki slowly followed. He felt on edge, with the foreboding feeling that something would go wrong. If anything, it got worse as they drove downtown and approached the innocent building where they were scheduled to meet their guide.

Again, he was searched for bugs or weapons, and then ushered towards another car, which took them to a building a dozen blocks over.

A security guard led them inside, down a row of monotone, narrow corridors, until they stopped in front of a plain door without any sign attached. The guard motioned them inside, and Katsuki went carefully.

He was met with a small storage room, walls covered with rows upon rows of white plastic faces with unique patterns. There was another masked man serving as a sort of clerk behind a desk. “Please leave your phone on the counter. We will return it to you when you exit. If you wish to leave your car keys too, we will have a valet fetch your car and bring it into the underground garage here.”

Katsuki hesitated only a moment before tossing his keys onto the desk next to his phone. It’d save them time later, and if they actually intended to search his car for anything incriminating, he had no doubt they’d do it with or without keys.

The man nodded and handed him a mask wordlessly, which Katsuki put on, followed by the standard cloak. Apparently, his symbol was going to be green and blue triangles. Then the man also handed him a golden chain with clips on both ends. He stared at it, unsure what this was about.

After a moment, the man said “My apologies, but your hires must be kept close at all times. To avoid confusion and accidents.”

Katsuki reluctantly grabbed the chain, glad his face was hidden behind the mask. The ends clipped to his bracelet and Izuku’s necklace easily, giving them about one and a half metre of leeway. Izuku didn’t seem to mind, and Katsuki hadn’t planned to let him stray too far either way, but it was degrading.

“And here, your assigned number. Please remember it for the next time, and make sure it is always clearly visible.” With that, he was prompted to fasten a tiny brass plate with the number ‘129’ stamped into it on his lapel. They were motioned outside again and resumed their journey. Eventually, they arrived at an elevator, which took them down several levels. He couldn’t see any buttons inside. There was a camera in a corner, and he assumed it to be operated remotely.

When the doors opened, they stepped out into a foyer which was decorated to resemble that of a high-class theatre, the sort high society visited to watch operas: Red carpet, wood panelling, crystal chandeliers. People in white masks milled about, dressed in smart suits and ball gowns, holding wine and champagne. He saw a few unmasked people following their masters, just like Izuku trailed behind him now. It seemed like this was where he was supposed to mingle, but despite the distinct masks there was no telling who was who without prior knowledge. However, there seemed to be a distinct hierarchy. He wondered how these connections came to be.

Dammit. He hated to admit it, but he was a little out of his depth. Would it be okay to just walk up to someone? He was about to ask Izuku when he realized the other would likely not know anything about this part of the auction either. Would seeing them talk raise suspicions? Probably, right?

He was about to risk it anyway. As he leaned down to whisper, he spotted someone with a blue mask walking determinately in their direction. “Good evening, gentlemen,” the man greeted easily. His posture was completely at ease, and the indulgent smile seemed a far cry from the sharkpool he’d expected to find down here. “I was informed we’d have some newcomers today and was assigned to be your guide for the introductory tour. Welcome to the auction. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Katsuki shook the proffered hand and tried to drag the curtesy lessons Aoyama had given him from their murky resting places at the back of his brain. “Likewise…?” He wasn’t quite sure how to address the man. The number on his lapel read 0438, which probably didn’t indicate much other than declaring the matching mask pattern. A single golden stare decorated the corner of his eye.

The man gave a lopsided grin. “Ah, yes. First lessons of conduct in here – it is perfectly alright to call people by their numbers, unless they have an associated nickname they insist on going by. You’ll find out who those are quick enough. But, since us Auctioneers are the only ones prefaced with zero, you can just call us by the second number without generating confusion.”

“So you’d be four? Sounds a bit complicated. If you lot wanna assign nicknames right out the gate, I’ve been told I have a special talent for coming up with them.” Beside him, Izuku valiantly disguised his laugh as a cough.

The man made no such effort, apparently delighted with anything that wasn’t the normal, dead-boring song and dance of trying to be polite before transitioning to the weather. Good. He wanted to be memorable. “So, what’s the itinerary for the evening? I haven’t been told jack shit before I got here, so I gotta admit the suspense is through the roof.”

“Quite impressive, given how far up the roof is from here. The auction will begin in about forty minutes, through there.” He pointed at the far doors. “There is no seating order, and we naturally have catering right to your table, if you’d like to order via the tablet at your seat. Before you ask, I am not permitted to give away any information about the item catalogue. Rumour has it we’re going with a record eighteen items, but that’s precisely it – rumour.” He winked like he’d just broken several small rules just for the newcomer, but Katsuki suspected those rumours had been planted on purpose.

“And here I thought we were talking to a big shot,” he joked. “But do tell me more about how that shit works. I think I’ve learned the basics during the mandatory introductory visits with one of your colleague’s regular events, but…”

The man shrugged. “I’ll truthfully tell you, it’s essentially the same. They like to think they’re a bit more civilised down here,” he leaned closer, “but that’s a mass delusion if I’ve ever seen one. Survival of the fittest.”

“You mean the richest.” What was up with this guy? Something about his whole demeanour seemed… not necessarily off, but at odds with what they’d expected.

“I can hardly fault that statement. Now, what you should know about the policies here…” Katsuki listened intently as he was lead around the room, occasionally stopping to briefly greet other longer-time members and exchange pleasantries. However, at no point did his company make even the slightest remark about Katsuki’s identity. He’d figured that this would be the time they’d finally demand some cooperation from him, trying to better evade the heroes that were making a dent in their organisation’s numbers.

Right now, he was just The New Guy accompanying Number Four, who seemed in much higher demand. “Ah, if it isn’t our dear Four,” some elderly man called out. Katsuki tried to remember that beard. Surely that counted as an identifying feature. “If you’ll have a moment…?” the knock-off Gandalf asked, dismissing Katsuki entirely with the briefest glance.

The auctioneer’s easy smile turned a little pained at the edges. “Of course. If you’d excuse me for a moment…?”

“Don’t let me stop you. I’ll go and test your booze.” He motioned to the far wall, where a few waiters stood ramrod straight as if they were hewn from the pillars they guarded. He waved one of them over as soon as he made successful eye contact, and then subtly retreated to a less busy corner.

“So, what do you think?” he whispered to Izuku, hiding his mouth behind his glass.

“Certainly not what I expected,” Izuku whispered back. “I mean, I’ve only ever seen the backstage area, but this is even more over the top than I thought. I mean, I’m ninety-nine percent sure this is a new location, and it makes sense that they’d change them every auction, so I have to wonder… do they cycle through them, or do they genuinely build all this stuff up just for one event? This is insane!”

“Fantastic observation, I was asking about the people and not the architecture. Come on, Nerd, give me something to work with.”

“Look, I’m trying, but nothing much has even happened yet. I think it would be a good idea to get to know a few of the people here, but it’s not like I can help you with that!”

“Yeah, I got that far myself, thanks Detective. What I wanna know is whether or not there’s anyone that-”

“You know, whilst it isn’t at all frowned upon to talk to their companion, if someone of your profession does it in such a secretive way, it is bound to raise suspicion,” a voice cut in.

Katsuki straightened himself up again and took in the couple that approached them. The man wore a white mask with golden flecks. With one arm, he guided a red-haired woman in a frankly gorgeous lavender ball gown, decorated all over with gold and gems in a way that wasn’t overbearing. Even her mask was golden lace. They seemed young, from what he could glance – not much older than he and Izuku – but the guy carried himself with the easy importance of someone above the rest.

“And what suspicions would those be?” he asked back. No use denying it. They had been talking, but they hadn’t done anything wrong. Denying it would be the truly suspicious thing. “Number… five three nine?” he read off the brass plaque pinned to the man’s grey suit.

The guy grinned at him. “Please. I know who you are, Ground Zero. Most of the vultures do. And they will be scrutinizing your every move in here.” Now his eye’s flickered to the side, undoubtedly seizing up Izuku. Katsuki resisted the urge to step between them.

“I’ve heard your first introduction to our little society was through Ueda and The Playground,” 539 said conversationally. “Which is, in my opinion, a rather dreadful and tasteless event. The auctioneers use it to… clear space for new stock. Although I am not quite sure how such a nice young man as yourself would end up there,” he said towards Izuku. “In any case, it is perfectly acceptable to treat your companions as what they are.”

“Decoration?” he sneered back. The woman certainly hadn’t made any move to indicate otherwise.

539 seemed offended at that. “Not all of us keep our hires locked in a basement. If the people here wanted simple-minded pets, I’m sure a dog would come at a much cheaper price with much more affection. The thing is, they don’t want dogs, they want humans, and I it would be incredibly beside the point to treat them as anything else, wouldn’t you agree?”

There was something off about that guy, Katsuki found. With the direct way he addressed the slavery, it was almost like he was trying to badmouth the Auriculates. Was this a test, to see if they could trick him into showing any signs of being a spy? He had no idea what trap he was supposed to avoid. “The way you said that makes it sound like you’d rather be elsewhere,” he settled on, hoping the tone was ambiguous enough.

The guy shrugged. “Honestly? If it weren’t for my father, I genuinely would not have attended. It’s all dreadful networking and all. We could’ve stayed at home and… read a movie, right, Princess?” He turned towards his companion.

Katsuki tried to make sense of that. Read a movie…? What was that even supposed to – oh. Well. If the way they were undressing each other with their eyes was any indicator, that was a very unique euphemism.

The woman blushed under her lace mask and swatted at her partner’s arm, and suddenly, something clicked in his mind as he followed a golden leash that swung from her neck to his wrist. He couldn’t really pinpoint the ends of the leash, losing track of it as if it simply ceased to exist around her neck and near his wrist.

He’d thought her a regular member – the golden lace mask, the decorative gold about her person, the way she seemed relaxed and at ease, holding her head high and smiling as if nothing was amiss. She just blended right in.

“And what’s your game, then?” he finally asked, turning to them both. Now that he knew what he was looking at, he found he couldn’t tell who held whose leash.

“Game?” 539 asked in mock offense. “Why, I am simply here to greet the newest member of our quaint society. I hope you enjoy the evening, I helped organize it. I don’t know if any of our esteemed blue men have referred to me – I do go by The Scion, not that I picked it myself – and I value any and all… feedback you could give regarding our events.” The Scion dropped his voice into a low whisper, keeping his posture painfully casual. “I’m sure we could help each other out.”

Katsuki crossed his arms. “When you say ‘help out’, what are we referring to?” he asked bluntly.

“The usual. I know what you do for a living, you would like to find out what several other people in here do for a living, and I would like to not get caught in the crossfire. Peer pressure exists even here, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do. If you insinuate what I think you are, then why the fuck should I trust you further than this leash permits?”

“Because I have nothing to lose, and you have a lot to gain. If you’re here for the reasons I think you are, this could be a mutually beneficial arrangement. If you’re here for the same reasons as the rest of them, that’s no concern of mine and we can forget this conversation happened.”

“And what if I were to rat you out?”

“Then it would be your word against mine, and we can all guess how that would end."

The woman slid her hand up her companion’s arm, and he immediately turned his full attention towards her. “Yes, sweetheart, speak your mind.”

She turned towards them with a smile that seemed at odds with her words. “Do not dismiss a golden cage before you have seen all the terrors in the wilderness around it.”

It was probably supposed to have a deeper meaning, but all he could take from it in the moment was ‘Oh, they’re in love. How sweet.’ It wasn’t even what she’d said, it was her tone.

“…I’m sorry?” he said aloud.

The man gave them a secretive smile. “She’s right. And if I may add, it is my personal opinion that it would be rude to tear those bars down indiscriminately. For some they might just be a shelter.” He handed them a small piece of black cardstock. “Now, if anyone should ask, I am giving you this so you can keep me updated on your… work, which I recommend you’ll do, as I have the personal policy to repay a favour with a favour. I do hope you’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Ground Zero. Sir,” he nodded towards Izuku.

The woman curtseyed in front of them. “Goodbye, gentlemen. Needless to say, this conversation never happened.” She winked and put a finger to her lips before she took the arm her companion offered her.

“What on earth was that?”

Izuku shrugged, a little helpless. “I think they just offered us their help in exchange for ours? What’s that?” He leaned over to take a look at the card. Saneharu Haga, Nemotors, CEO. There was a phone number and a mail address, too.

“Seems like this might be useful,” he said, hurriedly putting the card away. He’d have to bring that up at the next meeting. This could be the jackpot they’d been looking for. “Think they could tell us who the boss is?” he wondered.

“I doubt it. They said someone else organised this, so they’re probably in the same situation we are.”

“How do you mean?”

“Here against their will. He mentioned his father. This is probably a family tradition he couldn’t get out of. And that woman… She seemed happy.”

“She did. It’s just the question whether or not that was real, or if it’s a form of Stockholm syndrome.”

“That’s not at all what Stockholm syndrome even is,” Izuku said with a frown. “I think… they’re a bit like us. They care about each other.”

“Fair point.” He had to concede to that. As he took another look around the room, he focused on the slaves this time. He’d noticed they were mostly well dressed – after all, the purpose of bringing them was to show them off. And maybe trade? He hadn’t seen it yet, but once the idea sprang into his head, it seemed a logical thing.

A lot of them had the downcast eyes and blank expression he’d expected to see, but there were a good half dozen he could spot that seemed at complete ease, wearing expensive clothing with pride and yes, occasionally talking.

Something in his perception shifted as he catalogued that information. The Auriculates were an elite bunch, and the merchandise on sale here cost them a lot of money. They were status symbols, much like expensive cars or real estate, and therefore it made sense to keep them in pristine condition. Koi fish, Izuku had compared them to.

It was the people without companions he viewed in a new light, too. Those were either the ones that didn’t have any hires yet, or the ones that treated them in a way that left them unfit for company – until they eventually ended up at The Playground. Where the people who couldn’t care less about condition fought for the scraps.

That was the social hierarchy. Common, cruel, simpleminded riff-raff at the bottom, and the true elite on top, with their possessions in perfect condition. And if he continued that thought… “I think we must’ve gotten one of the important ones in the past,” he whispered to Izuku, leaning down as they walked. He wrapped one arm around Izuku’s waist, keeping him close as more and more people subtly followed them with their gazes.

“How come?”

“With the new commandments. They’re probably there to protect the higher-ups.” Most of the victims they’d freed fit into the ‘riff-raff’ category. It made sense the Auriculates wouldn’t care too much about those. But if they’d indeed caught a big fish, their slaves likely knew far more than was healthy for the organization. He’d have to look back through his notes on that, he could surely figure out who that was.

“And hey, relax, Nerd.” Through the layers of cloth, he could feel the tension in Izuku, as if he were made from wood instead of flesh and bone. “We’re fine.”

“Yeah. Just… we’re so far underground, there isn’t even a convenient way out in case of any emergency, and they called us out already, and what if… what if…” he broke off, swallowing hard.

“It’s fine, Izuku. I know I complained, but I won’t let anything happen. Okay?”

“That’s really nice of you to say… And I think you’re awesome, I know it… but Kacchan, if they decide to trap us, there is absolutely nothing we could do.” Izuku pressed further into his side, almost knocking him off path. “I want out.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to have a panic attack on me,” he replied, already frantically looking for something – bathrooms, a side room, anything – to get them out of it for a moment.

Instead, the oak double doors at the far end of the hall swung open with a loud creak and people started flocking towards them. Apparently, the show was about to begin. “Come on, Izu, showtime. Can you do this?”

“I’m fine.”

If he heard that sentence one more time, he was going to have an aneurism. “Alright. Midoriya, do stay calm, please,” he whispered apologetically, for abusing the chain in that way and without asking. It was just, he could not afford to coddle the nerd right now. They had to keep on moving through.

He joined the steady stream, and realized this was a theatre, after all: Rows of seating on both sides of a walkway, slanting downwards to a big stage hidden behind velvet curtains.

Granted, it was a small one, and the chairs were arranged around round tables which allowed for socialising during and between the rounds of bidding. The tables were decked out with fine white cloth, set with small plates and golden cutlery. Equally golden towers of serving trays held fine selections of canapées. Waiters dashed around and offered champagne glasses as soon as people took their seats.

He could even see private booths on the first floor, although these seemed to be empty – it would be hard to bid from that far away. Maybe the highest ranking members of the Auriculates would be there to watch. He wondered if there was a chance to find ‘Boss’.

A woman in a mask handed him a paddle displaying the number 129 and motioned him further inside. Without any obvious seating arrangements, Katsuki chose some outer seats further back towards the doors. There were two women already chattering with each other. They nodded at him in greeting and proceeded with their conversation, something about their husbands.

He didn’t dare to speak to Izuku in a too familiar manner. He suspected that people indeed knew who he was, judging by the lingering stares, and that in turn was a promise he was also constantly being watched. The Scion had said it was common, but here he could easily be overheard, too. So he settled for an ‘accidental’ bump of their shoulders.

They sat there for a few moments as more and more people walked by. Katsuki tried his best to memorize any features that might help identify them. Another man sat down at their table, and they all made pleasant conversation about current political and economic events. Nothing at all personal, nothing for any one of them to deduce identities.

“I do hope there’ll be something for me,” one of the women tittered. “This is the fourth time I came here, and every time I was outbid – can you imagine?”

“Yes, but I did hear rumours there’ll be more items today. I think it is because of all those heroes and their meddling. Rumour has it Madame Morte declined the last batch offered to her, and that she might leave altogether.”

“No! Not the Madame. But you are right, it’s awfully empty in here.”

“The more for us. Say,” the one with the purple roses on her mask finally turned towards him, “how much did you pay for that cute one there? I would be satisfied with something like that,” she told her friend.

Great, now he’d have to make small talk with them. “Actually, I found him on The Playground.”

They did a double take at that. “The Playground? Really? He doesn’t look like… well. I wouldn’t have thought.”

He shrugged. “Right? Guess I got lucky that night.” Beside him, Izuku ducked his head, and something impacted him in the shin under the table.

“And how’s he work for you?” the other asked. Katsuki wondered if it was too late to go sit somewhere else.

“Haven’t got any complaints at all,” he gritted out, and was saved when the lights finally dimmed. First, the masked Auctioneer gave them a greeting and prattled on about the code of conduct for the evening, then waved out the first ‘item’.

He noticed that unlike the legal auctions Ueda organized, the items were not presented beforehand. There wasn’t even any information on how many there would be – probably so people couldn’t budget in advance. A risky strategy for everyone involved, but it seemed to work well enough for them.

Katsuki decided to watch the proceedings for the time being, glancing around the darkened room in hopes of finding anything useful. There were quite a few people whose quirks were of the mutation sort; wings, horns, tails, et cetera. A few he thought he recognized – a government official, a banker, one famous movie director.

Half an hour in, the sixth round of bidding closed with a bang of the gavel. “Three point two million, to the number one o eight.”

There was polite applause, and the next person came out as her predecessor was led away.

Next to him, Izuku suddenly went rigid and inhaled sharply before he started covertly tapping a finger against Katsuki’s arm.

He turned his head slightly to look at Izuku, but the other had wide eyes fixated on the girl on stage. In front of all these people, he didn’t dare to ask questions; it wouldn’t do to see them interacting like that. Instead, he took this as the sign to start bidding as well when the Auctioneer announced “Number seven, starting at five-hundred thousand.”

A bunch of paddles went up, and he raised his own hesitantly. This was already on the upper end of anything he could reasonably justify. The girl was objectively beautiful, in a fairy-like way: Porcelain skin, long dark hair falling to her waist, and startling silver eyes that seemed to pierce anything they landed on. Many people were interested, and the shouting went back and forth for almost ten minutes.

“Three two-five!”

“Three two-six!”

“Three two-seven!”

“Three five.” The decisive shout shut down any other bidders – this was, so far, the record amount offered. He couldn’t quite glean who’d made that offer, but the Auctioneer banged his gavel and announced “Item number seven, sold to six four four.” The girl was ushered off stage.

Again, Izuku started prodding at him under the table. He seemed clearly distressed, and Katsuki feared the command had worn off. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he told his table companions as he stood and made for the far door, which he assumed led to the bathrooms given how frequented they were.

He waited out the one guy washing his hands at the marble-inlaid sink before locking the door. “Okay, nerd, spill. What’s going on?”

Izuku looked pale, and he wasn’t sure he could credit that to the warm lights overhead. “That, that girl, that was her, that was Sayaka,” he rushed out. “Kacchan, that was Sayaka, she’s here, we need to, I don’t know, we need to help her, we need to do something!”

Oh bloody fuck and hell in a handbasket. Sayaka was one of the people that’d been at the mansion, he knew as much. When Izuku talked about that time (to say almost never), Sayaka was bound to come up somewhere, mostly because of her apparently sage life advice and the pseudo-therapist skills she got from her quirk or something.

This was almost worst case scenario. It certainly had the potential to become one. “Izuku. I need you to listen very carefully: There is nothing we can do right now.” He knew it sounded heartless, but it was the truth. That girl had been sold and he was not in any position to start a fight, be it physical or with the little political schemes they all played here.

“But Kacchan!” Izuku had his hands balled into fists, looking at him imploringly with the puppy dog eyes, full of frantic energy. “We can’t just leave her!”

“Okay. What is your plan?” he asked.

“I- I don’t know.”

“Precisely. Because there’s just no way.” He carded a hand through his hair and wondered if this made him a monster. “Look. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do. And we need to go back inside soon. I need you to play the part.”

“But she has a family! Her parents, and her sister.”

“I assume most of the people on that stage have family somewhere. It doesn’t make her special.”

“But she helped me! I’m sure if we tell the others, they’ll-”

“If you tell anyone at HQ about this, all they’ll do is forbid you from helping in the case.”

“Forbid me? But why?”

“Because your relationship with her is clouding your rational judgement. This is exactly how the vigilante wars started, and no one wants a repeat of that.”

“But-” Izuku swallowed hard. He knew it was the truth, Katsuki could tell. It was just hard to admit.

“Look, I’m sorry this happened, but the best way to help her, help any of them, is to get on with the mission for now. We already made progress with that Scion guy. If we can find something else, this whole case might be wrapped up in a few weeks. So, tell me honestly: Can you act like everything is fine by yourself or will I have to use the chain again, because as much as it sucks, those are the options right now.”

Izuku slumped. “No. It’s alright. We can go.”

Katsuki opened the door, and Izuku followed dejectedly behind, like a rained-upon puppy. That’d been kicked. When he offered out his arm again, it went completely ignored.

So that’s how it’s gonna be, he thought. Now he was the bad guy. Because he didn’t want to commit heroic suicide for the Nerd’s attic buddy. And here he’d thought Izuku a reasonable person. Fucking fine.

He spent the rest of the auction doing his best to gather more intel, but it was a frustratingly uneventful affair. Izuku sat perfectly postured on his chair, not even once looking at him.

With the intense people watching, he noticed how more and more people filed towards the exit and didn’t return the closer to the end they got. When the last item was waved out, Katsuki stood as well, hoping he’d deduced correctly and wasn’t breaking any social protocols.

Stepping back into the foyer, he saw small groups milling about, saying their goodbyes, and there was a short line by the elevator.

One of the Auctioneers ambushed him as he exited the theatre. They seemed to materialize all over the place these days. “I hope the event fulfilled your expectations, sir.”

Katsuki just nodded, remembering all the lessons on etiquette Aoyama had given him. Play nice with these people. Urgh. “Thank you for the invitation. With it being my first time participating, I have to ask: Would it be terribly rude to excuse myself? I have some things to get sorted.”

He had a sizeable list of people to look into, and given that this elevator line was just bound to become longer by the time the event concluded officially, he just couldn’t see the benefit of lingering. Plus, he was worried as to what exactly was up with Izuku. It was time to go.

“Oh, not at all. Have a lovely evening, and thank you for your patronage.”

Katsuki left with another curt nod, and made his way to the other side of the entrance hall. He was almost at the elevator when Izuku tugged at the lead and whispered “Behind us.” Katsuki whirled around to come face to face with an eerily familiar white-toothed grin. The fucker had been about to put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, but wisely retracted it now.

“It appears we meet again, sir,” the man said, and now Katsuki recognized him as the guy that’d been after Izuku on The Playground. The Collector, was it? He wondered why this guy had a nickname like that, when he didn’t seem to be involved with the Auriculates directly. “I hadn’t expected to see you so soon.”

“The sentiment is mutual,” he answered, hoping to shut that conversation down immediately.

But the man wasn’t deterred. “I have to ask again, now that fate has brought us together like this: You wouldn’t consider selling that one? Just name the price.” He motioned to Izuku. “Or we could trade. I have a few lovely items at home. Less damaged, too.”

“Absolutely not. Have an evening.”

“Oh, please don’t be like that. What about just the eyes? I’ll pay you back the money you spent on him in full, how does that sound?”

With a dull crack, the man’s skull connected with the wood panelling as Katsuki gripped him by the collar and shoved him into the wall, nearly lifting him off his feet. The fabric in his grip started smouldering slightly.

There were shouts behind him, but he didn’t care. “I said no, and it will remain at no, so watch yourself and learn to fucking listen!”

“Get your hands off me,” the man snarled, grappling at the wrist around his throat. Katsuki felt something scratch his skin before the Collector’s hand found purchase on the bracelet. And then he yanked on it.

Katsuki was filled with terror as he saw the links strain under the onslaught. He could feel them biting painfully into his skin. His only thought was ‘don’t break’ as he let go and gave in, letting his right arm be tugged down. His left came up to deck the fucker right in the face. “Let go, you fucking bastard!”

The Collector recoiled instinctively and his grip loosened enough for Katsuki to pull his hand out of reach. He could see the Collector’s angry black eyes through the mask, and he thought there was a glint of something metallic on the man’s fingertips. Katsuki dropped into a battle stance on autopilot.

“Don’t!” Izuku sounded close to panic, tugging at the leash, and Katsuki cautiously stepped backwards. He couldn’t fight like this. His right hand was literally bound.

“What is going on here?” a stern voice demanded and several pairs of footsteps approached. “Fighting is strictly against the rules, and I will not stand for this behaviour!”

He glared at the Auctioneer. “Does that include being harassed by your other clientele? Because in that case, I think you should have a word with this asshole here.”

The auctioneer – a woman this time – glanced between the two of them, and then did a double take on his opponent. “Mr. Collector,” she said, sounding something between annoyed and exasperated, “would you care to explain what happened?”

The man gave her a blinding smile. “It was a misunderstanding, no harm done.”

She didn’t seem convinced. “In that case, let’s all be on our way.” She remained firmly rooted to her spot, and the Collector took the hint and started to head back.

Katsuki glared at the retreating back that just oozed displeasure. Izuku had mentioned that he’d broken some rules before, hadn’t he? “If you come too close to me again, I won’t let some fucking extras stop me,” Katsuki shouted after him before he turned around and strode off.

No one bothered him as he cut into the line to the elevator. Wise. One guard joined them quietly and led them back up through the corridors outside, where Katsuki returned the mask and leash before retrieving his belongings. “The car park is this way, spot seventy-three.” The man pointed, bowed once and disappeared without a word.

His car was indeed at the promised location, and with a quick once-over he couldn’t find any evidence of tampering. So far, so good. “Be quiet and get in the car,” Katsuki ordered Izuku. He wasn’t sure they weren’t still being watched. He tossed the phone into the glove compartment, where it was going to stay until tech support could give it a very thorough once-over.

Izuku obeyed without a word, and they drove home in slightly uncomfortable silence. Said silence continued when Izuku wordlessly disappeared to somewhere into the house and rematerialized on the couch about five minutes later, wearing the fluffiest pyjama pants he owned and staring blankly into the middle distance.

He didn’t look up when Katsuki placed some iced tea and (just covering all bases) a Rum Cola by him, nor did he react in any way to repeated prodding and “Hey Nerd”s. His hand was just swatted away.

“Oh for fucks sake,” he mumbled and retreated into the kitchen. He wished he could just slap some sense into the nerd. The situation sucked, he got it, but that was no reason to mope around like a toddler.

He was exempt from immediately phoning a superior this time, mainly because there was a meeting scheduled tomorrow specifically to go over the details, but he really needed Izuku to get his act together and write all that useful shit he’d undoubtedly deduced down. In the end, he almost did call his boss as he waited for the oven to preheat, just wondering if they should postpone a day.

An hour after he’d begun laying waste to the kitchen, he approached the couch with a peace offering and a war plan, depending on what he’d need. He sat the cupcake down by the untouched glasses. Again, no reaction.

With a sigh, he crouched down in front of Izuku, so they would make eye contact. “Okay, Nerd, this is getting stupid. Talk to me.”

For a long while, it was just the silent treatment. “…We should’ve done something.”

And there they went, in the same circle. “We couldn’t have. We were in an underground death trap, surrounded by dozens of people who couldn’t have less sympathy. Best case scenario, we would’ve been shot a couple dozen times.”

“We could’ve tried to figure out who number six four four is. We could’ve… I dunno, planned a raid, gotten her out.”

“Getting them all out is literally what we’re trying to do. And getting hung up on this is not helping anyone, you know.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Izuku hissed, a slight undertone of anger creeping in. “You have no idea what it’s like, knowing you’ll be at the mercy of some random stranger by the end of the day, wondering what they’re going to do to you! I was cut open alive by one and the other forgot about me existing at all, and I consider that to be lucky. And now we just abandoned her to who knows what fate. If she dies, then… then…!”

Classical case of survivor’s guilt, then. He was unfortunately familiar with the notion. He settled down a bit more comfortably on the floor and poked at Izuku’s knee until he got his attention. “Hey. Izuku. I’m gonna present you with a hypothetical scenario, so I need you to listen. Alright?”

The other nodded weakly. “Okay.”

Katsuki gave him a rueful grin. “So, imagine this: There’s been a natural disaster, an earthquake or a tsunami or maybe both, who gives a shit, and it’s absolute mayhem. Then, one of the heroes comes across a building that’s collapsing. Not about to collapse, but already collapsing. And there’s two civilians trapped in there, one caught under the rubble and another trying to help, and they see you and are so relieved you showed up to help. But you can see the building falling and deep down you know there is no way in hell anyone could get there in time, and going in would only get you killed too. What should the hero do?”

Izuku’s eyes were wide. “I- I mean… I don’t think – it depends on their quirk, I guess-”

“Useless in that circumstance.”

He could see emotion and rationale war behind Izuku’s eyes. “I mean… it would be awful, but they should stay out. If there’s no way to help. Maybe call for backup?”

“Tch. That’d be nice. But in the time it took you to think that building already went down. Now. Would those deaths be the hero’s fault?”

“What? No! Of course not! They tried everything they could, blaming them would not help anybody… They’d probably feel bad enough as is…”

“Right. These situations happen. They happen to every hero, because we’re only called after the shit has already hit the fan. And it’s so easy to overthink what you could’ve done different, but it won’t help anybody because sometimes life is unfair and people will die and you’ll have to realize that it wasn’t my fault!”

There was a long silence after his outburst in which he didn’t dare to look up. So he focused on the carpet instead, not really seeing anything besides grey and dust. Hands carded into his hair, and he allowed himself to be pulled forward a little. “I’m so sorry, Kacchan. That must’ve been awful.”

“It was.” That’d been the first time, and the only faces he remembered. “But if that wasn’t my fault, then this is not your fault either. And hey,” he looked up at Izuku, gripping his wrists tightly. “I had to learn the hard way. Sometimes you see people and you know they are already dead, no matter what you do. So trust me when I say: That girl is not dead yet. She might turn out just fine.”

“But what if she doesn’t?”

“Then you can blame them, and not yourself.”

Izuku wiped at his eyes. “You’re oddly wise on that subject, Kacchan.” He tried a small smile, and Katsuki grinned right back.

“I stole most of that from the mandatory therapy sessions.” New heroes were all sent indiscriminately whenever they lost people during their first two years on the job, and afterwards once every six months for an assessment. As reluctant as some had been the first time, there was no denying it helped. All the bigger agencies had their own trauma counsellors. He wondered if there was any way to sneak Izuku in for a visit, he could probably benefit from it, too.

Or he could get him absolutely sloshed on alcohol he thought, when Izuku went for the Rum Cola and downed half the glass in one go. “She’s gotta be alright,” he said. “She was always so nice and kind to everyone. Without her, we would’ve all gone insane ages ago.”

Katsuki pushed himself up so he could sit on the couch next to the nerd, grimacing when pins and needles started up in his right leg from sitting in such an awkward position for so long. “Tell me about it,” he said, taking the glass from Izuku and replacing it with the tea upon second thought and a rather vivid b-day-party flashback.

“I don’t know, she just,” Izuku shrugged, “she could kinda see how people were feeling, and she always knew what to say to cheer us up before we could slide into the real serious depressions. And she could warn us when the Lady or her butler were having a bad day, so we’d be on best behaviour to avoid making it worse. And she’s a really good listener, too. I think she heard all our life stories twice. Um. I don’t think she liked you that much,” he laughed.

“What? Why?” He’d never even met her!

Izuku’s face was a little flushed, maybe from the alcohol, maybe embarrassed. The sadness still lingered, but he seemed fond of the memories he sorted through. “Well, I kinda talked about you. Sometimes. A lot. The entire class was in the papers quite frequently, and all, and I just… well. Never mind. I think she just got fed up with the topic at some point? And she thought, well, that you were a bit… mean… Oh, forget about it.” Izuku resolutely occupied himself with the chocolate cupcake.

Katsuki grinned at the image. “Aw, I didn’t know you were cultivating a fanclub in my name, Nerd.” Actually, he worried just a bit as to what exactly had led to the ‘a bit mean’ standpoint, and how much of their less than stellar past Izuku had divulged her. And the insinuation that his name had come up often enough to annoy someone. He really could not decide if that was a good or bad thing. “What did you tell her?”

Izuku went even redder under his stare, until he seemed to reach a breaking point of some sort and jumped up to retrieve a notebook from the table. “Oh, you know, this and that. Shouldn’t we write down our list of suspects? Before we forget anything important. Yes, that is a good idea.”

Katsuki felt incredibly intrigued by this new mystery, but he was content with the change in mood and Izuku’s newfound work drive. The risk of pushing the subject wasn’t worth it, so he joined in hashing out descriptive features.

The Collector, the Scion, the Auctioneers – they compiled a sizeable list by midnight.

“…That could’ve been me.” It was the first thing any of them had said in a while, and at first Katsuki wasn’t sure what they were even talking about. “The Lady, she didn’t keep people older than twenty. I mean, I think Sayaka is twenty-two now, so she doesn’t keep too close an eye, obviously… But that could’ve been me up there. Today.” He kept his head bowed over his notebook, so there was no reading his expression.

Not again with the pointless hypotheticals. “But it wasn’t.”

“It could’ve been,” Izuku insisted. “Then what?” Small wet circles appeared over the paper and made the ink bleed. “Would you have left me, too?”

“That’s pointless to think about!” He slammed his own pen down. “Because it didn’t happen, and thinking about it won’t do anyone any good! I don’t fucking know, and I don’t care to participate in your useless thought experiment!”

“But-”

“Izuku. Drop it. Just… drop it. Please.” Because, as much as he would’ve liked to say ‘I would’ve figured something out’, the reality of it all was that he would’ve been just as powerless. He wouldn’t have been able to pay even if he sold the house and the car, he wouldn’t have been able to fight that many people, and figuring out who won the bidding would’ve been improbable at best. The most likely outcome would’ve been his removal from the operation in accordance to the vigilante paragraphs. And now the image was stuck in his head.

Izuku’s shoulder’s slumped further. “Sorry. Y’know, I think I’ll just… go to sleep. Yeah. Night.”

“Nerd…” Izuku walked off without ever looking his direction.

Chapter 14

“And who pissed in your coffee this morning?” was the first thing he heard when he walked into the office for the Peregrine meeting.

“Can it, Earphones. I wanna see you go to a slave auction and pretend it was a trip to Disneyland next morning.”

She raised her hands in surrender and continued with whatever she’d been doing on her phone. Apparently, they were still waiting for Endeavor, Kirishima and Mina. “Everything alright aside from that?” Kaminari asked, pushing his half-filled cup of coffee over. There’d be sugar in it, but Katsuki took it anyway.

“What’s with the new look?” Mina motioned to the leather band he now wore on his right wrist.

“Safety precaution.” He’d gotten it on his way over this morning, after he’d woken up to find the scratches the Collector had left on his arm. He wasn’t sure if the golden bracelet would have given in or if the quirk would’ve protected it, but either way, it was a hazard. He needed to keep it out of reach and out of danger.

Shouto looked up from his reading and did a double take of the room. “Where’s Izuku? I thought he’d be coming?”

“Yeah, he wasn’t feeling too well.” Truth be told, he hadn’t seen or heard anything from the Nerd since they’d gone to sleep. Which was probably to be expected, as Izuku tended to naturally sleep late and only ever got up when the alarm had gone off whilst they’d been sharing a room. He looked around, and figured ‘why not’. “Can I tell you something off the record?” He glanced at Aizawa and Fat Gum specifically.

“This entire operation is off the record,” Aizawa replied. “Go ahead.”

“Okay. So, we saw someone Izuku knew-” he began, and detailed the whole Sayaka disaster. “I mean, I get he’s upset, and I figured I’d better let him calm down,” he ended.

“You think he’d do something… ill-advised?” Fat Gum inquired.

Katsuki crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling. “Not really, no. I know he knows I’m right and there’s nothing we could really do, he just hates to admit it. I wanted to let you guys know just in case.” He’d seen Izuku do reckless shit before, like the thing with the slime villain, but it was always heat-of-the-moment split-second decisions. Since the auction had passed without any self-sacrificial behaviour, he figured they were safe. The only thing Izuku could do now was come up with something needing a plan, and those were generally more thought-through. For something on this scale, he’d need their help in any case.

“Fine, then. And about the rest of the auction…?”

He detailed their observations once the last people of their group showed up, listing off his suspects before bringing out the business card he’d been given by the Scion. “And this is where I think we might’ve hit the Jackpot,” he announced, much to everyone’s immediate excitement. They started grabbing at the cardboard like a bunch of teenagers fighting over a shirt their favourite emo-boyband lead singer had just tossed into the crowd. Endeavor had to shout to get them to settle down. “You will all look into your respective suspects’ backgrounds and present your findings during the next meeting!” he bellowed, dismissing them just like that as he snatched the card himself and handed it to Aizawa, who glared at them with the full force of his disappointment.

“Now,” their boss said, using The Classroom Voice, “we need to tread careful here. This person is suspicious of Ground Zero, which could easily cause problems for the operation if the mole is also in contact with this Scion. Bakugou, I’d like you to somehow get in touch with him over something harmless for now, see if he’s true to his word.”

“Got it. I’ll think of something.” He could ask a question about the auction in general, maybe.

“Good. Now get to work and for the sake of my sanity, try not to make another spectacle of yourselves.”

Thoroughly chastised, former class A filed out in quick succession. “Tell Izuku we said hi,” Kaminari said when they parted in the garage. “I hope he’ll be feeling better soon.”

“Tch. He’s not sick, he’s being a brat.” He frowned at what he’d said. “And now I sound like my old hag. Fan-fucking-tastic. Urgh.”

Back home, he put his gauntlets down, toed off his shoes and then wandered further inside when there was still no sign of Izuku skidding into the hall to say hello. He couldn’t hear any podcast episodes or mechanical whirring either. Was the Nerd still asleep? At this time of day? It was the middle of the afternoon!

But no, there were some signs of life: He caught a lingering whiff of tea, and saw a used mug by the sink. There were crumbs on the counter, too, and some new doodles next to a stack of schoolwork on the kitchen table.

He rolled his eyes as he went for Izuku’s bedroom. Childish, really. He had his hand poised to knock on Izuku’s door when he thought that it really wasn’t fair to be blamed for something that wouldn’t have been his fault if it had happened. So he scoffed, turned back and decided to get to work on his part of the suspect list. For the entire afternoon, he didn’t hear or see anything that made him believe he wasn’t alone in his house.

When he cooked dinner, he noticed a bowl with remnants of their leftovers in the sink that hadn’t been there before. ‘So that’s how we’re doing this’, he thought. Well, if Izuku wanted to be petty, two could play that game he figured, and pointedly cooked for himself only. There. He could be stubborn, too.

Very stubborn, it turned out, when it went on like this for two more days and into the very early morning of a third.

Right now, he’d slept a total of four hours before he’d been called to help capture some villains who’d broken into a bank. The stand-off between the heroes and the barricaded villains had taken almost three hours. The subsequent fight was done after ninety seconds, and then it had been two more hours of damage control, paperwork and waiting around for everyone to wrap up so he could leave.

By then it had been morning, so the great Ground Zero had to get on with his regular day job of patrols, which had been so uneventful staying awake was his biggest challenge, and when he’d been about to clock out and go home to collapse, Fat Gum had stopped him, citing an urgent meeting, which had to be about Operation Peregrine, so he grit his teeth and went.

At least there seemed to be a breakthrough this time. “We’ve identified twenty-seven people with the help of your lists,” Earphone Jack reported, nodding towards him, “most interesting, of course, Saneharu Haga. He’s the CEO of Nemotors, specializing in sports cars, although the company belongs to his father, who inherited it from his. They’re very old money, the company was founded before cars were even a thing, then manufacturing steam-powered machines for large industries. Taru Haga, aka Haga senior, apparently still makes the really important decisions, but he’s been officially retired for three years now. The mother passed away some five years ago from cancer. Saneharu has taken over the firm at the age of twenty, is popular with his staff and actually very unremarkable when it comes to scandals,” she read off. “The firm has been investigated several times for tax evasion and money laundering, although nothing ever came of it.”

“So there’s been inexplicable amounts of money in their coffers. Auriculate business?” Shoto interjected.

“Most likely. There’s also been tension in the family recently – rumours had it the son was supposed to marry some fellow businessman’s daughter in a sort-of political marriage to merge the two corporations, but nothing ever came of it and Saneharu has refused to comment to the press. If what you said about him and his girlfriend or whatever is true,” she pointed at Katsuki, “then I’m inclined to believe he actually has reason to be sincere in his offer of helping us, even if I’m unsure how exactly he’s trying to ultimately play this in his favour.”

“He’s mentioned a ‘family tradition’ when talking about the Auriculates. If the mother is dead, we can assume this means Haga senior has some ties there. Maybe he’s just trying to piss off his dad,” he suggested.

“What, like a late teenage rebellion?” Mina seemed sceptical. “But why put himself into the crossfire?”

“Could it be about his girl?” Kaminari wondered. “If she’s the reason he refused the marriage, and his father is aware of that… Wouldn’t it be possible he’s threatened her in some way? I mean, these types are stereotypically pretty power-hungry and ruthless.”

“But wouldn’t he have actually done something, then?”

Iida shook his head at Mina’s question. “Not necessarily. His son is the CEO now, and he’ll eventually hold all power over the company. There’d be ways for him to retaliate. Besides, depending on who is more popular with the Auriculates, there may be further repercussions. If he killed one of their slaves, they wouldn’t even have to look for a reason to ostracize him.”

“More political drama, then. Hooray.” Kirishima lowered his head onto the table in defeat.

“Indeed.” Endeavor put his hands down on the table. “We will schedule some arrests for the near future,” he said. “Although we will also use this opportunity to go after the mole. Ground Zero, we’d like you to inform the Auriculates about some of these targets through your new ‘friend’, and Aizawa will bring a few others to the attention of Operation Nightingale. If we schedule a sudden meeting and a subsequent fast arrest, we can maybe figure out who’s giving them information depending on who’s going to be there on such short notice. Earphone Jack and Fat Gum, you’ll supervise and control that information cascade as best you can.”

“Am I gonna help in these raids?”

“Actually,” his boss said, “you’ll be taking a bit of a backseat from here on out. Since you’re not officially involved with Nightingale, we’ll keep suspicion off you entirely by not asking for your support. You’ll go back to your regular duties, unless the Auriculates or the mole approach you.”

He couldn’t quite believe this. “What, after all this I’m suddenly getting sacked?”

“Chill out, bro. You’ve done the majority of the work for us here, and the riskiest job, too. Leave some glory for the rest of us, will you?” Kirishima reasoned.

“I thought you’d be happy to get off double shifts,” Fat Gum added, which wasn’t something he’d thought about but found to be quite true, actually. “Besides, there’s only so much overtime I can pay for. Now, Ingenium, the names, please?”

As he listened to Iida go on about the outcome of their new profiling work, which for the first time ever gave them a usable list of suspects, he felt a surge of relief as this investigation was finally getting somewhere.

It put him in a great mood, truth be told. He signed onto the next bar night to celebrate with his squad.

“Looks like we can finally start taking it easy again,” Kirishima grinned, stretching his arms high as they walked to their offices.

“Thank fucking god,” Katsuki agreed, giving the redhead a pat on the back. “Can’t remember the last week I didn’t have a double shift.”

“You work overtime anyway.”

“There’s a difference between paperwork and planning to infiltrate an organised crime ring!”

“Fair enough.”

But it was true that Katsuki’s part in this operation was mostly done, for the moment. Unless the Auriculates contacted him, he’d probably not have to interact with them any time soon beyond the odd information leak. There was still the issue of the mole on the Hero side, but that sort of stuff had never been his forte, so he gladly left it to Earphone Jack and Eraserhead.

It meant he was home by three in the afternoon, which would’ve been great if the emergency with the bank wouldn’t mean he’d been out with little sleep for nearly twelve hours regardless. His feet hurt from all the standing around and walking he’d done. At this point, he wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and collapse into bed. Not even necessarily in that order.

He managed to drag himself halfway there when he noticed someone sitting at the table. For a moment, he felt sorely tempted to ignore Izuku – see how he liked it – and continue on, which would have been easier if Izuku hadn’t looked like death warmed over. Clearly exhausted, clutching a cup of what seemed to be actual coffee, slumped over in a crumpled shirt and sweatpants.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to do this now, whatever ‘this’ would turn out to be, so he simply stood there waiting, curious what Izuku would do. An apology would be nice, for example.

“Hey, Kacchan,” the Nerd mumbled after a bit, darting quick glances at him before looking down again. “Um. Did… something happen? You were gone for quite a bit. And. Uh. I didn’t hear anything in the news really. Aside from a bank robbery? There weren’t many details, though, so I was wondering… if that’s where you went…”

Katsuki felt a little disappointed in himself. He’d really, really intended to be righteously pissed off at Izuku for at least a day after he came back out of his room again. Had intended to ignore him in turn for an hour minimum. He would’ve been right to be petty, really. “Yeah, it wasn’t a big deal, to be honest. Mostly waiting around for hours on end. There was nothing to report.” He narrowed his eyes. “Have you been sitting here this entire time? You look like shit.”

Izuku shrugged and ducked his head further, which seemed a sufficient admission of guilt. “I couldn’t sleep anyway, so…” He went to take another sip of coffee and grimaced immediately after. “Urgh. Oh! Did you want coffee? I can make you coffee.” Without awaiting an answer, Izuku all but sprinted into the kitchen, where he began pressing buttons like he was trying to summon an elevator faster.

With a sigh, he walked up behind him. Izuku’s shoulders hiked up further with each step closer, until Katsuki reached around to still Izuku’s wrists. “I actually don’t want any, Nerd,” he said quietly.

“Oh.” After a moment, all the energy seemed to drain out of Izuku and he slumped again.

“Why weren’t you sleeping?” He’d been careful not to be too noisy when he left, and he’d been out the door in less than two minutes after the call.

Izuku shrugged again. It was kind of impressive how expressive he could be with his shoulders alone. “Haven’t been sleeping well these days. Kinda sucks, to be honest.”

“Sure does.” He released the wrists and took a step back. “Go take a nap, Nerd. I sure as hell am gonna.”

The other didn’t move. “Don’t know if I can. It’s…” Izuku wrapped his arms around himself. “Nightmares have been getting worse again,” he finally admitted.

Well, fuck. He couldn’t say it was completely out of the blue, but it was something he’d hoped at least partially resolved. “That sucks.”

“Yeah. Um. There’s a few that repeat. And…” Izuku scratched at his hair as he did a lap around the kitchen. “One of the popular ones is the one where I’m standing on that stage, and I can’t really see anything because it’s so bright, but I just know there’s people down there I know. My mom, or pro heroes like All Might and Hawks, you, sometimes… And then they’ll just watch or even start walking away. Sometimes I manage to jump off the stage, and it’s always such a long fall, and people keep chasing me and I’m never fast enough. When I wake up, I always tell myself it’s just a dream, but… It could’ve happened. I wouldn’t even have known, with the masks.”

“Nerd…” He’d had no idea. “Look, I get that it’s a shitty idea. I don’t like thinking about it any more than you do. But it hasn’t happened, and it won’t happen. There’s a difference in these things. Actual important difference; they’re called ‘impossible’ and ‘possible’ hypothetical scenarios. And we kinda don’t talk about the impossible ones, because that’s a sure way to bring a mood down. But I dare you, I fucking dare you, to think about any possible scenarios where these fuckers try and do anything to you that doesn’t end with their entrails strung up on the streetlamps. You have an entire squad of Pros acting as your personal guardian angels, and believe me when I say that we’ll only fail over our dead bodies.”

“…That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it? And I thought I was the guardian angel.”

“Fine. And no, it isn’t. I’m serious. We got you.”

Izuku had kept his head down for the entire conversation, but now he looked up with a hesitant smile. “Ok, then.”

“…Wanna sleep in my room, today? You do look like absolute trash.”

“If – I mean, I don’t wanna impose. But if you don’t mind…”

“I don’t give a shit. As long as I get to sleep.” As if to prove his point, he failed to suppress a giant yawn, and took it as his sign to walk off towards the bedroom. Just maybe an hour. Two. He stripped down on his way there and blindly grabbed for the next sleep shirt before he collapsed on the heavenly soft mattress. It only took about a minute before something hit the space next to him with a soft thump, and he reluctantly opened one eye to see Miles smiling his happy cartoon smile at him before Izuku crawled up to his spot from the foot end and enveloped the poor cat like a constrictor snake.

After this, things seemed to be sort-of back to normal. They didn’t mention their fight (if it could even be called that) again and instead seemed to have arrived at some sort of mutual agreement about how stupid it was and neither dared to drag it up.

Izuku came to greet him at the door when he came back from work the next day like he’d never done any different. “Hi, Kacchan! You’re back early! How was your day?”

“Uneventful. And I’m back to normal shifts, so I’m actually back on time for once,” he greeted with a grin, which meant he now had to give a very detailed summary on the proceedings of the case. “They want me to call this Scion guy and see what his deal is. With something harmless, at first.”

He could see an idea light up behind Izuku’s eyes. “Why don’t you ask him about the weird thing with the commandments? How overwriting permissions sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t? He would have similar things in place for his girlfriend, wouldn’t he?”

“Good call. That might just work. Now, how to do this…” The guy seemed the type of important that was hard to get a hold of, and he didn’t want to call in any disadvantageous circumstance, so he settled for letting Izuku write a polite mail in his name to ask Haga to call him instead, at the earliest convenience.

For some inconceivable reason, this translated on Haga’s end to 11 at night, when normal people were asleep.

“If someone isn’t dead or dying-” he barked at the unknown number.

“That depends entirely on what you wanted to talk about, one two nine.”

“Oh fucking hell, it’s you.”

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you.” He did not sound remotely sorry.

“It’s fine. I just wanted to ask a question, actually, one I thought you might help me with.”

“Oh? How come?”

Katsuki detailed the issue they’d had with the amended commands, although he left out the part where they’d gone into the city and presented the garden as an example instead. “So he couldn’t go out there even tho it wasn’t a problem with leaving the property, and he did it at one of the places he was at before, too.”

“Huh.” There was a pause after that. “Well, this is… unique. Say, would you agree that your friend is somewhat of an overthinker?”

“To say it lightly.” Beside him, Izuku made an indignant face. “Why? What’s that got to do with it?”

“Hm, how do I phrase this… You are certainly aware that the quirk employed here is of the mind-quirk category. And how those have a history of affecting individuals differently?”

“Sure.” Shinsou’s was similar in that regard. He always paid close attention to his phrasing, so there’d be no room for misinterpretation.

“Well, the thing with applying the same quirk on such a large scale is that there’s no real room for adjustments on an individual scale, so they are kept as basic as possible whilst covering a wide array of situations. Now, depending on how people understand these orders, there may be slight differences. For example, if it would not occur to a person that being seen in a garden might lead to questions about their identity and subsequently getting the authorities involved should there be a third party witness, they wouldn’t have this issue. If they do think about it… well. Psychological quirks, am I right?”

“So you’re saying he’s nerfed himself by being too smart?” This was ridiculous.

“In a way.”

“Are there workarounds? What do you do against that shit?”

“…I haven’t necessarily had any problems, but that may be because I have a very specific set of adjustments in place.”

“Great.” That was no help at all.

“Sorry to hear you’re having troubles. Speaking of… How is work? Anything big happen? It’s unusual for yourself to be off the screen for such a long time.”

“Tch. That’s just because that small skirmish a while back took care of most of the trouble in the immediate area.” Should he drop a hint about the upcoming raids? “But how about you? Anyone being a dick around the company? Planning to get rid of a few?”

“No one where it’s in my power to make it happen. This one guy has been a nuisance, though. Takamoto?”

“From Business Weekly? Yeah, I know him.” From the list of suspects they’d dragged up, and for being a rather annoying person. He owned the paper and was rather famous for ruthless methods to get his big scoops.

“Yes. He’s been hounding me, on my father’s behest, I imagine.”

“What a shame.” This sounded like an invitation to after the guy. “I hope the situation resolves itself soon.”

“Indeed. Anyway, if that is all, my attention is needed elsewhere. Until then.”

“Yeah, whatev- and he’s hung up. Wow.”

“So what did he say?” Izuku asked, bouncing on the mattress. Katsuki dutifully repeated their conversation, watching as Izuku became more and more offended. Likely at himself. “I’m too smart for this world. Really? They’re punishing me for thinking? I hate this. This is a scam.”

“Sure. You know what else it is? Late. Goodnight.” With that, he simply turned around and switched the light off again, ignoring the offended muttering.

Being back to a manageable workload was a relief he hadn’t known he needed. The past months had been exhausting. Now, for the first time since March, he had a completely free weekend ahead of him.

“What’re you gonna do with that?” Kirishima wanted to know on Friday.

Honestly, he had no idea. “Dunno. Maybe I’ll go for a hike, see if I can’t bring Izuku along, if I can find a remote enough location. That’d be fun.”

Kirishima made a surprised sound. “Didn’t know Izuku enjoyed hiking.”

“Not sure he does. Hence the fun.”

“Please don’t kill him by chasing him up a cliff.”

“Nah. It’s always getting down you gotta worry about.” He flashed a grin at Kirishima as they walked into their respective offices. “But for tonight, I’m getting takeout and then I’ll sleep early.”

“You always sleep early!” Kirishima jabbed. “But honestly, I’ll do the same. See you Monday!”

The hiking thing had been a sort-of joke – he didn’t actually have one planned, and it was a bit short notice – but the longer he thought about it, the more he wanted to go. “Oi, nerd, what’re your plans for the weekend?”

Izuku (sat inside a ring of wiring that could very well become a summoning circle of some kind) glanced up at him. “I didn’t have any, particularly. Why?”

“I’m off work, I figured we could go do something. How do you feel about going hiking?”

The other took his time answering, busy with connecting two wires and short-circuiting the battery they were attached to. “I’d love to, but I’m not sure if I have the stamina for a long trek, and I wouldn’t want to keep you from enjoying your weekend off, so it’s fine if you want to go alone-”

“Alright, you’re coming along. I’ll see about the route.”

Come next morning, he dragged Izuku out of the house at a reasonable nine in the morning (to a lot of complaints) and drove out to a particular forest. It was the same one where Aizawa had taken them once for ‘summer camp’. Not his fondest memories, but the place was closed off to the general public for the specific purpose of hero training, so they wouldn’t run into anybody.

“Okay. We’ll be here all day,” he informed the other as he double-checked their supplies. “You’re the weakest link, so you’ll set the pace. I mean it.” He shot Izuku a stern look. “You will tell me if you want to slow down or take a break. Keep your phone on you and for the love of god, don’t run yourself into the ground trying to keep up. There’s something I’d like to show you, but we’ll have to wait until after dark, so keep that in mind.”

“Okay, Kacchan.”

He narrowed his eyes at the easy agreement, but it’d have to do. “Alright, let’s go.” He shouldered their backpack, which contained food and other necessities for them both, and set off on a dirt path.

It’d taken them quite some time to drive here and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to driving back home late tonight, but he thought it was worth it, seeing how Izuku bounced around to stare at everything. “Look, Kacchan, flowers!” “Kacchan, there’s a butterfly.” “That tree looks amazing. Think I could climb it?” “You can see so far from up here, amazing.” “Kacchan, this river has baby fish!”

Yep, totally worth it. Even if it meant they didn’t get anywhere near the summit of the hill he’d chosen as their destination. On his own, he’d be able to do that trek in maybe four hours including the way back, but somehow, he couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

He contended himself with the search for a new picnic place for their lunch, since the spot he’d had in mind would likely go unvisited at this pace. There was a sufficiently flat piece of rock that seemed to have tumbled down the slope ages ago, now shaded by surrounding trees and most importantly free of immediate ant colonies. And far enough from the river to escape the sound of running water. “Oi, nerd, we’re gonna take a break here!” he shouted back over his shoulder.

“Coming! Just a minooooaaah!” The shout morphed into a shriek before it was cut off by the sound of splashing water.

“Izuku!”

Silence. In a heartbeat, Katsuki catapulted himself across the path and over the clearing towards the bank, explosions echoing between the mountains like gunshots. Glancing left and right down into the stream, he spotted the Nerd dragging himself above the surface. The water went barely over his hips, and he watched as Izuku stalked towards the shore with all the grace and poise of an involuntarily dunked cat.

“It’s fucking c-c-cold,” he chattered out as he grabbed at the shrubs on top of the bank to pull himself up.

“Here.” He offered up a hand and hauled the idiot back onto dry land. “What the fuck, nerd?”

“Slipped. But I got this!” Suddenly beaming, like being soaked in seven-degree water without backup clothing on hand was an afterthought, Izuku held up a smooth, flat rock with a steel-blue sheen to it.

“Did you nearly drown yourself over a stupid rock?”

“I was at no point even close to drowning. And it’s pretty!”

“A pretty stupid rock, then.”

Izuku held the rock out. “Not stupid. Here, for you!”

He held a palm out without really thinking about it. Otherwise he might’ve just chucked the thing right back in. As it was, he was too preoccupied with keeping a straight face when Izuku peeled his dripping shirt off and tried to wring it out. That patch of grass was probably going to be watered for a week in advance.

“Well, good thing it’s hot out today,” Izuku eventually conceded, tossing the shirt down on some smaller rocks in the sun and proceeding to pour the water out of his shoes. “But I think we’ll have to wait until those dry.”

“Probably. And put on some fucking sunscreen if you’re gonna go running around shirtless, or you’ll look like a lobster. Unless you’re actually trying to become one, in that case back in the water you go.”

“Carcinization comes for us all! Although I don’t know if I could handle that many legs.”

“Right, you’re struggling to coordinate the ones you have already.”

“Don’t be mean, Kacchan! Can you help me with that?” Izuku held out the sunscreen lotion and turned his back, where he couldn’t reach. “And if you draw a dick, I swear to god I will dismantle every appliance in the kitchen and not put it together again.”

“…I wasn’t gonna.”

“I believe you,” Izuku said in the most disbelieving tone ever.

Subtly, he swiped a hand over Izuku’s back to delete the absolutely impeccable dick he’d drawn. “Are you getting fat?” he asked when he’d made his way further down, poking at Izuku’s waist. “There’s like actual meat on there.”

“Kacchan!” Right, Izuku was still ticklish. “I’m not fat. There is some fat, but that belongs there, and you don’t get to slander it.”

“…Right.” Truth be told, he was happy to see the progress. He probably shouldn’t make fun of that particular issue. Izuku was self-conscious enough already. He smoothed his hands back upwards. “Can you feel that?” he asked as he dragged a finger over the big scar.

“…Not really. I get that there’s pressure, but not much else.”

“Hm. So no telling what I’m writing here?” He spelled N-E-R-D out on the shiny skin.

“No. Sorry.”

“Eh, it’s fine.” He moved back to his actual job of sunproofing, making sure to get the neck and shoulders. His hand stopped over his own old handprint on Izuku’s shoulder. It looked so small, now. “…Did I ever apologize for that?”

“That? Oh. Don’t know.”

“It was an accident. I really didn’t mean to. I just… underestimated my quirk.”

“Really? Oh. Okay. I really don’t mind it, you know? It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Sorry.”

“I forgive you. I actually kind of like it. It’s like proof that… it was real. Sometimes, it was hard to remember the world outside existed. That everything had happened. It was the only proof of it I still had with me.”

And what was a guy supposed to say to that? He could sort of understand where the other was coming from, but it was still a little fucked up. “Anyway, we should probably get to the food before the ants beat us.” With a final swoop down Izuku’s back, he retreated and went to lay out plates for them.

They sat down to eat, and afterwards Izuku contemplated his still damp clothing. “You know, now that I’m wet anyway, I could probably try and catch a newt!” he announced and shot off towards the river.

Katsuki barely managed to grab his arm. “Stay away from the water!”

Izuku gave him a questioning glance. “But why? I’m already soaked. And it’s not that deep, I won’t trip again.”

“Just… stay away from it. Please.” He could already hear that foreboding murmur of the stream, like a whispering voice spouting threats and accusations he couldn’t decipher.

“Alright, then.” Izuku clearly didn’t understand, but if he was waiting for an explanation, he’d be waiting a long time. With a shrug, Izuku sat back down on the grass and started weaving a little flower crown from the daisies and the poppies instead as they waited for the clothes to dry. Katsuki was content to watch him.

They somehow whiled away hours like this, sitting down in the shade, watching the breeze weave through the canopy and over the meadow, listening to birds and cicadas and having inane conversations about everything and nothing. Only when the shadows started stretching and the sky turned a different shade of blue did they pack up again. “You still good?” he asked the nerd.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Izuku experimentally put the finished flower crown on his head, beaming with pride when he took his hands away and it didn’t fall apart. “Nice!”

Katsuki refrained from commenting. He did take a sneaky picture. For future blackmail material. “We should probably go get to that other spot before it gets dark.”

“Where is that, and how will we get away after its dark?” Izuku asked, balancing alongside him over some logs.

“Surprise, and I have a flashlight with me. It’s also pretty close to the car, and there’s a path, but if we arrive before sunset we can get properly settled in the light.” It was a good bit to go, too.

“Alright. Lead the way!”

He did just that, at a slightly faster pace this time. He noticed how Izuku didn’t run off as often. “Hey. Are you gonna be, y’know, alright with this? Forest after dark and all that?” he eventually asked.

Izuku smiled up at him. “Sure. I can tell a difference, you know. And all in all, the last time did turn out pretty great for me, so why would I be worried?” he said lightly. “Unless there’s, I don’t know, bears here. Or something. Wolves?”

“We have neither and you know it.”

“See? No worries.” They walked a bit in silence. “Now, serial killers would be a concern…”

“Oh my god.”

“No, no, hear me out: This place is super remote and used for training, it’s the perfect setup!”

“That makes it sound like you are the serial killer.”

“I could be.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Nah, I would never. Do you have life insurance?”

“What the- You wouldn’t even get that! That goes to my parents!”

“Ah. So you do. How do you feel about marriage?”

“Considering the circumstances, not very positive.”

“What a shame.”

“Idiot.”

“Hmm,” Izuku hummed, typing something on his phone.

Katsuki felt his own vibrate in his pocket a while later, and opened it to their group chat.

Nerd: Walking through a spooky forest with the bestie, feeling cute, might get murdered later.

“Hey, nerd… Just to clarify: Who is getting murdered in this scenario? Because the way you wrote it doesn’t make it quite clear.”

“Why, no one is getting killed. You’re imagining things,” Izuku said sardonically.

KingExplosionMurder: If I disappear under mysterious circumstances today, you guys know what to do

RaccoonEyes: Help him hide your body, got it!

ShittyHair: Cactus will be taken care of o7

KingExplosionMurder: Traitors, the lot of you

Izuku wiped a non-existent tear from his eye. “Aw, I never knew I was the favourite.”

“The only thing you’ll be is stranded if you do it. You can’t drive,” he threatened.

“…Dammit. My glorious plan, foiled! However shall I cope?”

“Idiot.”

The conversation continued along these inane lines, until they finished their climb (more a slightly exhausting walk) and emerged out of the forest on the shore of a big lake. The water was still here, far away from the feeding river and sheltered from the wind by the surrounding forest. The sunset painted it striking gold and orange, with a few fireflies already glinting here and there. It wasn’t far from the lodge where they’d stayed during their class trip; connected to three different paths with a nicely cultivated camping spot just for the few people that came here during the year.

He dropped the backpack down in a random spot and started to unroll their picnic blanket again. Despite the late summer heat, the grass was already slightly damp with dew as the lake cooled the air rapidly.

“What are we doing here?” Izuku asked, grabbing the opposite end of the blanket to help spread it out.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out in a moment.” He pulled an extra blanket out of the backpack, together with two thermoses of (hopefully still) hot tea. The darkness grew thicker by the minute.

The mystery lasted about thirty more seconds, until Izuku plopped himself down on the blanket and automatically looked up. “Oh.”

“Yep.” He sat down, too, offering the extra blanket up to the nerd. “This is a prime stargazing spot.” He’d only been here twice before, once with the class and once with Kirishima, Jirou, Sero and Kaminari for a meteor shower.

The trees framed a giant canvas of sky where more and more stars blinked into existence by the minute. New moon had been just yesterday, and besides the faintest sliver it stayed in the background. There was no light pollution in any direction for miles.

They just sat in silence and looked up for a long while, sipping their steaming tea. Eventually, Izuku let himself fall backwards, laying on his back and staring straight up. “Think we can still name constellations?”

“Probably not,” he admitted with a laugh. “Aside from the most basic ones, I’m completely out of that.” They’d been really great at it once, like children were when they had an obsession and enough time to devote.

“Same. Uhh… There’s capricorn, there’s the swan, Delphinus is somewhere I think… Nope, that’s it. This is more difficult out here.”

“True.” On the roof of his house had been a telescope to help them, and more light all around. The additional couple thousand stars visible out here actually ramped up the difficulty a fair bit. “How they looked at that one and decided it was a goat beats me every time.”

“I don’t know either. It’s a triangle! I can understand the swan, but not Capricorn. Hey, wasn’t there a horse too?”

“I think? Weird L shape, if I recall.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have that book in there somewhere?” Izuku asked, peeking into the backpack.

“Nope. That’s in my parents’ house. Somewhere. I think.” He actually hadn’t seen that in years. His phone was no help either, he was glad to have reception out here.

“Hmph. Shame. Well, I guess we’ll have to make up our own bullshit, then.” Izuku paused, pointing a finger upwards to their left. “I say that’s a rabbit.”

“Where?” He laid down as well so he could follow Izuku’s point easier. “Oh, yeah. I kinda see it. Although it could be a sideways kangaroo.”

“Actually, I like that better.”

They pointed out new images and even saw the occasional shooting star for a long while.

“Hey, Kacchan?” Izuku asked eventually.

“Hm?” He glanced over, but in the darkness it was hard to make out anything but a vague shape next to him.

“I’m glad we did find each other. For what it’s worth.”

“Yeah. Me too. Hey,” he turned his face back up towards the stars, “you don’t really believe I wouldn’t have cared, right?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard for me to say.”

“Well, let it be stated for the fucking record: If any of these fuckers tried anything now, I’d burn their houses down and break every single bone in their bodies. You’re with me, now, and you bet your ass it’ll stay that way. I mean, what would I do without you around? No one would do the laundry. Or clean. I’d have to make my own coffee in the morning!”

Light laughter sounded beside him. “Alright, then. Thanks.” Something touched his hand, and it took him a moment to figure out Izuku had curled two fingers around his pinky. “Really, thanks, Kacchan. You’re the best.”

“Tch. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Izuku scooted a bit closer, until their shoulders and arms touched. “…I made a hole in the wall beside the TV because I accidentally sent a screw flying and moved a picture over it and you never noticed.”

“Wait, what? I thought something was off!” Izuku just laughed again, and he reluctantly joined in. They stayed a while longer, until Katsuki’s phone chimed a little alarm. “Urgh, we have to leave.” He hauled himself up and grabbed the flashlight to start packing.

“Really? It’s not that late yet.”

“Maybe, but we still have a to get home. And I don’t like driving that late.”

There was a heavy sigh from the darkness beside him. “Fair.”

“Don’t sound so long-suffering.”

“I hate long car rides, too.”

“At least you get to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep in a car.”

That turned out to be a big fucking lie, because at the end of the day, he had to carry Izuku from the car into the house. The nerd was completely exhausted, and Katsuki felt a little guilty as he wondered if they’d maybe overdone it a bit.

“Had a great day, Kacchan. Thanks.” With these parting words, Izuku burrowed into the covers and was officially dead to the world.

Katsuki traced the sideways Y of freckles with his eyes as he sat down on the mattress for a moment. “You’re welcome, nerd.” Actually, he should probably do this again soon.

There was something about that blinding sunshine smile that made him want to see it again and again, ideally directed his way. Katsuki wanted to be the reason for it. He loved that warm sense of accomplishment inside his chest whenever he managed to get that reaction from Izuku, even if he wasn’t quite sure what it was about this man specifically that made him actively chase it.

Like now, when he prepared some overnight oats for their breakfast for the next day. Without even thinking about it, he’d arranged the fruit in a little cartoon kitty face. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. He wouldn’t be caught dead doing this by any of his other friends. Even then, he’d probably write a denial into his will, to be read at the funeral.

But Izuku would find it cute. So the breakfast Miles was allowed to live. For now.

Katsuki got ready for bed and scowled at the curled up form by the wall. Again, he wondered what it was about the nerd that made him allow exception after exception, because Izuku had stolen his pillow, hugging it to his chest, when Miles was right there, and the only thing Katsuki could do about it was shake his head in fond exasperation. Why did the nerd always have to latch onto something? And why the pillow? Did they need more plushies in case of emergency?

With a sigh, he stole his pillow back. Carefully. Then he turned his back to Izuku and resolutely forced himself to not imagine Izuku’s reaction to receiving various oversized cotton-stuffed creatures. They had only so much space in this bed.

Chapter 15

Notes:

Attention: There's been some shifting around of the chapters, so if you feel you missed something, go back and check. Because chances are you actually might have.

After their hiking trip, they had a whole fifteen days of glorious peace and quiet. Nothing bad happened at work, it was just routine patrols and breaking up the odd drunken fight outside a bar. It would’ve been boring if it weren’t so nice. He supposed he was getting old.

The most exciting thing he did was informing Haga about an upcoming arrest of one of the Auriculates. Nightingale wasn’t involved in that one; they managed to get a warrant for unrelated charges of suspected assault and hoped the search of the house would yield further proof they could use to extend the charges to human trafficking. Izuku thought it a good idea to tell Haga about it and see what he’d do. (Nothing.)

That part went swimmingly and netted them one Auriculate. The rest of the mission was a work in progress. “We’ve completely dismissed half a dozen people as suspects and found another thirty or so to be unlikely, but we still need to run a lot more trials for conclusive evidence,” Jirou informed him.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. It was frustratingly slow progress, even if he knew they needed to be thorough. It weren’t just the members of the operation that were under scrutiny. They had to investigate the heroes’ secretaries, family members, friends, potential blackmail and so on. Everyone pledged secrecy when they joined Nightingale, naturally, but a mission on that scale was an open secret. Hell, Katsuki had told Izuku pretty much everything on Peregrine, too. Izuku could be trusted. Some random extra who realized there would be a pretty penny in snitching? Not so much.

Either way, it was not his problem right now, and he was actually grateful for it. Tedious bullshit. He had better things to do with his time. Namely…

“Wow! The beach? Really? This is amazing, Kacchan!”

“Not much else to do in this weather.” A heatwave was approaching, and the late summer promised to be absolutely scorching. So swimming they went. He’d picked a wild beach that was more pebbles than sand out here. However, this also meant it was deserted, and the tide pools were interesting in their own way. “Here.” He tossed some swimming trunks at the Nerd’s face.

“I thought you didn’t like water,” Izuku answered, plucking the offending item off his face and looking around. “Where do I…?”

“Ocean is fine. And it’s just us here, for fucks sake.” He tossed his own clothes onto a sufficiently dry spot and went to test the water temperature.

“You could’ve just told me to put them on at home,” the other grumbled behind him.

“That would’ve given it away. I don’t think so.” He listened to the splashing behind him. When it stopped, he quickly stepped aside, leaving Izuku to belly flop into the water after the failed ambush. “Loser.”

“Shut up.” The green eyes narrowed.

“I can see what you’re thinking. It’s not gonna work.”

“Bet?” Izuku lunged with a battlecry, and got dunked again.

“Sure. Why not?” It was an unfairly one-sided fight. Izuku was completely soaked, coughing up sea water more than once, when his own hair was still perfectly dry. He had to hand it to the nerd, though, he was nothing if not determined.

“This isn’t going to work!” he repeated for the tenth time as he held the nerd at arm’s length. “At least try something new. Like this.”

“Kacchan, no-”

Not bothering to listen to the protest, he picked Izuku up and tossed him into the next wave. At least he made a satisfying splash.

“…Nerd?” He wasn’t coming up. Now, Katsuki was fairly sure that this was a trap of some sort. The water was just above waist-high here. And he wasn’t going to fall for it.

…Just, he was staying under a really long time. Half a minute now? He tried to peer into the water, but the soot they’d kicked up made it impossible to see. What if the chain had backfired again? What they were doing could potentially be interpreted as ‘fighting’. He looked closer at a dark blob. There was a shape he suspected to be Izuku.

As he leaned down, water splashed to the right and left of his face as arms shot out and wrapped around his neck before pulling down. He barely managed to hold his breath before he went under. More appendages wrapped around him as he struggled to stand, and he could hear laughter right by his ear as he dragged them both upright. “Gotcha!”

“Fighting dirty, are we?” There were freckles right in front of him, and Izuku only beamed at the accusation.

“It’s the only way I’ll get a hit in.” There was absolutely no remorse in that voice.

“Fine. Now let go!” Izuku had his arms and legs still wrapped tightly around him. Wrestling them off was… more difficult than it should be. “Oi, I said let go! What are you, a fucking octopus? Did you grow extra limbs?” No matter how he pushed and pulled, there was no give. Whenever he managed to pry one arm or leg off, it was back as soon as he moved onto the next.

“Ha! Try shoving me underwater now!”

He stilled. Stared past his nose at that bloody menace. Slowly, he turned and waded further out, until the water reached their chests.

“Kacchan. Kacchan no. Kacchan we can talk about this-”

“You did this to yourself.” With that, he let his legs give.

“Kacchan,” Izuku sputtered when they resurfaced. “Unfair.”

“You started it. And will you let go!”

“Never!”

“Hey! Don’t bully the small guy!” someone shouted from afar.

Izuku pushed himself higher on Katsuki’s shoulders, looking around. “Why do I hear voices?”

“Because the rest of them finally deigned to show up. You’re late, fuckers!”

Shitty Hair just waved at them. He and Pikachu carried folding chairs. Raccoon Eyes and Round Face followed with big coolers and drinks. “Beach Party!” they shouted, making their way down as fast as they could.

He waded out of the ocean to help them set up. The nerd finally let go, and followed like a loyal puppy. “I didn’t know you guys were coming! Hi!”

Kaminari beamed back. “Sure we were! We come here any time we can.”

“What, like a private beach?”

“Tch. Not really. It’s kind of a necessity. Here, put those in a circle, we’ll make a fire pit here.”

“We tried going to a regular beach once, two years ago.” They grimaced at the memory. “It was awful.”

Everyone nodded with distant looks on their faces. “I mean, I knew the internet was thirsty, but…” Kirishima shuddered. “I wish I could bleach my brain.”

“And that is why we don’t go out in swimwear anymore!” Uraraka added cheerfully.

“Beach time!” Kaminari tossed his chairs into a heap and took off towards the water, taking his shirt and shoes off as he went. “No fair! Wait!” Mina and Uraraka pelted after him.

“Sure, I’ll just do all the work myself!” he shouted after him.

“Very kind of you we appreciate it!”

“…Fuckers.”

“Where do you want me to put those, Kacchan?” Izuku held up the coolers.

“Urgh. Just put them down over here. Me and Shitty Hair got it handled.”

“But-”

“No, no, we have a system and all. Shoo. Go annoy the bastards over there.”

“If you say so…” Slowly, the nerd shuffled off, until he saw an opportunity for a running start and swept a leg from under Mina, landing her in the water. Shouts and laughter rang through the small bay.

Kirishima chuckled. “That was a good move. He’s really gotten far since we first saw him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just saying. I mean, look at him!”

He did. It was just Izuku. Looking a bit red from the sun in places the sunscreen had washed off. Teaming up with Kaminari against the girls. Laughing, having fun, completely unbothered by the chain around his neck and the scars on his bare arms. Toned arms. When had that happened?

He watched as the Nerd allowed Kaminari to climb on his shoulders. Uraraka allowed Mina to do the same, and then they battled like five-year-olds, with lots of shoving and pushing. Uraraka lost her footing and fell backwards, leaving Mina to float in the air above. She used the surprise to kick Kaminari in the chest, sending the other two under as well. Izuku surfaced first, shaking his hair out and laughing at something the others had said. He was so alive.

Something hit him in the side, pulling him back to the present. “What?” Kirishima jabbed him again with an elbow, doing a weird thing with his eyebrows and grinning like a Cheshire cat. “What? What is it?”

“You know exactly what it is!” Even more grinning.

“Time for you to get back to fucking work? Damn right.” He shoved the chairs at the other. Fine. Let him keep his secrets.

They set up the fire pit, then joined the others in the water, just fooling around. When the sun began its descent, they went on a small hunt through the tide pools, looking at the crabs, fish, barnacles and snails, and some other things they couldn’t really identify. Sea cucumber? Weird seaweed? Who knew. They lit the fire at sunset, using it to grill some delicious snacks, then sat around eating and drinking until late at night. Only when Uraraka nearly fell asleep in her chair did they pack up again. It was not really an eventful evening, and he even forgot most of the mundane things they’d talked about on the drive home already. Still, somehow, he thought he’d remember that day forever.

There were no plans and therefore no alarm for Sunday. Katsuki woke up slowly. He sensed remnants of a dream, of waves and sunshine and warm skin under his hands, green ocean. The images skittered as he woke, sparkling like champagne bubbles. He was almost disappointed to be rudely dragged into reality again. Something warm pressed against his back, and slow puffs of air tickled his neck. For a moment, he thought the dream was back, if it weren’t for the awareness of his own breathing telling him he was awake. The disconnect confused him. Cracking one eye open, he could not see the tell-tale sliver of sunlight that crept through his blinds at around seven this time of year. It was dark, and therefore too early.

He tried to go back to sleep when something moved against his lower abdomen. He tried to swat it away, thinking it was a bug. Instead, was met with a hand. Instantly, his eyes flew open, body now registering various points of warmth and pressure. He glanced down carefully to avoid waking Izuku.

His suspicions were confirmed. Izuku had shuffled closer in his sleep, probably on the search for a thing to cling onto, which resulted in an arm over Katsuki’s waist. Izuku’s fingers were splayed along his abs, pinkie finger touching the waistband of his shorts. Where Katsuki’s sleeping subconscious had obviously gotten some wrong ideas about the entire sequence of events.

Now properly awake, he froze up. Was Izuku still asleep? He had to be. He waited for any sign of awareness, but the form behind him stayed quiet and still save for the occasional sigh or mutter. Even in his sleep, the nerd was talkative.

This was definitely a Weird Situation, but he figured he could wait it out and go back to sleep. He was too warm and comfortable to get up, and it wasn’t like Izuku would magically know. There wasn’t anything to know. Morning wood was a thing that happened. Even if it was the middle of the night – Oh, semantics. Carefully, he grabbed the offending appendage by the wrist and dropped it back with its owner somewhere behind him.

“Mmm. Kacchan.” Izuku snuggled minutely closer. The hand was back instantly, blunt nails grazing lightly over Katsuki’s skin.

The sensation made warmth curl tense in his stomach. Okay, this was bad. That was one of his best friends behind him, and if that wasn’t a turnoff, he didn’t know what was. It should have been. He looked down again, fixated by that hand, the scars, wondering what it would feel like. The unbidden images were astonishingly detailed, and the weird tension swirled restlessly through his insides.

Absolutely not. Katsuki shot out of bed in and out the door without care. A sleepy “Kacchan?” followed him as Izuku woke as well.

He gritted his teeth and didn’t answer, walking straight into the bathroom and from there into the shower. He glared at the wall. His first plan had been to take care of the issue, but he could not get the nice, safe dreamscape back. Instead, his thoughts were stuck on the Nerd. As if someone had told him not to think about pink kangaroos, and now he could not stop thinking about pink kangaroos. After a moment of deliberation, he turned the water over to cold. He felt he deserved the punishment for this inappropriate behaviour, even if it was in his sleep. The shock cleared the lingering haze of sleep and lust from his mind, leaving only confusion and a little shame. With a sigh, he decided to forget this ever happened.

When he stepped back out and went for an early morning run to return with fresh goodies from the local bakery, he’d almost put it out of his mind. However: Now that the picture had entered his brain, it refused to leave. It lurked at the edges of his mind, waiting to jump out the minute he let his guard down.

It didn’t help how Izuku regarded him with suspicion in his eyes. Katsuki had to forcefully remind himself that going for a shower and a run at five in the morning was odd behaviour from anyone so the suspicion was likely directed there.

“You were up early today. Everything alright?” The other stretched with a yawn, causing the shirt he wore to ride up and reveal his stomach. There was some muscle definition there, now, and really, the Nerd was leaving ‘thin’ behind fast, taking a wild swerve towards ‘oh?’.

He forced a smile and thought very, very intently about… taxes. Or the proper procedures for making an arrest. Or Pythagoras theorem. “Yeah. I just wanted to go for a run.”

“After taking a shower?”

“I found out there was no breakfast, so I got us some.” He lifted the bag and thought about the chores he had to do today and his patrol plan for next week and Izuku’s hand down his pants and for fucks sake. “But you’re right, I probably need another shower, mind setting the table kay thanks later.”

He stood under the spray, at this point more mortified than anything else. Okay, so he’d just have to take care of this real fast. He gripped himself tighter and started stroking, thinking about vague scenes and shapes like usual. Closing his eyes, he sped up slightly, pretending someone else was there, preferably someone really hot, and all of a sudden the image turned vivid in striking detail as his mind conjured the feel of Izuku pressed against his back, leaning over his shoulder to look down as his hand took over-

He jerked back so fast he nearly slammed his head into the wall behind him. His eyes were wide open, and he was very much alone, thank fuck. There was only the sound of rushing water around him.

He looked down at himself and reached his hand down to grab for the shampoo instead. He wasn’t going to - Not whilst thinking of Izuku, that was just plain weird and wrong. It felt really wrong, somehow. Unfortunately, not wrong enough to get his libido to stand down.

Urgh, what would Izuku think if he knew that, he’d be disgusted, probably. Completely weirded out, and rightly so. It would be weird, right? Roommates didn’t jack off thinking of each other. Honestly, if their positions were reversed, if he knew Izuku was getting off with thoughts of him on his mind, and –

“What the fuuuuck,” he whined as he turned the water cold again. “Someone shoot me now,” he begged the white tiles on the wall. What the hell was with this day?

Thankfully, he was rescued soon after breakfast by Kirishima, who came knocking at the garden door. “Sero and I are going to Ground Beta for some training, you wanna come along? It’s been forever since we did something. We can go to that Italian place afterwards.”

“Sounds fantastic,” he agreed.

Izuku cocked his head. “Ground Beta?”

“’S one of the huge training facilities at UA. They're open for the Pros too, on the weekends. Gotta justify having those things, somehow. There’s some stuff you can only practice there, really.”

“Yep, and from what I’ve gathered, some of our class B plan on showing up, too. It’ll be like old times!” Kirishima added. “Um. Sorry you can’t come along, bro. But there’ll be a few students watching too, most likely. And Sero isn’t in the know, about everything...”

Izuku shook his head. “It’s fine, I promise. I would’ve loved to watch, but I understand completely. Besides, my legs feel sore from yesterday. I don’t need to come along everywhere. You two are probably glad to hang out without me for once, I get that.”

He went and ruffled Izuku’s hair. “True. Now we can finally talk behind your back. Knew you’d understand. I’ll get one of the extras to film the fight, at least.”

Izuku beamed that thousand-watt smile at him. “Thanks, Kacchan! You’re the best!”

“Damn right I am,” he muttered as he grabbed his gear for a fast escape.

Their brawl was fun: He teamed up with Kirishima, Shouto and Sero against the tin can, plant lady and horse from former class B, first in a straightforward team match, and then in a hostage rescue scenario Midnight and Present Mic helped set up for them. Quite a few of their former teachers came to watch, along with a decent selection of the current student body.

He channelled everything he had into the training, so the brats would learn something (and so his pride would stay intact), and when they finished changing and headed out for the restaurant, he’d completely forgotten about his weird morning.

Until Shouto had to bring it up, the bastard. “So, how’s it going with you and your little friend?” And of course he had to phrase it like that.

Katsuki’s eyes darted across the room, towards the table he and Izuku had sat at last time he was here. “The fuck is that supposed to even mean?”

“Just wondering. He’s been talking to me about a thing he wanted to talk with you about, and he seemed nervous. Just wondering how that went?”

“Ha?” Was this related to their ‘fight’? Izuku had mentioned talking to Shouto about that. “No, that’s fine, we figured it out.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Kirishima gave him a critical once-over. “You look like something’s bothering you, though.”

There was, namely the cursed question of whether or not that meant Izuku trusted Shouto more than him. “I’m having a weird day,” he sighed. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“Aw man, sorry to hear that.”

“It’s probably because you’re not working yourself to the bone each day. Gives your subconscious time to catch up with the weird dreams. I’ve had a similar experience two days ago,” Shouto nodded sagely. Sometimes there was really no telling if it was genuine advice or the guy was bullshitting what he believed to be true.

In this instance, he decided to take it. “Probably. I’m sure tomorrow will be better.”

“…Am I missing something?” Sero wondered.

Tomorrow was not better. Tomorrow was actually worse, because the predicted heatwave hit and Izuku decided to sleep in nothing but boxer shorts. Granted, he did the same, because it was the one way to go uncooked in their own sweat at night. He wasn’t even sure why it was so different now. He knew what Izuku looked like naked, and vice versa. They lived together, for fucks sake. They’d known each other forever. They had taken baths together when they were four. They were comfortable with each other, and it had never been a problem until now.

The dreams that night were even more graphic, to the point he remembered parts of them. It left him in the same predicament as the morning before. Again, he ignored it, because best friend and horny were not supposed to mix. So he suffered in silence for the next week.

And as if all of this wasn’t punishment enough, the frustration also piled higher by the day, because he was unable to… take care of it. There wasn’t any moment in time where he was alone in this house, his bedroom was out of the question since Izuku shared it again and could walk in any moment, and locking it would just give away exactly what he was doing. Which in turn led to the obvious question of what Izuku was doing in this… regard, which was a not good very bad train of thought he wasn’t really able to stop.

It led to the one time he caved and took a second, hot shower later in the day, where his mind harassed him with pictures of Izuku again, specifically the imagined scenario where Katsuki hadn’t bolted out of bed that first time. He wasn’t sure what to make of this, because it was plain weird to think about Izuku of all people whilst jacking off, but it wasn’t enough to deter him. Which made the shame and disgust at himself hit a lot harder once he had his wits back together. Not to mention the mounting confusion, because that was one of the fastest orgasms he had since he was a teenager.

‘It’s fine,’ he told himself. ‘Izuku’s around 24/7, occupying a lot of our thoughts anyway, from the mission to helping him get back on his feet, and now that we have it out of the system, we never have to think about this ever again.’

Except that was easier said than done, because Katsuki couldn’t stop thinking about it. All. The. Time.

He was hyper-aware of the way Izuku leaned into him when they watched TV, and his mind suggested simply leaning back and pulling Izuku on top of him, just holding him there.

He noticed how often their fingers touched when Izuku handed him something or vice versa, and he imagined taking that hand and putting his mouth on those scars, on a pulse point.

He saw Izuku stand on his tiptoes in the kitchen, fishing for something at the far back of the cabinet, and Katsuki didn’t think at all about stepping up behind him to get it for him. And then he realized with a jolt how easy it would be to bury his nose in that apple-scented hair, brace his hands on the counter to cage Izuku in, and just hug him close and- he needed a shower. Cold.

Worst of all, he wasn’t able to stop those moments from happening. Izuku was clever, he’d figure out something was wrong if he changed his behaviour to keep some distance. He also did not want to keep distance, because he refused to let this come between what they had now. He liked the company. He liked the leaning on each other and the gentle shoving when one of them blocked a drawer, he liked ruffling Izuku’s hair in the morning.

What he could go without was the close proximity and the breathy whispers next to him when Izuku fell asleep. Now at the end of day five of this predicament, Katsuki felt like he was about to go absolutely insane. Going to bed had become a really stressful activity, because he could never be sure what’d happen in his sleep. He just wanted some peace, goddammit!

“Nerd,” he grumbled as he walked past the other. Izuku was still up and about, reading something for school the next day.

“Hm?”

“Can you go back to your own room again?”

“Huh? Uh, sure…? Sorry. I didn’t realize I was bothering you…” He sounded small all of a sudden.

“Nerd. It’s ten billion degrees outside. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve replaced Miles with me, and I don’t enjoy getting cooked and strangled at the same time. That’s what you got that cat for.”

“Right. Sorry.”

It was a shallow victory, because Izuku’s absence didn’t stop the dreams or his imagination in the slightest. Only now there was no reason to not give in. With one arm thrown over his eyes and the other hand fisted into the sheets beside him to keep it there, he wondered who he had offended to deserve this. And if it was too late to repent.

And it wasn’t just that. When he left for work the next morning, Izuku followed him to the door like the loyalest of puppies, talking animatedly about the upcoming practical exam he had. He looked so genuinely excited, green eyes sparkling with life, that Katsuki apparently couldn’t help himself. When he went for his usual hair ruffle, his body switched to autopilot, and he barely realized as he pressed a kiss to the Nerd’s forehead.

“Huh?!” Izuku went beet-red in a millisecond, and his own neck felt hotter than the Sahara Desert. He tried to play it cool and simply waved before he turned and fled left.

The incident earned him a split lip later that day, when Kaminari got a hit in during their sparring because he was too preoccupied banging his metaphorical head against a metaphorical wall. “So sorry, man. I thought you’d dodge.”

He waved him off and hauled himself up. “It’s fine, really.” He should have dodged. This was a beginner’s mistake. “I think I’ll leave it at that, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Bad day?”

“Bad week.”

“Well, hope you feel better soon!”

He left the gym and slowly started his trek home, with a detour to one of his go-to patisseries. “Hey. Sato in?” he asked the young woman behind the counter. He never could remember her name. Pink hair.

“No, he’s busy at his other job. Can I get you anything?”

“Whatever’s best at the moment. Surprise me.” He didn’t have enough of a sweet tooth to accurately judge the quality and flavour of the many cakes, cupcakes and sweet rolls on display visually. So he decided to trust the employees for once, and carried the box with the half dozen treats back home carefully.

Izuku skidded into the hall as he took off his shoes. “Oh, hey, Kacchan! How was your day?” Then he did a double take. “What happened?!” he whined, distressed.

“Uneventful, really. Kaminari got a hit in during training. Looks worse than it is, quit yammering. Here, I got you something!”

Izuku peeked into the box, and yep, there was the smile. “Kacchan! Thank you! This is amazing! What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing. Walked past there anyway,” he shrugged, because he felt ‘It’s an apology for kicking you from the bedroom because I’m a pervert’ wouldn’t go over well.

After he watched Izuku enjoy the treats with nothing but static in his brain, he had to excuse himself to another room yet again after he’d nearly wiped a smudge of frosting from the Nerd’s cheek. He was this close to begging anyone who would listen for help, because he didn’t understand what was going on.

There were possibilities. This couldn’t continue. He carefully analysed the situation, and after thinking about it rationally, the solution was obvious, but he hated to admit it:

He needed to go out and get laid. It’d just been too long. Yeah, that was it. The stress of his workload had kept him occupied for the past months, and without it, he was finally able to relax and function outside of work and sleep. He couldn’t even remember the last time his sex drive had checked in. And because Izuku was around the most, he’d started projecting everything on him. But it was an easy fix; go out, find a one-night stand, make them sign a non-disclosure agreement to avoid having his entire sexual history posted in the papers the next day, and be done with it. Yep. Easy.

It was not easy. It was, in fact, a resounding failure on an epic scale. He’d gone to bar night with the guys and gals, trying his hardest to keep close enough to sober. The first half of the evening went as usual: They sat and talked, about anything and everything, keeping to themselves mostly. It was a small, quiet establishment, and they appreciated it for the privacy and the discretion of the owner.

Things took a slight turn south when he (instead of going home like he was at this point almost expected to do) joined the small group that went barhopping or clubbing afterwards. “Ohooo, The Great King Explosion Murder God Supreme is joining us! What gives?” Mina sing-songed, throwing an arm around Katsuki’s shoulder.

He shrugged, not hard enough to dislodge her. “I haven’t been out in forever, I’m making up for it.”

“Awww, you missed us!”

“That is not at all what I said.”

He felt oddly touched when they changed their plans on his behalf, swapping their intended club for their go-to Irish Pub that was also a karaoke bar on Mondays. Although he’d come along with the goal of getting some, clubs were an absolute nightmare for him. People there just didn’t know the meaning of personal space. He didn’t want to get mobbed as soon as he entered.

Then of course his companions picked up on the fact he was looking around the room with more interest than usual (meaning any interest at all). “Looking for something?” Mina teased, grinning like a cat that just brutally beheaded a canary.

Kaminari, on the other hand, gave him the most displeased glower Katsuki had ever seen from the man. “Bro, you shouldn’t, y’know, do that. I mean, how would you feel if Izuku started ogling other men, huh?”

He felt an irritated twitch in his temple. “And what the fuck does that have to do with anything? The Nerd can do whatever and whoever he wants. As can I. Nobody’s business except our own. Fucker should be thankful I’m not planning on taking this to my house.”

“Wait.” Kaminari set his glass down. “But I thought the two of you-” he put his pointer fingers together.

“How the fuck did you get that idea? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard from you, and I include the times you literally fried your brain!” It was impossible. There was just no way. How did they even get that? He was not interested in the Nerd! Of all people!

Everyone at the table looked at him, looked at each other, and then turned their gazes pointedly towards their glasses. Kaminari seemed distressed. Mina furiously typed something under the table.

“Okay, so what is the gaydar even giving us to work with here?” Jirou, the only sane person around, twirled her cable around a finger and used it to point to someone at the bar. “What about the guy over there? With the glasses? You always seemed to have a thing for the smart ones. And he has that ‘I just gave up’ hair you like, god knows why.”

Katsuki glanced covertly at the man she was pointing at. “Nah. Too… serious. Looks more like a lawyer than anything, I’m not risking it.”

“Fine. And that the one in the corner?”

He turned a little, taking in the darker brown hair and the animated way the guy spoke to his buddies, using his hands to gesture wildly. There was an aura of confidence as he explained something, but not in a condescending way. Just genuinely excited people were listening.

“Hmmm. Maybe.” Most importantly, he didn’t give an impression that he would make things complicated for Katsuki on purpose. Always an important factor.

Mina grinned slyly. “Well then, hotshot, want me to make introductions? I’m sure I can get the lot to come over here…”

He tilted his head, contemplating. He still wasn’t sure about this. He was famous, and a total ten, he knew that, but even when he’d been a hormone-ravaged teenager, sleeping with some random strangers had never been high on his list of priorities. He’d done it, a few times, when he felt like adding another person into the equation would scratch that itch he couldn’t get himself, thinking that this time, it’s gonna be right, but it always felt far less enjoyable than his friends made it out to be. He could already tell that he wouldn’t necessarily regret this, but he would be done with the experience after tonight. Which was, admittedly, The Point. “Let me get another drink first.”

He walked towards the bar, where he got served almost immediately, earning him looks from the rest of the patrons. Most of them were simply amazed to be in the presence of The Ground Zero, trying to make their staring not too obvious.

“Aw man, at least pay for the lot if you’re gonna cut in line like that,” a voice to his right complained.

Katsuki turned, about to let off a signature scathing retort he was so famous for, and then promptly had a small heart attack when he saw green eyes. “What the-” No, wait. No freckles, wrong hair colour, too tall. “Whatever,” he settled on, grabbing his drink and retreating to their table.

Mina had managed to make first contact, and his group was caught up in polite conversation with the newcomers. The seat next to his was occupied by The Guy, and Mina winked at him.

Katsuki downed half of his glass in one go, willing his heart to calm down from the shock earlier. Izuku couldn’t leave the house! Well, he could, but he wasn’t supposed to, and even if, he’d hardly show up at a random bar.

He wondered what the Nerd was doing. Maybe finishing his game? Doing school work? Were Shitty Hair or Shinsou over? They hadn’t been out with them tonight, citing plans. Would Izuku have invited them?

He tuned back into the conversation when The Guy started talking. “I work as a nurse in a GP office across town. It’s not that exciting, though. The hospital was way more demanding, and I miss it, but the weekend shifts were just too much. I like having time for myself. My new boss is very happy about it though, since I’m somewhat good in a lab.”

“What sort of work do you do there?” Katsuki asked, trying to insert himself into the conversation. He supposed The Guy wasn’t half bad, if he enjoyed working to help people and knew what confidentiality was. Katsuki thought this might work out, after all.

The Guy glanced at him, eyes flicking over his form for a split-second before politely returning upwards. “Well, it is honestly just very basic stuff; blood tests, organ screenings, diabetes testing and setting insulin levels, counting blood cells and stuff. Anything fancier has to be sent out, since we don’t have the machines. How about you? Do you enjoy your work? Or is that a stupid question? I feel like you get asked this a lot, I don’t want to bore you…” The Guy touched Katsuki’s wrist briefly, leaving cold fingerprints damp with condensation from the glasses.

“Eh, there’s honestly nothing you won’t have heard or read somewhere before. Although now we can complain about the press,” he answered, tossing the conversation back to Mina, who certainly had opinions on the topic.

“Oh, do not get me started. Instead of focusing on the causes and prevention for crimes, they want to exaggerate everything to be as horrible as possible just so they can sell more copies. And even thought the family protection act doesn’t allow them to write about it, they always ask about our personal lives, what’s our type, are we seeing someone, and so on. I don’t get it! You’d think they’d have an interest in keeping peace, but no, the bloodier, the better! Vultures! Last year at the annual Yaoyorozu Gala-”

He tuned out of the familiar rant and surreptitiously wiped his wrist on his jeans. Could he just excuse himself or should he make something up?

As if someone had heard his silent plea, Katsuki heard his phone chime. “Ah, one sec.”

It earned him a raised eyebrow from Kaminari and Mina, for different reasons. He ducked his head in apology as he fished the device out of his pocket. Rule number five of bar night was that phones were kept on ‘silent’ whenever possible, much like they were anyway during work. A noise at the wrong time could be disastrous, but Katsuki personally thought there were some things that were important enough to warrant exceptions, and his settings were accordingly adjusted.

His phone only chimed when the hospital, the 24/7 emergency dispatch from HQ and his mother called, as well as the group chat they had solely to avoid reporters and request backup if someone was cornered by reporters. A new addition was his own landline and Izuku’s mobile, in case the idiot needed anything.

He glanced covertly at his lockscreen and felt the first trickle of dread drip down his throat.

‘INTRUDER ALERT’, the screen flashed at him. His security system at home was also set as a priority. Numbed by the uneasy feeling in his chest, he swiped at the message and went straight to the app.

It was probably a false alert. He couldn’t name a single Hero who didn’t have a personal security system, to the point it was an open secret to the public, which was a more effective deterrent than the system itself. No one would risk angering a top 30 Hero and his extended friends and family by breaking into his house. Revenge was conducted on battlefields and ambushes throughout the city.

It was probably a cat, he thought, or one of these pesky pigeons that liked sitting on his windowsill and set off the sensors there at least twice a month. Maybe a small earthquake had set them off, it happened. Once they’d gone off after Mount Lady sprinted down the next street. He swiped to the camera feeds. The front of the house looked like always, as did the view of the street along the side. He calmed down again. The pigeons seemed to have left already. Or maybe Izuku went on another cleaning spree and accidentally knocked against the window too hard.

In any case, he’d have to call home and talk Izuku through disabling the alarm that would start beeping in around 120 seconds. The security firm would first call his house and then his mobile as well, and he didn’t want Izuku to suffer through their nagging when they realised a false alarm. Worse, they might just send law enforcement over since Izuku didn’t know any of his passwords and was not registered as a resident for obvious reasons.

In hindsight, he should’ve probably gone over that with Izuku, but he hadn’t even bothered to set the alarm at the door ever since the other started living with him – it felt wrong to trap him there like that, even if he couldn’t leave the house on his own, and the windows were outside motion sensors, which shouldn’t matter for similar reasons.

Going over to speed dial, he called the Nerd’s phone. And waited. And waited. Until he was sent to voicemail. Confused, he tried the landline, and… same there. What the fuck? He’d understand if Izuku put his phone on silent, but the other one was audible through the entire house.

Going back to the cameras, he frowned when he looked closer at the side view of the house and noticed something glinting in the lamplight. Glass? It was hard to make out in the darkness. If someone had littered by his yard, he’d have words. Something made him swipe through the last camera feed at the sight.

His chair toppled as he shot up. “I need to go,” he said in a monotone he didn’t recognize as his own voice and flung the door of the bar open, where he launched himself with an explosion that took it off the hinges anyways.

“What’s wrong?” Mina shouted, using her professional voice.

He couldn’t even answer.

The garden door was wide open. No one stood there. There was no light, and the space he could see was dark and vacated.

He shot over the rooftops at breakneck speed, and he couldn’t be arsed to care about the structural damage he caused in the process. Windows shattered and vents blew open, and on occasion he singed a few rooftop flower beds, but none of it mattered.

His head was empty save for the flat feeling of denial as he raced on. He was trained to assess situations from little information and to prepare for the worst case; ‘So when it happens you won’t be underprepared and if it doesn’t, you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Never the other way around,’ Aizawa’s voice recited in his head.

Right now, he tried his best to avoid imagining anything remotely close to ‘worst case’, because if he did, it sucked the air right out of his lungs until he couldn’t breathe.

The distance to his home stretched on for infinity. It came as a shock when he blasted off an angled roof, sending shingles cascading down like red raindrops, to find himself in his own driveway. He paused long enough to do a check of his immediate surroundings, but aside from the curious neighbours peering through the curtains at the commotion, everything was in order – street lamps, sidewalks, façade – so he barrelled on.

Not bothering with keys and all that, he jumped again and catapulted himself over the roof to the other side, landing on the lawn. When he finally caught sight of the door, only to find it indeed standing wide open, the cold shock of reality finally caught up to him.

The spiral of ‘No, no, no’ inside his head grew louder, aided by the feeble thoughts of ‘Please, please, please’ as he hoped against hope that somehow, things would be okay. That this was not what it looked like.

The living room was empty. The alarm beeped, a loud obnoxious sound, and he couldn’t hear anything else from further inside as he cocked his head to listen. Izuku’s phone sat on the couch table, connected to the Bluetooth box and playing something he vaguely recognized. It unnerved him to no end, this mundane thing in an emergency situation. There was no sign of the nerd.

He checked the bathroom and the gym quickly. When he opened the door to the latter, he was alerted by a smell of fresh air and a slight breeze that something was different.

The window was smashed. A few jagged edges of glass still clung bravely onto the frame, but the rest was in pieces on the floor next to a brick. He glanced around. No one was here, either. The house had that vacant quality he used to feel when he lived alone.

He quickly marched into the kitchen, and from there to his bedroom, the office, Izuku’s room, the backyard again. All were empty, and all were just as he’d left them.

Nothing had been emptied, no drawers searched, his watch sat still on the nightstand, where it was so easy to see. Not a burglary, then, and not some stalker trying to get their hands on personal items they could sell to freaks on the internet.

He ended up in the living room again, standing frozen, mind blank and heart racing. He didn’t want to, but he had to be sure. “Izuku!” he called. “Nerd, where are you?”

Silence answered. “Midoriya, come here!” he shouted, desperate. His bracelet felt heavy around his wrist.

“No, no no no no no. Fuck!” For the first time in two years, he didn’t know what to do next.

He couldn’t get a coherent thought, it was a mess of “Who did this?” and “What happened?” and “Where is he?”, and, worst of all, “I should’ve been here, I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

He knew some of the Auriculates were wary of him. He knew that at least one other was interested in getting Izuku for themselves. And worst of all, he knew that unlike himself, who could send any fool stupid enough to mess with him to jail with one arm tied behind his back, Izuku was not a trained fighter and also bound by a quirk to not run away and not to hurt anybody. He was defenceless, in the worst way possible, he couldn’t have helped himself if he tried.

The room started spinning and he distantly noted his breathing was too loud in his ears. What to do, what to do… He needed help, he should call Aizawa, his teacher always knew what to do, they needed to find him-

God, Izuku was probably so scared right now, when Katsuki had promised he’d be safe here, and now he’d failed his promise, he’d failed Izuku, and there was no telling where they were taking him and what they planned. How could he find them? Would he be at an auction? Would he be taken straight to the perpetrator’s location of choice? What did they want with him?

He’d go to Ueda first, he thought, he’d blast that fucker’s house off its foundations and shake the answers out of him, he wouldn’t even hesitate, if that bastard knew anything-

But what if he didn’t? What if it was someone else?

The city was huge, Katsuki didn’t even know where to begin searching, and what if, what if they wouldn’t find him in time, or ever, what if they’d go back to living in the Limbo where Izuku was missing for years and years? Or what if they’d bust a random house and would only find remains, too late-

His phone rang, and he thumbed at the button blindly. “Yes?”

“Good evening. We have a security alert for your house, and would like to ask if you need us to dispatch law enforcement,” a calm voice told him. Right, the security guy.

“Um, no thanks. We got this,” he replied mechanically, and then told them the passwords as he went to silence that horrible alarm. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but the police would create more problems than they’d solve. If forensics came in and found as much as a hair from the Nerd…

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He heard a familiar thump-swish sound getting louder and went out front just as Ingenium skidded around the corner.

“Bakugou! Status!” he demanded.

Katsuki helplessly gestured around. “I don’t know, someone threw a brick through the window, but they’re not here anymore, and Izuku is gone, I don’t know what happened, I have no idea where he is, I have no idea where to start...”

Since there wasn’t an ongoing fight, Iida shook his legs out to help cool the engines down. “Alright. No enemies on the premises, Midoriya is not around either,” he said into the speaker of his phone. No doubt the rest of the squad was already on alert, if not the way to his house. How the fuck could they be so calm? They needed to move, they didn’t have time for this!

Especially since Iida would insist on doing this by textbook. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Katsuki exploded a hole into the paint of the façade. “He’s gone, that’s what happened! The window is smashed, and he’s gone! Can we get a move on?”

“Bakugou, you need to calm down. Panicking won’t help anyone. I’ll phone Ochako, she is on patrol today, maybe she has seen something…”

“You think so?” The area was densely populated by heroes – safety in numbers and all that – so it was equally heavy patrolled. A deterrent against villains, the press, and other unwanted vermin.

“I will contact her right away!” Iida punched something into the speed dial of his phone and then turned the slightest bit away. “Uravity! We require your assistance in an urgent matter- What? No, I’m not at work- Yes, I’m fine- I am, we didn’t- Babe, if you let me talk I could explain- I’m at Bakugou’s, someone broke in but they fled, and we just wanted to know if you’ve seen anything- Really? Why yes, I’ll be right over. Love you!”

He put the phone done with an exasperated sigh. “Well, the good news is that she just took in some people that might be your perpetrators, and we can meet her at the nearest station to confirm.”

“Why am I hearing a ‘but’…?”

“It appears that our culprits may have been some drinking high schoolers who thought vandalism would make them look cooler on a dare.”

He tried to puzzle this fact together with the circumstances. “But where is he, then? What happened to Izuku?”

“I don’t know, but I will go to the station right away to confirm the suspicions. Maybe he hid when he heard the noise? In any case, you should stay here and wait for him to show up or contact you.” Iida gave him a stern look before he turned and crouched down in a starting position for his take-off. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see,” he said before he sprinted down the street and was gone.

With nothing else to do, he headed back inside, where things were most certainly not fine. He paced a line along the edge of his living room, then back into the gym, looking at the glass across the floor, as if it could tell him exactly what’d happened. Back to the living area. Just as he passed the garden doors, a pale figure appeared and knocked with one knuckle. The door immediately shattered under an explosion, and his hand was grabbed in an iron grip when he tried to follow up with a punch.

“Whoa, dude, calm it. It’s just me,” Kirishima said, carefully dropping his quirk when he wasn’t pelted with more glass. “There’s been noise and shit. The neighbours are on the road. Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” he croaked out, followed by unbidden, unstoppable laughter. “Wrong, he asks! My house gets broken into, my Nerd is gone, and he asks what’s wrong?”

“Izuku?” Kirishima glanced over his shoulder and pointed vaguely. “Yeah, he’s been hanging out with me and Shouto.”

He had to go over the words twice inside his own mind until they started making sense. He yanked his hand out of Kirishima’s grasp and crossed the backyard. It felt like he was walking on air, his legs seemed so numb. The back door was open, and so he could walk right through into the living room. There was a paused movie on the TV, and the only thing he could see were bare legs hooked over the backrest of the couch. However, since they were spattered with freckles, he immediately recognized the owner regardless. “Izuku!”

“Waaah!” The legs vanished and there was a soft thump before an equally freckled face peeked over the backrest. “Kacchan?”

“Izuku!” He crossed the space between them in three big steps. His hands came up to take hold of Izuku’s face, angling it this way and that to check for anything amiss, the slightest scratch. His thumb swiped over that sideways ‘Y’ he could see on Izuku’s cheek. “Are you alright? What happened? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Why?”

Seeing that the nerd was indeed fine and alive and acting like absolutely nothing was amiss, he let out a deep breath. This fucker. This absolute asshole. With everything going on, he was just sitting here, not doing anything to investigate, not informing Katsuki he’d be away in the first place, leaving him to worry himself into a right state, and then he had the gall to play innocent bean. “Tell, me: Does that brain of yours get used for thinking occasionally, you absolute bastard?”

Chapter 16

Hearing Kacchan was truly the last thing he’d expected. He’d been waiting for Kirishima to report back, or for Shouto to update them on the group call he was in. Something had obviously happened at Kacchan’s house – they’d heard the alarm and noticed a commotion outside – but no one had really bothered to explain.

The moment the noise started, both he and Kirishima had suspected a false alarm. Maybe the pigeons again? It’d happened before, a few times, only that this time Kacchan wasn’t around to silence the damn thing. Then Kaminari called both Kirishima and Shouto to tell them how Kacchan had left without explanation, and Iida was apparently already on his way to the house to investigate. By the time Kirishima went over to check as well, there’d been loud noises, but he’d somehow failed to connect them to explosions. Kacchan had mentioned going downtown with his friends, and there was no way he’d be back that fast. It’d been no more than five minutes.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve!” Kacchan did not seem happy.

“Um. Sorry? What’s going on?”

“What’s going on, he asks. You’d know what was going on if you had your phone on you. Someone smashed a window, that’s what’s going on. I had a great evening at the bar, until I had to go home because there was no way to reach you, that’s what’s going on!”

“Oh. Sorry? I just forgot it. Um. Who broke the window?” Had someone broken in? Had he dodged his untimely death via gruesome murder by a masked guy with a machete through sheer dumb luck?

“Dunno yet. Round Face and Glasses are on it. They suspect some drunken kids.”

“Alright. Nothing to really worry about, then?”

Kacchan narrowed his eyes. “You tell me. What if it’d been someone else? Should we have worried then? Because some idiot just fucks off without telling me, leaving me to think god knows what happened?” he said quietly.

“Everything’s fine, though. I’m fine.” He felt a bit sorry for making Kacchan worry like that, but he’d been with friends.

“Yeah, I can see that now!” Kacchan threw his arms wide. “And what if it had been someone from the Auriculates? The entire crew would’ve gone searching, and the Operation would be down the drain. I’m the one responsible for you!”

“Glad to know I’m a chore. Why are we talking about this? I though you hated hypotheticals, and this doesn’t even make sense. It wouldn’t have been my fault if it happened.”

“Well, you weren’t helping either! You left your damn phone right where it was! I got you the damn thing so we’d have a way of talking to you if anything ever happened! If this had been an emergency, you would’ve been pretty damn useless in helping us find you! We would’ve had to search the entire city!”

“If you’d’ve bothered searching in the first place,” he muttered, balling his fists. He knew that! He knew all of it! It just wasn’t relevant in this specific circumstance! “I was a bit preoccupied hanging out with my friends, who are also pro’s, doing normal people stuff like a normal person.” He hadn’t asked for this.

“And speaking of!” Kacchan continued, stabbing a finger in his direction. “Were you planning on maybe telling me that, or checking in after there was a break-in at all? You’re fucking lucky I looked at my phone when I got the message! I was this close to being out for the entire night, and if something’d happened, then what? You can’t expect me to watch your ass twenty-four seven!”

Izuku felt like he was trying to talk against a wall. He wasn’t even sure what was wrong – he had an idea, but he couldn’t put it into words, couldn’t get the full scope – Kacchan looked almost feral. It was scaring in its intensity, that same caged energy that had Izuku avoid him in the middle school hallways. But this time he wouldn’t let that intimidate him. The thing in his throat burst out, hot and sharp. “What a lucky coincidence we’ve just been talking about when I’m gonna move out. I’ll just go grab my things and leave, shall I? Can’t have me cockblocking you, that’d be just inconsiderate, really. Got to have the priorities in order.”

“Don’t you dare turn this around on me! I’ve never been this considerate in my entire life, and when I want to have maybe twelve hours for myself, I think should be damn well able to do that, but no, I have to disregard several regulations to come check on you because your dumbass did not only forget to send a message telling me you were going out, no, you forgot your entire damn phone so I couldn’t even call you!” Kacchan shouted.

There was a moment of silence, and with the silence came a weird, unreasonable calm. He breathed out slowly and continued more quietly. “You’re such a fucking asshole. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask to be stuck here, I didn’t ask to be part of this investigation, I didn’t ask for anyone to break in, I didn’t ask you to drop everything and come back, and I certainly did not ask for a fucking lecture! Guess what, I hate it too! I hate this chain, I hate this house, I hate you. If I could, I would’ve left weeks ago. If it’s that much of a bother, just leave it next time. What do you even care? Fuck. You.”

Kacchan stared up at him from underneath his tousled hair, an open look of surprise on his face. His mouth had fallen into an ‘o’, but no sound came out. He wasn’t even trying to say something.

With a scoff, Izuku turned and stomped off. Or attempted to. A hand came down on his shoulder, holding tight and stopping him short. “Oi, you can’t just leave!”

Furious, he batted the hand off, whirling around. “And who the fuck do you think you are to decide that? You’re telling me what to do now? In case you forgot, you need to add my surname before that sentence, see if that helps!” he seethed.

“Oh, come off it, you know damn well what I meant.”

“I don’t, actually. I’m perfectly good to walk out this door right this instant. This may come as a surprise to you, but I don’t actually need you, Bakugou.”

Small tendrils of smoke curled out from Kacchan’s balled fists. “Oh, so this entire thing is now my fault again, somehow? Because that seems so fair.”

“Fair?” He laughed at the audacity. “Fair? What do you know about fair? You’ve gotten everything you ever wanted in your life handed to you on a silver platter! You’ve got the amazing quirk. You’ve got the job you wanted. Your dad isn’t disappointed by your mere existence, you saw your mom every day growing up, they could afford to buy you all the things you needed and most of the things you wanted! You weren’t lonely because you had no friends between kindergarten and high school! No one was making fun of you. No one hurt you! You weren’t held captive for four years in which no one was looking for you! You don’t have to rely on the goodwill of other people for every single thing in your life and live in existential dread every day in case decide to take it away, because you’ll be left with nothing! You…” he took a deep breath. “You’re the most unfair thing of all.” It was dead quiet after that. “Sometimes I wish I never met you.” He grabbed his shoes and turned. “C’mon, Shouto, we’re leaving.” He could only pray Shouto would pick his side and not let him go out on his own like a complete idiot. How far could he get on his own? More importantly, where to?

He made it to the vaguely familiar car and went around to the passenger door. When the headlights flared to the sound of the locks unlatching, he gratefully slid in. Shouto climbed in beside him, started the engine without a word and backed out completely unfazed, leaving Kirishima’s driveway without a sign of its owner or Kacchan.

“So,” Shouto began conversationally when they left the neighbourhood, “now that you’ve kind of evicted us both, where exactly are we going?”

“Great question! I don’t suppose you completely exaggerated the water damage in your flat?”

“That spider-”

“-was huge, yes. But if the damage is only in your bathroom, then maybe we could still…?”

“We cannot.” Shouto pressed some buttons on the steering wheel and the radio made way for a dial sound.

“Oh, hey, man. Did you hear about the shit at Blasty’s? Are we going? Are we staying? No one’s telling me anything!” Shinsou’s voice came through.

“It’s fine. Apparently someone smashed one of his windows, but he and Eijirou got it covered. I have a favour to ask, actually. Could Izuku and I stay at yours tonight?”

“Izuku?”

“Hey Shinsou!”

“Oh, hello. Of course you can stay, if you don’t mind a bit of a mess because I sure as hell am not gonna start cleaning up now. Is everything alright?”

“We’re fine,” Izuku said, “but me and Kacchan… had a disagreement, he’s probably going to stay at Kirishima’s, and Shouto’s flat has a hole in one wall.”

“And is flooded.”

“And it’s flooded!”

“…Now this I have to hear. Alright, you can crash. Disclaimer: I only have one bed and a beanbag, so it’s gonna get cuddly. And hairy. Also, there’s nothing in the fridge to feed you lot, so if you want anything for dinner, maybe get takeout on the way.”

“Alright, see you in twenty,” Shouto said and hung up. “Your opinions on sushi?”

“Don’t know. I’m feeling a bit weird.” There was a queasy feeling in his stomach, one he’d grown quite familiar with. “I think the commandments aren’t too happy about my unapproved detour.” It wasn’t a full-out retaliation, but he guessed he was running away in a sense, and he had to do some real mental gymnastics to justify it as a necessity. And Kacchan technically had given him permission by not stopping him. Sort of.

“Anything we can help with?” Shouto asked, sounding worried. “I’m not sure I’m qualified to handle that.”

“It should be fine. If it were a real problem, I’d have noticed by now. I can deal.”

“Okay. Please promise me you’ll say something if it gets worse. Or contact Bakugou directly. This isn’t worth risking your health.” How he could demand something like this so conversationally, not even taking his eyes off the red light once was beyond Izuku. He hadn’t considered the potential danger for himself at all. (Again).

“Okay,” he agreed quietly. Because Shouto was right, and they’d never tried this before. He may or may not be wearing a ticking time bomb around his neck. The queasy feeling got worse, and he wasn’t entirely sure it was an effect of the quirk.

“Alright. Should I drop you off first anyway? Then we can look at the menu and order beforehand.”

Deep breaths. He could do this. He had permission, and he wasn’t breaking any rules. The chain wouldn’t allow it. “If it’s no trouble.” The worst that could really happen was that he’d overstep and be punished with hellish agony until he blacked out. So he wouldn’t even be witnessing it, really.

“Not at all.”

They drove on in silence for a bit, until the radio quieted again and the display read ‘Bakugou’. Shouto glanced over at him. “Absolutely not,” Izuku said resolutely, crossing his arms in defiance. Something ugly curled inside his chest, squeezing his insides, and he wasn’t sure what it was, he just knew he wanted it out and he didn’t want to talk to him.

Shouto simply rejected the call, and the other two that followed. After that, there was the sound of a phone vibrating multiple times in quick succession, until that finally quieted down too. Izuku forcefully reminded himself to not feel guilty about this. Eventually, Shouto parked at the side of the road by some big apartment buildings. “Okay, it’s right over there. I got a cap inside there, if you want to be a little more inconspicuous.”

He dutifully searched through the glove compartment until he found it. There were a few people about despite the late hour. He suspected there to be popular nightlife spots around somewhere. He kept his head down as he followed Shouto to one of the identical doors set into the front of monotone buildings which looked like the manifested nightmares of every delivery person.

They were buzzed in as soon as Shouto pressed the doorbell and walked across a small lobby towards… elevators. “Which floor? I’m taking the stairs.”

“Seventh.”

“Cool.” He could do that. Footsteps followed shortly behind him as he made his way to the stairwell. He was proud to say that he was just a little out of breath when he made it to their destination and found Shinsou in front of a door, which he held closed but for a sliver of light spilling out – together with a series of meows. His face lit up as he spotted them. It was as close as Izuku had ever seen him to smiling. “Oh, hey you guys!” Then he took in their expressions. “Oh, right. Serious occasion. Come in, and prepare for mayhem.”

He opened the door for them. Immediately, one grey and two cream coloured blurs shot out, weaselling around their legs and sniffing at their shoes. “Okay, get inside you lot, we can do this in our home, come on, lads…” Shinsou herded them all in, using his foot to push the cats forward.

Izuku couldn’t help but smile at the little furballs. He knew their names from the time Shinsou had shown him pictures, but he could not tell the two cream ones apart. The grey one he knew was called Dishwasher, but Miette and Felix looked identical to him. “Hi guys,” he cooed, crouching down to pet them. Somehow, their cute faces brought him even closer to crying.

“Take a seat wherever you like. Can I get you guys anything? And by anything, I mean water or coffee.”

“The flyer for the sushi place,” Shouto replied, plopping himself down onto the worn two-seater. A cat immediately cuddled up against his left side. “Oh, hey there, Miette.”

Izuku stood again and took a quick look around. It was a small apartment, clearly made for one occupant and barely fitting three cats in addition. The front door opened into the living room/kitchenette without any hall, and shoes lay haphazardly discarded by it. There was the two-seater and a beanbag around a low table, all mismatched and definitely older. The sofa had scratches over one side, despite the impressive cat tree in the corner. Fuzzy mice and balls were strewn over the floor, and nests of hair indicated the cat’s favourite nap spots. His first instinct was to clean to avoid drawing the Lady’s ire, but on second thought, he appreciated the cosy and lived-in feeling.

Shinsou unearthed a colourful flyer from one of the kitchen drawers and waved it triumphantly before handing it off to Shouto. Izuku went to sit next to him, feeling like gravity was dragging him down with more force than usual as he sank into the cushions.

“Should we just get one of the big plates and share?” Shinsou asked, leaning over the backrest behind them.

Izuku’s gaze darted to the numbers. “But it’s so expensive.”

“It’s fine. We’ve literally had that discussion an hour ago,” Shouto objected and folded the flyer before he could get another argument in. “I’m going to pick that up for us, and you can get Shinsou up to speed in the meantime.” He left again just like that, valiantly wrangling the cats at the door.

Shinsou took the vacated spot. “And how was your day?”

“Abysmal.”

“Oof. Wanna tell me about it?”

“Honestly, I’m not even entirely sure what’s wrong. There’s… so much happening at once.”

“Alright.” There was a lengthy pause after that. “Have you ever played Animal Crossing?”

He mustered a weak smile. “I have. The one that came out like ten years ago.”

“Well, go and check out this, then!” Shinsou grabbed a controller from god knows where and pressed it into his hands, letting him wander around the game to just look at everything. It helped he didn’t have to maintain eye contact like this.

“So, Kacchan went out to bar night today. And I didn’t have any plans, really, so I was just working on some ideas for the final exam for school. We have to design an entire costume, and I wanted a rough idea of what I would be going for. Then Kirishima showed up at the garden door and told me he and Shouto would be staying at his house for a while, and they asked me if I wanted to come over and watch a movie or something, so I went. It was a really spontaneous thing, and we were talking half outside, so I really didn’t think about just going on over, I mean, it’s literally next door. That flower patch looks nice.”

“Thanks. I forgot I had it and came back to it looking like that.”

“Impressive. Anyway. We were watching Jurassic Park, and we got talking about stuff. And it sort of ended in us discussing the mission, and then Kacchan showed up and said he’s essentially just putting up with me, and my only value is as an asset for the mission, and now I don’t think I want to talk anymore.”

“Okay. I feel like I am missing a lot of context, but I will go out on a limb and assume he did not actually say it like that. You can’t seriously believe he doesn’t care.”

No, he didn’t. But like hell he’d admit it. He was mad right now. “Whatever. Where the fuck am I?” The little guy on the screen stood in a corner and he had no idea how to get him out of it.

“Left.”

They didn’t get back on the topic until Shouto returned forty minutes later. The problem with this kind of prolonged silence was that it was hard to maintain his anger, so it’d flickered out, leaving a distinct misery behind.

“No, you stay here, I got this,” Shinsou insisted as he went to grab plates and chopsticks for them. The food looked good, and the others let him have first pick.

“So what do you think?” Shouto asked.

“Still got no idea what happened,” Shinsou replied.

“Oh. Okay, then. Should I…?” Izuku nodded in encouragement, and Shouto thankfully took the lead. “So someone broke into the house, still not entirely sure who, and when the alarm started we thought it was maybe a false one. Naturally, we decided to call Bakugou and ask him what he knew before we went to investigate, or at least that was what we planned. Kaminari called us at exactly that time, saying Bakugou left in a hurry. Then Kirishima went over to check if maybe there was something serious going on. The next thing I knew, Bakugou let himself in and started berating Midoriya for leaving his phone and not contacting him, which resulted in a shouting match, and we decided to leave.”

Shinsou took this all in with the same unfazed expression. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” Izuku waved his chopsticks. “As I said, I wasn’t there.”

Shinsou filled in what he’d puzzled out from the group chat. “All I got was that there was some sort of emergency and Blasty had pissed off on his own. I thought he’d done something stupid. Well, dangerous-stupid, not actually stupid-stupid,” he amended.

“I don’t know, with the way Izuku went off it looked like injury was a possibility there,” Shouto said. “But seriously. That was some pretty heavy stuff you threw out there. I know I wasn’t really meant to hear, probably-”

“Not like you had a choice. Sorry.”

“True, but still. Does this relate to wanting to do something nice? Would you like to talk about any of it?”

He sighed heavily. “Honestly, yes. It’s been bothering me for a really long time, but I was surprised I could come up with all of that on the spot. Talk about denial,” he grinned weakly.

“We’re totally here for you,” Shinsou said. “But just so we’re all clear… what are we talking about?”

“Um. So, basically, I went over to Kirishima’s to discuss general life with them. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do after… everything. I mean, it looks like the operation might make serious progress soon, and then what? I have no own money, no job, I pretty much don’t exist at the moment, so I wanted to enlist some help. For logistics. And,” he took a deep, shuddering breath, “I realise when I lay it out like that how totally dependent I am on everyone’s goodwill, and I don’t know how long it will stay that way, or if I’m ever gonna be able to get back to a normal life, if I can even do it, because it feels like I don’t know anything and I don’t have anything and I’m lagging so far behind everyone else, I don’t know if I ever can catch up, and now Kacchan is angry at me and where else am I gonna live if he decides he doesn’t want me there anymore?”

“O-kay.” Shinsou reached down beside him and picked Dishwasher up with one hand to drop onto Izuku’s lap. “Pet that cat. I’m gonna… It’s one of those days. I got this.”

Izuku obediently started stroking the grey-and-black fur. Dishwasher seemed a bit put out getting handed around like this, but she deemed the seating adequate and settled into a purring loaf when he scratched behind her ears.

They got served Gin Tonics, and Shinsou handed them each a pair of very fluffy socks with animal faces. Izuku got the pink Llama ones.

“And now please tell me in which universe Blasty could actively dislike you,” he demanded, propping his feet on the edge of the table. Green kitty socks.

“He’s managed for less,” Izuku shot back. “This time I actually shouted at him and all.”

“He started it,” Shouto said. “And I’m not trying to defend anyone, but the entire situation was less than ideal. You gave as good as you got. It was a draw.”

“He was probably just worried sick and too afraid his fragile masculinity couldn’t take the admission,” Shinsou drawled, looking almost bored. “You know how he is. Behind that though exterior, he’s actually super soft and squishy.” He frowned. “A S’more.”

Izuku’s drink nearly made a reappearance through his nose. “A S’more? Did you just call him a S’more?”

“He certainly looks like a snack.”

Izuku howled with startled laughter. “Noooooooooooo!”

“You agree and you know it,” Shouto teased.

“Ew. No! Stop this!” It took them a few minutes to calm down. “Oh my god. I can’t believe you said that.” He wiped at his eyes. “Urgh. You guys are not helping. I am homeless and moneyless!”

“Just wait for him to apologize and go back.”

“Well, what if I don’t want to?” he asked. He felt it was his right to be a lot petty about this. And a little worried. “He’s probably glad to be rid of me. No one there to cockblock him and his one-night stands. He can get his house broken into without having to come back to check on me even if it’s inconvenient timing.”

Shinsou leaned back and dragged both hands over his face. “Oh my goooooooood, why do you have to be like this? This is stupid!”

“Well, I’m sorry if my problems are not meeting your standards for entertainment,” Izuku shot back, wondering if it was worth it to throw something.

“Not that, that’s… you’re right about that. But do you seriously think that Blasty would be mad at you for anything that happened? He’s wrong and he knows it, first off! I’m not saying let him off without an apology, in fact, make him grovel and all, send me the pictures, but if you think that guy would not give you his left kidney if you as much as hinted at it, you are in dire need of a reality check.”

“He would not.”

“Honey.” Shinsou somehow turned his default glare even flatter. “When is the last time you had to ask for anything? And imagine, do me a favour, what would happen if you did ask for something.”

He’d already geared up for a retort, mainly rattling off a list of things he knew he wanted and did not have. Then he had to abort mission when he realized most of those ‘things’ were abstract concepts like ‘be able to go out’, and Kacchan had done that for him a few times now. “I hate you.”

“I’m sure.”

Izuku tried to melt backwards into the cushions. “It’s not like it matters. I’m pretty sure I evicted myself today.” Oh god, he had, hadn’t he? After that argument, there was no way in hell Kacchan would let him back inside like nothing ever happened. Maybe if he apologized enough? Offered to do more chores? Promised to sleep in his own room and keep quiet and get the clutter out of the living room? Because where else was he going to stay? Kacchan would probably agree to let him stay for the sake of their operation. And then what? He’d need a job, certainly, but he wasn’t done with school, and he really didn’t want to move back in with his mum, even if it was the logical next solution. Could he make enough money to afford rent if he did odd jobs outside school? Was it possible to resell himself to the Auriculates?

“Okay, now it’s getting ridiculous,” Shinsou interrupted. “You really only need to say ‘sorry’ once, and then we can all move on.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“Unlikely, but try taking your clothes off.”

“…What? How would that help?”

Shinsou groaned in pain. “Tell him.” He nudged Shouto with an elbow.

“Do you want to move out?” Shouto asked instead, apparently meaning it as a serious question.

“I-” Did he? “I mean, I’ll have to? Eventually?”

The other two shared a weird look Izuku couldn’t decipher. Shouto took his phone out and tilted the screen towards Shinsou. There was weird raised-eyebrow-communication. “By the way, you didn’t want me to read these to you, but I feel I should mention that there’s a spare key by the flower bed, whatever that means.”

“And current feelings aside, I would recommend actually talking this through with Blasty. Does he know you’ve been thinking of leaving?”

Izuku crossed his arms defiantly. “Well, maybe I don’t care what he thinks. He’s not the boss of me.”

“But he’s your friend, isn’t he?”

Now, that was just unfair. “Sure. But I’m not so sure I’m his, sometimes.”

“You’re joking.”

“…I mean, it’s not like I’m really doing anything besides be there. He took me all these amazing places and got me a spot at U.A. and I just… dunno. It feels so one-sided at times and I ow!”

“Stop spouting bullshit or I’ll whack you again!” Shinsou threatened, waving the stick. The mouse dangling from the string on one end somehow made it look more menacing. “I said it before and I’ll say it again: You’re so perceptive it’s unreal, but you have a chronical case of selling yourself short, it makes me mad!”

“Izuku.” Shouto raised a hand to stop Shinsou in his rant. “May I ask: What exactly is your arrangement at the moment? Legally speaking. Define it for me.”

This was a trick question if he’d ever heard one. “Um. I live at Kacchan’s house for the moment? I didn’t want to move back in with my mom, and he was okay with that. And he pays for everything? I do most of the chores, though. Least I can do.”

“Right.” He pressed his palms together as if he was praying for something before pointing the joint fingers at Izuku. “So with the way you phrased that I assume you are not aware of the fact you are very much in a witness protection program and therefore entitled to housing, necessities and protection in exchange for providing your knowledge for this case? A requirement which you’ve not only fulfilled but exceeded?”

“…I’m what now?”

The ensuing silence was deafening.

“…Told you it was a mistake to let Blasty take care of this. I wouldn’t entrust him with a potted fern.”

“Weren’t you there for the first few days too, Shinsou?” Shouto asked, all polite.

“I-! I thought Blasty had it handled!”

“Which is it, now?”

“To be fair, he did hand me a ridiculous amount of money when we went furniture shopping,” Izuku cut in. “Said it was, what, ‘child support’, he phrased it.” He vaguely remembered wanting to ask further about it, but with all the excitement that day, the topic had completely slipped his mind until now. “He also paid me for costume design, whilst I was working on it.” With his limited resources, that hadn’t gotten him as far as he’d thought. Besides, he wasn’t sure how to feel about working for Kacchan. It seemed weird.

The other two exchanged another Look. “Did the topic of a safe house ever come up?”

“Not really…? Aizawa sort of offered me to stay somewhere else because he wasn’t sure how well Kacchan and I actually got along, but I told him it was fine. Um. They said I could live with my mom if I wanted, but I didn’t really… Wouldn’t that have put her in danger?”

“I assume it was implied you would’ve moved into one together. Your situation is rather unique, no one’s really after you at the moment. I think the plan would’ve been to believably fake your death and report it to the Auriculates with forged evidence in case whoever we took from the Playground didn’t wish to cooperate further.”

He tilted his head at Shouto. “But isn’t there a chance the Goldsmith would’ve noticed it? If he has a way to see which chains are still active?”

Shinsou snapped his fingers and pointed. “And that’s why you’re an invaluable asset. I don’t think anyone ever brought that up.”

“The point is,” Shouto interjected, “that you do not owe anyone anything in that regard. The entire financial situation is taken care of, and if anyone is owed anything it’s going to be you, let’s be real. There are massive restrictions on your life right now, after all. I can understand why that’s frustrating, but it is not your fault.”

“And Blasty does not actually pay for most of it with his own money. He can hand in the bills for necessities and food and even extra water and stuff and the Operation pays him back. That’s… that’s how this entire thing has worked from the start! You’re not a burden on anyone. We are a burden on you for keeping restrictions on you! You are the disadvantaged party in this scenario. And I really need you to understand that.”

“…Oh.” He could see the logic in the argument, but he had to view it from a distance to accept it. When he tried to apply it to himself, it felt a lot less clear. “But then why has no one told me about this?”

“We thought you knew. And it would not have made much of a difference. You staying with Bakugou was actually our preferred outcome, since it felt safer, with the chain and all,” Shouto explained. “I had no idea you felt like you were imposing. The two of you get along so well.”

“This would’ve been really nice to know earlier.” He certainly would’ve had a lot less stress if he’d known he was basically required to live there, and not just invited on Kacchan’s goodwill. “Urgh, what do I do now? He’s been so weird lately. What if he really doesn’t like this arrangement any longer?”

“Define ‘weird’.”

“I don’t even know. It’s like he’s trying to be around me less, and at the same time he keeps staring like he’s trying to figure something out. I keep thinking I did something and he’s not sure how to bring it up. He’s kicked me out of the bedroom, too. And stop grinning about that!” He hugged his knees to his chest. “I haven’t slept through a whole night since. But I gotta figure that out too, huh?”

“Not today you don’t,” Shinsou objected. “I think right now we’ll all play Mario Party drinking game edition, then we’ll go to sleep, and tomorrow we’ll think in peace. Deal?”

“Deal,” they all agreed.

“So, what did happen to your bathroom, Shouto?” Shinsou wanted to know about three drinks in. “I heard something about a spider?”

Shouto sank deeper into the beanbag and brought his controller up to shield his face. “Okay, so, I was taking a shower…”

“As you do,” Izuku supplied, grinning.

“…and out of the corner of my eye I just see something move next to me. And lo and behold, the mother of all spiders was running up the wall, and I swear it was looking at me, so naturally I panicked and froze it.”

“As you do.”

“…and I also froze every pipe in the wall.”

Shinsou stared in disbelief. “No!”

“It was gigantic. There to kill me.”

Izuku couldn’t help but add “Kirishima said he also screamed like the first victim in a horror movie.”

“So you froze the piping inside the wall? Wouldn’t that make them burst – oh, so that’s why it’s flooded. My guy. Respect but wow.”

“We managed to turn the water off, but the people below us got a lot of water and the ones above us don’t have water at all for the moment. I am pretty sure I will not get a new lease on that.”

“I will drink to that.” Shinsou raised his glass, and they joined in.

“…We also never found that spider’s corpse.”

Shinsou choked, laughing.

“So,” Shouto began an hour later, after they turned the screen off, “sleeping arrangements.”

“Yes. You can either share the bed with one of us, or have the bean bag for more personal space,” Shinsou told him.

“…I think I’ll take the bean bag. Thanks.” He would have to sleep on his own eventually. Might as well start now. He was tired enough to believe it wouldn’t matter today. They took turns using the tiny bathroom, and Shinsou volunteered some spare clothes for them.

“Do you maybe have an extra pillow?” he asked as they were about to settle down. “Or a plushie or something. I like holding onto something.” And no, there was no need to feel so embarrassed about it.

“Why not take a cat?” Shinsou asked. “They’ll cuddle up to you anyway. Sorry for that, if you don’t like it, you can try to fight them.”

“…Do you like your cats alive? Because whatever I hold, it will be strangled.”

“They’d let you know. But here.” Shinsou tossed him a throw blanket. “Best I can do, I’m afraid.”

“It’ll do. Thanks. Goodnight.”

“Night.” They turned off the lights. Not that it was really dark. They were in the middle of the city, and the streetlamps outside painted stark shadows. They moved almost constantly, to and fro, depending which direction the cars went by. He could hear them, too, sometimes blaring loud music with the intermittent horn thrown in. The cats shuffled around, little pitter-patter footfalls on the carpet and the furniture. Someone in a neighbouring apartment was having an argument. Someone else was having… fun.

With a groan, he turned around and fished for his pants. Thankfully, he found some earplugs in one of the pockets and wasted no time shoving them into his ears. At last, it was blissfully quiet – every sound stopped at once. With a last sigh, he turned back towards the darker side of the room, curled up further around the blanket so it could shield his eyes, and tried his best to not think any thoughts.

It must’ve worked eventually, as he woke to insistent shaking. “Wha? Nooo. Five minutes, Kacchan.” The shaking didn’t stop. And the sheets had a weird feeling to them. Slowly, he recalled where he was, and opened his eyes to a mid-morning apartment and a frowning Shinsou. He appeared to be saying something.

“Sorry, what?” Izuku asked after he pulled the plug from his right ear.

“Oh my god he has earplugs. I’ve been trying to wake you for a minute now!” Shinsou sighed in exasperation. “I thought you were the heaviest sleeper on this planet!”

“Sorry. It’s just, it’s very loud here.”

“Amen to that. Where do these even come from?”

“Had some in my pocket.”

“What, you just carry them around wherever?”

“…my roommate makes explosions for a living. And I handle heavy machinery for mine.”

“You know what, fair. Now come on, I made omelettes. Meaning I attempted omelette and used creative freedom to turn them into scrambled eggs.”

“Nice. Thank you!” He climbed out of the divot he’d made in the bean bag and helped Shinsou wrestle the cats and the dishes simultaneously. “Where’s Shouto?” he wondered. The food was good. Needed more spices, though.

“He’s got the early shift, but he should be back later to keep you company whilst I do mine.” The other raised his fork at him. “So. What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything. Are you going to go back? Do you want to live somewhere else? Would you prefer company, or do you want your own place? We could make that happen. It’s up to you. You can of course crash here as long as you like, but we both know it’s a makeshift solution. Sorry.”

Izuku thought about it. Going off, living on his own… It had a certain appeal. Again, it was the sweet taste of freedom that lured him. And he was still feeling spiteful towards Kacchan. He didn’t want to give into this argument. (And maybe he just wanted to see what Kacchan would do. If Kacchan would even come looking for him.) “I don’t know… How would I even make that work? Like, finances and stuff.”

“As we said, the Operation will take care of that for you. They’ll pay for necessities and give you a small allowance on top for private expenses.”

“I mean… It would be nice. To have my own place. And besides, it’s not like Kacchan and I can keep this up forever. He was pretty pissed yesterday when I ruined his bar night.” He could understand, after all. It wasn’t like he was planning on staying single forever himself, but no matter how he tried, he could not imagine a scenario in which he’d bring a date to their place and have it not be weird. There was a line somewhere. And he didn’t really care to know what Kacchan did in his free time, either. Their rooms shared a wall, so things were bound to become very awkward.

“Think about it,” Shinsou suggested gently. “Really think about it. Write a list. And don’t think about what you believe is in everyone’s best interest, think about what you want.”

“I will.”

When he imagined his own place, he had a freedom to invite whoever he wanted, when he wanted. No being quiet after certain hours because Kacchan was asleep. When he thought about being a proper adult, the images that came with it were always the ones of parties and get-togethers, where he could proudly show his friends into his rooms and just have a good time. Where he could pick the décor and the furniture to match, until the place had his name written all over it like Shinsou’s had his.

After eating, he helped Shinsou with the dishes.

Then he carefully thought further, about the silence that’d be there when his friends would inevitably leave, how every sound would be cause for alarm if he couldn’t immediately identify the source, how no one would be there to talk to when he needed to drown the silence out.

In the afternoon, he watched Shouto play with Dishwasher and Felix, trying to get them to do little tricks like coming here or coaxing them into turning in a circle to chase little treats.

He’d have to deal with the nightmares, and the grocery shopping, and he’d have to do the cooking and the cleaning all on his own and by himself, unless he forgot because Kacchan wasn’t there to remind him-

Because Kacchan wasn’t there.

Shouto left in the late afternoon to let some workers into his flat and hopefully get the water fixed.

No, because no one else was there. It didn’t have to be Kacchan, he could… get a roommate.

Izuku settled down with a notebook just as Shinsou returned.

He imagined listing an ad, or answering one, and made a list of things that he’d have to look out for – compatible sleeping schedules, the nightmares were going to be an issue, probably no vegans because he enjoyed cooking and eating together. He could do vegetarian, but he loved his fried eggs, and they’d have to be okay with his little oddities and the muttering and the noise and chaos of his engineering, and ideally they’d have a similar taste in music and TV, and they were hopefully okay with the occasional hug because he really needed those, he found…

Oh, it was impossible, was it? Unless he moved in with someone he was already friends with. Unfortunately, that list exclusively spanned pro heroes, and their standards of living were a bit higher than he’d likely be able to afford. So that was out.

So his only option was moving in with a stranger after all? No. Absolutely not. Maybe one of his friends knew someone looking for a roommate. Even if they only knew each other by proxy, he wouldn’t end up with anyone weird, right?

He tried to imagine it, and… No. No, absolutely not. He’d rather live alone.

Well. There was one last option that came to mind. “Shinsou? Can I have your phone?”

“Sure.” The other didn’t even look as he handed it over. “One one zero three seven.”

“Thanks. How do I…?”

“Second page top left.”

“Okay. Um. Can I have your room? This is… kinda private.”

“Sure.”

With a forced smile, he turned and closed the door behind himself. Miette (or Felix, one of the two) was sleeping on the bed and lazily opened one eye. He dialled, and sat down as the phone rang, absently petting the cat in the hopes it would calm his erratically beating heart. Just as he breathed a sigh of relief when no one seemed to pick up, the dial tone stopped.

“Hello?”

Shit. Okay. Deep breaths.

“…Hello? Who is this?”

“…Hey mom.”

There was a gasp at the other end. “Izuku? Baby, is that you?”

“Um. Yeah. Hi.”

“Oh, my baby! I’m so glad to hear your voice! You sound so different, all grown up, oh, my poor baby,” she blubbered, already in tears. “How are you? Where are you? Is everything alright? Talk to me, sweety.”

“Um. I don’t know how much I can really say. I’m at a friend’s house at the moment.”

“A friend? Who? Are they nice to you? Weren’t you staying with Katsuki? But, oh, Mitsuki said something had happened there. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, really. They’re good people. I like them a lot. Um. Something did happen, but it wasn’t anything big. I’m just staying over here for the moment until everything gets sorted.” He paused, scratching Miette under the chin. “Actually, I might be free to stay wherever I’d like soon?” he tried. It felt like putting a foot on ice to see how fast it would crack.

“Oh, Izuku, that’s wonderful. I have your room ready for you, it’s cleaned and everything, just like you left it. Well, Togo likes to sleep there sometimes, but I promise it’s just a bit of hair.”

Just like he left it, huh? He tried not to grimace at that. He’d have to throw out a lot of things, then. “Togo? Is that the dog I heard about?”

“Yes, she’s very smart. She’s actually sitting beside me right now. Togo, speak!” There was a bark in the background. It sounded kinda cute, like a middle-sized dog at best.

“Um. Hi, Togo.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll love you. We can do so many things together, walks in the park, restaurants, whatever you’d like. How about we go out to the observatory? You always wanted to go there. They have events when they showcase the big telescope. We can try and find a butterfly, just like the one on your shoulder.”

He gripped the phone so tight it hurt. “Maybe.” Frustration bubbled up in his throat, and for a single instant, he was tempted to just let it all out. Instead, he swallowed it down with a deep breath. It wouldn’t help him to hurt her, too. “I… don’t know if I’ll actually be back,” he confessed. “There’s a chance I have something else lined up that I might take.”

“Oh? But Izuku! I haven’t seen you in so long. I miss you. I’m your mother, and they’re keeping me away from you like some criminal!”

“I- I get it. And I’m sorry, but you have to understand, I asked for that, too. I’m trying my best. And I am genuinely sorry I didn’t call sooner, but I couldn’t. This… this is really hard for me, mom.” He took a deep breath. “It’s never going to be like it was, you know?”

There was a long pause in which he could only hear some wet inhales. “Izuku, baby… I’m sorry. I just want you back home. I want to give you a hug and make your favourite food and watch your favourite hero movie together. But most importantly, I want you to be happy. And safe.”

“I know. But I don’t know if I want to come back. I’m twenty-one. I want to do my own thing. Teenage rebellion and all,” he laughed wetly. “I’m being taken care of, though.”

“Uh-hu. If I can entrust you to anybody, it’s going to be Katsuki. He’s a good kid.”

“He’s the best.”

“You always said that. Oh, my poor baby. You’ll be fine, right? And call more often? Come for a visit, at least. I’m sure Togo would love to meet you.”

“…I can’t promise anything besides that I’ll try. But. Um. This is really a lot. I think I need to hang up now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I love you.”

“Yeah. Me too. Bye.”

“Take care, baby. Goodbye.”

The line finally, thankfully went dead. He blindly grabbed for the nearest pillow and used it to muffle his sobs. He’d thought this would’ve been easier. After a moment, there was a hesitant knock on the door. “Everything okay?” Shinsou asked. “No offense, but I can kinda hear you crying, and I’m worried. Can I come in?”

“S-sure,” he managed.

“Hey. Izuku. What happened?” Shinsou sat down an arm’s length away, and after a moment of deliberation, reached out to awkwardly pat his back. “There, there.”

“I called my, my mom,” he got out. “And I thought I could go to there, but it was awful. I don’t e-even know why?”

“Your mom? Why, are you not on good terms?”

It took him a moment of forcefully collecting himself before he was able to reply. “I really don’t know. It’s so hard to talk to her. This was actually the first time we spoke since… You know. She once came by for a visit, when Kacchan fled from the hospital.” He wiped at his eyes until he could see again. “And I had a panic attack whilst hiding in the kitchen. Just from hearing her voice. It makes no sense, but… I’m almost afraid of her, and I don’t know why! I feel so guilty about it, too.”

“Hm.” Shinsou was silent for a while. “Hey, how do you feel about a quirk experiment?”

“Depends?”

“This is something I haven’t tried often. For lack of willing participants. But, if you want, I could try and use my quirk on you. I would tell you to tell me what’s wrong. I’m not entirely sure it’ll work, if you really don’t know, but if you do and just don’t want to think about it too much... I’ll even cover my ears if you’d like. Just an offer.”

Izuku felt torn. On the one hand, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. On the other hand, quirk experiments! “Okay… How exactly does this work?”

“Right. Basically, if you answer me, I can use my quirk to control your mind and body by giving you commands. You need to be aware; once I give the command, you’ll take a passenger seat in your own mind, until you carry out the command, I cancel it or someone literally slaps you out of your stupor. It should be relatively risk free in this example. The worst thing that could happen is that you hear an uncomfortable truth, or say something private out loud. Hence why I would cover my ears so I couldn’t hear. And it could feel a little uncomfortable… Also, I really don’t want to force you, so... I’ve been told it can feel a little invasive inside your head, and I don’t know how that relates to your chain. I’m only offering here. You can say no anytime! Please don’t feel pressured!”

He thought about it. From what he knew, there really weren’t any possible downsides aside from the ones already mentioned. “Do it.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

“Okay. Should I listen or not?”

“…No?”

“Alright. Answer me this: What’s your favourite colour?”

“Orange.”

“Izuku: Tell me why you do not want to go back to living with your mother.” Shinsou uttered the command and immediately pressed his hands down over his ears, watching carefully.

For him, it was a strange, almost out-of-body experience. It wasn’t like the chain, where he was compelled into action on invisible puppet strings. This felt more like someone else entirely was taking over, and he could relax and watch from inside his own head. He had no control over anything, but it felt good in a carefree way. “She’s always belittled me and never took me seriously,” he heard himself say. “She was never around because she spent all her time working. I had to take over a lot of chores to help out her out. I don’t want to have to care for someone else right now. She said she wanted to look at constellations that matched the butterfly, but the butterfly hasn’t been there for the last seven years because Kacchan burned it off. The cat and the flower aren’t there anymore either because a crazy lady tried to kill me, and she’ll cry over that. She has no right to cry over my missing freckles like it’s the worst thing that happened. She’ll try to tell me what to do, and she’ll get upset if I refuse her advice because she’s convinced she always knows best. But she hardly knows me, and I don’t really know her.” The stream of words stopped there.

“Okay?” Shinsou asked after a moment, carefully lifting one hand from his head.

“Yeah.”

“…Did that help?”

“It did. I need to think about that, too,” he said absentmindedly. A lot of this made a frightening amount of sense. His mother hadn’t been there for him. She’d done her best to provide, he knew that. But the result was that they weren’t really close. They never did see eye to eye. It was sad, but true. “Guess that’s one less option I can fall back on. Let’s just hope the Squad will put up with me, right?” he laughed weakly.

“As if they wouldn’t.” Shinsou scooted closer. “Izuku. I’m going to let you in on a secret: These people genuinely adore you. You have the lot of them wrapped around your finger. The S’more was ready to commit murder at the auction in your name. I envy you; you’re so kind and friendly and charismatic in your own way. If you played it up a little, you could have them worship the ground you walk on in no time.”

He ducked his head as his face heated. “You’re making this up.”

“Am not! Try it out if you don’t believe me. Pick a thing you’d like and then count the time until you get it starting with the first hint you drop. And don’t be afraid to make it outrageous, that’ll value into the comedy factor when you inevitably come back to tell me I was right.”

He thought about that. “But I already have so many things, it’d be rude to ask for more.”

“You realise you just made my point for me.”

“Fine.” He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “I want pizza for dinner.”

“And you have such great taste, too.” He wrinkled his nose. “Even if I’m still questioning the s’mores,” he muttered as he got up to order.

“Shinsou! Do you think… No, you’d tell me if Kacchan didn’t want me there? No trying to be considerate or polite, right?”

The truth was: He didn’t need Kacchan. He truly didn’t. He could decide right now to never see him again and his life would be fine regardless. He’d still have his friends to support him, and he’d be able to make new ones soon. But he didn’t want that. If he really had a choice… “I want to at least try and work it out with him.”

Their fight had been stupid and unrelated to the real issue at hand. Everyone had been having a bad day after a truly unfortunate row of incidents. He’d been stressed, Kacchan had been stressed, and in hindsight it was just one of these things they should apologize for and move past. The real issues were one, who the perpetrators were, and two, Izuku’s existential crisis. “Kacchan doesn’t even know I’m unhappy with the situation. It would be stupid to go and do my own thing when I haven’t even asked him. That argument really sidetracked us.”

Shinsou regarded him with an oddly fond look, grinning about something Izuku didn’t understand. “Trust me. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. He’s denser than a solid brick wall on occasion, not unlike someone else I know, but I’m sure everything will sort itself out just fine. I’d even take bets on it.”

Izuku stayed where he was and pondered that weird answer. He was going to go back, he knew that. Given how it was already dark outside, not today, but soon. Some things would need to change to make their arrangements viable in the long run. He probably needed a few more hours to sort his thoughts regarding everything anyway.

Or, he thought a few hours later, turning onto his other side with frustration, he might just take the entire night. Oh joy.

Not that he wasn’t trying to sleep, but the unfamiliar environment still kept him on edge. And the lack of Miles. The extra blanket helped, but it didn’t feel quite right. He was probably spoiled in that regard.

Around half three, he finally managed to grab a few fitful hours, but he was awake again when there was sudden light from the bedroom and frantic scrambling. Confused, he pulled his earplugs out. Shinsou was talking, but there was no answer, and it took him a moment to figure out there had to be a phone involved. “ –really couldn’t have waited to call me until I was actually needed? Whose idea was this? … You did what? Oh my – you absolute coat hanger. I don’t believe this. Did you really think – I mean, how? Normal people go buy some flowers. Or a ring, if you really insist, get it over with and leave the rest of us some peace. I wanted to do a spa morning with the guys! Ruined! For the love of – No, I’m coming, but you’ll owe me, and I intend to collect. Okay, see you later, asshat. Yes, I’ll call Kirishima, yes, I’ll bring her, too.” With that, Shinsou hung up using the most aggressive stab at the display Izuku had ever witnessed.

“Going to have a busy morning?” Izuku asked, unable to hide a grin at the murderous glower directed his way.

“Shut up. This is indirectly your fault. Goddammit. Shouto? Can you call Kirishima for me and tell him to meet at B53 in thirty? I need to get Jirou.” There were more phone calls, and then Shinsou got dressed in his hero gear, mask and scarves and all. It made him look really cool and impressive. Izuku only knew him as a somewhat disgruntled and constantly sleep deprived cat lover with crazy hair. Like this, he looked… powerful. A bit scary.

“What’s going on?” Izuku asked as they waited for Jirou to swing by and pick Shinsou up.

“Can’t tell you, I’m afraid. Nothing bad, though. We’ll have this under control no problem, so no need to worry.” After a pause, Shinsou tilted his head. “If you want to go back, now might be a good time, though. I’m sure Blasty’s gonna have some interesting things to say when he gets home. And I need some insider knowledge on the details, because this is actually unbelievable.” A car horn sounded outside. “Welp, that’ll be my ride. Toodles!” The door fell shut.

“…Hey Shouto? Mind giving me a ride?”

The other glanced at the clock with a bemoaning expression. Barely five. “Now? This’ll take at least five hours.”

“…Yeah, we can sleep a bit more.” Izuku knew he wouldn’t, but if it would make no difference, he could at least try to be considerate.

“Great. Wake me in three.”

“Kay. Thanks.” He settled back down carefully, knowing full well he would not be able to sleep even a second, and wondered what exactly Kacchan had done this time.

Chapter 17

It was the middle of the night. His back hurt from sitting for so long, his eyes were dry and strained from staring at the screen, and there was a lightly throbbing headache that’d been with him for the past eight hours or so.

None of it mattered when he finally found what he was looking for. He’d scrolled the database for hours, with only three parameters to narrow his search: Male with an offensive quirk that manifested in the hands. There were hundreds of possibilities, even if he only picked out the ones he deemed ‘reasonably wealthy’. The list of people he needed to look up spanned multiple pages. But he wouldn’t need it, he already had a gut feeling this was the one. He recalled that silvery glint he’d seen, and he just knew.

Name: Touwa Kochi
Gender: Male
Age: 46
Quirk: Scalpel
Turns the fingernails of the user into scalpel-like knives.

There was a photograph attached, from an older ID, which wasn’t of much use to him. However, when he looked the man up on the internet, there were plenty of articles featuring a middle aged man with awfully styled dark hair, a square jaw and a brilliant white shark-like grin. Business man, dealt in pharmaceutics, inherited a lot of his fortune from his late brother. Known to be eccentric and have an avid interest in exotic animals – or their parts. And then there was a beautiful picture of his estate, with a lovely address spelled out for anyone to see.

Katsuki’s feral grin matched the one on the screen. “Found you.”

It had been over a full day since Izuku left. After Shouto had apparently tossed his phone into the void or something, he’d given up trying to contact them. Kirishima had gently shoved him back towards his house so they could survey the damage and clean up a little whilst Katsuki desperately tried to make sense of whatever the fuck had just happened. They’d covered the broken window and the door with some tarp, a make-shift solution. The heatwave was petering out slowly, and the forecast predicted storms before fall would make its appearance. Something else he needed to take care of.

Right now, rush of the discovery made renovations the farthest thing from his mind. He quietly walked into the wide open, empty bedroom, grabbed some proper clothes and took a short moment to stare at the unmade bed that should by all accounts and purposes be occupied right now. A steel-blue rock sat on his nightstand. Miles smiled back at him, seemingly unbothered by the sudden loss of owner. “You and me, bud, hm?”

Katsuki hadn’t really slept these last couple of days. His house was too big, too quiet, and after tossing and turning for hours he’d given up. He wasn’t even quite sure where Izuku was. There had been no news whatsoever. With the way Shouto ignored his calls and messages, he figured Izuku didn’t want to talk to him at the moment. He trusted his friends to give him some form of sign telling him when it’d be a good moment to show up.

This morning – yesterday morning? - he’d expected Izuku to come back any moment, to walk in with his usual patience and be willing to talk this out like proper adults. Morning had turned into midday without a single sign. He’d even called into work and used the incident as a valid excuse to skip patrol and do home office instead. In case.

He’d been high-strung all the time, worried that this stupid misunderstanding would be the thing that drove Izuku off for good. He wasn’t even entirely sure what the issue was. The argument about the phone and all had been completely stupid, he was aware, thanks very much. He shouldn’t have fixated on it like that. He’d just been worried and used it as an outlet. And Izuku had used it as an outlet, too – for a concerning amount of things. Things he’d had no idea about. Things he didn’t fully understand still, but if Izuku would just bother coming back to explain, he’d be sure they could work something out.

When noon had rolled around, he couldn’t take it anymore. Open doors screamed silence at him, and he needed to get back to doing what he did best: Be a Hero and kick some ass. Not necessarily in that order. The incident had woken him from his complacency. He’d been fine to sit around and wait for the rest of the team to do their thing, to find the Auriculates and ring him up when they wanted to announce their progress.

It was just taking too long. He could do more. He was more than their glorified battering ram. He could help them, he could investigate, he’d not graduated in the top three of his class for nothing!

He was done sitting around and waiting. If Izuku wasn’t safe – safe to go outside, safe to just live his fucking life like he deserved - well, if it wasn’t safe, Katsuki would make it so.

The Collector was the obvious first target. He clearly knew a lot about the Auriculates since he’d been a member for a long time, Izuku had said so. Their scuffle at the auction had given him hints about his quirk. And the Auriculates had lead him to believe they might not really care about the guy.

He left a quickly scribbled note on the kitchen table, just in case Izuku returned, and then took off.

He was eager to get this over and done. “Hey Boss?” he said into his phone. “I have a target. Call a raid, and get a proper team. This guy has killed people before.” He hung up after a confused “Alright”, going straight to the next contact. “Hey, Shinsou…”

A metal door creaked ominously as he entered a holding cell only a few hours later. The sun had barely risen. “Sit,” he ordered as he hooked the chain he was holding into the solid ring on the steel table. It locked with a final ‘click’. The man now chained to the table with quirk-suppressing cuffs sat comfortable, radiating the boredom that came with superiority even whilst only wearing his silk pyjamas. Cold fury burned in his eyes as Katsuki took a step away, and his lips turned into a familiar sharp grin, white teeth gleaming.

Katsuki intended to wipe it off thoroughly and forever. “You’ve known the Auriculates for a long time,” he began without preamble, opting to stand beside the free chair. “And you’re going to tell us everything you know about them. We want names, we want places.”

“And I want a lawyer. Until then, I’d rather not have a conversation about me. Why not talk about you? How’s the boy toy?”

Katsuki didn’t even bother to acknowledge that. He wasn’t here to get riled up, he was here to get this done and over with. “Listen, I have places to be. This is a heads up. And I will be entirely honest with you, you are going to tell us what we want to know one way or another. You’ve met my colleague? Shinsou?”

He braced both hands on the table and leaned forward. “Know what he does? It’s really similar to getting one of those on you.” He gestured towards Kochi’s left hand, where he knew several bracelets hung, even if he couldn’t quite focus on them. “He can use it to make you talk.” With a final glare, he pushed himself back off the table. “So you see, you will tell us what we want to know, one way or another. The only question here is: For how long are they going to lock you up, and what ward will it be? Your choice, really. If your lawyer were already here, she’d tell you to cooperate.”

“Tsk. You’re bluffing.” Kochi’s face was pale, and his eyes tracked Katsuki’s every move. “You can’t just use a quirk like that on someone without judicial permission. And good luck getting that!”

Katsuki tapped a hand to his head. “Oh, of course, how could I not know that? Well guess what: There’s an exception to that rule. It comes into play when the police have sufficient reason to believe inaction would put someone else at severe risk for life and limb. And I admit I am no expert here, but I do believe the evidence on your wrist indicating you know about the location of six missing people in combination with your basement full of body parts fits that exception quite well. You’re going to spill. One way or another.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be here playing your godawful bad cop routine trying to get me to talk.”

Katsuki grinned, enjoying that sweet feeling of having the upper hand. “You’re right – I don’t have to be here. In fact, I just wanted to take a last look before you’re going to rot in some cell forever. It’s quite satisfactory, in a way. Knowing I won’t have to see your ugly mug ever again. Goodbye.” With that, he made his way out of the room, to the immense confusion and slight panic of its occupant.

Kirishima and Shinsou stood in the hallway outside, playing the role of additional security. The bosses had really gone all out in making sure the core team was Peregrine members wherever possible, to prevent the Collector from running into a potential ally in form of the mole. Officially, his own part in this had been ‘Unnecessarily violent lockpick’, after he’d been ‘called in last-minute’ by the Nightingale folks, who received an anonymous tip about some concerning suspicions. He’d even sent a mail to Haga, being the good little informant that he was. Too bad Ground Zero had been called only ten minutes before the raid, so the information was late. Shame.

“Well, that was that. Now we just need to wait for the lawyer and we’re all set.”

Shinsou radiated palpable bloodlust in his direction. “Four hours. You called me four hours ago. I didn’t need to be here. Why did I have to get dragged into your drama?”

“This has nothing to do with drama. That bastard is a danger to me and the Nerd, and he needed to go before he screwed the mission up for us.”

Kirishima shifted. “Honestly, I was with you on that until I saw the inside of his house,” he told Shinsou. “This was long overdue.”

“That bad?” Shinsou hadn’t been with them for the raid, so he of course hadn’t seen… the things.

Kirishima shuddered. “Honestly? I’m very proud of our bro here doing this by textbook, but for once, I was actually hoping you’d lose it on him. A broken bone or two would be the least he deserved.”

“Holy shit.” Shinsou’s eyes were wide in disbelief as he took in that streak of bloodlust from their usually mild(er)-mannered friend.

“You see, this is why I am doing this by textbook. This man will not have a single thing to say against procedure at all. You stick to the rules, too, Shinsou. Although, if you can, try and somehow prove he’s in full charge of his facilities.”

“Why?”

“Because if he gets to fucking weasel out of this by claiming mental illness or something they’ll send him to an asylum instead of prison. And I would like him to be in prison. It’ll be easier to send his enemies there too, once I figure out who those are.”

Shinsou whistled. “Damn, what did this guy do to you?”

“What he did? This fucker,” he pointed at the closed door, “was the one chasing Izuku on The Playground. The Nerd jumped off a cliff to get away from this asshole. The bastard was even trying to offer me money for him in exchange when I, thank fuck, got him first. And at the auction, this fucker had the gall to come up to me and ask if he could have ‘just the eyes.’” He took a deep breath as he stared his friends down. “He wanted his eyes!”

“Oh my god.” Kirishima’s face took on a greenish tint. “Weren’t there some in jars in the basement…?” He covered his mouth with a hand. “I thought those were more animal parts.”

“Not sure he differentiates.”

Shinsou seemed speechless. Katsuki only nodded grimly. He had forced himself to look away and go back upstairs. That basement had been a job for forensics.

“Prison it is,” Shinsou said weakly as he pulled himself together.

“What the actual fuck,” Kirishima said. “I had no idea. That’s… that’s awful. I can’t even… what a monster.”

“Yeah. When I thought something had happened the other day… This guy was my second choice of suspect,” he admitted.

There was a beat of silence. “That… certainly puts things into perspective.”

He huffed. “Yeah. And now the Nerd hates me. Has hated me all the time, apparently. I don’t even know where he is right now.” He chanced a glance up at his friends. “I’m kinda worried, you know?”

Kirishima grinned down at him and bumped their shoulders together. “Don’t be. He’ll come around. But wow, I’m actually impressed how you handled this arrest. Hell knows I would’ve taken a limb off someone like that if they threatened the person I was in love with.”

He frowned at that weird sentence. “I’m not in love with the Nerd.”

Shinsou cackled.

“…Bro.”

“I’m not! Why do people keep saying that?!”

“Because it’s true, you fuckwit!”

“It’s not!”

“Darling,” Shinsou drawled, “we have these things, they are called ‘eyes’? Lord knows why Izuku hasn’t caught on yet, but don’t even try to deny it in front of us.”

“I’m not denying anything! There is nothing to deny! And for fucks sake, stop with the talk about eyes!”

Shinsou shrugged, the picture of indifference. “Fine.” There was a brief pause. “Means I feel less awful about informing you of the fact that Izuku has plans to move in with Shouto and the two are apparently a thing now.”

“The what?”

Kirishima scratched his head. “Or at least they’re sleeping together. I’m not sure on the details.”

This statement evoked an image of Izuku standing in Half’n’Halfs kitchen, grinning that dopey grin of his as he talked with the Candy Cane of all people before leaning in for a kiss, and he felt the overwhelming need to burn something to very very fine ashes. “You’re shitting me.” This couldn’t be true. He’d have heard something… But they did leave together.

“I am,” Kirishima admitted easily.

“Yup,” Shinsou said at the same time.

“Why you absolute-” The raised eyebrows and the grins just dripping with smugness made him abort the threat.

“And…?”

“Fuck.” This couldn’t be happening. He could not be in love with Izuku, of all people. “Fuck.”

“You really had no idea?” Kirishima didn’t seem convinced.

“How the fuck was I supposed to know? It’s-” ‘It’s Izuku’, he wanted to say. ‘It’s someone I knew forever.’ ‘It’s never been like this with anybody else.’ They were best friends. Things were easy and comfortable around him, with the way they knew each other so well, could trust each other, could hold entire conversations with looks and the knowledge of shared moments. And then it was the confusion, the more, and the fear of never-having. Was love supposed to be like this, that simply thinking about losing the Nerd shredded his insides into millions of pieces? “Oh, goddammit. No. Absolutely not. How do I undo this? Shinsou, use that fucking quirk of yours and make it go away.”

“Even if it were possible for me to do that, I don’t think I want to. Deal with this yourself.” Shinsou leaned forward. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Nothing? But bro! This could be great!” Kirishima sounded distressed. “Imagine, you’ve known each other forever, and now you meet again and fall in love… It’s so romantic!”

He whacked Kirishima over the head. “Stop reading those awful romance books. And even if anything could possibly ever come of this, which it can’t, now would hardly be the time.”

“I’m just saying. This could be so good for you! Look at the facts. You haven’t done anything reckless or suicidal in months. You’ve stopped working yourself to death. And if I can be entirely honest with you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you… content.” Kirishima stared at him imploringly. “If you just asked him out-”

“No!” He popped a small explosion to interrupt that sentence immediately. “Izuku has enough shit to deal with already,” he growled quietly, making sure to keep eye contact with the both of them. “I’m not going to add more expectations, more complications to that. He’s been around the same half dozen people for six months now. He can’t make a choice to date anyone, because there is no choice. You were both there when he told the story about his benefits or whatever he had in that attic. He picked that guy because he was the least awful option. And I strongly hope you’ll grant me some more dignity than that. Not whilst we have these,” he waved his wrist with the leather band hiding the bracelet, “and not whilst he’s in the middle of whatever crisis is going on now. That shit needs solving first. If he even wants to talk to me ever again. So nothing is going to happen. And you will keep your mouths shut and swear to me you won’t meddle with shit that’s not your fucking business.”

The two slowly turned to exchange a look. “Did Blasty just lecture us on emotions?” Shinsou asked, disbelieving.

“And he’s right?” Kirishima answered in the same tone.

“Wonders never cease. But one more word of advice,” Shinsou said, looking very serious indeed. “I agree with what you said, and we’ll respect your wishes, yada yada. But even if you might have a point in some cases, Izuku fully well knows what choices he has and which he wants to make. I won’t tell you what to do, but I’ll tell you: If you don’t do anything, someone will snatch him up eventually.”

“Tch. Yeah. Nerd’s too adorable for his own good.” He sighed. It was true, he knew it. Everyone loved the Nerd after talking to him for five minutes. And he hated the idea of someone else dating Izuku more than he hated confronting his feelings. “Urgh, fuck. This is the last thing I needed…”

“There, there, I’m sure it’ll be-” Suddenly, Kirishima’s eyes locked onto something over his shoulder, and he straightened and went back to his proper guard pose. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Aizawa yawned back. He was in the company of a woman dressed smartly in a suit and black heels, carrying weighty folders and an aura of importance. The lawyer, Katsuki assumed. “I take it everything is in order?”

They all nodded. “Well, guess it’s my turn, then,” Shinsou said and pushed himself off the wall.

“Do your worst,” Kirishima said, mouth pressed into a thin line. “This dude needs to confess to a lot of things, I believe. Don’t let him off easy.”

Aizawa nodded in acknowledgement and opened the door for the woman and Shinsou before turning towards the one next to it. He motioned them both inside with an inclination of his head, and they came into the observation room on the other side of the one-way glass. They watched the three people in the room exchange pleasantries.

“Good job on figuring out his identity,” Aizawa said in his bored monotone.

“I just scrolled through databases.”

Kirishima clapped him on the shoulder. “Nah, you put it all together, give yourself some credit. It was very cool, bro. I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t really feel triumphant. He was exhausted and hungry and there was nothing else for him to do.

Shinsou gave a subtle sign, and Aizawa leaned forward to start the recording. The red light on the camera in the other room flickered to life, signalling Shinsou to start. He kept his words clipped, polite on the surface, with only a few jabs at the body parts in the basement and the proof of human trafficking. The lawyer grew uneasy two minutes in.

But he hadn’t lied, Shinsou did have express permission to use his quirk, at least to get the location of the missing people. The Collector kept quiet at first – futile, really. Refusing to cooperate would just make him look bad to the prosecution and judge later. Thankfully, it took very little riling up to get him to spit insults back at Shinsou. After that, they were all set. Katsuki stood by and watched for part of the interrogation. Nothing that was said really stuck to his brain.

“Bakugou.” Aizawa’s stern tone made him stand straighter on instinct. “Do me a favour: Go home, order yourself a pizza and a drink and go to sleep already. You’ve earned it. You did good.”

Katsuki stared, then took the offering and nodded. If Aizawa told you to sleep, it had to be serious. And he did deserve it. The Collector spilled like a bombed-out fire hydrant, and it would be a matter of time until they could close the net on the Boss. Mole or not, the Auriculates weren’t coming back from this one. He could do more. He could… find the Goldsmith, or try and get something else from Ueda.

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

“Katsuki.” Kirishima stopped him outside the room, talking quietly. “You know, we all know your tough act is just that, so I promise no one will think less of you if you say a genuine nice thing once in a while.”

“Ha?” What the fuck was the bastard on about now?

“Just something I think you should keep in mind. Now go home, and don’t fuck this up, alright?” Kirishima clapped him on the back once and went back to listen to the rest of the interrogation.

“The fuck?” Slowly, he dragged himself through the monotonous hallways until he stepped outside. The morning sky was a clear blue, dotted with the odd fluffy cloud. It all seemed so normal. People were going about their days, traffic was the same slow crawl through the city, and even his house looked like always, if he ignored the cracked paint, missing shingles and the black rectangle where a window should be. The adrenaline rush of the raid and arrest was starting to die down, and by the time he made it there he practically fell through his door.

Where another rush put the world in high-definition as his gaze landed on the red shoes in the hall. His ears picked up quiet sounds from the kitchen, and the smell suddenly made him aware just how hungry he was. Which was all secondary as he barrelled into the room to find Izuku leaning against the counter, clearly expecting him. Katsuki gave him a quick once-over, noticing the slight slouch and the tired eyes. Izuku wore grey shorts Katsuki had never seen before and a black shirt with an orange X across the chest. He wondered if that was a good sign, or if that had simply been topmost in the drawer.

He’d prepared himself for this. He’d gone over all the things he’d learned in those stupid seminars on how to properly listen and ask questions, so he could finally ask Izuku what was wrong, because the Nerd was clearly not okay, and they finally needed to address it. Now, under the scrutiny of dark viridian eyes, his head was vacated. He didn’t even know where to start.

“Hey,” he breathed. He stood stock still, afraid that any movement might shatter the moment like a Fata Morgana. He wanted to walk up and hug Izuku, pull him close and never let go. He just wasn’t sure he was allowed.

“Hi,” Izuku replied. Katsuki watched him like a hawk, but it was easy to see the effort Izuku had to put into keeping his face neutral. His lips were quirking up and he valiantly avoided eye contact.

“Hey,” he breathed out. The relief he felt was a distinct weight off his chest. They’d be okay. Izuku was happy to see him, too. Thank fuck.

Izuku tilted his head and held up the note Katsuki had left. “I heard you’ve been busy.”

“How are you?”

Izuku’s eyebrows rose up. “I’m fine. You look like shit.”

Did he? He glanced down at himself. He was still in his costume, mostly, minus the mask and the gauntlets. His clothes were an abstract painting comprised of suspicious stains in various colours from when the Collector had thrown jars containing body parts and other things of organic nature at him. There were also several tears in his shirt where he’d jumped through the front door before it was done splintering. “Just kick a guy while he’s down, will you?” he joked weakly.

“It’s the only way I’ll get a hit in,” Izuku quipped back, one corner of his mouth tilting upwards.

“I’ll let you have one for free if you want.”

Izuku scratched at his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. That was stupid.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, too. I was not thinking straight.” His head did feel oddly light, as if it was stuffed with cotton.

“Are you ever thinking straight?”

Deep breaths. “…I’ll let you get away with that joke only this once, just so we’re clear.”

Izuku beamed at him. “Sorry.” He turned and stirred the pot, which contained some ramen that seemed like the best thing ever right now. “This is almost done. Are you hungry?”

“You have no idea.” He looked down at himself again. “If you don’t mind, I need to change first. And shower.” He didn’t even want to know what all those stains had once been. “How much work is it to make a new shirt? I’m not sure I want to try and save this.”

Izuku glanced over. “Maybe seven to ten hours, now that I have the blueprints ready.”

“Would you…?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” He walked off and tossed the shirt straight into the bin, and then valiantly tried to scrub the memories of that basement off together with the chemicals. There had been whole animals in jars, hearts and kidneys and eyes. Dammit, the eyes. He forced himself to think about anything else.

Like his elaborate speech. He’d had one thought out, but it seemed lacking now. Why did words have to be so hard? It wasn’t even about the apology, there was one thrown in, sure, but… Izuku had said some things he still couldn’t really wrap his head around. Like the whole fairness thing. That’d somehow stuck most with him. And the ‘I wish I never met you’, although he was fairly sure that’d been exaggerated and solely intended to hurt. Izuku liked him. The Nerd had always liked him. It was a constant, like the sky was fucking blue. However, there was also no denying that no matter what had been said, the baseline was that Izuku was clearly not happy. He had no idea why. Had no idea how to fix that, either.

He just really, really wanted to try. He had to keep the Nerd by his side, somehow. “Hey, Izuku…” he began once he rushed back, almost afraid the other had been a figment of his imagination.

Izuku hummed in acknowledgment, tossing some more spices into the mix as he filled them some bowls. “Where have you been?”

“I, uh, was called on a raid.”

The spices were abandoned as Izuku whirled around, with barely contained excitement. “A raid?! How did it go?”

“Went good.” He glanced up, speaking carefully. He wanted to see Izuku’s expression. “We arrested the Collector.”

Izuku froze. The green eyes went wide. “The Collector…? How?”

Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck. “I searched the databases for people with combat quirks that manifest in the hands. The rest was easy.”

“What was his quirk?” Typical nerd. Of course he’d zero in on that.

“He could turn his fingers into scalpels. Fought like an angry cat when we went in there. Cut right through a table, too. Sliced to ribbons.”

Izuku didn’t comment, but his gaze flitted all over Katsuki.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. I just opened the door, and then Kirishima went in as our hard counter and picked him up. It was a thirty second job.”

“…Did you just make a pun?”

“Not intentionally.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s actually a running gag-”

“No - I mean, why did you go after the Collector?”

“Oh. Well. I just thought… this mission was dragging on forever, and I just wanted to get it moving again. You shouldn’t have to… worry.” He stared down hard at his socks.

A soft sound made him glance up. Izuku had a hand over his mouth, but his shoulders shook with his barely suppressed laughter. And yet, Katsuki didn’t feel laughed at. Izuku’s eyes were soft and crinkled with delight in the morning sun slanting through the window. He wanted to etch this picture into his brain.

He felt his lips quirk up too, mirroring the sentiment. “What?”

“Kacchan… You didn’t have to do that.”

“Huh?”

“’s not – I was mad and you need to not ever do that again, but-” Izuku interrupted himself with a fit of laughter. “I didn’t exactly hold back, either. We could’ve just talked about it. You didn’t have to bring me the heads of my enemies,” he laughed. “Like a cat dragging in a dead mouse!”

Katsuki felt too blindsided to come up with a retort, and he was also stuck on the cat metaphor and specifically the part where most people didn’t like dead mice at all when Izuku came over, reached up a hand and ruffled his hair. “Thank you, though,” he grinned.

It made something warm rush through his body, and not all of it was embarrassment. Shit. He ducked his head further, part to hide his face and part to allow Izuku better access, because this still felt really nice.

They stood there, close enough to feel each other’s warmth. Izuku’s pats turned to slow circles on his scalp, and then they wandered down until Izuku hugged him around the neck, pressing closer.

Carefully, he wrapped one arm around him in return. “Okay?” he asked, unsure what was going on.

“Yes. Thanks.” Izuku’s voice sounded thick.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Izuku didn’t reply. His breathing grew heavier, and Katsuki wasn’t sure whether or not he was crying. The nerd cried so quietly these days.

“Talk to me.”

“I hate this.” The whisper was almost too quiet to hear.

“Hate what?”

“This, I… Everything, how I can’t do anything on my own, how I can’t contribute anything. That it has to be this way, that I can’t even sleep on my own, that I have to rely on everyone this much… I hate it.” There was a slight sniffle. “I just feel so pathetic. This has to be so annoying for you.”

“No. It’s okay,” he tried to reassure.

“It’s not. It’s a patchwork solution. This can’t go on forever, and then what? Where am I going to live? How am I going to sleep? Who’s going to put up with me? Am I just gonna have to knock myself out with sleeping pills each night?”

He hummed. “You can stay here, you know. And normally people are a bit more enthusiastic about getting into bed with me. Some would even pay for it.”

Izuku huffed a wet laugh. “I’m glad you have your alternate career options figured out. And I never said anything against you.”

“I really don’t mind this, Izu. You don’t have to beat yourself up over it.” The nerd sounded distressed, and he hated that he wasn’t sure what to do about it. This was such a non-issue, if Izuku would just listen to him.

“Yes, but for how long?” He laughed a little, quiet and sad.

‘If only you knew’. “Hey. You wanna know what I think?”

“What?”

He braced himself. Normally, he’d never say this out loud, but Izuku did have no one else to tell him kind things. And if anyone deserved to hear kind things, it was him. “I think you’re unbelievably amazing. You made it back all on your own, you jumped down a cliff, you’re alive and I’m so fucking glad for that. You’re already back with school work, and I can tell people will fight to get hands your gear someday. I suspect half of the Squad likes you better than me already, and they’re right because you’re smart, cute and funny, which is really not fair. Leave some for the rest. You’re doing fine. You really don’t have to worry about this. It’s – I’m happy to have you around.”

Izuku sniffled. “That’s- I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I’m trying to get better, but it’s just- It’s just… I c-can’t, I don’t feel safe anymore, no matter what…”

“Oh.” Katsuki felt the cold admission sink in uncomfortably. What was he even supposed to say? He managed to wrap both arms around Izuku and pull him closer still, for a lack of words. Izuku’s hair tickled his nose. He smelled like apple shampoo. “Is… Is it that bad?”

He felt Izuku nod against his chest. “It feels like someone is standing behind me all the time. Like they’re just waiting to get me. Every time I’m in the bathroom and look away from the mirror I’m terrified to look back up because I expect to see someone just standing there. I get nervous whenever I hear high heels, because I think the Lady’s going to come and judge my work. Locking the doors doesn’t really help, either, because I’m just as afraid something will suddenly try the handle or knock. I’m scared all the time, and it’s exhausting.”

Katsuki hugged him tighter. He still didn’t know what to say to this. He couldn’t fight that. He was useless. Was there even a solution to this? “Shh, it’s okay, it’s alright. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” Empty reassurances.

Izuku sobbed. “Is this going to be my life? This is supposed to be over. I know they don’t care about me anymore! They won’t come looking for me, but it’s just…”

Fuck. “I’m sorry, I’m not good with this, I – What do you need me to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if you can do anything. I’m sorry.”

He slowly stroked a hand up and down Izuku’s back. “Don’t be sorry. I could – I don’t know; but I’ll fucking do it. Just tell me, alright?”

“Don’t let go.” Izuku’s fingers curled tighter into his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re doing good. You’re doing so good already. I’m proud of you. You don’t have to apologize for a single thing.” It was all he could do to murmur these reassurances over and over again, in the hope they would stick. He wanted to do more, he wanted to kiss the tears away, he wanted to catch that sadness and fear with his bare hands and crush it until nothing remained. Burn it to ashes, light it up with a big explosion.

If only it were that easy. In reality, he was the most ill-equipped person for this kind of shit. Dammit, the Nerd needed to see a therapist, and he needed to see one six months ago. Just, things had been so awkward in the beginning, and it wasn’t exactly the easiest topic to bring up even with someone you trusted, and then they’d developed a routine and the Nerd had been fine aside from a few minor things, and he’d never asked, and… No, excuses, excuses. He’d failed. Plain and simple.

They stood there for a couple more minutes, until Izuku’s shaking lessened and they came close to approaching that awkward part of hugging when one of them had to decide The Moment was over and they needed to let go and face the rest of life as if they just hadn’t had the most emotionally taxing talk of the year.

This time, the decision was taken from them by a loud growling noise. Something close to a rabid animal.

“Are you that hungry?” Izuku asked, glancing down at the source of the sound.

“Take a wild fucking guess. I don’t even know when I last ate.”

“Kacchan! What does that mean?” Izuku pulled his hands back so he could prop both on his hips, gearing up with a stern glare. If Katsuki was a cat, Izuku was a poofed up bird trying to be intimidating.

“I was busy! And you’re one to talk!”

“Just because I suck at remembering to eat doesn’t mean you can do it too! One of us has to be reasonable here!”

“Did you just imply I’m reasonable?”

“…You know what, fair. Go get yourself a bowl.”

The ramen was excellent and gone too fast. After clearing his bowl, he watched Izuku idly stir his, looking down into it like he was attempting a divination séance.

Right. The talking had just begun. They had yet to solve a single issue. “What’s the matter?”

Izuku sighed heavily. “A lot of matters. As we established.” He grinned, but it was tired. “I was at Shinsou’s. And we talked.” He turned back towards his noodles, chewing in slow motion, clearly trying to buy time. “And I figured some things out. Am still figuring some others out. But the most important ones…”

Izuku put his spoon down, hands in his lap. “I really need to apologize too. I was out of line the other day. I was over at Kirishima’s place to talk about things with them, before bringing them up with you.” He let out a huff. “I was having a bona-fide midlife crisis. And it’s partially because I’m… discontent with my living situation.”

Katsuki felt his stomach drop. “Oh. Okay…? Why?” Had he done something? Was it their argument? Was it too much exposure to each other? Was it his constant nagging to clean up when Izuku left his shit lying around? Did Izuku… actually not like him anymore?

“I think it’s mostly because I feel constantly stressed out. There’s this,” he waved his hand in a vague motion, “This unspoken deadline, I feel. I know there’s not a lot to be done about it right now. But whenever I think about after, when this case is cracked, I have no idea what’ll be next. It feels like I’ll need to have my life in order by then, and it’s really freaking me out because I don’t know when that’ll be and if I’ll even be able to. We could find the Boss and the Goldsmith tomorrow, and I’d be rid of this stupid necklace, and then what? Shouto told me I’m part of a witness protection program or something – by the way, you could’ve told me that – and when that’s over, what’s next?”

He couldn’t quite believe it. “I thought that part was obvious. And do you really think I’d fucking kick you to the street?” he asked, incredulous.

Izuku attempted a weak smile, rubbing is thumb over his scars. “I know you wouldn’t. But that’s the other thing. When it comes down to it, I don’t really have anything that’s mine. I have to rely on everyone’s goodwill and charity for pretty much anything, and it just makes me feel like I’m imposing. Shinsou says that’s my abysmal self-esteem,” he interrupted with a raised hand when Katsuki wanted to object, “and logically I know it’s not like that. But… We’re friends, at least I hope so, and that means there’s supposed to be equality somewhere. And... It’s just, money and belongings and stuff, those are things people often fight about. I’m a bit afraid of that, too. Some days, I feel like I’m your charity case more than anything else.”

“What? That’s bullshit! Charity case? Don’t fucking insult me like that. Don’t insult yourself like that!”

The other crossed his arms. “Well, I can’t help it!”

He couldn’t believe this. “Listen, you damn idiot: You’re doing ninety percent of the chores in here. You upgraded my costume and saved me several trips to the hospital, or at least Recovery Girl. That’s not nothing! You’re doing school on top of all that, at an insane pace, and you’re helping to investigate the Auriculates. Please enlighten me: In what world is that nothing?”

“It’s the least I can do,” Izuku muttered.

“Like hell it is! Do you know how helpful you’ve been? I do, because I used to run this household on my own. The only reason I’ve been able to pull double shifts for almost six months is because I didn’t have to worry about this shit. If I came home every day after ten hours of work knowing I still had to cook and shit, you’d bet your ass the delivery places around here would recognize me via my phone number by now. If you want, count the hours you spend doing that shit, and then tally it up against minimum wage. I’d probably have to pay you! And coming home to a house that’s not empty is fucking amazing, too!”

“I-” Izuku had one finger already raised for another counter, but he put his hand down after a moment. “Okay. I mean. That’s just… It’s not much, honestly, and I didn’t mean to hold it against you as leverage, and besides, this is still your house and you also do all these amazing other things for me, like, the hiking was fun and the trip to the city too, that all cost you time and money as well…”

This Nerd was going to drive him mental. “And I had a fantastic time doing it. I was there, I had fun too.”

“…Fine. We’ll get back to that another time. I actually wanted to sort the living situation today.” Izuku rubbed a tired hand over his face and stared off into the middle distance. “I thought about it, and I was right when I said I didn’t need you. I don’t need to be here. I’ve worked through the logistics, and I could reasonably get my own place, a safe house somewhere. If there’s now progress with the Operation, it probably won’t be for long, either.”

“So you want to leave?” The idea felt… awful. Back to his own chores and his own empty house and having to actually make plans just for talking to someone.

Izuku fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I, I mean… Well. I could do it, technically. Um. But I prefer being here for the moment. I mean, all my things are here, and we have a nice routine going, and I’m not sure I like being alone all that much. I’d have to have my conversations with Miles, and he’s a great listener, but his input is kind of lacking.”

So there was a chance. He latched onto it immediately. “We could… work something out?” He had no idea where to even begin. Izuku clearly had spent a lot of time crafting his arguments, and he was determined to do his best too and come up with a proper reply and hopefully a solution.

“Actually,” Izuku said, directing his attention back towards his half-eaten food, “I have an idea? If you’d like to hear it?”

“Shoot.”

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Izuku mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

“Hmm,” he replied, trying not to be distracted by that.

“I was wondering – and hear me out first – if you’d be amenable to a sort-of roommate type situation? With me?”

“What?” He nearly dropped his head on the table from where he’d been leaning on his hand, looking towards the rest of Izuku’s face. The Nerd seemed serious.

“As I said, I’ve given it some thought, and as much as I’d like to, I don’t think I’d be really happy or fine all on my own. But just leeching around also sucks, so I thought, if I paid rent and we shared living costs, it’d be less like charity and more like… I’m contributing something. And I’d like to have some overview of the finances where I’m concerned. Know what I mean?” He absently ran a finger along the rim of the bowl. “It’s just... I mean, the other day, when we argued, and I really felt like I didn’t even have a right to talk back when you do so much for me. I can’t do anything on my own. I had to rely on Shouto to get away and back again, when I wasn’t entirely sure he’d take my side. I had no place to go, and Shinsou put up with us, and they both payed for the food and all. And I know I really lucked out there, and you all would have my back any time, but I really wish I had some reassurances, some form of security.”

“Yeah, I get it.” His own financial independence was one of the greatest things after he’d moved out. And he hated owing people. “But let me clarify, you want to get a job at…?”

Izuku shrugged. “Dunno. We’d have to wait and see after I graduate.”

‘After I graduate.’ He set his coffee down. “Oh. You’re, like, talking long-term. After this case is over.”

Izuku ducked his head down. “Uh-hu. Sorry if that wasn’t clear. I mean, the timeline on the case is sort of unpredictable, and once that changes we could maybe figure things out from there, but it’s not like I can get a job without the qualifications, and I am honestly not entirely sure what this protection thing protocol is for when I’m no longer in need of protection…”

Izuku was gonna stay with him. Katsuki felt like Christmas had come early. He barely listened as the other went on. “As much as I want to have my own place and just - I don’t even know. Be a functioning adult? – I ran over the logistics and it’s just not feasible at the moment. I mean, let’s be real: I have no job, no money, no connections, my chain is the most complicated one out there because the universe hates me and I hate being on my own.” He set his spoon down, turning to fiddling with the napkin instead. “So I thought… If you don’t mind… Some sort of roommate scenario… Just until I got everything sorted!”

“Izuku, that is a fantastic idea.”

“Really?”

“’Course, I’m all for it.” He put his now empty cup down. “Although I want to say you don’t owe me shit. We’re more than even already. You do like, what, all of the chores? Like, you could actually write down the hours as proof you’re helping. I think it’s ridiculous, but if I can hold it over you when the fucking issue comes back around, so be it.” The Nerd cleaned even faster than he did, did the cooking, the washing, and kept most of his clutter contained to his room. The only things Katsuki had to do himself was fold his own laundry and the grocery shopping. It felt uneven already, because it was his house and he should by all means pull his own weight, but if it helped Izuku feel better, he’d let him have this. “Just make sure you don’t overwork yourself with school and all. I was serious when I said you could replace that annoying consultant of ours, and the sooner, the better.”

“Kay.” Izuku ducked his head and blushed in that adorable way of his.

“You do have a chronic case of selling yourself short.” He agreed with Shinsou’s assessment there. “I mean, look at this place; it’s been less than forty-eight hours and everything is falling apart. This is the first proper food I’ve had in two days.”

Izuku shook his head fondly. “How did you get this far?”

“Eh. It’s a talent, I suppose. I have many.”

“Sure.”

After the food and coffee, coupled with the entire situation of Izuku simply being there, he felt leagues better than this morning. He glanced out the window to gauge the time of day and found it surprisingly dark. Strong winds whipped through the foliage and chased heavy grey clouds across the rooftops. “Looks like we have a storm on our hands.”

“It won’t rain for a while,” Izuku answered with surety, but he glanced nervously at the tarp-covered garden door.

The clouds were pushing in front of the sun, and soon it was so dim he had to turn on the lights. The atmosphere was eerie, but not an unwelcome one. He knew Izuku loved watching thunderstorms, and Katsuki could admit there was something to it, sitting safe inside with a blanket. Less so when he was out on patrol.

“Oh, the window!” Izuku shouted suddenly, and jumped up to take a look into the gym. “Do you think this’ll hold? And the door, too. What happened there, actually?”

“That was me. Shitty Hair snuck up on me. But don’t worry, I’m fairly sure it’ll be fine.”

Izuku stared at the tarp as if it’d come alive and bite him any moment. “…Okay. Do we have food for today? I think it’s supposed to be storming for the rest of the evening.”

Katsuki tried to take a mental inventory of the fridge. He hadn’t gotten groceries, but then again, he also hadn’t used anything. “We should be good.”

“Okay.” Izuku walked off, looking distracted. He returned a short while later with some wire mesh and Styrofoam, which he cut to the shape of the window to secure it more.

“Look at you, going all DIY.”

“It’s better than just the tarp. Not sure I can do the same for the door. Have you called someone to get this fixed?”

“Not yet. I’ll do that tomorrow, maybe the 3D-Printer can help. She’ll do it for some curry, I’m sure.”

Izuku walked over to the intact half of the glass door, looking outside as the sky turned darker by the minute. The first fat drops pattered against the glass. “That’d be nice of her.” He grabbed a throw blanket from the couch and put it around his shoulders like a cape, then got himself a pillow and settled down in front of the window. “Do you think there will be lightning?”

“I don’t know. Possibly.” He carefully lowered himself onto the floor next to the Nerd, waiting to see. The rain had painted the stones of the patio a shade darker already. He watched the hedges sway in the wind. The tarp fluttered menacingly, but it held fast for now. Slowly, he let himself unwind. It was just nice like this. For all his internal panic and confusion the past week, simply sitting together seemed such a natural thing to do. The first flash crossed the sky, and they waited in anticipation for the rumble of thunder a few seconds later.

“Seems like it’s still a bit away.”

“Wonder if it’ll even come closer.”

“My poor flowers. They’re getting beaten up by the rain.” Izuku craned his head to look at the other side of the lawn.

“The heat already fried them days ago. They were done blooming anyway. You can have new ones next year.” Because he’d be here next year. Right? Katsuki awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, unable to bear the insecurity any longer. “Hey. So… We’re good, right?”

“I don’t know. Are we?”

He swallowed around the lump of anxiety. “I would hope so. But I still don’t know what I did. When you basically said I was the worst person on this planet and all that?”

“Oh. That.” Izuku pulled his blanket up to his nose.

“C’mon. What’d I do this time?” he coaxed.

“Nothing, really. I just… I was waiting for you to be fed up with me any day, and I was talking myself further and further into the possibility, and when we were shouting at each other…”

“…You just wanted to beat me to the punch.”

Izuku nodded jerkily. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it.”

“So you don’t hate me? No planning my untimely demise?” He nudged their shoulders together.

Izuku shoved back. “You know I don’t. And I didn’t mean what I said, either. Sometimes I was a bit jealous of you, but I’m genuinely glad your life didn’t suck.”

“Yours shouldn’t, either. Sorry it did.”

Izuku gave him a wry grin. “Yeah. But hey, at least it can only get better, right?”

“Right.” He’d see to it. They simply sat there watching for almost an hour, until the lightning had mostly run its course and it was just sheets of rain and darkness outside. The room was dim enough to suggest night time even though the sun was still out there somewhere. When he almost nodded off sitting hunched over on the floor, he decided to give in. “I need a nap. Or twelve hours of sleep, I’m open for both.”

Izuku, whose eyes were also half-lidded and glassy, nodded along. “Sounds like a good idea. It’s no wonder Shinsou looks like that, with all the noise around. Two weeks and I would’ve gone insane in that place.”

“Explains a lot about him, actually.”

Slowly, he got up and ready for bed. Just when he fell into the sheets, about to pass out, Izuku padded into the room in his sleep clothes, hugging himself tightly – against the chill or the darkness, he couldn’t tell. “Have you seen Miles?”

“No.” He grabbed the plushie and held it out.

“Thanks. I’ll just, then…” He lingered, unsure.

“Nerd.” He patted the space by his side. Izuku accepted the unspoken invitation with palpable gratitude and deposited Miles on the mattress, then made a run for his pillow and blanket before he crawled up from the foot end of the bed, between Katsuki and the wall. He quickly made himself comfortable, drawing the blanket up to his nose until he resembled a burrito. “Night.”

“Night.” With a sigh, he turned off the light. His spine wept in gratitude as he laid down comfortably for the first time in two days. Fucking hell. Twenty-one was not old enough to worry about one’s back. As he closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep, he heard a soft shuffling sound. And again, a few moments later. Resigning himself to staying awake a few minutes longer, he kept still and waited to see what the Nerd was up to now.

Via some black magic, Izuku had turned to an ice sculpture, or at least that was Katsuki’s first thought when Izuku’s feet brushed against his leg. Freezing. “Fucking hell! Why do you always feel like you’re about to audition for the role of Ice Sheet In Antarctica?”

“Sorry.” There was a bit more shuffling, and the feet retreated. “Hey, Kacchan…?”

“Hm?”

“…Nevermind.”

“What is it?”

“It’s stupid. Forget it.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“…Could you lock the door?”

The request was outside anything he’d expected, so he remained silent for a bit too long whilst he translated the meaning.

“See, forget it, it’s stupid.”

“No, it’s fine.” He got up and carefully felt his way across the room until his fingertips met the door. The lock turned with a slight creaking. He’d never really used it before.

“Better?” He asked as he returned to the warmth of the covers.

A hand blindly touched his chest, a quick pressure of contact that hopped on to a spot a bit higher, until Izuku’s cold fingers found his shoulder. From there, they slid down to his wrist, gripping tightly and lifting up. There was more shuffling as Izuku fully transitioned from his blanket to Katsuki’s. Izuku pressed himself close, pulling Katsuki’s arm down over his side.

Finally understanding what Izuku was trying to do, he tightened his grip, until he had an arm full of Nerd.

“Are you afraid now?” He regretted asking almost instantly. Of course the Nerd would be. There were holes in their windows, anyone could get in, and the tarp made unfamiliar noises as it fought against the gale.

Surprisingly, Izuku relaxed at that. “Not really. It helps when someone else is there. Someone I know is safe.”

“Then you can sleep now. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“Okay.”

He held on to Izuku long after the other was asleep, even if the position was a bit awkward because he had no idea what to do with his free arm. He hoped they’d be fine. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find an easy solution to the problems at hand – the fear and the insecurity and the loneliness. He didn’t know how to do this shit. He could only try and hope he’d get it right.

Some indeterminate amount of time later dim illumination crept back in. The storm had let up, and the street lights fought their way back through the cracks in the blinds. He could make out Izuku’s shape in his arms, all relaxed and fast asleep. Katsuki felt dead tired, too. He closed his eyes and sighed contently. The bed was warm and cosy, with the pitter-patter sounds of rain outside. Without thinking, he pressed a soft kiss into Izuku’s hair, just before the darkness pulled him under with the sweet promise of rest. “Night, Angel.”

Chapter 18

Something was touching his hair. His eyes felt glued shut, and he had to rub a hand over them to even get them open. They were itchy, and his head hurt a little, and it was so warm and comfortable, he really didn’t want to be awake. “What is it, Kacchan? Are you leaving?”

“Not yet.” The stroking motion continued through his hair. “Did you sleep well?”

He pondered the question. “Actually? I think yes.” The last thing he remembered was snuggling up to Kacchan. After that, nothing. No dreams, no waking up. Just nothing.

He screwed his eyes shut tighter. Urgh, that had been so embarrassing. Dammit. He didn’t want Kacchan to pity him, or walk on eggshells. Why had he gone and spilled all that? Now he was going to get the awkward ‘Oh you poor thing’ treatment again.

“Great. Then get the fuck up.” Or maybe not?

“Why?” He finally managed to blink against the light. Kacchan was sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed and ready. Looking past him at the clock, Izuku could see it was surprisingly late in the morning. Almost eight.

“Because I figured you don’t want to be alone here when there’s not even a door, so you’re invited to the international Bring Your Nerd To Work day.”

“Is that… allowed?” Kacchan had a point there, the black tarp did make him nervous. Another shadow from where the monsters could spawn. But coming to work with Kacchan?

“Does it look like I care? It is arguably not safe here at the moment. Not that I think anyone would be stupid enough to try anything. I called the 3D-printer earlier and she agreed to come over and fix it for us, but she’s on vacation somewhere in the Caribbean and won’t be back until next week. You can sit in my office and maybe do school work or something. No one ever comes there, and it’s locked anyway because of the confidential information I keep there, so it should be fine. There’s a Peregrine meeting later today you could sit in on. Or stay here. Your choice.”

“No, that sounds like a plan.” If it was just for a few days, he truly didn’t mind. And he was curious about the progress. Helping the operation was his only real job at the moment, so he’d better try and be useful.

“Cool. We’re heading out in thirty minutes, then.”

“Thirty minutes!” That was barely enough time to shower and get dressed.

“I’ll pack you something to eat for later.”

He nodded and flung the wardrobe doors wide to grab some clothes. “Thanks, Kacchan!” After a hasty shower and ten panic-filled minutes of running around the entire house in an effort to locate all the stuff he’d need for his project today (he should clean up... eventually) they left for the office, with a small detour to a textile store he’d frequented during his high school days, where Kacchan was sent in to fetch some materials for the new shirt. That was fun. Kacchan called him thirty seconds after entering. “Which fucking one do you need, they all look the same. There’s an entire wall of this shit.”

“A wall? Last time I was here they were all in boxes.” Four years were apparently enough time to rearrange an entire store. “I want the – you know what, just send me a picture of the wall and I’ll direct you from there.” That thankfully did the trick.

They drove on, now taking a route Izuku remembered from four years ago as well, around increasingly familiar corners until they passed a street filled with shops. He watched the buildings pass by.

“You good there?” Kacchan asked softly.

“Looks different than I remember.”

“Yeah, a bit.” There were changes, like the new pothole, or a bent street sign that apparently hadn’t gotten replaced. There was scaffolding around one building.

“It’s weird to think everything moved on without me. I know it’s the logical thing, but still… Oh! I actually talked to my mum. On the phone.”

“Really? How was it?”

“…Bad.”

Kacchan didn’t say anything to that.

Suddenly, Izuku spotted an unfamiliar billboard across the street. “Where’s the boba place?”

“Closed. About three years ago.”

Izuku sighed. “Shame. They made the best matcha latte.”

“That stuff was vile.”

“I liked it.”

“I figured.”

When they made it to their destination, Kacchan led the way across the parking lot, through the metal doors and up the stairs to floor fifteen, where his office was apparently located, looking out for people all the while. “Technically, everyone should either be in the morning briefing or out on patrol already,” he informed. Then they nearly ran into a janitor pushing his cart, and only barely managed to scramble back around a corner and out of sight. “Fuck. Forgot about that,” Kacchan whispered. “Meetings don’t apply to everyone.”

“That’s pretty mean towards them,” he whispered back. “They’re doing essential work! You should be nice to them.”

“I’m not saying I’m not nice to them, I’m saying it fucking sucks they just go wherever, whenever, and you can’t predict it. It’s kind of annoying when you’re trying to smuggle a person.”

“Why am I being smuggled in the first place? Last time, they sort of cleared the floor for us, didn’t they?”

“Because sixteen is not normally used and we’re abusing that.”

“I see.”

“And here we are!” Kacchan proclaimed, opening a random door and motioning him inside with and exaggerated bow.

Izuku walked through and found a pretty standard office – two identical desks facing each other, although one was neatly organized whilst the other… wasn’t, also identical matching black swivel chairs for both, dark blue curtains, laminated beige floor, white walls, a clock and the standard ficus in one corner. “Who’s the other desk belong to?”

“Shitty Hair.”

“Okay, then. Where can I…?” He held his bag up, looking around for a place to sit as if it wasn’t clear he’d take the desk as the only viable option.

“Just make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out most of the day anyways. As I said, the offices stay locked, since there’s confidential information in here, so you won’t be bothered.” Kacchan tossed him a key and rounded the left desk, where he shoved some papers aside before lifting a hefty stack out of a drop box labelled ‘In’. “Oh, fuck my life,” he muttered as he skimmed through.

“What is it?” Peeking over his shoulder, Izuku saw some official-looking forms, most of them pretty identical and half-filled out.

Kacchan grimaced. “Reports for damages caused in the line of work,” he explained. “The civilians file them if a fight or something damages their property, and the commission sends them to us to sign as well before we have to send it to the respective insurance.”

“Ah. I see. That’s… quite the collection you have there.”

“’S not that bad, really. Most of them are things like windows, but if I accidentally blow up a façade, every resident has to file separately. It tallies up. Just boring paper bullshit. And sometimes they try to sneak unrelated repairs in there.”

“A-hem.” Izuku jumped as someone cleared their throat with vehemence. Kacchan glanced at the door and tossed the papers back into his inbox. “And what exactly, pray tell,” Fat Gum said quite loudly, “is going on here?”

“That’s my new intern.” Kacchan didn’t miss a beat as he pointed a finger Izuku’s direction.

“Kacchan,” he hissed, a foreboding feeling creeping up, “am I even allowed to be here?”

“Yes you are. It’s international Bring Your Nerd To Work Day.”

Izuku decided to be with Fat Gum on this one as they both shot Kacchan disbelieving looks.

“Okay, fine, the repairs at my house won’t be done until next week and I couldn’t leave him there,” he explained, like it was the most obvious thing and he thought them all morons for even asking.

“I see. And there was no other option at all?”

“Nope,” Kacchan shook his head and counted on his finger as he listed off: “Me, Mina and Kirishima are all on patrol, Shouto is getting his own house fixed, Iida and Uraraka are on vacation up north for the week, Jirou is also at work and Kaminari has tickets for that expo today. I didn’t dare to ask Shinsou because I already owe him for annoying him yesterday and I don’t want to give him more favours than I have to.”

Izuku was impressed. “You really know all their names.”

“Oi!”

“I guess I can’t argue with this, then,” Fat Gum sighed.

“Nope,” Kacchan grinned, and then turned towards Izuku. “Anyway, I need to go if I wanna be on time. Don’t blow anything up. Later.”

Kacchan’s hand ruffled his hair and he leaned into it. Which resulted in the kiss Kacchan had likely intended for his forehead to land awkwardly on his cheek instead. His face instantly flamed under the attention. Kacchan pretended he hadn’t noticed, or at least it wasn’t weird, and left with a nonchalant wave.

Fat Gum raised both eyebrows. “Well then. I guess I should get back to work as well. You can reach my office under 63, if anything should come up. Please don’t go gallivanting about the place.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Izuku said faintly. That’d just happened. He sank onto the chair and stared at the desk for a moment before pulling himself together and unpacking his things. He’d originally come here to do work, after all.

It took about fifteen minutes until the lock rattled and the door opened again. Izuku nearly jumped in his seat, but the red signalled Kirishima, who had by all means more right to be here than he did. Although he also seemed surprised. “Bro? What’re you doing here?”

“House is still broken, so I couldn’t stay home.”

“Makes sense. Sorry I have to cut this short, but I need to get on with the patrol. Will you be there for the meeting, too?”

“Meeting?”

“Peregrine, at around three.”

“Ah, that. Yes, Kacchan said I should come.”

“Cool. See you then!” Kirishima tossed some papers onto his desk and vanished again.

For about an hour, Izuku was left completely on his own. It felt a bit weird to be in this unfamiliar office that wasn’t his, and he was scared to move anything in case he accidentally upset a very complex and important system, so he migrated to the floor with his project. And then his phone chimed. He’d made extra sure to have it in reach all times today. Glancing at the message, he saw Kacchan had sent him a link of something without further explanation. There was a 50/50 chance this was a prank, but he grit his teeth and clicked it anyway.

It was not a prank. Instead, it prompted him to confirm the invitation for the chat room he was sent to. A little noise confirmed success. “Hello?”

“’Sup, Nerd?” Kacchan sounded bored.

“Nothing much. Making that new shirt you asked for. You?”

“Fucking bored out of my mind.”

“You did this to yourself,” another voice cut in. Jirou? Izuku searched over the interface and found there were four people total in the call. The names were sets of random numbers and letters he couldn’t decipher.

“It was a fucking emergency,” Kacchan now shot back.

There was a collective sigh. “We know.”

“What exactly are we talking about? Why am I here?” Izuku asked.

“I got saddled with fucking crowd control at this game expo today,” Kacchan grumbled. “And you’re here because Jirou and I are bored out of our minds. We’ve been standing here for the last half hour doing fuck all.”

“They’re annoying me too,” Kirishima interjected. “But since I am actually working, I can’t always talk, which means I am no longer enough for those two. How sad. I thought we had something.”

“Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair.” Kacchan sounded like he was suppressing a grin, at least.

“Why are they making you do crowd control?” Izuku asked. It seemed odd to him to put someone of Kacchan’s skill and rank on that. If they needed high ranking heroes, Cellophane or Kamui Woods would be more suited for that type of work. Restraining quirks and all. Explosions in a crowd? Not so much.

“Punishment,” Jirou said, and didn’t elaborate further. “I’m here because it’s basically a free ticket during my break.”

“And your boyfriend is inside.”

“That too.”

Izuku was stumped. “Why would they punish you?”

Kacchan muttered something unintelligible.

“Officially, he broke several regulations the other night,” Kirishima helpfully translated. “Like destruction of private property with his quirk in a non-emergency situation. The fact he was seen leaving a bar right before didn’t help.”

“It was an emergency!” Kacchan repeated.

“We’re aware,” Jirou said. “The Hero Commission isn’t. Be glad the bosses put in a good word for you and it’s just some guard duty and two-”

“I thought we agreed we were done talking about this!” Kacchan snapped.

Oh. This was related to the other night. “Sorry,” he muttered. Right, he’d learned during his consultant course that destruction of property was fine and all when lives were at stake. But since no one knew he’d been at that house, to everyone else it looked like Kacchan had just put his priorities with his own place. Not to start on the topic of using such a quirk when inebriated.

“’S fine. I knew what I was doing. Still, this sucks.” There was some rustling and the far away bang of metal. “We’re stationed to guard the back entrances. There is nothing going on here. Entertain me, Nerd.”

“What do you want me to do? I’m chaining up plates for your new shirt, it’s not the most riveting experience either.”

“So we’re both bored! Excellent. All the more reason to do something about it.”

“Uhh…” he thought hard for a topic. Something unusual. “Have you ever wondered why, of all possibilities, they use owls to deliver the post in Harry Potter?”

“What?” Jirou said quietly.

Kacchan didn’t miss a beat. “Not really. Why?”

“I mean. Owls are pretty stupid birds. Like, almost smooth brain. No thoughts, head empty. You can hear elevator music coming out of their ears. I’m not sure why they were ever associated with wisdom. Now vultures, they’re smart. Probably not as marketable. But anyway; owls are also really quiet flyers, but that silence comes at the cost of speed. They are literally making the slowest birds fly long distances to deliver post. In a world where people can teleport, no less! Or use the fireplaces to instantly travel. Except for that one school, there’s not really a restriction on that. Why are they basing their posting system on the convenience of one castle? Why can’t they deliver the post to the village by the castle, and have it collected there? They could create jobs with that, too!”

“What on earth am I listening to?” Kirishima chimed in.

Jirou shushed him. “Shh, he has a point there.”

“Yeah. Dumbasses could use brooms, too.”

“Right? And speaking of, why is Quidditch such a broken sport?” They continued to discuss plotholes of various franchises in greater detail for almost three hours, until Kacchan and Jirou were called for some disturbance they had to deal with just before they were set to return for the meeting. Apparently, word had gotten around he was here, because Mina knocked at his door at about that time. “Hello there!” she greeted cheerily when he let her in. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing much, to be honest.” During the call he’d abandoned his work and turned to fiddling with a broad copper band he’d twisted around his finger like a spring, absently turning it over and over again.

“Well then, you won’t believe what I saw today!” She went off on a retelling involving several dogs in handbags he could only partially follow. Quietly, he wondered how fast the gossip about his and Kacchan’s disagreement had spread. He’d expected her to ask about it, but either she had no idea it even happened or she tactfully chose not to bring it up. He wasn’t sure which was more unlikely. Well, he wasn’t about to bring it up, either.

Kaminari showed up a few moments later, together with Jirou.

“Where’s Kacchan?” They’d been at the same place, hadn’t they?

They both shrugged. “No idea. He said he wanted to grab something on the way and told us to go ahead. Should we head up to the meeting?”

“Probably.” Mina picked her bag up again and they headed for the door. “You coming?”

“I’m waiting for Kacchan. He said he’d come get me. And I’m trying to get as far with this as I can.” He held up part of the shirt. If he could finish the row, he could sew it on and transport it without risking the individual plates coming off. “Shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”

“Alright.”

They left him to it, and he did his best to find his rhythm again. He was so absorbed, the sudden cold touch on his neck shocked him to the core. “Ah!” The plates nearly went flying as he jumped. There was black with orange and green accents in his peripheral vision. “Kacchan! What on earth! I nearly ruined this!”

The other just laughed at him. “I tried talking to ya. Not my fault you were zoned out to the Nerd Space. Here.” Kacchan held out a plastic cup. The cold thing, evidently. It dripped with condensation, tiny beads on a pale green canvas interspersed with black circles.

“Is that…?” He reverently accepted the cup and took a tiny sip through the wide straw. Matcha Latte. “Oh my god, this is fantastic.”

“There was a stand out front the expo. Thought you might want some.”

Izuku looked up at him and tried to put his everlasting gratitude into his voice. “This is the best thing ever. I love you so much. I’ve craved this stuff for four and a half years. How can I ever repay you?”

Kacchan shoved his head away with one hand. “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s just some tea. And not even the good kind.”

“I like it.” It wasn’t quite as good as the one he remembered, but the fact it was a gift from Kacchan made it special in its own way. He sighed heavily. If only he were able to go out. Kacchan would probably be happy about random little gifts, too. Little things Izuku would see and get because they reminded him of Kacchan.

“Oi, what’s that face for? You don’t like it?”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s great. I just thought – it’s stupid.”

“Can’t be stupider than ranting about a fictional sport for ninety minutes. Go on.”

“I just thought it’s annoying how I can’t do the same. Get you stuff or surprise you with something.”

“I don’t need you to repay me.”

“I know! It’s not about that, just… You’ve done so many nice things for me, and I can’t return the favour even though I want to. Seems a bit unfair to me, is all.”

Kacchan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not this again. If you want to tally every favour and right and wrong up to a net zero, you’ll have your work cut out for you. Besides, by that standard, I owe you like nine years’ worth of nice things.”

“That’s stupid. I’m not holding that against you.”

Kacchan violently pointed at him. “See! Now he gets it. You said your life was unfair, and you know what? You were right! Life has been shit to you! So I say: Take back what you’re fucking owed. You don’t have to earn shit. I got this because I was hoping you’d like it, so you could at least appreciate it and be happy. It’s not about earning or repaying. You could stand to be a little more selfish, honestly. Take what you want when you can.”

He rolled his eyes and reached up to grab Kacchan’s hand.

“Ha?” That, somehow, shut him up.

“C’mon, help me up, we’ll be late for the meeting.” Finally, Kacchan seemed to register and hauled him to his feet. “And although I appreciate the sentiment, it’s not about repaying you. I’m just saying I’d like to do something nice for you, too.” He held the door open. “Hallway clear?”

Kacchan had just been watching him, not moving an inch. “What? Hallway. Yeah. Uh, looks good. Let’s go.” With that, he determinately led the way after checking left and right.

“Aren’t the stairs that way?”

“Right!” This time, they made it without running into any stray personnel. Probably because the sixteenth floor appeared indeed unused otherwise. At least they were not late. The three bosses weren’t there, and neither were Shouto or Iida. Though, since the latter was on vacation, Izuku suspected they wouldn’t wait on him.

For now, they all sat together around one side of the table, lounging on their chairs and not looking so different from a class waiting on their teacher. He picked the seat next to Kacchan and sorted his bag and drink. “Looks like they’re stuck in traffic still. This expo is a nightmare,” Kaminari read off his phone.

“Should’ve gotten snacks from the cafeteria after all,” Mina sighed. Narrowed her eyes. “Where did you get that, Midoriya?” she asked, all sweet.

“From Kacchan. You can’t have it.” He took a demonstrative sip.

“No fair. Why didn’t you get me one?”

“Because I did not want to,” Kacchan answered without missing a beat.

“Naturally. And here I was being a good friend.” She held up a folded note between two fingers. “Watch me never doing you a favour again.” Her good-natured eyeroll made Izuku doubt the finality of that threat.

Kacchan snatched the paper and unfolded it. One edge was torn, like it had been scavenged off something bigger. He wondered what it could be. Craning his head to peek, he could see an almost unreadable scrawl of a few words, and a series of numbers. Kacchan read the thing over twice and turned it to the other side (which Izuku had seen was blank), then frowned. “What’s that? Who the hell is Kairu?”

Mina tilted her head in a ‘really?’ gesture. “Kairu. The guy from the bar? The one I got over to our table at your request? Who you then cruelly abandoned without as much as a goodbye, and he still insisted I give you his number?”

“Yeah. Still not sure what that was about,” Kaminari said, side-eying the paper.

“You shut up. You were seriously convinced I was already in a relationship.” Kacchan nudged him with an elbow and gave a derisive snort. “Pikachu actually thought we were dating, can you believe it?”

He didn’t even look up from his phone, scrolling through social media. “Don’t be ridiculous, Kaminari. Like that’d ever happen.” Just because he had a very specific type didn’t mean anything was ever going to come of it.

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean? You saying I’m not good enough for you?” Kacchan joked.

He rolled his eyes. “Sure, that’s the issue here,” he deadpanned. “Seriously, though, this guy?” he asked, meaning it as a genuine question as he showed Kacchan the social media profile he’d found. “Just how drunk were you?” This could not be Kacchan’s type. Plain looks, plain personality from what he could tell, no clear ambitions for anything. “He comments other peoples’ statuses with nothing but an obscene amount of emojis.”

Kacchan took a look. “How fast did you find that? And he looked better from a distance, I admit.”

“Stalking people online is the only useful skill my mother ever taught me. But really, Kacchan? This?” He’d felt bad for indirectly ruining Kacchan’s evening, but looking at it now, he’d probably done him a favour.

“I wasn’t going to!”

“I’d honestly be disappointed if you did, this is below my standards, and ever since Yukan that bar is a tripping hazard in hell,” he muttered. Kacchan made a weird noise next to him.

“Raise it,” Kaminari stage-whispered to him.

He paid him no mind. “Honestly, you could just stand on a street corner and take your shirt off, you’d get better options in less than two minutes.”

“Tch, yeah, no thanks.” Kacchan crumpled the paper in his fist, and the flash and crack of a small explosion followed. After making sure it wasn’t burning anymore, Kacchan dropped the ash in the trashcan behind him.

“Dude!” Mina put both hands on the table and stood. “What was that for? The poor guy!”

“What?” Kacchan shot back. “He was a potential option for a single fuck and nothing more, and not even a particularly appealing one. Knowing his name is already more attention than I was planning on giving him. Fuck off.”

“Fine, stay unlaid. See if I wingman for you ever again.” Mina raised her hands in surrender.

Kirishima raised an awkward hand. “Hey, change of topic: What’s everyone’s plans for New Years?”

“It’s still September!” Kaminari protested.

“Barely. There’s nothing against early planning.”

Izuku listened as they went back and forth on the issue, and even hesitantly agreed to come to the party if he was able.

The arrival of the bosses and Shouto ten minutes later got the meeting officially started. Aizawa started by giving them a rundown of the Collector’s arrest and interrogation. “We found the six people he was holding captive alive, although two are in critical condition. Nightingale doesn’t suspect our involvement in this, it seems, and so far nothing indicates the other Auriculates are making any move to help him out. Which unfortunately lines up with the questioning so far, as he hasn’t been able to provide us with any hints towards the Goldsmith or the Boss.”

“What we did get are the names of two Auctioneers and vague descriptions of eight high ranking members of the Auriculates. Most of them match our own suspect list, but they are naturally very influential and well-protected, so we’d have to obtain decisive evidence first. With that, we could technically take the organization down. However,” Endeavor continued, nipping any attempt at cheering in the bud, “we still do not know who the Goldsmith is. And without that information, we can’t act.”

“Why not? Shouldn’t we try and end the Auriculates as fast as possible?” Mina wondered.

“Chains.” Everyone turned towards him as he muttered to himself. “The chains,” he repeated. “They’ve been adjusted so taking off the matching bracelet could potentially kill the slaves. And we figured that was a new adjustment after a lucky hit on an important member. Right now, we don’t even know which members actually have people at their houses. We could take the organisation down, sure, but that’s several hundred arrests we are talking about. We could not arrest them all at the same time. If we started taking them in, word would get around faster than we could control. Imagine what would happen if you had people in your basement, and someone calls you with the information the police are arresting your buddies left, right and centre.”

“They would get rid of the evidence,” Shouto answered. Faces around the table fell as the rest continued that train of thought.

Endeavor nodded. “Which is why we need to figure out where the missing people are first, and secure the Goldsmith to make sure we can take the bracelets off safely. Since we can’t trust the Goldsmith to know all the names of the slave owners, we also need intel on the Boss. We figured Haga would be our best bet in this.”

“We wanted you to approach him with the offer of a deal,” Fat Gum said towards Kacchan, “in which he’ll get off mostly scot-free if he can provide us with any of this information.”

“Don’t we need approval from the jurisdiction to grant such a deal?” Jirou intersected.

“Technically yes,” Fat Gum admitted, “but I do have both connections and experience within the police and the court, and I feel confident in offering him amnesty for the crimes we know he has committed. He’s keeping one woman as a slave, but according to your reports she may even be in this arrangement somewhat willingly. It depends on her testimony, but in exchange for the lives of several dozen other people, it seems like a good trade for me. Especially if your suspicion he has been coerced into the organisation were correct. Any jury would agree.”

Kacchan pulled his phone out. “So you want me to ask him?”

“Not yet.” Aizawa stopped him with a raised palm. “In the worst case scenario, he could turn on us. Without the Goldsmith, this’ll be for nothing. If you demanded a new meeting with them, we’d mobilize as many people as we could and set a trap, along with a plan using the information we have now, so we can hit hard and fast and net as many Auriculates as possible. That way, if Haga doesn’t cooperate, we’ll not lose anything. If he does cooperate, we can refine that plan into prioritising the rescue of the victims. But we need time to organize.”

“Also, the Collector might have more useful testimony for us.”

Kirishima raised his hand. “What about the mole?”

“Still a concern, but if this goes as just described, inside information won’t be able to save the Auriculates. This mole aside, Nightingale is on our side, and they’ll mobilize fast if we inform them of a possible traitor along with a finished plan of action.”

They all sat in tense silence for a moment. Izuku wanted to ask ‘what if we can’t help them all’, but deep down he already knew the answer. With an organization this big and powerful, some would slip the net. They’d use their connections and money to weasel out of any charges, or flee the country in their private jets. Some slaves would likely get killed in the crossfire. He hoped Sayaka wouldn’t be one of them. His other friends at the Lady’s mansion he was less worried about. They’d almost certainly be safe. He also knew this was as good as the plan was going to get.

“Alright. We will try and assemble this plan, and contact Haga afterwards. If this goes as planned, we can strike sometime next month. Dismissed.” Endeavor rose, and the meeting concluded with a sombre, determination-filled atmosphere.

A thought struck him. “What about the assistants?”

Everyone paused and turned to look at him as one. It was a bit unsettling. “What assistants?” Fat Gum asked.

“I can’t say it’s a thing for all of them,” he began, “but I know for a fact Ueda has an assistant. Ouya, I believe his name is. No idea if it’s his real one. But he was always around when Ueda was selling or organising auctions. I’m pretty sure he’d know almost as much if not more than Ueda, and he’s maybe a bit more vulnerable? You said the Auctioneers were difficult targets, because of their connections and all, and I just… thought…” he trailed off.

“Do we know about an Ouya?” Shouto asked, already sifting through his papers.

Aizawa shook his head. “I don’t believe so. We’ll look into it. Any info on him would be greatly appreciated, Midoriya.”

“I’ll see what I can remember. I’ve only seen him a couple of times.”

“Thank you regardless. Now, dismissed. For good.”

Izuku said goodbyes and followed Kacchan outside. “A month, huh?” he asked as they went down the many, many stairs to the parking lot. “Everything seems to be happening all at once, suddenly.”

“Don’t get started on that again. You’ve got time to figure your shit out. Besides, who the fuck is gonna make me coffee when you’re not around? I need a fucking notice period. Six months, at least.”

He grinned up at Kacchan. “Six months to mentally prepare yourself for making coffee?”

“It’s an art form.”

“Sure.” He wondered if Kacchan would appreciate coffee art. He usually drank it black, but maybe Izuku could convince him to switch to cappuccino? After he’d learned how to do Latte art in the first place. That could be a fun new hobby. He wanted to try something new.

Eventually. For now, the entire office stint was new enough. He finished Kacchan’s new shirt before noon the next day, and only then realised he’d forgotten to bring the case with all his rulers, without which designing anything accurately would be impossible. After staring at the wall for a bit, he took out his phone and clicked the same link Kacchan had sent yesterday. “Guys?”

“Nerd?”

“…Can I talk?” he asked after a moment. He still wasn’t sure who was listening, but he thought he recognized the same numbers from yesterday.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I’m bored again. Forgot some supplies, and now I got nothing to do.”

“That’s too bad, but I’m on patrol right now. Can’t talk for long.”

“Urgh.” He flopped down on his back to stare at the ceiling.

“If you need something to do, you can do my paperwork for me,” Kacchan joked. “That’ll put you to sleep.”

“Urgh,” he commented again.

“That’s what I always say when I see the forms. Alright, gotta go, some drunken idiots are fighting here. Later!” Kacchan cut the call without further comment.

Izuku hauled himself up and looked at the desk. There were some files for the standard paperwork, patrol reports and such. Looking at the shelf behind the desk, he found dozens of black binders on all sorts of topics – insurances, arrests, patrol and gear were just some of the labels he read. Then his eye caught on one named ‘Missing people’. Curious, he pulled it out. This one was likely related to Peregrine. Maybe he could find something useful?

It was almost a shock when he flipped it open and saw his own face staring straight back. The photo was from his school ID, and the entire file dated to four and a half years ago. Given how soft the paper was at the edges, it was likely the original report. There was a brief description of his physical features at the time, his clothes, where he’d last been seen and where he lived. At the very bottom, there was a stamp in pale red reading ‘Unresolved’.

Slowly, he turned the page and found a newer report, using the same format and dated back two months. This one had a little symbol drawn in the upper right corner, a little circle with a line leading away from it. Going through more of the forms, he found quite a few with the same drawing. It took him a while to find a pattern, but then he realized the mark likely signified ‘Auriculates’. A few of the ‘Resolved’ cases had little checkmarks by the symbol, probably where the suspicions had been correct. Most of them were still missing, though. Only a few profiles in, he ran into the first ‘Deceased’. There was a circle and a line at the top, too, with a checkmark.

He sighed deeply and moved on. There was something he wanted to check. Aside from his own page, the rest was in chronological order, with the more recent ones on top, so he flipped the entire binder and started at the very bottom, dating to roughly eleven years ago.

He’d been ready to sit there for several hours, but it actually took him less than thirty minutes to find what he hadn’t really expected to actually see. With that new information, he started writing. A few hours later, the look on Kacchan’s face made the cramp in his hand worth it. “How?”

“Honestly, this was pure dumb luck. But you agree it’s her, right?”

“It would fit, yeah.” Kacchan took another look at the profile. The photo showed a young girl with red hair, sixteen years old when she went missing around eight years ago. ‘Jo Yorihime’, the file read. It was a bit difficult to tell, since she too had been wearing a sort-of mask at the Auction, but he hair and eye colour matched the woman who'd been with Haga.

Izuku had typed her name into the search engine and found a few entries, then he’d done the same with the police database Kacchan had installed on that PC. “Grew up in poverty with just her father, who was an alcoholic and has a record of drunken brawls and drug use. She was only reported missing when she failed to show up for school for a week and her homeroom teacher investigated. According to him, he’d been tempted to call CPS a few times, but she refused to say anything when he asked her about her home life. The father seemed oddly unperturbed by her disappearance, and the police suspected he might be involved somehow, but there was never any evidence. Interestingly, he moved just a few weeks after that. Into a much nicer neighbourhood.” He threw Kacchan a look.

“You think he sold her?”

“Potentially. He doesn’t fit our profiles of the Auriculates at all, but maybe there were some shady connections if he actually was involved in drug dealing.”

Kacchan leaned over and took a closer look at the screen. “Well, I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but for her that was almost an improvement.”

“Probably. And here, these are the people that were with me in the attic.” He pointed at another five profiles he’d put aside. Sayaka’s was next to them, but they had no idea where she even was. Then there was a third stack, seven pages. “And those…” he began, unable to finish the sentence.

Kacchan looked at them. They all had the Auriculates’ marking in the corner, although Izuku had to add one of those by himself. “What about them?”

He swallowed around the uncomfortable lump in his throat. “We can stop searching for them. Maybe let the families know, eventually.”

“…Right.” The mood turned sombre all of a sudden. Kacchan placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “How sure are you it’s them?”

“I only put the ones I knew a hundred percent. Seen a few die myself.” There was the poor man that got his throat slit in that dreadful basement, for example. According to the file, he’d been twenty-six. “But here.” He clicked to another tab on the browser, showing a young blonde woman in a red cocktail dress posing outside a bar with her two companions. “That’s her. I think she’s no longer associating with the Auriculates – she was pretty insistent the risk had gotten too high – but I had hoped we could, I don’t know, arrest her anyway? She’s dangerous.”

“Absolutely. I’ll pay her a visit myself.” Kacchan’s tone turned dark. The hand on his shoulder squeezed. “But hey, you figured this all out in a day? Really? That’s fucking insane.”

He ducked his head. “Well, I have the insider advantage,” he joked weakly. “And she talked non-stop, it was awful. I remembered what high school she went to, so all I had to do was look through the yearbooks.”

“Nah, this is impressive. Take some credit. C’mon, I guess we’ll go home early today. You can decide dinner.”

“Okay!” He put his own things in a little pile as well, for tomorrow, and followed Kacchan out of the office.

“Altough…” Kacchan said when they made it to the car, “you good with taking a detour?”

“That depends heavily on your next sentence.”

“It’s a surprise, but a useful one. Indirectly related to your eventual moving out in ten months at the earliest.”

The way Kacchan said it, Izuku doubted he had much of a choice. “Fine,” he sighed. “Show me.”

Kacchan drove them out of the city, along a road by a forest. Izuku was vaguely familiar with the area, so he wasn’t entirely surprised when they followed some colour-coded signs to the ginormous parking lot by the event halls. Now that it was completely empty, it seemed even bigger. A giant asphalt lake, divided into squares by lines faded from time, with rows of neatly spaced maple trees in little diamond-shaped plots of grass the only landmarks. Some trash floated around as the only evidence the event yesterday had happened. Kacchan stopped at a random spot in the middle and unbuckled his belt. “C’mon, out.”

Izuku obeyed hesitantly. Why where they here? There was nothing around for twenty kilometres in any direction! Unless Kacchan wanted to break into the event halls, but they were just empty warehouses when nothing was going on.

Kacchan walked around the car to Izuku’s side, and gently but firmly grabbed him by both arms to shove him away from the door. “Go sit on the other side.”

“Huh?”

“You’re driving.”

“I am not!?”

“Stop panicking.” Kacchan gave him a look that made quite clear how not up for discussion this was. “Get. In.”

“Okay.” Gingerly, he sat down in the driver’s seat, careful not to touch anything. There was… somehow a lot of space here. “What am I doing here?”

“You’re learning how to drive a car.” Kacchan said it like he was announcing the weather.

“I don’t know anything about driving a car!”

“Which is why we are learning. Are you listening to me?”

“But, but, but-” This was insane!

“Oi. Nerd.” He glanced over at Kacchan, who was all but lounging in the passenger seat. “You don’t have to. But a license is a fucking useful thing to have, especially with a job like yours where you need to regularly transport metric fucktonnes of shit. We’re not gonna do anything crazy here. Just thought it’d be good if you got a head start on that. Everyone stresses for their first time driving. If you can get over that, it’s easy.”

That… made a lot of sense. He was old enough to get a license and drive a car. And it would mean practically endless freedom, going wherever he wanted, when he wanted. On his own. All day, every day. Carefully, he put one hand on the wheel. “Okay.”

“Good.” Glancing over again, he found Kacchan slouching, arms crossed and grinning. “Now get your hands off that. We’re not there yet.”

“Right. Sorry.” He listened as Kacchan explained to him how to adjust the seat and mirrors, then went over the pedals, the handbrake, and the more important buttons on the wheel and the console. After that, Kacchan handed him the key to put into the ignition, with orders to only turn it a bit so a bunch of lights flared to life. Then he got a lecture on those, too.

Driving was a lot less exciting than he’d thought. And a lot more work. “How am I supposed to keep track of all of those?” he asked, head swimming with emergency signals and side mirrors and all the ways he had to look before going any direction. Not that he was even going.

“It’s more knowing when to pay attention to what,” Kacchan explained. “For example, today, we’ll basically just practise parking and tight turns. You’ll need the mirrors and to shift into reverse and shit.”

“Is that… allowed? Here?”

Kacchan tilted his head in a so-so motion. “Technically, that’s probably a ‘no’. But no one ever comes here outside events, and you can’t damage anything aside from this car, so it’s not like we’re causing anyone trouble. We wouldn’t be the first to practice here.”

“And who’s that?” He pointed through the windshield at the other car sneaking onto the premises. Some red, battered, older thing that might’ve had aspirations to be a Prius once.

“Oh, please fuck off,” Kacchan grumbled, apparently annoyed. “Oi, Nerd, turn the key a little more.”

He obeyed, and watched the headlights illuminate the asphalt in front of them. The sun was setting earlier each day, and it was getting dark by the borders of the forest surrounding them. As soon as the lights came on, the other car turned and scampered off like a startled squirrel. “What was that?” Had they interrupted a drug deal or something?

“People also like to use this as a spot for a quick fuck,” Kacchan explained off-handedly. “Now try putting this thing in reverse and back into the spot behind us. Don’t hit the tree.”

“Really.” He wiped his clammy hands on his pants before starting the engine as Kacchan had instructed earlier, double-checking he was actually reversing before gripping the steering wheel and slowly inching backwards. “Why, Kacchan, I had no idea. Whatever happened to dinner first?” Was that tree too close? He hit the brakes just in case, stopping the car with a jolt.

“Does this really strike you as the type of date you’d put effort into? And you can go at least a metre further. We’re halfway on the street, still.”

“Right.” Over the next two minutes, he made it into the designated parking space. Then Kacchan made him go ahead again, drive up and down the entire lot with a startling speed of 30 km/h, weave between the trees and park backwards again.

“You think that’s enough?” he asked after he reversed in a circle around a tree, trying to get his muscles to unlock. He felt like his soul was about to leave his body any moment.

“For today,” Kacchan conceded, likely seeing the same thing. “We can come back another time.”

“Come back? As in, I have to do this again?”

“You don’t have to. If you prefer being a slave to the public transport schedule, that’s perfectly fine.”

He clambered out of the car on shaky legs and walked around to his preferred, beloved passenger seat. “…I hate this. This is so stressful! How does anybody drive?”

“It’s not that bad once you get used to it,” Kacchan replied, easily sliding in on the driver’s side and swiftly undoing all the adjustments Izuku had made. “Fucking hell, how close to the wheel do you have to be? Why are you so tiny? Do you even have legs?”

“I do.” He lifted his feet to prove his point. “Tadaa! And there is nothing wrong with my height!”

Kacchan eyed him up and down. “I’ll quote that at you the next time you have to climb the counter to get stuff from the cabinets.”

“…Sometimes I dislike you.”

Kacchan just laughed at him.

Over the next week, they came back two more times to practice, and Kacchan was right. Getting used to it was the worst thing, and after he’d allowed himself to relax, it wasn’t all that hard. Granted, there were no other people he had to adjust for, but that was something he’d have to get over with a real instructor. Eventually. He needed to earn money first – licenses were expensive, he found out. Not even the insane stack of money Kacchan handed him would be enough. “Thanks for the shirt.”

He quickly counted the notes. “That’s… too much, Kacchan.”

Kacchan pointedly ignored it when he tried to give some back. “I calculated this with the same rate I pay the extras who usually make my gear, and they demand a bonus for anything done in less than forty-eight hours after ordering. So there.”

With a sigh, he gave up. Kacchan had been acting kind of weird the last week, this wasn’t even worth mentioning anymore. Kacchan was overly nice to him, but it didn’t seem in a pitying way. He made food said things that could be considered ‘affectionate’, but as soon as Izuku mentioned it, he went all defensive about it. It was sort of amusing, in a way.

They didn’t have any more deep talks, barely even mentioned the one they had, but Izuku found he felt better just because Kacchan knew. He knew, and he didn’t think less of him, and it was an immense weight off his shoulders. One day, Kirishima invited Kacchan over for drinks, to celebrate their successful arrest, and Izuku made it a whole night on his own. He even slept in his own room. Actually slept! For a few hours, and technically Kacchan was less than fifty metres away, so he wasn’t sure how it counted. Since he went back to Kacchan’s room the immediate night after.

For now, he enjoyed his new office life. The astonished look on Kacchan’s face had been quite the sight, and he wanted to see it again. So whenever he hit a wall in his designs, he distracted himself with the Auriculate case, trying to figure out where the people in need of help were located. “Four auctions per year, each one with a dozen items, times ten years, that’s four-hundred eighty people. Nightingale found twenty-two of them in the last year. Now, if we take the reselling into account, I’d wager we can comfortably knock that total down to four-hundred and still overestimate. Plus, there’s the ones that died, on The Playground and otherwise, and the items that were not in any condition to run to be entertaining for that event were sold off to people I strongly assume deal body parts on the black market. The Butcher and Madame Morte, they were called, although when we were at the Auction, I heard that the Madame was rumoured to have left the organization. Anyways, with all that, I think we are looking at something closer to three-hundred people in need of help.”

Kirishima, who had come in to put down some folders, nodded at that. “Cool. I’ll… report that back to the rest? Do you have that written-” he caught the notebook thrown his way “Of course you do. Thanks.”

Once he was done with that, he went back to drawing, again in a group call with his friends, who were patrolling their sectors. “I think I figured it out,” he told them as he looked up the tensile strengths of various cables online. “I think I’m doing general equipment unrelated to quirks. I’ve had this idea for a hookshot that can be strapped onto the wrists and used scale buildings and stuff. It’ll be useful for fast movement in three dimensions, and if I make a simple hook for belts or harnesses, where you can attach the cable, it could also be used for prolonged suspension. Like, stake-outs or surveying larger areas for coordination purposes. Since a lot of costumes already incorporate gloves and belts, I just need to figure out how to make it easily adaptable… That’ll be the greatest challenge.”

“That sounds great!” Kaminari seemed enthusiastic. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve lost a villain because their quirk allowed them vertical mobility. Just getting on a roof without hauling ass up five-thousand stairs would be amazing.”

“And I’m regularly send into structurally unsound areas. I’d be happy if there were stairs…” Kirishima added. “But I guess this could be a solution. Although I am surprised, I thought you’d be doing something for Bakubro here for sure.”

Izuku sighed. “I know, but I’ve done Kacchan so many times already, I don’t think there’s anything I haven’t covered yet.”

He could hear a cackle he thought was Mina before that particular mic was muted, amidst other snorts and giggles.

“What?” he asked.

“Phrasing, Nerd. Just… phrasing.” Kacchan’s voice seemed strained.

“Huh?” What had he said exactly…? “Oh. Right. I forgot I was talking to twelve-year-olds.” He rolled his eyes and continued scrolling through materials.

When Kacchan returned with Kirishima and saw the chart he’d composed sorting slaves to potential owners, he grinned madly and ruffles his hair beyond hope of saving. “Nice work! Wanna go home that desperately, Nerd? Let’s go, then.”

“No fair.” Kirishima sat down heavily at his own desk. “I want a PA, too. Will you do my paperwork, Izuku?”

“Oh, I mean… I guess I could, technically…”

“Nerd has driving lessons now. Try again tomorrow, Shitty Hair. Ha!”

Come that day, he was surprised to learn Kaminari actually worked in the same building, as a sidekick to Kamui Woods along with Cellophane. This lead to the one Incident where they narrowly avoided disaster.

Wednesday evening, as Kacchan and Kirishima finished up their patrol reports, Kaminari barged in unannounced, waving a tan manila folder. “Bakugou!”

Kacchan seemed unfazed. “The fuck?”

“Remember this guy with the speed quirk you ran into? The one who threw a knife at you?”

This got Kacchan to put his pen down. “Yeah. Why? I thought nothing came of the investigation?”

“Well, Sero ran into him again today, and this time he got him! He’s in a holding cell at the precinct down the road, but your boss is already putting in paperwork for a warrant so we can take a look at his house.” Kaminari opened the folder and slid it towards Kacchan. “I’ve got his personal data here for you, but if you could come down and confirm it’s the same guy tomorrow, that’d be great.”

“Sure.”

“Hey! Kaminari! You can’t just run off with our confidential data… Oh, hi.” There was a guy with black shoulder length hair and lanky limbs in the doorway. He nodded at Kacchan and Kirishima, then took a double take at Izuku and waved awkwardly.

Izuku waved back.

“Uh. Hello. I’m Cellophane,” the guy introduced himself, before taking one more sweeping look at the mess on the floor – actual costume designs, this time – and turning back to Kaminari. “Sooo… The folder?”

“Is needed here.”

Cellophane looked like he was about to protest, but settled for crossing his arms. “Is this related to that secret club of yours?”

“Shhh!” Three voices shushed him immediately.

“Sorry man, but we already said we can’t talk about it,” Kirishima said.

“Yeah, whatever. If it’s important, I never saw the folder wander up here.”

“It is. Thanks.” Kaminari blew an exaggerated kiss at him.

“So who’re you?” Cellophane asked Izuku directly.

Well, he knew this was a friend of Kacchan’s, from U.A. as well, and that he was not remotely close to being on any suspect list, but that didn’t mean he could just go announcing his identity. “Uhhh…”

“Meet the Guardian Angel,” Kacchan said, back to reading the report.

“Guardian Angel?”

“The guy who made my suit upgrade?”

“Ohhhh! Yeah, I remember. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Those are some cool designs.” Cellophane – Sero was his name, right? – took a closer look at the drawings, most of which were details on the belt and gloves he’d chosen as the main features for his final design.

The moment he stepped into the room, Kirishima got up and casually walked over to close the door, then locked it, turned and crossed his arms in front of him. “What do we do with him, folks?”

“Great question.” Kaminari stretched his arms up. “On the one hand, we’re not supposed to tell anyone. On the other hand, he’s seen him now, and if he says the wrong thing to the wrong people, we could be in big trouble, so informing him on what not to do would be smart.”

“Er… Guys?” Sero seemed nervous. “What are you doing?”

“Yes, Kacchan, what are we doing?” He’d seen similar scenes in movies. When someone was about to get mobbed.

The other Pro’s exchanged meaningful glances. “Alright, then,” Kacchan said after they apparently reached a conclusion. “Introduce yourself, Nerd.”

“Um.” He hastily stood and wiped the charcoal off his hands. Or tried. “Right. Hello. I’m Midoriya Izuku.”

“Okay…?” He could tell the name was familiar to Sero, but he could also tell the poor guy had no idea where to place him.

“I’m Kacchan’s friend?”

“Kacchan?”

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Kacchan interrupted their sad stammering. “Deku. That’s fucking Deku.”

“Oh!” This time, the recognition was immediate. “Why didn’t you start with that. Oh my god. Holy hell. Wait. How? I thought he was dead? Where, how, why? How long has this been a thing?”

“Well, I was born twenty-one years ago…” Izuku began, in the hopes of diverting the subject to something else since he wasn’t sure where to start with the rest.

“It’s all secret,” Kaminari implored. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Pretend this never happened. And we’re not going to tell you more, either. Once this thing is over, you’ll get the full story, promised, but right now you need to swear you’ll keep this absolutely secret!”

“Naturally,” Sero nodded immediately. “Although you should probably consider keeping this door locked. I know no one comes here normally, but…”

“We were about to leave.” Kacchan stood and braced himself on the desk with both hands. “And just so we are clear: If I suspect you let something slip, even if it were an accident, you’ll be found lifeless in a field and I will not bother to dig as much as a ditch for you.”

“Got it. Follow-up question: Is he the reason our Squad hasn’t hung out as a full group in months and will that change now that I’ve met him?”

Kacchan glared, then sighed deeply. He hung his head as he replied, “Yes, we can hang out again.”

“Wohoo!”

“He’s part of the Squad, now,” Kirishima added.

“I’ve been replaced?”

“Oh, no,” Izuku hurried to assure. “They’ve been talking about you a lot. Mainly how it’s sad you couldn’t be there.”

“Aw, aren’t you nice. I’ve heard about you, too. You’re either the most annoying person to ever grace the earth or the purest thing and an actual angel, Blasty was not entirely clear on that.”

Really now? He turned to get a look at Kacchan’s face – forced indifference. “Biblically accurate angel, if anything. He could kill you. More creatively than I would, too.”

“Kacchan! That’s not true.”

“What was the thing you said yesterday when we were watching the series? Something about taking their skin off with a potato peeler and using the strips as lametta to decorate the trees in the park?”

“That was against a fictional character! And they’d deserve it.”

“Right,” Kacchan said, “and what about the other day, when Gang Orca was on the news and I found you reading an article about electrofishing not five minutes later?”

“I was figuring out how to prevent electricity being used against water-based quirks.” He crossed his arms petulantly. “It was necessary research.”

Kacchan nodded and put his papers away. “If you’re not on a watchlist somewhere, somebody’s not doing their job. You ready?”

“Sure.” He quickly swept his drawings into a pile, ready to continue tomorrow. “And you are aware I am using your profiles for everything, since I am not allowed my own, so if anyone’s on a watchlist, it’ll be you.”

This thought seemingly hadn’t occurred to Kacchan before. “Fuck.” They all laughed as they made their way back down towards the garage. Yes, office life was fun.

The next day, when they were doing the dishes after dinner, Kacchan tossed an envelope onto the counter. “Hey, Nerd. I wanna ask you something.”

Izuku paused in drying a pot lid, glancing at him with suspicion creeping up. “What?”

“So, I got invited to one of these over-fancy parties – it’s the Yaoyorozu annual charity gala, don’t know if you know them – and I was wondering if you’d like to come along with me? It’s gonna be official and boring, that way I’ll at least have someone to talk to.”

Izuku’s lips pulled into a half smile as he put his attention back to his task. “Official and boring? You’re not making a great case here.”

“The first half is gonna be. The second one is gonna be hilarious in some way, because the alcohol there is free.”

He hummed. It could be nice. This was the sort of thing he’d always wanted to attend, the fancy clothes and the dancing and all. “Walk me through the logistics?”

“You’re gonna need another glamour, of course. And some formal wear. Tie event, I’m afraid. We’ll show up, there’s gonna be paparazzi outside, we go in for the award show, which is gonna take about two hours, and then it’s just a fancy party. Plenty of opportunities for networking, too, and to catch up with my old classmates. There’s going to be select press inside, but they’re only allowed for a small part of the evening.” Kacchan rattled off.

Izuku nodded. “Ah, you just don’t want to show up alone so the press can slander you,” he said wistfully.

Kacchan jabbed an elbow at him for it. “You got me; you’re just a ploy to save my reputation, because I’ll die on the fucking spot if they as much as insinuate I’m single. Can you imagine, the press printing the truth? Where would we be?”

“Perish the thought.”

“In all seriousness, I just thought you’d like it, what with all the Pro heroes there. And the support engineers.”

“Support engineers?”

“Yeah, they’ll be there, too. Some of the awards go to them.”

“You should’ve led with that. Of course I’ll go!”

Kacchan huffed a laugh and continued mock-offended. “What, so a date with the most wanted of our class-”

“That would be Shouto.”

“- is not good enough, but when we talk ‘lunatics who are married to their machines’, you’re suddenly convinced?”

Izuku shrugged and put his hands up. “What can I say, I have a type.”

“Insane and addicted to their work?”

“Something like that,” he mumbled before putting his towel down with force. “Anyway, what am I supposed to wear to this?”

Kacchan sighed heavily. “It appears we have no choice but to go shopping again. You free sometime the next two days?”

“I could make time. But why not go Saturday? You have this weekend off, don’t you?”

“The party is Saturday.”

“The party is what? Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?!”

“I was coerced into attending yesterday. The 3D-printer blackmailed me into coming in exchange for the house repairs.”

“There is not enough time!” How was he supposed to get ready in just a couple of days? Clothing aside, they’d need at least two glamours, and when was he supposed to do the mental preparations? He’d already planned Saturday as a couch-and-joggers evening!

Kacchan handed him the last plate. “So we’ll go shopping-”

“Yes, we will go shopping tomorrow! I can’t believe this!” Actually, he was excited for the opportunity. This time, he had money he’d actually earned!

On the day, Kacchan woke him even earlier than usual. “Nerd. Get up, and help me clean your mess.”

“Wha? What mess?” This was not the type of order he expected first thing in the morning. He tried to remember what he’d done, but there wasn’t anything flying around that wasn’t there normally.

“Everything. Yaomomo is coming by today, so it needs to look like you’ve never been here.”

That sounded like more work than he was willing to put up with this early. “Why?”

“She doesn’t know about you.” Kacchan seemed torn before he reluctantly continued. “On paper, she and parts of her extended family fit the profile for the Auriculates to a T, meaning we have to treat her as a suspect. Now, I know she has absolutely nothing to do with it, and I’m really not worried, but we’ll have to go along with the whole shebang to appease the bosses. Meaning it needs to look like you were never here, so she doesn’t get any weird ideas.”

“What weird ideas?”

Kacchan flicked his nose. “That I have a mysterious roommate, for example. She always pretends to be polite, but she’s almost as bad a gossip as Mina. She’s just smarter about it. If she finds out I’m living with someone, I won’t know peace until she gets every single detail.”

“I see.” He stretched his entire body and sat up slowly. “Guess I’ll have to spare you that.” Most of his chaos was, at this point in time, contained to Kacchan’s office in the agency. Still, he dutifully gathered the odd bits and shoved them into a box in his room, where they’d surely be forgotten.

Kacchan poked his head through the door. “Clean that up, too. Make it look like an actual guest room.”

“She’s not even going to come in here!”

“You never know. Here, I’ll help.” With everything tucked away, the room looked almost clinical. His clothes were in the other room since the one wardrobe fit both their clothes easily, the tools and screws were collected in the box Izuku had received them in, and the desk was barren save for the one little lamp atop it.

“I need to go and buy a poster. Or a landscape painting,” he observed.

“I support that decision. We can do that today.”

“Maybe.” Truth was, he had no intention of spending this little bit of money on something unnecessary like a painting. He wanted something useful. Just what exactly that would be, he had no idea. The possibilities were endless.

Chapter 19

Right after his shift ended, Katsuki made a small detour to the engineering workshops two streets over and successfully sweet-talked (bribed with a black notebook discussing the flaws of some of her designs and how to fix them) Hatsume into giving him some more glamours.

“What do you need these for?” she asked conversationally.

“Business.”

“Really? Shame. There’s bets going you got a lover somewhere,” she drawled, grinning mischievously. “Are you using these to hide your identity when you go on your dates, at first too afraid they’d only want you for your fame and money and now too afraid because you’re too deep in the lie?”

“…What on earth have you been reading to come to that conclusion?”

She studied his face closely. “So that’s a no? Drat. Here.” She slid two tiny bottles over the counter.

“Only two?” Those were both four-hour ones, too.

“What can I say? They don’t grow on trees. I’m already doing you a favour by pretending you presented me with a good reason you needed them, too.”

“I have a good reason.”

“Your secret boyfriend doesn’t count.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Aha.” She leaned forward and propped her chin in one hand. “But there is someone?”

“I’m just going to walk away now.”

“Byeee! Tell your cutie I said hi, and don’t be afraid to reveal your true identity! Love overcomes all!”

He walked a little faster towards the exit. Hatsume scared him. If she wanted to know something, she wouldn’t stop until she figured it out, with no regard to pretty much anything. Idly, he wondered how she would get along with Izuku. They’d either be best friends or worst enemies, and he couldn’t tell which was more likely.

On the way back to the office to collect Izuku, he called one of the fancier restaurants in town to reserve a table for two. Nothing too fancy, but one of these places that were a little bit cosier, with white tablecloths and a wine selection for their weekly specials. All part of The Plan.

Because he’d been thinking. That he now officially had a thing for the Nerd was a fact, and once he’d accepted it as such, the obvious next question was ‘What do about it?’. Because it was also an unfortunate fact that Shinsou was right with what he’d said – someone like Izuku would not be single for long, once he started putting himself out there. Everyone loved that freckled menace, and Izuku could love pretty much anyone and anything in return. It was easy for him.

It was not easy for Katsuki. He’d not even made a new friend in five years. So he’d be an idiot to give up without a fight. And in his own humble opinion, Katsuki knew he was a total catch. He had the fanbase to prove it. He had looks, he had a job, and Izuku already liked him so his personality would not be an issue. The only challenge was escaping the friendzone. For that, he first turned to the internet, his history now starring questions like ‘How do I get out of the friendzone’, ‘How do I get a boy to like me’, ‘How do I get a boy to like me romantically’, How do I get a boy to like me romantically if I’m also a guy’, ‘How do I plan a date’, ‘How do I plan a date with my roommate’, and ‘How do I imply going on a date without saying it’s a date’. Among others. The answers ranged from ‘completely useless’ to ‘not applicable in the circumstance’. As if he’d just confess.

For the next best thing, he’d gone to hang out with Kirishima, just the two of them, celebrating their progress on the case with copious amounts of drinks. “Can’t believe this hellcase is going to be over soon,” Kirishima said as they clinked their glasses together for a toast. The fourth one.

He hummed, the feeling of triumph suddenly muted. “I don’t know. I almost don’t want to succeed. I don’t want him to leave. ‘S like… I need to see him, so I know he’s okay.”

Kirishima tried to drown his laugh in his glass. “Sounds like you got it bad, bro. I mean, Izuku’s a cute guy, but still. I’ve never heard you wax poetic about someone.”

“Urgh, but what am I supposed to do, when he’s like… And the way his eyes are… And he is always so excited to see me, it’s the best thing ever… And his hair! And when he laughs!”

“This is actually amazing.”

“It’s very much not. He’s everything I’ve ever known, he’s good and cute and pure and fuck it I want him!” There were actual tears welling up in his eyes, the emotion was so strong. He wasn’t sure how to deal with it. “What am I going to do?”

“Uh… actual advice or…?”

“Please. I don’t know anymore. What if he just leaves the day I take off that chain? What if he’ll go and just… not come back?”

Kirishima regarded him with a peculiar expression. “You can’t really believe that. I don’t think there’s a world in which he would do that.” He brought a hesitant hand up to pat at Katsuki’s hair. “You’ve got it bad, huh? Sort of like he’s it for you.”

Katsuki nodded, weakly. “I wanna see him every day. I would marry him on the spot if I could.”

“You should ask him, maybe. On a date!” he added at Katsuki’s incredulous stare.

“Like you’re asking Mina on a date?” he quipped. Look at that hypocrisy.

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“She might say no! She’s got plenty of options! I don’t even know if she’s interested in an exclusive relationship.”

“Izuku has options too, he’s just trapped in my house, which red flag, hello. And don’t sell yourself short! You’re a great guy, Mina would be lucky to have you, which she knows, and yes she got game, but she only acts on that because your obliviousness to her flirting surpassed painful two years ago and she thinks you’re not interested.”

Kirishima squawked, and Katsuki belatedly remembered that he wasn’t supposed to share that. Oh well. “You didn’t hear that from me, by the way, but I expect another bottle of whatever this is when she accepts your invite for the date.”

“Okay.” Kirishima sounded faint. “And you are absolutely sure you are not making this up…?”

“For fucks sake, Shitty Hair, I am not lying. But enough of that, we were talking about my problems, if you remember.”

“Despite the risk of throwing your own words back at you, I’ll suggest you just go for it. Izuku’s really fond of you, you know.”

“Has he declared his undying love for me whilst I wasn’t there?” he snapped.

“Well, not in as many words, but-“

Katsuki raised his glass again. “There you have it. Too risky.”

“It’s not like you to be a coward.”

It wasn’t, was it? “First time for everything.” He drained the rest of his drink. “I don’t know how long I can keep this up,” he said in the following silence. “It’s like I’m trying to fight gravity.”

“Which you’re good at,” Kirishima retorted. It was true, Katsuki could launch himself onto any skyscraper he wished by now.

“I’ve almost kissed him a couple of times already. It’s completely out of my control, my brain just… stops, it’s awful. He sleeps in the same bed as me,” he whined, “and I can’t even kick him out without looking like an asshole.”

“You don’t want to kick him out, either.”

“Noooooooo. I can’t, he gets nightmares, and that’s the worst, because I get to hold him for the rest of the night, and it’s just so nice and completely fucked up. I am the scum of the earth. I hate it, I hate my life, I am an awful human being and you should just kill me right now.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the blow expectedly (unfortunately) never came. Instead, he could feel a hand squeeze his shoulder, a little awkward with how they were both sitting.

“So you like cuddling with him, big deal.”

“We’re not cuddling.”

“Whatever you say, man. I don’t see why it makes a difference, you guys are really touchy with each other all the time.”

“No we’re not.”

“Bro, you two are hardly further than half a metre apart whenever I’ve seen you together. It’s like watching magnets. I can keep a tally counter for next time, see just how often you put your hands in his hair. Is it as soft as it looks?”

“Don’t say it like that, it sounds weird. And yes.”

“See? And I really don’t think Izuku minds, quite the opposite. I’m telling you, go for it. You’d be good together.”

Katsuki threw an arm over his eyes, so he wouldn’t have to see that bleeding optimism anymore. After a while, he said quietly, “He has a scar because of me. Did you know that? I burned him, you can see the handprint on his shoulder.” Apparently, Kirishima had no answer for that, so he continued. “I was sure that that would be the thing that finally got me in trouble. But he never even said anything. He let me burn him and he kept his stupid mouth shut. Have you ever been burned?”

It was a genuine question, given the other’s quirk. “Uh, not that I can remember.”

“It hurts like a bitch. If I had to list my top five worst injuries, they’d all be burn-related. And he didn’t even do anything.” Katsuki took a shuddering inhale. “I didn’t mean to, you know? If only because I knew auntie and my hag would get on my case. I ‘just’ wanted to singe his clothes a bit. You heard what he said about how his life was awful, and I am partially responsible for that, too. I’m not good for him.”

And he fucking regretted it, okay? He’d never meant any of it, not really, not in the way he’d said it. But it’d taken a crying Hagakure, a raging Uraraka and a very sternly disappointed Aizawa for him to even grasp the concept of words hurting people, when in his own home, screaming matches and insults were a weird sign of affection. His middle school self knew about mental health as a weird TV trope, and boy had that reality check hit hard.

Around the same time, when Kirishima had doubted their friendship after being called an ‘extra’ one too many times, Katsuki had gone on a month long journey of self-reflection with the result that yes, he was an absolute asshole. That’d been the first and (almost) only time he’d ever sincerely apologized to people.

“So apologize,” Kirishima said as if he could read his mind. Maybe Katsuki had been talking out loud. He didn’t know anymore. “Explain.”

“…I did. I just don’t know what difference it makes.”

“Hey. You’re… you’re a good guy, y’know? It’s not immediately obvious, I mean, when we first met I thought you were definitely some hellspawn demon here to enact revenge or something, and sure, you like insulting people and act like you don’t give a shit about anyone-”

“I liked Shinsou’s speech on this better.”

“-but I we wouldn’t be friends with you if you weren’t a good person. Deep down. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be close with someone you’re head over heels with. You’re just afraid he’s going to notice, that’s the real issue. And that it’ll completely change your relationship forever if they do, and then there’s no telling if it’ll work out, and then maybe they want to stay friends but it turns so awkward that it’s impossible.”

“Will you stop talking about Mina? I already told you you’re good to go. Fucking hell.”

Kirishima fell sideways and buried his head in the couch. “Why are we such losers? We’re supposed to be cool and manly, so why are we sitting here drunk as fuck and as unwanted as the last slice of bread? I feel pathetic. I’m calling Mina.”

Somewhere in his muddled thoughts a tiny voice of reason waved a huge flag saying something about ‘drunk + phone + crush’. “NO!” He vaulted over the couch table to snatch Kirishima’s phone before he could do something stupid. “Not like this, Eijirou, I beg you. Not like this.”

“Hrmpf.” Kirishima didn’t bother to get up and fight for the phone, thankfully. Actually, he looked about to pass out.

“I think I should head back, too.”

Kirishima waved a hand and made grabby motions in his vague direction. “Bro, your man is over there. You’re right, oh wise one, not like this. Crash here.”

“Do I have to? Maybe I could actually do something with that. I’m fantastic at talking when I’m drunk.” He paused. “Although last time I nearly fucked some rando and then had an argument with Izuku that made him actually run away. Wasn’t thinking straight.”

“When are you ever think-”

“Not the time, Shitty Hair. Urgh. I want my own bed.” It wasn’t like Izuku was going to be up for a chat at four in the morning. Even if, Katsuki wouldn’t mind being this level of drunk. His drunk self was usually a lot more skilled with expressing his thoughts, maybe he’d be able to properly convey how insanely important the Nerd was to him.

And then Izuku would stop worrying about imposing and feeling like he was barely tolerated, and he’d confess his feelings, and they’d have awesome sex on as many pieces of furniture as they could manage, and he would wake up with a hangover and enough regrets to contemplate faking his death before moving to Brazil. “You know what, I’m taking the couch after all.”

The next morning, they’d both been woken by the insistent ringing of Katsuki’s phone. The contact read ‘Nerd’. “Yes?” Fucking hell, his voice was wrecked.

“Morning! I’ve made breakfast for all of us over at our place, if you want it. And we got painkillers, too,” he said after a short pause.

“Be right over then.” He slowly dragged himself into a sitting position. “Oi. Shitty Hair. Wake up.”

“Nrgh.”

“The Nerd made us breakfast.”

“Oh what a fantastic man.” Kirishima almost wept with gratitude. “If you don’t want him, I’ll take him in.”

He tried to swat at the other, but he missed as Kirishima got up just in time. “Don’t make me kill you.” Katsuki quietly wondered if Izuku would prefer a ring with a stone or a plain one.

Not that he could do anything for now. The timing was, after all, shit. To put it nicely. With everything else going on, dating would have to take a backseat for a while. And he flat-out refused to do anything whilst he was still wearing this damn bracelet. Technically, he had complete power over Izuku as long as they were chained like this, and even though he wasn’t using it, it still made for a great ethical problem.

At the moment, to say Izuku’s social circle was limited would be an understatement. And Katsuki didn’t want to be Izuku’s next ‘Benefits’, chosen simply because there was no other option. Not to mention the damage he’d inflict on his own self-esteem for passing as merely ‘good enough’. No, he wanted to know Izuku chose to date him completely out of his own free will. That included waiting until the Nerd had his life in some semblance of order, so Izuku wouldn’t feel obligated or some bullshit. Knowing the Nerd, even if this wouldn’t work out, Izuku would profusely apologise for not being able to reciprocate and feel guilty for weeks after. Katsuki really did have his work cut out for him.

For now, he would just be a bit nicer to the Nerd, maybe give him the odd compliment, spend some quality time together. If he’d feel really brave, he could drop a subtle hint or two. The goal was to get the possibility of dating each other planted in that nerd brain. And so, with his mind set on some semblance of a plan, he took Izuku into the city for a second time, where they would definitely have a good time.

“Urgh. Clothes shopping.” Izuku walked hunched, as if the mere idea made him want to lie down and die. “Why. Why me. Why did I agree to this?”

“C’mon, it’s not that bad.” He nudged Izuku with an elbow.

The other glanced up at him and sighed. “Fine. At least I have you to do the work for me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you’re, y’know…” Izuku made a vague gesture at his body, “You can do fashion.”

Was this a compliment or a complaint? He couldn’t decide. “Yeah. Not that I had much of a choice. But it does come with its perks. Here.” He led them into a small store with a minimalistic sign etched into the big windows, which had a few selected suits and dresses on display.

The owner was an old friend of the family. Literally. The man had to approach eighty by now. “Oi, Masukawa!” he called into the store, prompting the grandpa behind the register to look up from his accounting or whatever.

“Oho, if it isn’t the young Bakugou. Back again so soon? I felt like I haven’t seen you since you were about this big,” the old man said, holding a hand at knee height. “And now look at you, coming in two times a year.” He chuckled, an old, dry sound like creaking wood.

“Tch. Yeah. It seems I’m in demand among the high society this year. Bloody hassle, if you ask me.”

“Yes, it can get tiring. And who’s that young lad hiding behind you? Friend of yours?”

“Yeah,” he said as he stepped aside and pushed Izuku forwards. “And your victim for the day. We’re going to Yaoyorozu’s on Saturday.”

“Ah, so something to match yours, then? Very well. Anything in particular you’d like?” he asked Izuku.

“Um…”

“Don’t bother, he doesn’t know jack-shit about anything. Can’t even get a tie right. Just get whatever can be ready in time.” He pushed Izuku forwards again. “Maybe something generic, if any other tie event comes up,” he added as an afterthought. In truth, they needed to keep it simple so it would be universally fitting. With the glamour, Izuku looked like the textbook entry for ‘average’. Since Katsuki wasn’t wearing a linked one, he saw the effect in its full force. If they got separated in the crowd, he’d have to stand still and wait for Izuku to find him. He couldn’t even tell what the Nerd’s hair colour was right now.

“Very well,” the man said again, running an appraising eye over his newest victim customer. “I think I have something just for you. Follow me.” The two of them walked off towards the changing rooms, one determined, one intimidated. Katsuki shot Izuku a thumbs up and a gleeful grin before he resigned himself to waiting.

True to his word, Masukawa did seem to have something in mind and ready. Izuku was freed after thirty-five minutes, and they got orders to return in a couple of hours to allow for minor adjustments to be made.

They had some time before their reservation at the restaurant, so they just strolled down the street in the vague direction of the place, doing some window shopping. They were stopped a couple of times when people came up to ask for a photo or an autograph, but for once the masses took to speculative staring when they saw him walk with his arm around some random guy. He was doubly glad for the glamour, no doubt social media would be flooded with increasingly ridiculous theories by now.

“Fucking vultures,” he mumbled as he saw yet another camera flash in the crowd.

“Isn’t it forbidden to put these online?” Izuku asked quietly.

“The family protection act is only for actual family and relationships. And even then, try enforcing that shit on the internet. We can be glad the press behaves.”

“Well, they’re easier to sue.”

“True.”

“Oh! Kacchan!” They stopped dead in the middle of the street.

“What?”

The Nerd looked between him and one of the stores on the other side – he couldn’t quite say which. “Could you… wait here? Exactly here? And maybe look the other direction?”

“Why?”

Izuku worried his lower lip between his teeth, again calculating something related to the shops. “Just do it? I’ll be back. But don’t move!”

The Nerd wanted to go off on his own? Katsuki couldn’t believe it. On the one hand, he was sort of proud of him, on the other, this whole scenario was highly suspicious. What had Izuku planned that he didn’t want him to see? “Alright. I’ll be glued to this spot,” he finally relented. They both got their phones with them. There was no danger.

“Okay. Cool.” Izuku took a deep breath as if he was internally hyping himself up and then set off.

Katsuki did as asked and turned the other direction, looking out at the people passing by him as he dug his feet in firmer. Some shot him annoyed looks for standing in the middle of the street. He glared back.

After waiting for about seventeen minutes, he picked up the sound of familiar footsteps approaching him. A hand touched his arm as Izuku walked around him, bright smile on his face. He held something hidden behind his back. “Sorry, that took longer than I thought. There was an old lady in front of me at the register… Anyway. Tadaa!” With a flourish, Izuku presented him a blue rectangle.

Taking it on reflex, he saw it was something wrapped in blue gift paper. And it was rather heavy. From the way his thumb pushed lightly into the paper on one side, he could tell it was a book. “What’s this for?”

Izuku shuffled his feet. “Well, I thought you might like this, so…” he broke off. “Um. I wanted to get this for you?”

A warm feeling slowly grew like a tiny lightball inside his chest. “Oh. Thanks. That’s… really nice of you.” This was literally the last thing he’d expected. He didn’t even know how to express his genuine gratitude.

At his words, Izuku bounced excitedly. “You wanna open it?”

He did, but they were still in the middle of the street. “Let’s get out of the way, first. C’mon, Nerd.”

They continued with their arms linked again, just strolling down the street. “Where else?”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t have plans, after this.”

“Wait, you said you wanted to go shopping!”

“Yeah, and you got it already. I’m done.”

“You really dragged me all the way out here just to buy me a book of some sort?” Katsuki couldn’t believe it. That sneaky…! There were no words.

The other shrugged, jostling their arms. “I didn’t have a plan or anything. But I thought this might come in handy, and I’m saving the rest of the money for important stuff.”

“You’re really something else.” He turned the present over and carefully started to pry the paper away. Their walk slowed until they came to a halt by a tall modern sculpture of twisted metal. He could see Izuku watching for his reaction with rapt attention.

When he finally balled the paper up in one hand, he could see his guess had been correct: It was a book, a heavy one. The spine was as thick as three of his fingers. The cover had the same midnight blue colour as the paper, just that it depicted stars and some planets in addition. The Guide for Stargazing and other Things in the Cosmos, it read. Quickly thumbing through, he could see many chapters and pictures of constellations, calendars, meteor showers, lunar eclipses and other recurring events.

He couldn’t help the small smile that he just knew made him look completely stupid. “Thanks, Nerd,” he said quietly, bumping their shoulders together. “This is amazing.” He was already looking forward their next late-night hiking expedition and looking up the constellations together like they’d done when they were small children on his parents’ roof. With the calendars, he could maybe time it with a meteor shower or something. Those would certainly look amazing out by the lake. With a last glance over the cover, he put the book in the bag with the rest of their stuff. “But hey, we have some time left. Where else?”

“Hmmmm.” Izuku glanced around. “Don’t know. Maybe we could just take a little walk, see what we can find?”

“Are you sure? If you want something, say it now.” He wanted the Nerd to have a good time, too. “I don’t know when we’ll get to come here again.” The pleasantly warm thing was still curled behind his sternum like a contently purring cat, making him feel oddly light and content.

Izuku shook his head. “Thank you, but I’m good.” The arms around his squeezed in affirmation. “I have all I want right here already!” Izuku looked up at him and like a switch, his mood flipped.

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Those eyes. That smile. The absolute sincerity. Katsuki knew it. That just now? Killing blow. He was ruined. Beyond saving. Izuku was actually going to kill him. Make his heart just… stop. No, Katsuki would rip it out himself and offer it to Izuku on his bloody palms.

He couldn’t deal with this anymore. He couldn’t do this anymore. How was he supposed to keep his distance when Izuku came smashing through every feeble wall he built, again and again, almost – it was like -

Katsuki tried to keep his composure. “Nothing you want?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice even. The people around them disappeared into static noise and as all his efforts went into analysing… this.

“Nope,” Izuku replied, eyes darting to the floor before peeking back up at Katsuki from underneath their lashes, “I’m having fun as is.”

“You’re lying.” He could see it, with the way Izuku hesitated, shoulders slightly hunched, meeting Katsuki’s eyes for moments only before hastily glancing away. “You want something. Tell me.”

It would be something ridiculous, or something difficult to get, and he knew Izuku was trying to be considerate, but damn, Katsuki would make it happen.

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

“Come on. Just tell me. Please?”

“It’s stupid. It’s really, really stupid.”

“I figured that already. Come on, I won’t laugh, I promise.”

He could see Izuku warring with himself, cheeks growing a soft pink. “Not here, Kacchan – it’s dumb, you’ll laugh, it wouldn’t work anyway… And look at the time!”

Katsuki looked up, and right, they were in the middle of a street. And their time was running out. “Shit, we do need to get going.” They had a twenty minute walk to the restaurant ahead of them, and he wanted some buffer in case Izuku decided to speak his mind.

“Yeah.” Izuku pried himself away and started leading the way without waiting for him.

With a sigh, he followed, wondering what the fuck this was all about. Maybe Izuku wanted to go out again, but he felt bad for the money it would cost? As if Katsuki cared. But try convincing the Nerd of that, he thought with a fond shake of his head.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Katsuki bumped their shoulders again. “Tell me.”

For a moment, it seemed the heavy sigh would be his only answer. “I… wanted to take a picture. Of us. Here. For the memories.”

“And that’s what you were worrying about? People ask me for selfies all the time, fucking hell.”

“And you usually say no,” Izuku helpfully pointed out.

“I’ll make an exception just for you.”

“But the glamour. It wouldn’t really work, would it?”

Katsuki admitted that was a problem. “If we can find a quiet place, we can take it off for a second.”

Izuku shook his head. “That’s unnecessarily risky. And it’s not like I need a picture, so let’s just forget it.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” He paused in his step, checking his mental map of the surroundings for anything useful. He hadn’t patrolled this sector since his internship with Endeavor, but the hiding spots all stayed the same. “This way,” he decided, pulling Izuku along.

There was a small park, hardly fifty metres across, with a little pond and artfully arranged shrubs and flowers. The half dozen benches were all occupied, and there was an unnecessary amount of people taking pictures in front of the roses or the water, probably for their social media no one cared about.

He determinately made his way around the pond towards a huge weeping willow standing guard over the shore. “In here,” he urged, carefully picking his way through.

He hoped the spot would be deserted, Izuku would get angry at him if he had to scare some stupid teenage brats off. But he knew for a fact that no one would be able to see there from the outside, so they could – fucking hell, they were just trying to take a picture together, it shouldn’t be this complicated! “I hate this,” he hissed at a particularly clingy branch.

“Sorry,” Izuku’s sullen voice came from his left.

“I’m talking to the plant,” he shot over his shoulder. “Fucking – I can’t wait till this whole thing is over. HQ needs to get a move on.” He had to stop his batting to pry another branch from a button of his shirt. “When we can fucking go places without sneaking.”

“Like where?” Izuku gracefully stepped ahead of him, clearing the branches to the sheltered space by the trunk.

“Dunno. Everywhere, I guess.” Truth be told, he could hardly wait. There had been so many instances over the last week where he’d caught himself thinking ‘Izuku would like this’. Or the times when he’d had something interesting or funny to say, but his other friends wouldn’t have gotten the joke. What a waste of comedy.

The little space was empty save for them. The light was a bit dim, tinged green where it filtered through. The gnarly trunk of the willow was carved with dozens of names and initials inside crookedly drawn hearts. Poor plant.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Izuku hesitated with his hands on his bottle necklace. “Can you put them back on?”

“Yeah, yeah, otherwise I wouldn’t do this.”

“Cool.” Izuku took his off, and Katsuki watched as his face returned into focus. It was like his video player suddenly went to 1060p after being in 480p for hours. He’d gotten used to it, but damn was this an improvement.

“Okay, so how do we…?” Izuku asked, phone in one hand with the camera already open.

Katsuki contemplated. He was used to posing for pictures with fans and such, but that felt too impersonal right now. This was for them. Unfortunately, he had a habit of bolting whenever his friends as much as touched a camera. He never liked the way he looked in photographs.

After deliberating for a brief moment he decided to fuck it and pulled Izuku in with an arm around the waist. He had to lean down a little to make up for their height difference. Izuku gave a startled laugh, which made him grin in turn, and before he knew it Izuku presented him with the result.

The lighting was really nice, and it looked… not bad. Izuku’s smile was bright and his own didn’t look forced at least. With the way their cheeks almost touched, they could almost pass as a couple – Katsuki straightened up, putting some distance between their faces. “That okay?”

“Hmm, it’s really nice,” Izuku hummed, experimentally putting on different light filters. “What do you think?”

“It’s certainly different. Don’t show it to the rest of my fans, they’d lynch you for it. Or demand something similar.” He shuddered at the thought.

“Ah, so it’s worth something,” Izuku teased.

“Tch. Of course. Every picture of me is worth money.”

“This one more than others,” Izuku continued.

He grinned down at him. “Could be more. Wanna know what’d make you a pretty penny with the press?” He took his own phone out. Couldn’t hurt to take a second one. Just in case.

“What?”

He knew it was a bad idea. But he was tired. Surely, it couldn’t do any harm to give in for one second, be a little selfish for one second, if no one was going to be hurt? It was harmless, and he knew he’d be allowed in any case, so why not?

Wordlessly, he angled the camera in roughly the right direction and leaned forward again. The skin under his lips was soft and warm. Izuku made a slightly startled sound, but it pealed out into laughter and he didn’t move away. Katsuki allowed himself to linger for only a second, inhaling that sweet, intoxicating smell he loved so much as he straightened again. The whole thing was so easy.

“There, that’d get you money…” He looked at his phone.

Shit.

It’d been meant to be a friend-thing. Izuku had one eye closed, laughing, and his attention was focused on him instead of the camera. That was okay.

Then Katsuki saw himself, he way he leaned down with his eyes half closed and not a hint of a smile in sight, only some unnamed determination as he kissed the Nerd’s cheek, and that was definitely not a friend-thing. Yeah. That’d give them money if they sold it to the gossip rags.

“That’s a nice one, send me that,” Izuku said, leaning in to take a look himself.

His heard pounded. Did the Nerd not see this? How the fuck had he not noticed this? Did Katsuki always look like this around him? Was he really that pathetic? There was no way, fucking shit, but Izuku didn’t comment on it, so it had to be fine…

…or he had noticed. And not said anything. Probably electing to ignore it until it went away, shit, no no no, there had been talk about moving out and all that, and the Nerd had tried to sleep in his own room, oh god, this was a nightmare-

“What would I get for that, do you think?” Izuku asked.

It took him a moment to remember the conversation they were having. “Death,” he shot back, carefully schooling his expression towards ‘teasing scowl’ and hoping it hadn’t slipped too far. “And they’d probably scam you for it, too. Don’t take anything under one k. I demand a fifty-fifty split.”

“There’s a scam business somewhere in there,” Izuku mused. “I could be their secret Ground Zero photographer. We’d get rich.”

“Alright, Peter Parker. Just remember, I know where you live, so you better don’t give them anything unflattering.”

“As if that’s possible.”

Izuku hadn’t noticed.

Izuku didn’t know.

How that was possible was beyond him for the moment, but he’d gladly take it. Maybe he’d blown this outside of proportion in his own head.

“Maybe we could stage our illicit love affair like a running series. By the time we get divorced, we’d be swimming in money,” Izuku continued, now setting their first picture as his background.

“Or maybe we could leave before someone else comes here.” Out, he needed to get out. This was too dangerous. The Nerd was too close, this spot was disgustingly romantic, and if Izuku proposed anything close to staging another photo he’d take him up on the offer and push him up against that stupid tree, and nope, why did he have to think about that.

In his eagerness to get away, he grabbed Izuku the moment the glamour was back in place and dragged him out so fast they nearly ended up in the pond when Izuku stumbled at the unexpected movement. “Kacchan! Slow down!”

“We have a table reserved, Nerd,” he shot back, hoping that’d keep any discussion from happening.

“We have?”

“Do you listen to me when I talk?” he asked, exasperated. In the end, they arrived there perfectly in time and were shown to a table in a corner, just like he’d requested.

“This place is fancier than I thought,” Izuku said, looking around. The tables were mostly for two, with lit candles and little flower arrangements. The interior was kept in black, white and dark wood, spruced up with potted plants and maps of different countries hung up in frames.

“Shitty Hair recommended it, so I thought I’d check it out. Looks a bit too try-hard if you ask me, but I’ll forgive it as long as the food’s good.”

The food was surprisingly good. The Nerd even ordered for himself this time, and it was just a nice early dinner much like the ones they had at home. “Do you think Creati is done already?” Izuku asked. “She said she’d call, right? I just feel like it’s been a while, since she only had to fix the glass. I’ve seen her produce more complicated things on the fly during the sports festival. Ah, I’d so love to get a look at her quirk.”

“It’s mainly chemistry,” he said as he absentmindedly checked the phone. There was indeed no message yet, but he could hardly fault her for it. If she were just fixing the damage she would’ve been done in ten minutes, but the other favour would likely take a toll on her. He’d told her to take her time. Wouldn’t do anyone any good if she fainted from overexertion.

“Precisely,” Izuku said, pointing a fork at him to undermine his point. “The levels of thinking that requires on the spot! I wonder if it eventually just becomes something like muscle memory for her.”

“Maybe ask her during the gala. She’ll be there.”

Izuku’s eyes lit up and immediately dimmed again as he tossed the idea. “I wouldn’t want to needle her at her own event. It’d probably be annoying. And she’ll be busy, as the host, won’t she?”

“Technically her parents are the hosts. And trust me, she’d absolutely talk your ear off if you showed any interest. Not a lot of people can keep up with her explanations once she gets technical.”

“Hence her fame in the support courses?”

“It was mutually beneficial.”

Izuku sighed. “I would’ve loved to see it.” He fiddled with the copper spring he’d taken to wearing on his left hand, turning it over and over again.

“Say, what’s with that thing?” Katsuki finally thought to ask.

“Huh? This? Oh, nothing, really. I put it on when I was distracted in the group call and it’s kind of fun to play with?” He twisted it again for demonstration, and there was something mesmerizing about the glint as the metal went around and around, like one of these spiral wind catchers. “You got a new thing, too.” Izuku motioned to the leather bracelet.

“Yeah, that was kind of a necessity,” he replied, shaking his right wrist. “Can’t have anything happen to this stupid bracelet. Honestly, it’s a miracle we haven’t heard of any accidents in that regard.”

Izuku nodded. “True. If I understood right, they won’t break unless the owner takes it off,” – that was a relief to hear – “but if they get caught on something, it’s still a potential for injury. Like, what if it got caught in an industrial shredder, or something? The wearer would lose a hand!” He turned a speculative gaze on Katsuki’s wrist. “What would happen if you lost that hand?”

“Great question. I don’t think I’m curious enough to find out. And on the other thing… I really don’t think the Auriculates are the type of people to handle industrial shredders.”

“Fair enough,” Izuku conceded, followed by an almost inaudible mutter of “but hypothetically…”

They finished dinner with some tiramisu and set out to collect Izuku’s suit. Again, Masukawa herded Izuku to the changing rooms. This time, Katsuki was privy to the final result as Izuku shuffled out into the main room.

“Are you sure it’s not too much?” the Nerd asked, patting down his jacket as if he were smoothing out invisible creases as he came to stand in front of the wall-length mirror.

The jacket and pants were a light grey, just like his own at home, paired with a dark blue dress shirt for now. He cursed the glamour for obscuring Izuku’s features. He could see the sharp lines highlighting Izuku’s shoulders and waist, and the pants were… something else alright, but he couldn’t get the full picture. If he focused very hard, he could see the green eyes, and he made a mental note to try a green dress shirt just to see if it would highlight them like he expected.

Still, he came to stand behind Izuku, grinning at their reflections. “Wow. Now there’s something to look at.” He waved one hand at the mirror.

Izuku grinned shyly. “Right. Can’t argue with that, I suppose. That’s a total ten. And hey, I’m there, too!”

When he’d deciphered the meaning of that, all he could do was drag a hand over his face. “You could’ve let me have that one, you know?” He’d been proud of that one. The Nerd wasn’t supposed to turn this around on him.

“And keep this spectacular comeback from the world? I hardly think so.” It seemed to have worked, at least, Izuku twisted this way and that, seemingly more comfortable now.

“I can’t even be mad, that was smooth as fuck. Who on earth taught you that? Is there someone you’d like to introduce to me?” he teased.

Izuku’s grin took a bit of a wild edge. “Most of it comes naturally. And I know many things – there’s an entire skillset you have no idea about.”

“I’m sure there is.” What were they talking about again? Was this innuendo? Were they flirting? Was his plan successful already? Nooo, surely not. Maybe he should tone it down, though. Too risky. He wouldn’t want to get ahead of himself.

He paid for the suit and the adjustments whilst Izuku changed back into his normal clothes, and then he quickly called the 3D-printer. “How’s it going?” he asked.

“Two more to go, I’m almost finished. Sorry for the delay, but I’ve had to take so many phone calls for gala preparations today, it’s exhausting.”

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. ‘S fantastic you could make it work on such short notice. The other workers still there?” He’d used the opportunity to schedule someone for the repairs on the roof and the façade.

“I think they’re packing up. When will you be back? Maybe we can meet up for a coffee, it’s been ages.”

“Eh, I’m kinda busy,” he evaded. “I’m in the city right now, preparing to adhere to your dresscode. Don’t wait up. We’ll see each other Saturday, anyways.”

She sighed, clearly displeased. “Fine. But you’ll come and say hello. I insist.”

“Sure. Thanks for helping me out.”

“What are friends for?” she asked. Katsuki wouldn’t necessarily call her a friend. She was a good acquaintance. Were they friends? Eh, whatever.

“Blackmailing each other into attending awful events?” he asked.

“You know it. See you then!”

“Yeah, bye, I gotta go.” Izuku had re-emerged. “C’mon, Nerd, we’re out of here. Thanks, Masukawa.”

“Come by again sometime!” the old man called.

They slowly meandered back towards their car. The glamour was about to run out. “Work at the house is almost done, but maybe we should kill one more hour just to be safe.”

Izuku nodded. “Where to?”

He thought about it. They really couldn’t go anywhere public. “Wanna learn parallel parking?” he asked.

Izuku sighed deeply. “Fine. Let’s go.”

However, when they arrived at the parking lot, Katsuki immediately zeroed in on the two other cars parked there. One of them was swaying side-to-side a bit. “Well.”

“I mean…”

“Maybe not today.”

Izuku nodded at that, and Katsuki turned them around, trying to come up with an alternative. “Maybe we can go for a short walk in the woods somewhere. There’s nice routes around.”

“Sure. Oh, wait! Isn’t this kinda close to our spot?” Izuku asked.

They were, in a way. “I mean, it’d be on the way, but…” ‘I hate that place.’

“Can we go?”

“…Sure.”

They followed a road with trees on one side and fields on the other, until he parked at the side of a small dirt road leading into a forest. “It’s maybe a fifteen minute walk from here.” They were both familiar with the approximate area, although this side of the woods was barely used by anybody but the most determined hikers.

The late summer sun rose further above the canopy, dappling the forest floor in golds and greens. The air was heavy with moisture, but the heatwave seemed to give it one last shot. Izuku took it all in as best he could, occasionally slowing down to look at something or even nothing in particular. He looked at home here, like a fey creature native to these hidden parts of the wild, with his green hair and sparkling eyes.

Katsuki glanced at him every few seconds as they walked, trying and failing to gage what the other was thinking. He never knew these days.

He watched as Izuku hopped over a small stream that flowed through the forest, intently watching the water in search of small creatures. The sight of him so carefree made something gnaw at his insides, eating him up alive until he thought he was about to drop with the intense longing inside him. All of a sudden, he felt so very hollow, so very lonely, as if that bubbling brook separating them was the deepest chasm.

And then Izuku looked back at him, eyes crinkled with joy, holding up a shiny rock he’d fished out of the stream, and the feeling made way for something new he couldn’t describe, especially when Izuku handed the rock over. “For you!” It was silly and kind of pointless, but he pocketed the rock with a soft “Thanks” and quietly wondered if he should put it with the other one or display this one in the living room instead.

The stream eventually left the woods and turned to run parallel to the trees in a man-made channel. Grassy banks to the left and right rose steeply on both sides of the water, which was shallow this time of year. Dragonflies and other bugs whizzed through the high grass. Further ahead, a sand path lead to a distant playground, but the log that once served as a bridge to the other side had long rotted away. Katsuki sat down at the top of the bank. He patted the space next to him, and Izuku followed. They looked out at the scenery in peaceful silence.

“I haven’t been here in forever. Sure brings up memories,” Izuku said eventually, smiling fondly at the unseen images.

They sat in more silence, listening to the wind. He ripped out a stalk of grass and tossed it into the breeze. “I hate this place.”

“Really? Why?”

“…I came here on the twenty-first of February for the past three years.”

He could feel the weight of Izuku’s attention on him when no further explanation came. “What’s on the twenty-first of February?”

Katsuki ripped out some more grass, tossing it down the slope only to have the wind snatch it away. “You were gone.”

“Oh.”

“There wasn’t a grave or something. So I came here.” A dragonfly landed on a reed. “I hate the way the water sounds.” Around February, that sound alone was enough to make his throat go tight. “I’m going to say this only once and then we’ll never bring it up again, okay? The first year, I didn’t even know why I cared. But I did. I do.” He took a shuddering inhale and soldiered on. “You were gone, and no one told me. I found out over the news! Do you know how fucked up that was? No one thought it necessary to tell me, probably because they thought I wouldn’t care. No one asked me anything, because they probably though I wouldn’t know anything useful. And I didn’t! I had no idea. Why did I not know anything that could’ve helped? Why did I have no idea where to even start looking?”

A hand grabbed his where it was twisted in the grass with a white-knuckled grip. He didn’t look at Izuku, didn’t dare.

“You’re supposed to be around. And I know we weren’t on good terms, but I still missed you. No one knew if you were even alive. Sometimes I actually hoped you weren’t. At least that way, you wouldn’t be suffering… And other days I really, really wanted you to be alive, because then we could find you. Y’know, I tried to get into Nightingale for well over a year. But they wouldn’t let me. Saying my skillset didn’t fit their needs.”

“What does that even mean?” Izuku asked. He spoke quietly, apparently afraid to break something if he raised his voice.

“It means I’m a deterrent. My job is to have a reputation that proceeds me, so your run-off-the-mill criminals won’t even try anything around the areas I’m assigned because they’ll have to face me. Sometimes a villain thinks they’re hot shit and try me. Most of them actually have some skill, too. Then it’s a fight. And as you’ve witnessed, I can’t even win them reliably.”

He closed his eyes and stopped thinking, ripping himself wide open. “I’m not good at actually protecting people. Now Kirishima, he’s far better at that than me. He’s the one that goes into the crumbling buildings and gets the people out, where the only thing I could do was stand there and watch. How am I ever going to get to number one like that? When that alarm was the only thing telling me I’d maybe seen you for the last time again, I didn’t even know where to start. I felt like a complete failure.”

Merely imaging the scenario was awful enough. He remembered it well enough, that hollow melancholy and the gnawing guilt. It was a not-so-distant memory. He’d sat here with that dull ache, recalling memories that became more and more distorted with every passing month. Sometimes he wasn’t sure they were even real. He’d forgotten what Izuku looked like, all those important details like how his hair fell or how he moved. Even the memories of his voice had faded, washed away by time.

Now, that quiet bank would echo with the memories of Izuku working, sat on the floor, of him making food, their talks and dinners, the way he curled up to sleep and that blinding smile directed at him more and more often. Losing all that, forgetting all that, it felt like the worst hell imaginable. Especially because this time, it’d definitely be his fault.

“Well, you’ll always be number one to me,” Izuku said after overcoming his shocked silence. “And think of it this way: If the villains are too afraid of you to even try anything, that’s like saving all those people who would potentially suffer by doing nothing but existing. I think that’s pretty impressive.”

He couldn’t help the reluctant smile at hearing that. “I think your opinion may be biased, but okay.”

“Oh, it totally is. If the Auriculates had come to mess with me, my biggest concerns would’ve been with them. Like, do they know who all they’ll be inconveniencing? Personally, I would not want to risk the entire Peregrine staff knocking on my door.”

Imagining that scenario had him grinning. “Damn right. If they have that much of a deathwish, there’s easier ways. We’re going against them anyways, but if they messed with you, that’d make it real personal. They would’ve regretted being born, not to mention every single choice since then.”

“Aww, you care about me,” Izuku cooed. It was high and strung tight, but Katsuki appreciated the effort. “You liiiiiike me!”

He swatted in Izuku’s general direction, only finding sand and grass. “I would’ve burned down this entire city until I found you.”

There was a long, long silence. “…Oh.”

“Oi, you fucking know that!”

“I mean…”

“The hell? Fucking – urgh. What did you think?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I couldn’t be sure, sometimes, and I didn’t want to presume, that’d be rude and all, and besides, you have a bunch of other amazing friends, not that I mind, it’s not really a competition is it, not to mention the mission, that’s important too, and-” He laughed and pushed a hand through his hair. “You know, you’re the most amazing person I know, I just feel like I no matter what I try, I can’t keep up. Sometimes it’s hard to believe anyone would bother, for me.”

“Izuku.” He reached over, forcing the other to look his way with a hand on his chin. “You know I don’t mean half the stuff I say. ‘S just the way I talk. But listen here: You’re officially my favourite person. You can go brag with that. And I mean it.” With that, he let himself fall back into the grass, closing his eyes against the pending judgement.

He listened intently for any reaction, every muscle frozen in place. The sunlight played on his eyelids, making red and gold spots dance with the shadows of the leaves above them.

“Gay.”

Katsuki snorted an involuntary laugh at that. “Really?”

Izuku laughed, a bit hesitant. “What? I have to restore the balance somehow. I couldn’t use this to brag if I wanted, because no one is going to believe me.”

“And thus my reputation is saved.” Although it was a bit sad. He really didn’t say nice things to Izuku that often, did he? He’d have to do that more, in the future.

A perceived eternity passed, until eventually a shadow loomed over him and something tickled his face. He just knew Izuku had sprinkled grass over him. “Asshole,” he accused weakly. With his far hand, he carefully twisted some grass free and threw it back in Izuku’s direction.

“Ah! No! What happened to being your favourite person? Unfair!” Izuku yelped, brushing it off his clothes and throwing it back.

“You started this!” he shot back, and then it was on. Not that it was a particularly fair fight. He went to shove Izuku over and… failed on the first try. The Nerd grabbed onto his arms to immobilize them, and he actually had to put in some work to push back. His attempt to shove grass into Izuku’s hair was met with even more valiant resistance.

Thinking back on how Izuku had struggled to move the vacuum just a few months ago, he felt a warm sense of approval at this development. He even sat back to try and get a better look at the Nerd, trying to compare the picture in his memory with the moment.

Izuku used that opportunity to wiggle free. “Ha! You yield?”

“No, it’s just that attacking helpless people is kind of boring.”

“What if I put sand in there?” Izuku grinned as he scooted closer and worked a hand under his collar.

“Don’t you dare!” He pushed himself up on his knees to pin Izuku’s wrist before he could follow through on the threat, glaring down at him as they both toppled over. Those eyes were green crescents, shiny with life and joy. He looked so beautiful.

Failing to resist the pull beckoning him like a siren’s cry, Katsuki brought one hand to Izuku’s cheek, smoothing his thumb repeatedly over that sideways ‘Y’ constellation of freckles that he’d dubbed ‘his’ in his head when he was four. Lying here in the golden afternoon sun, hidden in the tall summer grass, he felt like nothing else mattered. Like they were the only people in the world, and in this place of theirs, they couldn’t be hurt.

“Kacchan?” Izuku’s eyes turned searching, confused at this new thing that danced so close to crossing a line.

Katsuki knew he wanted to, but he was also too afraid. It was a weird epiphany, one that had been stalking around the edges of his mind for ages, really, walked in all comfortable and sat down to stay.

Izuku looked a little unsure, but his eyes were warm and sparkling and oh so trusting.

He leaned down, resting his forehead against Izuku’s. “What if you just stayed forever?” he asked. Their noses brushed, and he closed his eyes and inhaled, the sweet scent of apple now overriding the sweet scent of warm grass.

“I’d like that.” Izuku’s arms wrapped around him again. “Together forever. Kacchan.” One of Izuku’s hands curled around his neck, brushing the fine hairs there in a way that sent pleasant shivers down his spine. “Katsuki.”

Hearing Izuku say his name made something lurch in his chest. He wished to kiss Izuku more than anything else. Their breaths would’ve mingled, if Izuku hadn’t stopped breathing at all. He lay frozen, every muscle rigid. Katsuki’s addled brain tried to make sense of this, if it was a good thing or if he should retreat, and that magnetic pull that was reeling him in seemed all-encompassing-

A dog barked in the distance, and the sharp sound cut through the white noise of cicadas and rustling leaves. Abruptly, Katsuki pulled back, feeling like he was trying to resist gravity. With a dissatisfied grunt, he let himself fall back into the grass.

“Kacchan!”

His heart beat erratically, as if it was trying to jump past his ribs. It was part fear, part excitement, the mix rushed through his veins into his head and made him dizzy. What on earth…? This was dangerous. He hoped Izuku hadn’t noticed the close call. He didn’t dare to check, opting to keep his eyes screwed shut and await judgement like this.

“Kacchan,” Izuku said again, low and quiet and a bit too sweet. “Kacchan, are you serious right now?”

He cracked an eye open to gage the situation. “What?” Judging by that voice, he’d fucked up badly. Somehow. Izuku loomed over him, balancing on one elbow, sporting a death glare that could cut steel.

“What? Really? You’ll just bring me to this place, say all that stuff, and then you chicken out?” Izuku grabbed him by the shirt and leaned even closer. “And they call me oblivious,” he muttered, and Katsuki couldn’t see anything else as Izuku leaned down to kiss him.

Notes:

Just as a quick heads up: Things have been busy since Christmas and will continue to be busy for a while, so I did not get as far with editing and proofreading the next chapter as I would've liked. There's still a good chance it'll be out on time, but just in case it isn't, rest assured that I have not died and we'll simply have to skip a week.

(I'm sorry about the cliffhanger)

Chapter 20

Notes:

Okay, so you guys REALLY enjoyed the last one, huh? Thanks for all the enthusiastic screaming in the comments <3
I really tried to get this one out earlier, but that ONE day I had both a computer and time, that I used to write like a madman posessed, AO3 looked at me and went: That's a nice 15k you have there. Be a shame if we were to shut down for MAINTENANCE!

 

So that happened.

He leaned forward and saw Kacchan’s eyes go wide before he was too close to see anything. It was just a peck, a quick brush of their lips – he didn’t dare for more right now. He let the touch linger, but Kacchan wasn’t doing anything… Izuku leaned in again, this time with more pressure.

His heart raced in his chest, he wanted Kacchan to respond somehow. Had he gotten it wrong? After all the things they’d just told each other, it sounded like… But what if Kacchan really meant that all in the platonic way? Was it a misunderstanding, was he actually not supposed to –

Kacchan made a quiet sound and finally returned the kiss. It stayed oddly gentle and chaste, not at all what Izuku had expected from him. It felt… okay.

A little emboldened by the response, Izuku angled his head and took Kacchan’s lower lip between his own. He felt a breath caress his cheek in a soft sigh. This felt good. It made him dizzy for all the good reasons, and that wonderful sharp-sweet scent of Kacchan was all around him like a comforting blanket. Kacchan put a hand on his arm, and the heat shot across his skin like a flash-fire.

He tried to prolong their kiss as much as possible, because if this stopped, he’d have to look at Kacchan and face the consequences of all this and he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for that. At the same time, he just wanted to get it over with. If only so he knew for certain. In his bravest moment ever, he kept his eyes open as he carefully sat back. He had no idea what to say.

Kacchan stared up at him, completely stunned. His ruby eyes were a fraction wider than usual, pupils too dark for the bright summer sun. Seconds ticked by. “…What are you doing?” It was said in that same accusatory tone Kacchan always adopted when he wasn’t quite sure whether or not the carcass of whatever Izuku was working on had once been a kitchen appliance.

“What do you mean, what am I doing? What were you doing? You had it! Perfect setup and all!”

“I wasn’t setting up anything!”

“And then you just-” Kacchan’s statement registered, giving him pause. “You weren’t? The whole thing with the restaurant and the compliments and all the stuff you just said?”

Kacchan looked at him like he’d gone insane. “No. I was trying to be nicer because you assumed I barely tolerated you the other week and I’m trying to fix that. And you’re the one who suggested coming here in the first place! If anything, I should be asking what you were doing!” Kacchan paused. “…What were you doing, by the way?” His stare was so pointed, Izuku could feel it dissecting him.

“Well. Um.” He fidgeted, and realised he was basically sitting on Kacchan’s lap, so he carefully scooted sideways and released Kacchan’s shirt from his hand. “You see, funny story!” He laughed nervously. “So to me it looked like this guy I really really like was saying some stuff that I just couldn’t find a heterosexual explanation for, and then he was basically on top of me, so I just… went for it? Weird how that happens.”

Kacchan just kept staring.

“So... you weren’t going to-”

“You like me?” Kacchan suddenly interrupted him mid-sentence.

“Yes?” He slowly nodded for emphasis. “And I’m sorry if this isn’t- I mean, I sort of just assumed, and we can totally forget this ever happened, sorry, I should’ve asked, and-”

“Shut up.”

He clicked his mouth shut. Dammit. His heart was still going overdrive, and it was starting to hurt.

Kacchan reached a hand up and gently, very gently, swept a few strands of hair out of Izuku’s face. “Dumbass Angel.”

“What – oh.” His question was interrupted when Kacchan reached his hand further towards the back of his head and pulled him downwards for another kiss. Izuku dearly wished he could enjoy this one as well, but the questions of ‘What does this mean’ and ‘what is going on’ were growing louder and louder in his mind, reaching epic trainwreck proportions of needing to know, needing to get out of this weird limbo where this was and wasn’t a thing they would do again. It hadn’t been ten seconds and he already questioned everything that’d led to the very spontaneous decision they should be kissing in the first place.

On the other hand, he was kissing Kacchan right now, and only a complete idiot would object to that. Kacchan’s kisses were slow and gentle, almost a bit shy. Like he wasn’t sure he’d be allowed. Then Kacchan shoved him away with a decisive hand and glared at him. “Of course you had to ruin this for me,” he accused.

He crossed his arms defiantly. “I’m sorry? If anyone was ruining anything, it was you! Were you even planning on kissing me? You had the perfect opportunity! And then you just throw it like this? I thought finding out I don’t have a quirk would always be the biggest disappointment of my life, but that was a pretty close second!”

“I wasn’t planning on doing anything!” Kacchan shot back. “Well, not nothing, but I wasn’t just going to… without… Argh!” Kacchan got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his clothes. “Hang on a second.” With that, stalked off towards the edge of the forest. There was some rustling, and Izuku suspected a plant received some form of violence. Then Kacchan stomped back, just as determined, and violently shoved something at his chest.

Despite everything, that touch was soft, and Izuku felt something delicate and silky when he reflexively brought his hand up to hold the thing. “What?” The object in his hand was a bunch of tiny flowers, white and grouped together on their stalks like cotton candy. It looked almost round for it.

“I was gonna do this properly. I was gonna wait until this stupid mission is over, and then I was gonna get you flowers and chocolates and all that shit, sweep you off your fucking feet before you knew what was happening, take you out on the best date you’ve ever been and… fuck.”

“Fuck? On the first date? Aren’t you ambitious.”

To his absolute delight, Kacchan’s face turned several shades darker. “No, I wasn’t, that wasn’t part of the sentence, I – fuck you. NO, wait. Um.”

He felt a laugh bubble up, and a moment later Kacchan joined in, hesitantly at first, until they were full-on doubled-over, using each other as support to stay sitting. He wasn’t even sure what exactly they were laughing about. Maybe insanity had finally hit. Or maybe it was because somehow, he knew things were more than okay right now. It was a beautiful day, he was safe and happy, he’d just kissed the most gorgeous man on this entire planet even if it was all a bit surreal, and so he kept laughing until he had a stitch in his side because honestly, what else was he supposed to do?

Suddenly, Kacchan quieted and straightened up, and Izuku hushed as well, ducking down further on instinct. After a quick moment of deliberation, Kacchan stood and reached a hand down to him. “People,” he whispered, and it was all he really had to say. Izuku grabbed the offered hand and they raced off towards the trees. When he shot a quick glance backwards over his shoulder, he could see two figures on the other side of the stream, following a dog on the sand path towards the playground. They were too far away to make out features, but he knew that recognition would go both ways. This was the one area where he had no doubt people would recognize him at a glance. They’d seen him grow up.

They vanished from view as they charged between the trees, light dimming a bit until all he could see was brown and green and a few specks of colourful autumn flowers. With a jolt, he glanced down to his free hand, the one Kacchan wasn’t holding, but the tiny flowers were still there, safe in his grip.

Confirming once again they were indeed out of sight of anyone else, he slowed his run to a walk, forcing Kacchan to slow down with him. He tried to get his breathing back under control, between the laughing and the running. Kacchan was fast. And unfairly calm after their impromptu sprint, his breathing was barely accelerated.

They continued walking in peaceful silence, an unspoken agreement that it was time to head home. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. When he chanced a glance up at Kacchan their eyes met, and immediately they both turned away again, like schoolkids being caught looking by their crush. Izuku ducked his head and smiled to himself. “Think they saw us?” he whispered, as if talking too loud would break something.

“Don’t think so. Even if, they probably only wondered why the hell two idiots would run away on sight. They probably thought we were smoking weed or something.”

“By a childrens’ playground?”

“You know exactly what goes on there after dark, don’t give me that.”

“True,” he sighed, remembering all the times they’d found cigarette butts and empty beer cans by the trash there when they were little, before they even really knew what it meant. Their mothers had warned them not to interact with ‘those people’, which Izuku had then thought were hardened criminals but now realized couldn’t have been more than some rebellious teenagers sneaking out thinking they were the coolest. Time really put things into perspective.

He tucked the flowers behind his ear to free his hand and avoid crushing them on accident. As soon as he finished, a grip on his face smushed his cheeks together and forced him to look up. Kacchan turned his head this way and that whilst staring, scowl growing deeper by the second. “Who gave you the right to be this fucking cute? This should be illegal. You’re inconveniencing people.”

Izuku was tempted to apologize by default when Kacchan started their third kiss, and this time it was followed up in a way that made Izuku lose count immediately. It wasn’t necessarily rough, but there was a heat underlying that made something in his stomach flutter in pleased anticipation.

Izuku decided to take this as a positive sign. His heart was still going overdrive, but he was sure now. He was good at observing. The adrenaline rush of being proven right, the amusement when he saw something others hadn’t yet picked up on, as if he were in on an inside joke. Observe, surmise, draw the logical conclusions and maybe do some testing to be sure. It was the one thing he knew he could impress people with. He considered himself decent at the task. And he might have this thing where he downplayed himself at every opportunity possible, but he wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t stupid.

Kacchan enjoyed this. Kacchan liked him. Kacchan wanted this, and hopefully not as a casual thing. If Izuku was unsubtle, Kacchan was every neon sign of Vegas condensed into human form. For some goddammned reason Kacchan didn’t seem too keen on acting on it. Izuku would get to the bottom of this if it was the last thing he did. With Kacchan, it actually might be.

Was it scary? Sure. Did that matter? No.

A border had been crossed today, and there was no going back. “Are we dating?” he breathed softly into a break of their kisses, tilting his head a bit as if it would help him see the answer.

He could feel Kacchan’s body tense, ruby eyes wide open. “I…”

“Because I think that would be great.” There. He’d said it. All Kacchan had to do was say yes or no.

Yeah. As if he’d make it that easy for him. “Should we really?”

“Huh?”

“Look, we’ve been stuck together for the last half year. Sure, it’s fucking convenient right now, but what when we’re not literally bound with this?” Kacchan held the hand with his leather bracelet up.

“You think I’m convenient?”

“No, I mean convenient for you. This mission is almost over, and then you can go out again, and what if you meet someone… better?” Kacchan’s voice faded to almost inaudible.

He tilted his head the other way. “But there is no one better. Realistically speaking. Sure, hypothetically you’re not wrong, I guess, but that’s an awful lot of work first finding someone and then building a relationship with them, and I don’t want to do it because I want you. Besides, odds are I’ll end up here yet again anyway, let’s be real. I don’t believe in fate and all that stuff, but I think it’d be stupid to not take a hint after falling in love with the same guy four separate times.”

“Ha?” Kacchan froze. “You’re…” He pointed a finger at himself as if to say Me.

“Yes. Of course. To be honest, I thought you knew that…?” Evidently, Kacchan hadn’t, but he felt the need to clarify.

“How would I know that?”

He shrugged, a bit unsure how to answer. “I mean, I just thought it was obvious. Everyone else seems to know.”

Kacchan narrowed his eyes. “Who’s ‘everyone else’?”

“Well… Our friends are in various stages of assuming and knowing. Most of my friends in highschool knew, as did Sayaka and the rest of my attic rats, I think Aizawa may have figured it out, he made a cryptic comment once, our parents maybe?”

“And how did that happen? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Long story, and I never thought you’d be interested. Are you…?” Kacchan still hadn’t answered his question. He was just grinning, like an absolute lunatic. “What? Why are you laughing?” Izuku asked. It took all his willpower to not look away.

“You love me.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re sure about that.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but Izuku answered anyways.

“Yep.”

“Are you gonna date me? I’m warning you, there’s no backing out. You say yes, and you’re mine. I’ll make it worth it, too.”

He opened his mouth, to give the eagerly awaited the ‘yes’, but then the worry took over again. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why… me?”

“Who else? Because I want to.”

His hands tightened their hold on his own his own shirt until he strangled the fabric. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Do you… love me?” There was darkness and silence for a moment.

“It makes it sound a bit trivial for my liking, but you could say that,” Kacchan replied.

“Then say it.” He wanted to hear it. He wanted to know he wasn’t going in there with his hopes up only to have them crushed later.

A hand came to gently cradle his face, and he felt Kacchan’s thumb tracing the freckles on his cheek on a gentle pattern. “Look at me.” When he opened his eyes, Kacchan was right there. “Angel, I fucking adore you. You’re cute and hot and you’re so smart it blows my mind. You care about pretty much anything ever and I love that, and I love how you can be the most intimidating fucker on this planet in one moment and the purest little bean in the next. I don’t know what I’d do without you and I don’t care to find out ever, and if you could please just say yes or no because I’m honestly dying over here.”

The relief felt staggering. It made him float. “Can I get that in writing?” Then he laughed, at the expression that request had gotten him. “I’m joking! But, ah… I would like to be… dating. You. In case that wasn’t clear… So?” He asked, leaning closer and hoping his grin didn’t look as maniacally happy as it felt. “Wanna be boyfriends?”

Kacchan stared back with a sort of defiant expression. “I’m not going to call you my boyfriend, because I think it sounds fucking stupid, but I’d be on board with the general concept. Now come on, we got places to be.” Kacchan simply strode off in the direction they’d been going, but Izuku could see his neck turn almost crimson, as well as his ears.

With a fond eyeroll, he hurried to fall into step. “What’s wrong with ‘boyfriend’?”

“I don’t know, I just think it’s a dumb word.”

“Well, I’ll think of an even stupider alternative!” he said cheerily.

“Don’t.”

“Let’s see… Partner? Companion? Significant other?”

“I’ll leave you here.”

“Lover? Suitor?”

“I’ll actually abandon you.”

“You wouldn’t.” Still, without looking, he felt for Kacchan’s hand and hesitantly curled their fingers together.

“No.” Other than that, Kacchan remained entirely quiet as they continued walking, staring ahead determinately until they made it to the car. There was a squeeze before Kacchan let go and, in an exaggerated display, opened the passenger door for him.

He was embarrassed to admit it made him blush anyway. Kacchan didn’t talk during their drive either, and Izuku was content to look out the window and watch the world pass by as he sorted his thoughts. The idea that he was dating Kacchan of all people seemed unreal. That would probably take some getting used to. Sometimes, he hastily glanced over, secret looks to see if the man beside him was actually real.

Kacchan kept his eyes fixed on the road, but Izuku could see his face turn from excited giddiness to almost pensive. Like he was overthinking, or doubting something. Actually, Izuku would bet money that was exactly the case. Where he had thought Kacchan was actually trying to gear up to exactly this – with the looks and the words and the fancy dinner and all – Kacchan had apparently… not. Somehow, they’d gotten to the right result using two wrong equations.

He turned back towards the window on his side. They’d figure it out. For now, darkness enveloped them when Kacchan parked the car in the garage and got out to check if anyone was around. After receiving the all-clear, Izuku dashed after him towards the door, casting a cursory glance over the house.

Kacchan remained in the driveway, examining the shiny patch on the façade where the paint was still drying, then looked up towards the factory-fresh shingles on the roof. Apparently satisfied with the works, he nodded once to himself and finally came over to let them both inside.

Kacchan took his shoes off in record speed and went off towards the living room, peeking into the gym on the way. Izuku had seen the repaired window from the outside already, and when he followed, the garden doors looked good as new as well. Kacchan rapped a knuckle against the glass, studying it like it held the secret to ancient treasure. “You got tools anywhere here?” he asked, not looking over his shoulder.

“Um, I have this…?” He pulled his trusty Svetlana III from his pocket.

“Why is there a screwdriver in your pocket? Do you just carry that around?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“Whatever.” Kacchan snatched the tool from him, apparently not willing to have that argument now. “Okay, fair warning: This might be loud, but I promise it’s okay.” It was the only information Izuku got, and Kacchan gave him barely a second to process it before he took the screwdriver in a reverse grip and drove the point into the glass of the garden door with all his might.

Izuku flinched on instinct, but… nothing happened. The ‘thunk’ of the impact was a lot quieter and duller than he’d expected, and no rain of shards followed. When he looked closer, the tip of the screwdriver was definitely in contact with the glass, but he couldn’t even see a dent. Kacchan turned around with a smirk, looking all too pleased with himself.

After a beat of silence, Izuku figured he was supposed to react somehow. “It didn’t break?” he tried, stating the obvious.

“Exactly! Yaomomo upgraded all of the windows for us!”

“Are they polycarbonate?” They had to be pretty decent if they could resist that much pointed pressure.

“I have no idea and I don’t really care, to be honest. I said I wanted something that doesn’t break and here we have it.”

“That’s… cool. Why?”

“Oh just, y’know… I keep a lot of important confidential data here. And I thought, when you said you were often scared, that maybe this would… help? I mean, you should be able to relax in your own home, so I figured…” It was sort of cute to see that confident grin turn shy as Kacchan waited for his approval.

Izuku’s insides melted into gooey mush, which couldn’t be good for his health. With four determined steps, he crossed the space between them and shoved Kacchan against the wall. He leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss him again. This time, it was different. This time, he let all of his past fantasies take over at once, turning it wild, reckless, knowing that finally he was allowed to have. Kacchan was pliant underneath him, turned malleable by surprise, and Izuku used this opportunity to touch his tongue to the seam of his lips, forcing his mouth open to lick inside. “See, this is exactly what I meant,” he panted into the space between them, “You’re so unfair; getting me into school and taking me out into the city, or stargazing, and you let me sleep in your bed and now you’ve done this - are you trying to drive me insane?”

“No,” Kacchan replied, voice a low growl. “That’s just the least of what you deserve. If I wanted to drive you insane, you’d know.”

“Fuck.” He leaned in again, still amazed by the fact that he was finally allowed to touch, to taste, to feel. He snaked his hands underneath Kacchan’s shirt, learning the feel of him, the warmth and the flex of muscles and the ridges of scars. Kacchan did the same to him, and his hands were hot on Izuku’s back, setting his nerves alight. He turned his attention to Kacchan’s face, mapping it with his lips; the sharp jaw and the curve of his neck, the tender spot under his ear. “What do you want?”

“Hell no.” He felt the lips on his neck pull into a grin. “Tell me what you want.”

Oh? Izuku needed a moment to grasp the full meaning of those words. He quickly went through a catalogue of possibilities, all those fantasies he’d accumulated over years and years of being in love with this idiot; some things they’d have to discuss before, some others seemed entirely too much for both of them to handle right now with how pent up he already felt, and he would need to be able to walk in two days, so… “This.” He dropped to his knees.

“Oi, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Kacchan sounded breathless.

“What’s it look like?” he teased, rubbing his thumbs in circles over Kacchan’s hipbone. He couldn’t tear his eyes off that slightly tented fabric right in front of his face. Slowly, he pressed the heel of his hand against it, feeling the slight resistance growing under his touch. He heard Kacchan’s breath stutter. “I’ve wanted to do this for ages.”

Kacchan reached a hand down and traced his jaw teasingly with a finger. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.” He shifted the hands upwards so his fingers held the button. “Can I?” Glancing up for confirmation, he could see Kacchan staring back down at him with wide, blown eyes. He nodded slightly.

Izuku grinned at that and licked his lips demonstratively before returning his focus to the task at hand. If both their erections were anything to go by, this would be over fast, so he didn’t bother drawing it out unnecessarily. He undid the button and zipper before hooking his fingers into the waistband and pulling both the trousers and the pants down in one swift move.

He allowed himself a brief moment of appreciation, then he leaned in, avoiding all the areas where Kacchan probably wanted him to put his mouth to lick over the soft skin on Kacchan’s hip. Just for that, he received a stifled sigh in response. Yeah, no way he’d be able to draw this out. With his hand, he felt his way up Kacchan’s thigh, placing more small kisses on his hip in a line leading inwards. The skin under his fingers turned from smooth and warm to hot, velvety, and he turned his head far enough to lick a stripe along the side. “Can’t wait to have that inside me,” he muttered.

There was another stifled sound. He looked up and saw Kacchan biting his knuckles hard enough Izuku feared injury. His head was turned towards the side, eyes squeezed closed.

Izuku patiently waited, stroking Kacchan’s cock slowly a couple of times before he eventually stilled. After a few torturous seconds, Kacchan reluctantly blinked his eyes open to check on him. The moment they made eye contact, Izuku opened his mouth and swallowed him down as far as he could.

“Fuck!” Kacchan threw his head back against the wall with a dull crack.

Izuku hummed a laugh at that, and Kacchan swore again, something quiet he couldn’t make out. He felt a little rusty, so he took it slow, trying to see just how much of Kacchan he could fit without choking. The scent was intoxicating, something heady he usually wouldn’t have categorized as ‘appealing’, but the fact that this was Kacchan made it the greatest thing on this earth. His mouth watered, adding spit to slick the slide of his lips along the shaft. He mapped the texture with this tongue, curling and sliding it along as much as he could. His hands rested on Kacchan’s thighs, stroking up and down. He moved one up to grip Kacchan’s hip when he felt the tiny spasms and flutters of muscle as Kacchan fought to stay still, and used the other to stroke along the base in rhythm with his mouth.

Kacchan made the prettiest sounds, bitten-off gasps and muffled groans, hidden behind his hand as he tried his best to stay quiet. “Fuck, yes, so good, keep going-” Kacchan’s other hand wound into his hair, just lying there and occasionally gently stroking through the strands. He seemed nearly incoherent already, eyes glazed over as he alternated between looking down and closing them. “’zuku, ‘m-”

There was an urgent note in the jumble, and Izuku felt very pleased with himself as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked, moving back a little so he had room to swallow. Then suddenly, his head was pushed back further, Kacchan’s free hand coming down to take over the stroking. He felt something wet and hot on his lower face, only partially landing on his tongue. He glanced up, meeting Kacchan’s gaze, clouded over with pleasure.

He darted his tongue out again to lick at the head, his own hands now finally free and frantically fighting against his own jeans. He was so turned on it almost hurt. There was a definite wet patch on his underwear, and when he finally got a hand around his cock it took a total of five seconds until the lust culminated in a rush of white-hot pleasure, zinging along his spine and all the way to his toes. “Holy shit,” he grit out, shuddering as he came in his pants like a teenager.

“Yeah.” Kacchan slid down to kneel in front of him, still looking dazed. A warm hand stroked the skin above Izuku’s waistband. “Let me…”

“Don’t bother.” He pulled his sticky hand free with a grimace and a sheepish look.

Kacchan just stared. “Did you…? Fuck. Couldn’t have let me have that, could you?” he pouted.

“Well, it’s your fault for being this fucking hot,” he shot back, smirking as he licked a drop of come off his upper lip. The startled sound Kacchan made was worth the slightly unpleasant taste.

“…Sorry about that, by the way? I thought you didn’t want me to… So I… And…”

“It’s fine.” Seeing Kacchan this flustered was a treat in itself. And he wasn’t really bothered. “Although I’ll go and clean up real fast, if it’s all the same to you.” With that, he pushed up and left Kacchan in his post-orgasm haze.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, he could see that his shirt was stained as well, so he made quick work of the clothes and tossed them into the wash before cleaning his face. He had nothing else to wear and wondered if he should bother with a towel or try and see what Kacchan would do if he went naked when a knock sounded at the door. “I got you some spare clothes.”

The door opened just far enough for Kacchan’s arm to reach through, and Izuku went to accept them. “Thanks, Kacchan.” Trust Kacchan to be a romantic somewhere deep, deep, deep down. He used the pile of clothes to stifle his giggles. It was stupid, but the tiny gesture was just so… thoughtful. Yukan had never done something like this for him after sex. It was a whole new world.

When he came back out, feeling like he was walking on clouds, he found Kacchan in the kitchen, preparing some food. Izuku went to lean on the counter beside him. Kacchan steadfastly avoided looking his way, ears again (or still?) a delightful pink colour. “What are you making?”

“Breakfast for tomorrow.” Kacchan still avoided his eyes.

“Something the matter?” He leaned further, trying to get into Kacchan’s periphery. “Was I not good?”

“No!” Kacchan almost fumbled the knife. “Good. Fine. Very good. Er, sorry for the… y’know.” He gestured vaguely in his direction.

“Okay, what’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing!”

“You’re not looking at me.”

“It’s nothing.” Kacchan put the knife down and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “This is a bit… weird.”

“Maybe,” he conceded.

“Except you act like this is perfectly normal, so now I feel like I’m being weird.”

Izuku laughed at that. He took Kacchan’s hand in his own and placed a kiss there. “Maybe I’m just good at faking it.”

“Can’t believe I’m dating someone,” Kacchan said quietly, as if to himself. “Wouldn’t have caught me dead even entertaining the thought a year ago.”

“…But you like it?”

“I…” Kacchan broke off with a sigh. “I like you. I don’t like the fucking mile of logistical problems.”

“Like what?”

“Bunch of stuff. Publicity, for one. And I’m going to tell you right away that I do not plan to ever make this,” he gestured between them, “public knowledge. Not for a long while, at least. A lot of my fanbase relies on the knowledge of me being single and straight,” he grinned wryly. “Without the popularity, no merch contracts. And if people knew about you, I might as well put up signs for the villains saying, ‘hey, here’s my weak point’.”

He nodded. He didn’t fancy making himself a target, and the opinions of the public were fickle things anyways. “We can tell our friends and family, and you can be seen going to dinner with other pros from time to time. That’s an easy workaround.”

“I would never-”

He waved him off. “As long as you don’t lead them on, it’ll be fine. Maybe there’re some who could benefit similarly. Or meet some friends. Problem solved.”

“If that’s okay with you…”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re allowed to hang out with people when you like. What else?”

“It’s a lot of stuff, I already said. I need to get you registered as my… with the commission, so you’ll be allowed info and visitation should I land in hospital again, and I can’t do that as long as we have the chain, because I’m fairly sure that goes against a few clauses somewhere, or it’s at least a grey area, and if the ethical committee find out they’d have some choice questions, and then we’d first have to wait and see what happens with the Goldsmith, I mean, if they get away this might be permanent, and I don’t know-”

“Kac-chan.” He snapped his fingers. Was this what people heard when he went off on his own mumbles? “It’ll be fine. You’ll see. We can solve this one at a time. From what I gathered, there’s nothing to do until the mission progresses anyway. So let’s worry then.”

“Alright.”

“Is that why you didn’t say anything?”

“Partially. Not entirely. Just… It wasn’t a good time?” Kacchan asked, staring hard at something outside. “I was going to wait until you had your stuff sorted out. I didn’t want to complicate things for you. Shit’s been going down the last few weeks, and it’s gonna get worse when we start to dismantle the Auriculates.”

On the one hand, Izuku thought it was incredibly cute of Kacchan to take this into account. This same Kacchan who usually had the patience of a rabbit on caffeine. However, on the other, much more important hand… “Okay. So let me rephrase: You would’ve waited to ask me out until I had my life in order, potentially moved out, finished school, got a job somewhere, and then I would’ve had to overthrow it all again in order to make this work.” He gestured between them. “When this is a pretty major thing in the first place and I would need to take it into account for the majority of my life decisions?”

Kacchan crossed his arms defiantly. “Well, of course it sounds stupid when you phrase it like this!”

“Because it is!”

“No, it’s not. I wasn’t going to – I just had no idea if you were interested in the first place, and I wanted to wait until you had options to be somewhere else in case things turned awkward as fuck.”

“Aren’t you considerate.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay with this?”

“How often do I have to say it? Yes, I am! I love you.”

Kacchan narrowed his eyes. “This is just too fucking easy. Makes it kinda suspicious.”

“Well, after everything, I think I deserve some easy. Don’t you?”

That made Kacchan pause. “Yeah. You do. You deserve a lot more, Angel.”

He stretched his arms out in Kacchan’s direction. “Do I deserve cuddles?”

Kacchan laughed softly and obligingly came over, squeezing him tight. “Naturally.”

Izuku relaxed into the hold with a soft sigh. Kacchan was solid and warm, and he was just the perfect height for Izuku to tuck his head underneath his chin. Standing like this felt like a giant weight had come off his chest. Breathing was suddenly so much easier, so much freer. He hummed in content.

“Alright there?” Kacchan’s voice was a whisper by his ear.

“Yeah. This is nice.” He nuzzled impossibly closer. “You know, if this is what I get out of it, I really don’t regret staying alive.” He wouldn’t say everything had been worth it, because it certainly hadn’t, but right now all the bad things were far, far away, and he was happy regardless of them. He could have this. He would have this. He had the most perfect thing in the universe right here.

“Oi, Nerd, why the fuck are you crying now?”

“’M very happy,” he grit out, trying to keep his voice close to normal. “I never thought you’d even look my way, and then I thought I’d never even see you again…”

“And now you’re stuck with me forever. No escape.”

“No intention of escaping,” he retorted.

“Because you love me.”

Izuku sighed, exasperated. “Do you want it in writing?”

“And what was that part about four times you mentioned earlier?”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m just asking!”

“Oh my god,” Izuku muttered again. “First time in middle school, then when I watched the first sports festival, then the you in the newspapers along with my memories, and then on my birthday,” he listed, counting along on his fingers. “Basically, every time I talked myself out of it you just had to be amazing again.

Kacchan shot him a peculiar look. “Can I get that story in a format that’s not a shopping list?”

“You first.” He wouldn’t budge on this one. Trusting Kacchan with all this was scary enough on its own, and he wanted some leverage to get the same juicy stories in return.

“Not really sure?” Kacchan tried to evade.

“C’mon, you have to tell me! It’s only fair!”

“Well, I don’t know!” Kacchan shot back, crossing his arms as he stared to the side. After a moment, he went on “It’s been going on for a while, but I didn’t know what was going on until Shitty Hair explained it to me two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks?” he asked, voice flat. Oops. That was not a long time at all. And then he’d practically jumped Kacchan like that. No wonder Kacchan seemed to be internally panicking.

Like now, when he glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Stupid, huh?” He left a pause, probably expecting him to laugh at it, but Izuku shook his head. It’d taken him a long time, too, that first go around. When he kept quiet, Kacchan let his shoulders slump, leaning back against the counter. He seemed to be looking at something far away. “I mean, I don’t think there’s a single instance, but remember when you wrecked the coffee machine and flooded the kitchen?”

“How could I forget? It’s not like you’re letting me live it down.”

Kacchan’s lip curled upwards in a soft smile. “Yeah. And then you told me you don’t drink coffee, and I distinctly remember thinking how goddamn adorable it was you were trying to make me breakfast.” Kacchan tapped a small rhythm onto the counter. “I think it went downhill from there.” He left a small pause, then continued, much louder. “And you’re really sure about-”

“Oh my god,” he interrupted. “How often do I have to say it? Here.” With a mock-annoyed huff, he snatched Kacchan’s hand and transferred the copper spiral he was still wearing from his finger to Kacchan’s. The soft metal obediently adjusted to the new owner. “There, here’s your receipt. I promise I will ask for this back the moment I change my mind, so would you please stop whining.”

Kacchan examined the new decoration on his finger with a smirk. “Weird way to propose, but alright.”

He just rolled his eyes as he started to walk off to his own room. “Whatever. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Cute? Cute?!” Kacchan’s shout followed him down the hall. “I’m not fucking cute!”

“Yes you are!” he shouted back, grinning as he kicked the bedroom door shut to drown out any response. It was one way to win an argument with Kacchan.

He pulled his heaviest book off the shelf and carefully arranged the tiny white flowers he pulled from his hair between two sheets of drawing paper before putting the tome on top of that. He wanted to frame them eventually.

For the remainder of the evening, they kept to their usual routine – meaning Kacchan went to bed early, and Izuku tried to frantically finish the homework that’d piled up before he followed hours later. Then… there was a brief moment of indecision when he stood in the hallway between their bedroom doors. In the end, he figured nothing had really changed, so he went into Kacchan’s room. His stuff was already there. He navigated the dark room from memory alone and climbed up from the foot end, nestling in between the wall and Kacchan.

“Sweet dreams, Angel,” Kacchan whispered after a while, almost inaudible.

Izuku decided to not call him out on being mushy, but he grinned into his pillow as he shut his eyes. Yeah. If only it were that easy.

He woke up an indeterminate amount of time later to the feeling of a hand stroking soothing lines over his arm. The images of his dream were already fading – something about a door, and waiting, and waiting, knowing full well he’d been waiting too long. It wasn’t a full-on horror inducing one like some of the others, but the sense of anxiety lingered.

This time, however, there was also something warm and solid pressed against his back. “’S fine. Go back t’ sleep.” Kacchan’s voice rumbled, slurred from sleep as well.

Izuku sighed and shuffled backwards, away from the wall and towards the sound. “Right. Sorry.” The dream was completely gone by now, and he fell back asleep blissfully quick. He felt almost rested when the alarm started to blare. The solid warmth behind him left, and he hurriedly fished around for the covers to conserve some of it. “Five more minutes, Kacchan.”

“You sure you want to come in today?” Kacchan asked, turning off the alarm and sitting up to stretch. Izuku wondered where he got the energy. Mornings were the worst. “You could stay at home if you want.”

“No, I’ll come.” He begrudgingly inched his way out of bed. “I have all my stuff there, and I have an idea on how to sort the rewind issue for my final project.” If he could get that done today, he could start building it.

On their drive over, Izuku shifted in his seat before he finally asked the one question that they should probably have sorted before entering polite company. “Do we tell anyone?”

“Absolutely not.” Kacchan’s answer was swift and decisive. “The Squad wouldn’t mind, but they’d not let us hear the end of it for weeks, and they’d stick their fucking noses into the matter until their curiosity was satisfied without a doubt. We don’t want that.”

“Fair enough. But consider: How long until someone figures it out?”

Kacchan smirked. “Oh, after we shot them down last time, they’ll be too scared to ask again. They’re really the poster children for ‘gullible’ sometimes.”

“Wanna try and see how far we can push it with them?” he asked after a moment.

Kacchan laughed. “Not today, but sure.”

They made it into the office without issue – by now quite experienced going undetected – and found it empty, Kirishima already out it seemed. They began their usual routine; Izuku spread his schoolwork on the floor and the casework on the desk, whilst Kacchan revised his orders and patrol plans for the day before he put on the last parts of his costume. A task which took him an awfully long amount of time today, as they chatted about anything and nothing, until there was no more drawing it out and Kacchan risked being late.

“I’ll get shopping sorted on the way back here, then. Anyway, later.” Kacchan came over to ruffle his hair and give him a peck on the forehead. Izuku made a protesting noise and stretched up further. “Urgh, fine.” Kacchan glanced around as if someone could be hiding, then leaned down for a proper kiss. “Later, Angel.”

“Later!” He wanted to say ‘be careful’ too, but he felt Kacchan wouldn’t appreciate it. The day continued much like any other. He worked on his final project, did some research into certain Auriculate members on the side, and talked to the Squad over his phone when he became too lonely.

As promised, Kacchan picked him up carrying a shopping bag full of goodies, and the rest of their first full day as a couple was spent making an elaborate dinner of filet steak and roast potatoes, followed by a lot of cuddling and making out on the couch. It was a bit weird to see how little their routines changed. Quietly, Izuku wondered how long they’d been dating for, really.

The next day consisted of lounging on the sofa playing a video game, until they both suddenly remembered they were supposed to attend an event two hours before they had to leave. They got dressed and ready for the Gala, and Izuku felt again very, very blessed. Kacchan looked good enough to eat. The charcoal grey was the same he wore, but Kacchan’s was further accentuated with orange trims on the cuffs, and the wine-red shirt underneath complimented his eyes in a way that did things to him. “And how exactly am I supposed to keep my hands to myself for the entire evening?” he teased, doubly glad he’d had the foresight to take a hot shower earlier.

“Easy, if you don’t I’ll treat you like any extra and take them off.” A small explosion crackled to undermine the point. “You look fantastic.” Kacchan brought his phone up to take several pictures.

“And you get to look at me all evening!”

“No I don’t. This stupid glamour is going to ruin that view thoroughly.” Kacchan seemed actually upset at the prospect.

“Aww. It’s okay, I can dress up for you another day. Whatever you want.” He gave a bold wink for good measure, delighted when Kacchan’s ears turned pink again. So easy.

“Interesting plan, but I actually came to say we need to get going. Hurry up, Nerd.”

“I’m done, I’m ready.” He double-checked he had the glamour in his pocket, and they drove under the quickly darkening sky towards what Izuku just called the posh area of town. The houses were nestled into their surrounding lawns and gardens far back from the road, with fences that looked both artistic and intimidating to keep unwanted visitors out.

One of those long fences stood out, lit up with lanterns like a runway guiding the cars through the wide open gates. “Glamour,” Kacchan ordered, and he swiftly pulled the chain over his head before he continued gawking at the property. It was big, but not ostentatiously so. Hundreds of lights lit up the garden like fireflies, and he could see people milling about, both outside and behind the big windows.

They walked side by side, but this time with some socially acceptable distance. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but thankfully Kacchan was immediately spotted by Jirou and Shouto, and their little group commandeered their own space. “And how are you two?” Shouto wanted to know, giving them both a knowing look.

“Good,” Kacchan replied, grinning a bit too honestly. “Very good.”

Izuku nodded along. “Things are going well. I’m actually writing my final exam next week!” he suddenly remembered.

“The fuck, Nerd? You are? This is the first I’m hearing of it!”

“I got the mail just this week. And it’s not like I’ll be done, there’s a whole batch of practicals I still need to do.”

“Graduation party!” Jirou cheered. “You got this, I believe in you.”

“Aww, thanks.”

“Speaking of milestones and partying, should we head in for the opening speech and the award ceremony?” Shouto motioned to the room behind him. It was a lofty space with a whole wall of windows and balconies. The floor gleamed, reflecting the light from the chandeliers overhead. Round tables stood in little clusters. It looked not that far off from the arrangement at the auction, but the atmosphere was light, almost like a fairy tale.

“Let’s go,” he agreed. “You’re nominated, I heard?”

Shouto nodded. “Not that I have much hope of actually receiving the award, but I’m honoured either way.

Kacchan sighed behind them. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Not a fan?”

“You know how I love long-winded speeches and pointless gold-laminated collectibles.”

“Yo! You guys, over here!” Kirishima’s distinct voice cut through the din of the room – not that it was hard to spot him. He waved excitedly for them to come over. “We saved you some seats!” Indeed, the table was empty except for him and Mina. Izuku took a closer look at the two. Kirishima seemed a tad too excited even by his standards, to the point he worried the other was completely wasted. He was basically hanging off Mina, who radiated a similar glow. Actually, if he scooted another bit, he’d be sitting in her lap.

Kacchan groaned in defeat as he sat down. “I see you two finally got your shit together. Con-fucking-grats, I don’t want to hear the story.”

“I do,” Jirou said, taking the seat on Mina’s other side and leaning over. “Tell me everything.”

Mina giggled her way through a hushed summary of the events. Izuku listened with half an ear after the initial sentences boiled it down to ‘He asked me for a date’, turning the rest of his attention to Kacchan. He’d nodded his approval to Kirishima, who lifted his glass in a returned salute, and then they exchanged some Looks that made Kacchan shift in his seat until he caved and got up with the excuse of fetching some drinks.

“What was that about?” he asked Kirishima, leaning forward slightly. There was gossip to be had, he knew it.

“Oh, nothing,” Kirishima grinned, “he just hyped me up for it, and I’ll definitely return the favour someday.”

He had to dreg up every last ounce of his acting skills to keep his face neutral. They’d let their friends know eventually, but not just yet, even less at such a public event, and stealing attention from Kirishima’s and Mina’s moment would just be downright rude, so he had to act like he hadn’t snatched himself the most perfect man on earth just two days ago. On the other hand, he now knew what Kirishima was referring to, and he also knew they all knew he carried a massive torch for Kacchan – so what other choice did he have but to mess with them a little? Just a little. This was what friends were for. “I can’t imagine Kacchan would need to be hyped up to ask someone out.” He frowned, for show. “Much less that he’d want to ask someone out.”

Now that he was paying attention, he could see everyone at the table glancing at each other à la How do we tell him? “Trust me,” Mina winked, “he’s not as immune to mushy feelings as he’d like to be.”

He leaned back in his seat. “I didn’t say he was, I just meant that I would probably know if there was someone. I mean, he’d tell me, right?”

“Tell you what?” Kacchan cut in, placing a glass down in front of him.

“Thanks.” Whatever was in the glass was red-orange in colour and smelled very fruity. He took a careful sip. Punch, of some sort. “Alcohol?”

“Not unless they lied to me. What’s going on? I heard my name. You fuckers better not be talking shit behind my back.”

He turned his wide eyes on Kacchan and blinked innocently. “We would never. They just told me there might be someone you like,” he leered, “but I would hope you’d tell me something that interesting.”

“You’re right, that’s bullshit,” Kacchan shot back without missing a beat. “Stop messing with the Nerd, he’s impressionable enough as is.”

“Hey!”

“We have a right to tell the truth-” Mina began, only to be cut off.

“Then stop spouting nonsense.”

Izuku glared at them. “See? I told you.” Their faces ranged from pained to plain exhausted, and he hid his grin behind his glass. Kacchan’s foot nudged his under the table, and he could see amusement in his eyes as well. Nevertheless, they steered the topic elsewhere, discussing the nominations and who they thought had earned which the most.

Then followed the actual proceedings – there was an opening speech from Creati’s parents, as the owners of the venue, organizers and heads of the associated committee all at once, followed by more speeches of special guests such as a representative of the Hero Commission, a chairman from the tech support company that supplied Endeavor, Gang Orca, Mount Lady and even U.A. on occasion, several other people in associated sub-fields Izuku had actually never heard of, then more speeches from the individual award winners, and by the time the whole thing closed his hands felt tingly from clapping and he was very much with Kacchan on the subject of the ceremony.

When it was finally over, people started to head into an adjacent room. It was equally impressive in size, but there was an important difference: This one had a buffet.

Kacchan’s hand on his arm stopped him as he was about to dart off with Shouto and Mina. “Now comes the press. ‘S arguably the worst part of the evening, but they’ll be kindly escorted out in thirty minutes, and we can finally party.”

Out of nowhere, a young woman with asymmetrically styled green hair appeared right in front of them. He nearly jumped, but Kacchan just pointed at her as if she were something at a museum. “This is Saki, she works for Hero Journal, and I’m can’t believe I’m saying this but she’s actually not terrible.”

“Is that flattery I hear?” the woman trilled, waving at them. She wore a clipboard with a pen hooked onto what seemed to be a modified utility belt, where she had also hung glasses, a recorder and a silver flask.

“From me? No, I would never, you wrote so yourself.”

“I was citing a reliable source. Evening, Ground Zero. How’s it going? I’m going to be entirely honest, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Eh, you know how it is. Shoto got nominated and I was forcibly volunteered to attend.”

She nodded. “Fair enough. Say, as much as I would love to catch up and all that, I have thirty minutes to earn myself an increased salary for next year, and I was hoping you might humour me? Since you owe me?” She batted her eyelashes at them.

“Your office was already on fire when I arrived! Getting the people out was arguably more important than your priceless folders.”

“The folders might have survived the fire if someone hadn’t smashed through the wall.”

“They most certainly would have not.”

Izuku hesitantly raised a hand. “Um… what happened?”

“Villains broke into their offices because one of her colleagues had incriminating information on them, and since they didn’t know which office was hers, they just torched the whole place. It was a complete disaster,” Kacchan explained.

“I see.”

She grimaced at the memory. “Not my best day. Anyway, I’m getting to the point, because I really want that salary increase.” She turned her full attention back to Kacchan, pen and clipboard at the ready. “I hope you’ll humour me?”

“I wasn’t even nominated for one of those fucking awards, so I don’t know what to tell you, but sure.”

“Right. But, and I’m asking this as a neutral professional, it has come to my attention that you dropped two places in the ranking.”

What? He turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Kacchan merely nodded, as if this was not worth even mentioning. Why hadn’t he mentioned it?

“Yeah, so what? I was out of action for a while during the summer, and once you get past fifty, the lot there generally know what they’re doing, so that actually mattered. I’ll overtake them again by the end of the year.”

“Yes, but, rumour has it that drop was rather related to that incident a few days ago, where you were seen leaving a bar and proceeded to use your quirk outside of combat to get back home, causing some structural damages in the process?”

Izuku’s mind was reeling as Kacchan shrugged, completely indifferent. “If there is a relation, I wasn’t told about it. And I had a damn good reason for doing that, I’m just not going to tell you what it was, and you kindly won’t mention it at all.”

Her pen drooped. “Really? No contradicting the allegations of drunken quirk misuse? C’mon, I’m trying to do you a solid here. There was an alarm at your house, wasn’t there?”

Kacchan shifted, thinking. “It definitely takes more than two drinks that were half water, first off, so that hardly mattered. And I had… reason to believe a certain individual who’d threatened me before was related to the alarm, which turned out not to be the case, but the concern was justified, alright?”

“And the commission still counted it as a violation of the rules?”

“’S not like I could prove anything. If I’d been right, they would’ve sent me a gift basket or some stupid shit, but I wasn’t, which I’m actually not complaining about, so there.”

“Right, right.” The disappointment rolled off her in waves. “And what exactly – Oh! Shoto! Might I have a word with you?” In less than a second, he and Kacchan were forgotten as she pushed past them, towards a clearly confused Shouto who’d apparently tried to come back to their group.

Kacchan gave a mocking thumbs-up behind her back and hurriedly pushed them towards the buffet again. “I regret coming here,” he grumbled as he changed their path to avoid another man with a camera and a pen.

They made it another couple steps before they were stopped yet again, this time by a young woman with impressively long black hair in a braided ponytail. “Bakugou! So good to see you!”

“Yaomomo.”

“So how are you doing? I heard you were quite busy, although no one could tell me exactly why. Were the windows to your satisfaction?”

“I haven’t managed to destroy them yet, so I’d say they get a pass. And yeah, things have been busy, but most of it is confidential.”

“I hear you. And who’s this?” she suddenly asked, turning her attention towards Izuku. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

Kacchan shifted uncomfortably, probably because this was the sort of attention they didn’t need. The glamour would keep him safe, he reminded himself. “That’s because you haven’t. Yaomomo, meet my reason for living.”

Izuku nearly choked on his saliva.

Her eyebrows shot up as she gave him a renewed once-over.

“H-hi, I’m uh, I-I’m-” dang, what was he supposed to say? He couldn’t use his real name! Go with Deku? No, he couldn’t use that either, Kacchan’s classmates knew that one too. “Zu. Nice to meet you.” If someone could please shoot him, then.

“Is that… your full name?” she asked, hand halfway outstretched for a handshake.

“Um, obviously not,” he laughed nervously. “It’s my… brand name.” He had to force the inflection down to not make it sound like a question. “And I’d prefer not to be in the spotlight just yet?” he tried, remembering what Kacchan had said about her loving gossip just like Mina.

“That means keep your mouth shut or regret it,” Kacchan added in a gentle warning.

She glanced between him and Kacchan, then gave a polite nod. “Naturally. Do I get an actual name?”

“U-um, well, I am sorta here for the… exposure? So… probably - let’s just go with that?”

“See, this Nerd here’s been responsible for my new gear upgrades,” Kacchan finally jumped in. “Already proven quite useful in the field. Saved myself three separate trips to the hospital.”

“Oh! So you’re the leader of his support team?” Creati asked, probably as thankful as he was to be on some semblance of a normal track.

He frantically waved his hands. “Oh, no no, I don’t even have my license yet, I just, I come up with the designs and the gear and then I make it at home-”

“What he means to say is that he’s sorta freelance,” Kacchan translated. “He suggested some upgrades to me after that whole gang war shit back in May, and I had to admit the ideas were good.”

“But you just said you don’t have a license yet?” she asked, tilting her head in a questioning manner. “Isn’t that sort of… problematic?”

“Not really.” Thankfully, this he knew. First year had been a lifetime ago, but he still remembered the law course. “As long as it is ultimately tested and approved by licensed professionals, even students can design gear. It’s how U.A. does it, too. Their support courses learn by equipping their peers under their teachers’ supervision.”

“Wouldn’t I know about that. I had no idea it applied to actual heroes, too. And how come you’re only now pursuing this as a career?”

“I… did have plans to become a support engineer early on, but I unfortunately had to put it on hold due to… personal reasons.” Not too far from the truth. He nudged Kacchan with his elbow. “And then someone bullied me into getting back on track.”

“Don’t believe what he says, he jumped at the chance.”

“Glad to hear it. So, how’d you come to design for Bakugou specifically?”

“Er… it sorta… happened?” He had no idea how to explain that without being too obvious.

“He’s come up with ideas for me before,” Kacchan said, probably trying to be vague as well. “We kinda knew each other.”

“Ah. So you’re friends first and colleagues second? How long have you known each other?”

“Eh… A while?” Izuku tried.

“Can’t really say I even remember when we first met,” Kacchan said. “The support streak is a recent development tho. Last half year, give or take.”

She smiled at that and nodded. “Well, I’m glad to meet you, then. We should get a coffee sometime to catch up,” she said to Kacchan. “I’m afraid duty calls, but I hope you enjoy the evening.” With a small bow, she left them and moved on to greet more of her guests.

Finally, the buffet seemed in reach. “Kacchan, what was that about the rankings earlier?” he asked as they approached.

“I already said, nothing.”

He didn’t believe it. “The commission did that because of the property damages, didn’t they?” Oh shit, he’d cost Kacchan two places in the ranking. The one true thing was that this far up, it was cutthroat, and one wrong move could cost you dearly.

Kacchan sighed, clearly annoyed. “And what if it did? I had a good reason, and I’d fucking do it again. Two spots are nothing, just wait and see, I’ll have them back by Christmas.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kacchan whacked him over the head. Lightly. “Stop apologizing for shit that isn’t your fault. What good are some stupid numbers in a popularity contest gonna do me? They don’t make coffee for me, or upgrade my gear, or clean my house.”

“Glad to be of service.” He bumped their shoulders together.

“If two spots in the rankings are the worst that came of that, we can count ourselves fucking lucky,” Kacchan repeated. Then, as if an afterthought, he added, “If it had been the Auriculates, I would’ve been arrested for murder.”

“Kacchan!” He laughed nervously at the joke and quickly glanced around to check if anyone overheard. “…Kacchan, please don’t kill people.”

“Stay out of trouble, then.” He other grabbed two glasses from the table and handed him one, together with a few of the tiny morsels that were supposed to be their nutrition for the evening. The cheese rolls or whatever were actually quite pleasant. “Seems like the press is about to leave. Five more minutes and this’ll hopefully turn somewhat entertaining.” Kacchan continued to while those minutes away by pointing out some people for him, and Izuku wisely let the previous topic drop.

Indeed, as he stood and watched, there was a stream of people heading for the doors, and others started congregating in new groups at the same time. It was like spotting patterns in a school of fish. There was a definitive herd movement towards the drinks table, and the orchestra that’d supplied quiet ambient music until now raised their volume. He grinned and pointed Kacchan in the direction of Kirishima and Mina, who wasted no time in attempting a waltz. Their movements looked fairly competent, but he suspected that was only due to the fact Mina was leading.

Kacchan drained his glass in one go. “Come on, then.” He held out a hand.

“Kacchan, what…?”

The other rubbed the back of his neck, looking to the side. “You said you wanted to do this, when we did the bucket list on your birthday. Go to a dance. So I thought… dunno. This is the closest we’re gonna get.”

Izuku felt himself tear up. “You remembered that?”

“Fucking course I did. Why do you think we have that block in there in the first place? So? Wanna dance?” He held the hand out towards him, looking like the picture of chivalry.

Izuku put his own hand up without hesitation. “I don’t know how.”

Kacchan snorted. “Figures. I’ll show you.” Carefully, he guided him, putting Izuku’s free hand on his shoulder and pulling him a little closer. “It’s simple, really. I take it you know what a box step is, and for the rest you just follow me.”

Without giving Izuku time to process, Kacchan put his right foot forward to the next beat of the music, forcing Izuku’s left foot back. And from there, it just… flowed.

He wondered where Kacchan had learned to do this. Why, and for whom, maybe? Or had it been a mandatory thing? Had the Squad all learned together, and there was a funny story to be heard about it?

Either way, he was quite good at it. Nowhere near as skilled as some of the other couples whirling around them, doing complicated figures, but he was reassured there would be no bumping into anyone or getting his toes stepped on.

He could see over Kacchan’s shoulder. Quite a few people met his gaze, quickly averting their eyes after being caught staring. Or sometimes glaring at him. Were they jealous they didn’t get to dance with Kacchan? Izuku hoped they were – it did wonders for his own self-esteem. Then he looked up at Kacchan, letting himself be led on autopilot now, just enjoying the moment.

Kacchan looked right back, really looked at him, with a gentle curve to his lips and soft eyes, no scowl anywhere in sight.

His heart started beating faster. This was it, everything was perfect, and any moment Kacchan would lean down and –

No.

Nothing like that happened.

Izuku ducked his head and put some more distance between them, face turned to the side. Anything to keep himself from getting on his tiptoes and moving closer. That wasn’t what was happening. They were in a room full of people, and even if his glamour wouldn’t raise questions about the nature of his person in the aftermath, Kacchan didn’t want this to be public. And he could understand that.

“Hey, you good there?” Kacchan asked, his thumb drawing soft circles on the back of his hand as they slowed down to a gentle sway.

He smiled, genuine and only a little wistful. “Yes. It’s just… I’m so very, very happy to know you. I don’t think anyone has ever done something this nice for me. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” They spun in another slow circle. “You’re welcome.”

“…I want to kiss you.”

Kacchan leaned down further. His breath tickled on his ear, and his voice was so low it scratched something in Izuku’s brain. “You’ll get a lot more than that once we’re done here. You can be patient for another hour, can’t you?”

The vagueness of the answer sent his imagination into overdrive, and he nearly missed a step. “Kacchan!” he hissed.

The asshole just laughed and spun them in another circle. Thankfully, he kept quiet for the rest of the song, but that smug grin directed at him was enough to mess with him anyway. The music ended with a big crescendo and they found themselves back at the edge of the dancefloor. “That was fun,” he said earnestly.

“It was. Oh - and here they come,” Kacchan muttered, looking at something over Izuku’s shoulder with a falling expression. “Merch sponsors. You mind if I go deal with them real fast?”

“No, not at all. I’ll be over there.” Izuku had no choice but to look at his retreating back as Kacchan braved a group of smartly dressed partygoers tittering at each other over champagne glasses. He felt a little helpless, unsure what to do next.

People pushed past him on all sides. Without Kacchan, he was just an unassuming extra again. Carefully, he picked his way to the edge of the room, where he would at least not be trampled. He got another glass of the punch on the way and settled for people watching.

“Hey there sexy, how’s it going?”

Izuku spared an annoyed glance over his shoulder, trying and failing not to blush at the stupid comment. “I could ask you the same, hot stuff. It appears my date abandoned me, so I came to wallow in the shadows in shame.”

“Same,” Shinsou replied wearily as he leaned against the pillar Izuku was hiding behind. “At least we have each other.”

“Cheers to that.” Izuku raised his glass in Shinsou’s direction. “Who dragged you along?”

“Kaminari and Jirou. I owe them a designated driver, so I can’t even pass the time drinking.”

“Sorry for your loss. But the punch is really good, I’d recommend that. It’s alcohol free, apparently.”

Shinsou glanced across the room. “It appears the buffet is being overrun. I’ll try later.”

“Fair enough.” He took another sip when a logical problem presented itself. “How did you even recognise me? Is the glamour wearing off?” Glancing down at himself he thought he could still see the faint blue shimmer, but with the bright sparkly lights it was hard to be sure. Then again, logically, the four hours weren’t over, he knew.

“Nah, it’s fine. You look completely average and unassuming.”

“You just know how to make a guy feel special, do you?”

“I went out on a limb when I saw Blasty voluntarily dancing with someone. Looking like he was running on his last three braincells, too.”

“Don’t be mean, Shinsou.” The implication was an indirect ego boost, and he liked to believe it.

“He was mean to me first. Or did I insult him? I can’t remember. We hated each other. Now we still hate each other but with investment. At least that’s what they say.”

Another voice cut in before he could needle Shinsou into telling the story. “Hey there, cuties. Fancy meeting you here.” Mina rounded the pillar on the other side and nearly gave them both heart attacks. The grin on her face was too gleeful. Evil. “I came here to enact revenge,” she announced, apropos of nothing.

“Revenge…?” he glanced towards Shinsou, who was already on his backfoot. “On whom?”

“On our beloved King Explosion Murder God Supreme Eternal Ground Zero, naturally.”

Shinsou leaned forward again, almost bouncing. “What’d he do, what’d he do?”

“He,” Mina began, pointing a manicured nail across the room, “broke the promise he gave me and spilled my secrets, and he broke the ‘no meddling’ rule.”

“Not the no meddling rule.”

“Exactly! He told Eijirou about my embarrassing crush, and it totally turned out in everyone’s favour, but it’s the principle of the thing and I can’t let it slide. Eye for an eye.”

Izuku nodded. “Sure. But where exactly do we come in…?”

The nail served to hover in front of his nose. “You, specifically. And do not try to stop me, Shinsou!” She leaned closer. “Honey, you have a crush on the blond guy, and I came to tell you he is arse over tits for you, too, so go on and use that against him.”

He shot her the most sceptical look he could muster. “Yeah, thanks, but I feel like that’s misinformation at best.”

“No, she’s right,” Shinsou butted in, having picked a side in this, “and if you do it before the month runs out, I can collect bet money! I’ll even give you a split. Come on, how’s that sound?”

“I still think you’re mad. Wait, bets? Do other people really think…?” Oh boy, there was the chance to get some entertaining intel from their side. And he wanted to know what Kacchan told them when he wasn’t there.

“Apparently! From what I heard, the pool was setup after your very first visit to the office, when you planned that meeting with the Goldsmith.”

“That was months ago!”

“Which is why you should hurry this the fuck along!”

“Hurry what along?”

“Whatever this is. What is this, actually? Are you guys fucking?”

“Shinsou!”

“Because I think you should be!”

“I agree!” No, wait, he was supposed to be in gay denial. “Wait, what? …Never mind. I don’t even know if he likes me that way!”

“He does, just ask him.” Mina made a shooing motion at him.

“Ask?” Look who was talking.

Shinsou gently pushed her arm back down. “No way. That would be healthy communication. Never.”

He glared at Shinsou. “If you don’t have any constructive ideas, I’d ask you to kindly shut the fuck up.”

“Well what do you want me to do here?”

“Updating me on whatever gossip is floating around behind my back to get this insane idea implanted into your heads would be a good start! You think he would…? Me…?” Why did Kacchan like him?

“He’d be an idiot if he wouldn’t. And I know I say it a lot, but he actually isn’t that stupid. And it’s pretty funny to watch him when you’re around, know what I mean?”

Izuku sighed. “You know, for the comparison I’d have to see him when I’m not around, which is sort of hard for me to do.”

Mina clapped her hands in glee. “Right. Well. The short version is you have him pretty much wrapped around your finger, it’s disgusting. He also doesn’t really stop talking about you ever, which can get annoying. And don’t get me started on the lengths he goes to to make sure you’re alright. Remember your b-day? He called us all three days prior and bullied us into coming, not that he had to, called in an old favour from a former classmate for that cake, called in another favour with his boss to rearrange his and Kirishima’s schedules accordingly, and then he made us promise not to tell you how much work he put into it because he was embarrassed. Which is why this conversation never happened, okay?”

“Suuure.” That was a lot. “But that was only my birthday. I don’t know if that counts.” Kacchan probably had just wanted to make sure he had a nice day. After everything.

Shinsou shook his head. “No, he’s always like that. Attentive and shit. He’s watching you right now.”

Izuku had to fight against the instinctive urge to turn around and check. “Really?”

“Yeah, although he’s trying to be sneaky about it. I’m telling you, completely smitten.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Suddenly, he felt the need to change the topic. They were getting too close to the truth, and he didn’t want to hand this thing he had with Kacchan over for their inspection and approval just yet. “How long do these events run, by the way? The glamour’s only gonna hold for another hour or so. Would it be rude to leave that early?”

“Considering I had plans to dip about fifteen minutes ago, I’d say no.”

“You had?” He knew Shinsou probably wasn’t the type for big parties, but he’d thought there was networking to be done.

“Certainly. I’m like Cinderella. I show up, hardly anyone knows who I am, I pick the hottest person in the room for a dance and then I’m the fuck outta here never to return because I’ve reached my limit for social interaction.”

“Valid.”

Shinsou narrowed his eyes at something further back. “Oh wow, she’s really trying her best.”

He turned and followed Shinsou’s line of sight – some woman had practically glued herself to Kacchan’s side, batting her lashes and all, and he had to suppress his laughter when he noticed the way Kacchan tried to inch away. “That’s hilarious.”

Mina gave him a side-eye. “What, no rescuing him? She’s trying to steal your man.”

“She’s barking up the wrong tree, first off. And Kacchan is a big boy, he can handle himself.” Besides, if Kacchan hadn’t told her in as many expletives to fuck off already, that meant she had to be important somehow, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever negotiations were taking place there.

“Wow. You’d just abandon him. Cruel. I like it.”

“It’s funny to watch.”

“It is.”

The woman subtly tugged her dress further down when Kacchan was preoccupied with another investor… who was also leaning a bit too close. What, were they also his fanclub? Those were supposed to be professional businesspeople! “On second thought, he’s done nothing to deserve this. I’ll try and see what I can do.”

He started weaving his way through the crowds, forced to take the long way around the dancefloor when the orchestra started up again. The wave of people fleeing the space to avoid getting roped into it clashed with the other wave of people trying to get out on the floor in time, causing a throng of pushing and pulling. Izuku was jostled more than one time, no more than a leaf in the wind. No one knew who he was, and they’d rather fight for the attention of the sponsors, the engineers, the pro heroes, creating a third force. All he could see were dark suits and sparkly dresses, he wasn’t even sure where Kacchan was or which direction he was going anymore. He cursed himself for his bad timing, and cursed again when he couldn’t find a way out.

The discomfort of being stuck in a crowd steadily increased when he started to feel trapped, and he had to force his breathing into even ins and outs. He needed to stay rational, and rationality told him to just pick a direction and push his way through so he could catch a breath. Everything would be alright if he could just have some space again. He turned left, where he could see the nearest wall over the heads of the people, and started to make his way, turning sideways to squeeze between clusters, using his elbows if necessary. His jaw was too tense to bother with apologies.

Just when he finally saw the crowd thinning, a push from behind sent him stumbling sideways. He barely caught himself on the arm of another person, sending them stumbling too like a domino line. “Hey, watch it!” an angry voice called.

He ignored it. Just a bit further.

“Hey! You!” A hand shot forward and roughly snatched his arm, forcing him back around. He found himself face to face with a man in his late thirties or early forties, judging by the salt-and-pepper hair. “Don’t you dare think about just scurrying off! Do you know how much that suit cost?” He motioned at the navy blue west, now with a dark spot on the chest where the man had spilled his drink. Izuku picked up the distinct scent of prosecco.

“Sorry,” he forced himself to say. “It was an accident. I got pushed.” He tried to wrestle his arm back. The man didn’t yield.

“What’s your name and address? I’m sending you that cleaning bill.” Seriously?

“I’m sorry about the suit, but it wasn’t my fault. Now let go. Please.” He tried to keep it polite. Like hell he could tell this guy his name, or where he lived. Not that he’d believe it. ‘I live with Bakugou Katsuki’, sure thing, buddy.

“If you think you can just go around shoving people and then get away with it-”

“Oh, get lost!” He wrenched his arm back with force. “It was a stupid accident, and I don’t owe you anything besides an apology, which you already got. Goodbye.” Mistake. He saw the man narrow his eyes, brows coming down, mouth turning into a sneer. Before he could bolt, a hand had him firmly grabbed by the front of his shirt, pulling him too close.

“Now listen here, you little-”

“The fuck. Do you think. You’re doing?” Kacchan appeared out of nowhere. The man yelped when his hand was grabbed and twisted until he had to let go.

“This is none of your business. He ruined my shirt!”

“How exactly?” came Shinsou’s bored drawl from his other side.

“Well, he ran into-”

“You’ll forget this ever happened and won’t bother us again,” Shinsou ordered.

The man nodded, eyes glazed over, and turned to disappear into the crowd. Not that there was much of a crowd. The surrounding people had created a clearing around them. Probably in anticipation of a fight.

“C’mon, Nerd.” Kacchan put a hand on his shoulder and confidently steered them towards the edge of the room, people parting for him like the red sea.

“Where are we going?”

“Getting out of here,” Kacchan replied. “Those vultures smelled blood and they won’t leave us alone no matter what we do now.”

“Us?”

“If you think they won’t try and make up some ridiculous gossip stories about the weird rando I dragged to a gala event, think again. Welcome to my life. If you check social media tomorrow, you bet we’ll be dating, divorced, have four illegitimate children and I’m also cheating on you with at least two other people. Get your bingo card ready.”

Izuku gasped and put a hand on his chest. “You’re cheating on me?”

Kacchan rolled his eyes. “All the time, I’m sure. Remind me how you feel about heights and specifically jumping out of a window?”

“What, you trying to assassinate me? Is this Prague? Am I about to get defenestrated?”

“Yes,” was the succinct answer. “Unless you want to face the paparazzi at the entrance.”

“I love me a good defenestration.” He followed Kacchan down a flight of stairs and into an abandoned corridor of a side wing cordoned off by a single rope. Kacchan looked through a few doors before waving Izuku along. There was another balcony door already open.

Their footsteps echoed in the dark room as they made their way over like thieves, until Izuku could hesitantly glance over the banister. It was only one story down to an unassuming gravel path coated in shadows. Light and voices spilled down from the party in the main building, but the gardens beneath them looked completely deserted.

“Do you know how this is done?” Kacchan asked at his side.

“Yeah. Drop and roll.” It looked doable.

“Want me to go first?”

“Yeah… Why not?” He glanced down again.

Kacchan swung his legs over the railing and simply dropped, rolling into a stand again with fluid grace. He barely even made a sound. “Ok, come on,” he whisper-shouted upwards, dusting himself off.

Izuku wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and carefully climbed over the railing. He could barely fit his feet on the lip on the other side. Suddenly, this seemed a lot higher.

“Izuku, come on! It’s not that high!”

“Fuck off! This is how Juliet died!”

“…Is it?”

“No! Have you never read the play?”

“It was shit, I didn’t pay attention! I know there was a balcony and they both end up dead, what do you want from me?”

“A ladder would be nice.”

There was a heavy sigh. “Do you want me to catch you?”

“Can you do that?” Izuku glanced down past his feet.

“It’s not that high. Look.” Kacchan reached up a hand, and Izuku could probably step onto it if he were able to sit on that tiny ledge. He calculated. Two and a half metres? Three?

“Ok. Just tell me when?”

Kacchan nodded and reached both arms up. “Come on.”

Izuku focused on Kacchan instead of the ground and dropped off. For a moment, there was the swooping feeling of falling, before strong hands on his hips stopped his descent into something slightly more controlled. Only slightly. Izuku’s own hands came down on Kacchan’s shoulders to brace himself, and he maybe accidentally also kicked Kacchan in the shin.

Izuku could feel their balance shifting in slow motion and somehow managed to catch himself on his hands and knees above Kacchan when they fell. The gravel bit into his exposed skin. Hopefully the trousers weren’t ruined.

“Ow.”

“Sorry! You okay, Kacchan?”

The other blinked up at him, red eyes wide. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even move. “Kacchan?” Had he injured himself? Was he even breathing? No, Izuku could feel Kacchan’s breath ghost over his face, so that was good. Still, he brought his own hand up to Kacchan’s neck, resting his thumb where he could feel a pulse jump.

“Told you balconies were stupid.” Much like the ground, Kacchan’s voice was gravel.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re right. Nearly died, didn’t get to kiss a hot guy, zero out of ten.” Izuku pushed himself up so he was sitting and brought his hands up for examination. There were a few beads of blood welling from small scrapes. He wiped the gravel off towards the side.

“I’m terribly sorry for shattering your Disney movie illusions.” Kacchan pushed himself up and ruffled a hand through his hair to shake the dirt out. A teasing grin played on his face. “Want me to make it up to you?”

“Huh?” Izuku let his hands be and stared back up, perplexed. He was suddenly very aware of the fact he was sitting on Kacchan’s lap. One of Kacchan’s hands flexed against his thigh, warm through the fabric of his trousers. Kacchan’s face was hard to make out, it was so dark – Kacchan’s pupils were almost entirely black to make up for it. He didn’t look like he was entirely joking.

“We could still be seen.”

“No one’s out here.”

And logically, Izuku knew the risk was not zero, but his resolve in this matter was shaky at best, so he didn’t think twice about wrapping his arms around Kacchan’s neck and kissing him deeply.

He felt Kacchan’s lips stretch into a lazy smile, and he kissed that too, because he was curious how it would taste. Really good. Warmth crawled up his thigh where Kacchan’s hand was still laying. The night air pressed in around him, thick and humid, until he wished he could take off his jacket.

Despite him sitting on top of Kacchan, it felt like the other was looming over him, eclipsing everything else with his presence and his kisses and his sweet smell of burnt sugar.

His fingers couldn’t get a solid grasp on the starched fabric of Kacchan’s vest, scrabbling uselessly for some form of purchase. He might as well have tried to hold water, he certainly felt like he was being swept away in something. His brain dimly registered that this was about to escalate. He blindly found Kacchan’s tie, hooking his fingers into the knot, and Izuku raised himself up on his knees a little to get leverage, to push forward-

Kacchan’s hands pushed at his chest, shoving him back. Each millimetre of distance felt too much. “I think that’s enough.” He sounded breathless, shaken.

It was not enough. “Kacchan.” Izuku carded his hands through that spiky hair, pulling at the strands as if it could elongate the contact.

“Hang on, Nerd, we shouldn’t-”

“Shut up.” He pushed forward until Kacchan relented, lips meeting again and again.

This time, it was him who drew back, if only so he could try and formulate a sentence to get a certain point across. “I love you.” It sounded lacking, three words not enough to encompass everything that Kacchan meant to him. “I love you so much.”

“Not as much as I love you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Does everything have to be a competition for you?” He carefully got up and turned in the direction of their car, adjusting his trousers in the darkness.

“It’s not a competition, it’s just the truth.”

“Disgusting.” He held his hand out behind him, delighted at the warmth of Kacchan’s fingers when he took it.

“Why are your hands always so cold?” Kacchan asked, almost to himself.

“They’re not. Usually.” The air was chilly this late, he admitted. “Has it maybe occurred to you that other people cannot control the temperature of their fingers at will?” he teased back, sighing in delight as Kacchan did just that, warming up until he was almost toasty.

“Let’s get you home then.”

He turned and scanned the darkness once as they walked. He imagined the feel of another presence on his back, but he could not spot anything or anyone. It was too dark to see out here, anyway.

Chapter 21

Notes:

You thought you were rid of me, didn't you? Well guess what, I lived. The arm is functional, the house is moved, the laptop battery is restored and the exam season is almost over. God did not want me to finish this fic in a timely manner but I will not be bested.

“Sorry we had to cut this short,” he began when they left the estate, taking a left turn towards home.

It wasn’t fair. He’d just wanted one nice evening out, and so he’d dragged Izuku along, disguised and under the pretense of them being nothing more than friends. Like he was a dirty secret. And then they hadn’t even gotten to enjoy that.

“It’s alright. Shinsou and I were making escape plans anyway,” Izuku replied. “Think this’ll be a problem, though? I didn’t mean to start an argument…”

“Tch. ‘S fucking fine. I should’ve broken that idiot’s hand.” He was a little more worried about the scene they’d very much caused. Some of the people had had very knowing looks in the aftermath. Like Midnight. He trusted the rest of the heroes not to start any overt rumours – there was a strict honour system in regards to privacy in their field, since they were all in the same boat – but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any whispers through the grapevine. To say nothing about the rest of the attendees.

“He was drunk,” Izuku protested, unaware of the small inner conflict he had going on. “And he was just being stupid. What would he have done? Fight me? I would’ve beaten him.”

He laughed at that. “Naturally.” Suddenly, an idea formed. “Speaking of, would you maybe like to come to our training session on Wednesday? You’ve met Sero now.” They came together twice a month to train their hand-to-hand and help each other develop new ideas they had for their quirks. Since Izuku generally had a lot of ideas for just about anybody’s quirk, bringing him along could only be a benefit. (And it would be entertaining as fuck). “We can switch to the training room in our office.” Normally they rented one in a gym for the extra space, but they could make one exception for sure.

“Sounds fun. I haven’t seen you fight live yet.” Izuku was predictably excited at the prospect.

“You haven’t?” How could that be? Izuku knew more about his quirk than anyone else did. He designed gear for him. He’d been around since the day he got it! “But… the sports festival, at least?”

Izuku shook his head. “I wanted to go, but I figured I could see better on TV than from the far back rows, so I watched with my classmates…”

“That’s it, then. You’re coming.”

“You just want to show off.”

He had no answer for that, because it was true, but he sure as hell would not admit it aloud. Izuku laughed softly into the silence, until the sound petered out in a wistful sigh.

“What was that for?”

“This’ll sound stupid, but I spotted those little glasses with tiramisu at the buffet and I am kind of bummed I didn’t get to try one.”

“Yeah, they looked good.” He remembered seeing those as well, all pristine with their cut-out layers and little strawberries on top.

“Maybe I’m just hungry. Do you think we can stop for food somewhere real quick?”

“I think I can do you one better.” He glanced at the display behind the wheel. Nine forty-three. He’d set an alarm on his phone to ring twenty minutes before Izuku’s glamour would run out, so they’d have time to make an exit, and since it hadn’t gone off yet… He took a right instead of a left at the next intersection and headed for the closest supermarket. “Okay, we need to be real fast here, they close in ten minutes, come on!” He unbuckled Izuku’s belt after his own when the other didn’t get the memo, and they raced towards the big sliding doors.

“Why do I need to come?” Izuku asked behind him. “Shouldn’t I stay in the car?”

“Ten minutes!” he shot back, having the mind to grab a basket from the stack by the entrance. “Go and find me some frozen clams and whatever that white fish is called. Oh, and shrimp.”

“Do you know how many white fish there are?” Izuku stood on his tip-toes, trying to get his bearings as they stopped briefly by the vegetables and fruits. “Where is the seafood?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been in here before!”

“Kacchan!” Their frantic energy racked up the more they shouted at each other, and Izuku finally darted off towards a far wall with coolers. He made it about five steps before some exotic fruit caught his attention. “What on earth is that?”

“Nerd! The fish!”

“Sorry.” He was off again.

Katsuki quickly got some bell pepper, garlic, onions, a lemon and some spring onions just in case. They had rice and plenty of spices at home. What else? His eyes landed on some strawberries, but they weren’t in season, and the imported ones always seemed tasteless to him. Instead, he tossed the starfruit Izuku had been so fascinated with into the mix, and went to find the dairy aisle. He almost felt bad for coming in last-minute, but they were not the only ones in here, so there was at least that. Some try-hard punk guy shot him a weird look, as did the pair of girls loitering by the booze. Even here he attracted attention. Then again, that was probably his person in formal clothing running around a store like a headless chicken this late at night.

Izuku found him just as he snatched the mascarpone and unloaded an armful of seafood into the basket. And chocolate. And popcorn. And jam, cheese, a jar of olives and some cereal. When Izuku finally looked up, he gave his best puppy dog eyes. “I wanted to try these?”

And who was he to say no to that? “It’s fine. I think we got everything.” They hurried towards the registers when something caught his eye, and he caught Izuku by the scruff of his jacket. “Wait wait wait. We should get something to drink, too.” He pulled two bottles of red wine that he’d judged by the label alone off the shelves. “Which one do you think? Or rather a white?”

“My knowledge of wine is limited to the fact it’s made of grapes, and that’s it,” Izuku shot back, looking anxiously at the clearly tired and pissed off lady behind the register who was passively-aggressively examining her nails. “Um. This one, maybe?” Izuku pulled the one from his left hand – Merlot, whatever that meant – and turned it around to read on the back. “It usually says what it can pair with here. What are we making, actually?”

“Paella. And tiramisu, obviously. That’s like traditional Italian, right? Should we get an Italian wine?”

Izuku frowned. “Seafood is white wine, mostly, I believe? Oh, no, it says here, too… And I thought Paella was Spanish.”

He shrugged. “Mediterranean. Whatever.” He randomly started pulling bottles and scanning the labels until he found something that said fish, and then took the one Izuku was holding. “We’ll get both, so we have options in case one sucks. Let’s go.”

He paid and they made it home in another ten minutes, still laughing about the trip. Only Izuku could make grocery shopping fun.

He left the other to do the unpacking and turned to the far left cabinet, where he kept his cook books and the folders with the loose recipes he’d collected from friends and family. Which was missing. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The hag has my recipe folder.” She’d requested it a while ago to copy it for herself, and he hadn’t been over since to pick it up. He probably should visit more often. After a moment of deliberation, he decided he could probably do it from memory and substitute the rest with other online recipes. Cooking wasn’t rocket science. “Budge, we’re improvising.”

Izuku grinned. “Oh god. What do you want me to do?”

“You can make some coffee for the tiramisu so it can cool down while we work.”

Izuku moved past him to do that, fishing for a mug from the cabinets and getting further on his tiptoes to reach the shelf above. “We have wine glasses in there, don’t we?”

“Yeah, let me.” He walked up right behind Izuku, smirking as he effortlessly grabbed the glasses and pressed them into Izuku’s not-quite reaching hands. Looking down, he thought how easy it would be to bury his nose in that apple-scented hair and wrap his arms around Izuku’s waist. After a moment, it occurred to him he was probably allowed to do that now, so he did, and it was heavenly. He felt warm where their bodies pressed together chest to back, and he could feel as well as hear it when Izuku laughed and made a non-convincing attempt of wriggling free.

“Kacchan! I can’t move like this!” Despite the protests, they somehow managed to get back to the counter, and Izuku uncorked the red wine and poured them both a glass.

“Not bad,” Katsuki decided after trying a sip.

“Don’t tell me you actually do know this stuff,” Izuku half-joked.

“Please. I am an expert when it comes to wine tasting.”

Izuku paused, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether or not to believe that. “Are you?”

“Naturally. See, I tasted this, and I immediately knew ‘Ah, yes, this is wine’.”

Izuku swatted at him for the sass, and he laughed as he caught the offending hand and placed a kiss there before going back to their food. As much as he enjoyed their banter, Izuku had said he was hungry, and it was the least he could do to remedy that fact after the botched evening.

“Any orders for me?” Izuku asked, rolling up his sleeves to the elbow. Honestly, he could’ve just stood there and looked good, and Katsuki would have been more than happy. On the other hand, they needed to get done sometime soon, so he could devote earnest attention to those arms.

“If you want, you can make the tiramisu.” He should’ve probably started with that, since it needed to cool and all. “Instructions are in there.” He pointed at the lone book still in his possession.

“Got it.”

The result of their efforts was a kitchen turned warzone forty minutes later, along with some delicious paella and more tiramisu than they could eat alone tucked away in the fridge. They’d started up some music in the background, and it was probably the most fun he’d had in this kitchen.

Katsuki set the table and Izuku refilled their glasses, all the while chattering on. “I mean, this versatility in the field is what truly matters, and I think basing ability on one normed scenario for everyone was a frankly moronic choice.” They had gotten back to the topic of the sports festival and from there, via Shinsou’s example, back further towards the flaws of the entrance exam. “You don’t need a lot of imagination to see how useful such a mind quirk could be, even if it’s not for combat! Hell, Aizawa is one of the most respected undergrounders, and his quirk is just OP, but imagine he’d been judged based on his ability to fight giant robots with it. It makes no sense!”

“Which is why they switched him from gen ed to the hero course after the sports festival,” he agreed. For him, the exam had been almost too good a fit. But no one even told them about the rescue points, so many of them had been acquired only coincidentally. If they had known about the option, people like Jirou and Kirishima could’ve scored even higher than they did, because their strengths were well suited for the task. “I would understand if they matched the exam each year to the niche they are scouting for – combat power, resilience, reconnaissance, and so on – but they boil down to mere strength more often than not. Do you know how high in demand Jirou was after graduation, just because there’s so few trained pros for intel gathering?”

Izuku made an agreeing noise through a mouthful of rice and shrimp. “Good thing the reform forced them to change that. Still, it’ll take forever before there are enough options to create enough properly balanced hero teams.”

“Oh, I don’t know. If people get creative enough, there’s more than enough possibilities to adapt. Pikachu could easily fill a supporting role in stealth missions with the right gear – short circuiting alarms or bypassing electric locks. Shouto offered him a place at his future agency just for that, actually.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, with Sero as the less-violent restraining option.”

“They’d be a good team, I believe.” Izuku pushed a pea around his plate. “Actually, Shouto asked me if I want to be their consultant,” he announced apropos of nothing.

Katsuki needed a moment to swallow his own bite. “And?”

“Well…” Izuku started fidgeting, hand gestures getting grander and more frantic. Katsuki kept one eye on the dangerously glinting fork. “He sort of joked that it would be a ploy to get you to agree to working with him, too, and he told me you already declined several offers, and at first I wasn’t gonna do it because you already asked me to stick with you and Kirishima, but now…”

“Now we’re dating,” he continued the thought, knowing what the other was getting at. Workplace romance in their field was generally frowned upon. It was one thing to be friends with your colleagues, even if that was already treading a certain line when it came to unbiased decision making in an emergency. There was just no realistic way of working around that. This, on the other hand… “Well, he’ll be glad to hear you changed your mind,” he eventually settled on.

Izuku grinned hesitantly. “You don’t mind?”

“Nah. It’s a great opportunity. And there’s worse people you could have for a boss.” Now, he would never ever willingly take orders from IcyHot, which was the sole reason he’d declined – that, and he eventually wanted to build his own agency, calling the shots himself. Say about the Candy Cane what you want, the concept he’d proposed was genius appealing. He figured they’d both benefit from some good competition. It would have been nice to work with Izuku as his consultant; he was certain of that. The risk of putting him in a position where he had to choose between Katsuki’s wellbeing or literally anything else was just not worth it. It wouldn’t be conductive to good work, either. And he could still do the designs for him, or help him out with casework from home.

“I’ll ask him about it the next time I see him, then. Dessert?” Izuku asked, whisking away their empty plates.

“Yeah, thanks.” He heard Izuku rummage and dishes clink before he was presented with a plate of tiramisu, cut into a vaguely square piece. Granted, it didn’t look as good as the one at the Gala, but the almost obscene sound that escaped Izuku when he tried a bite made it seem irrelevant.

“Yep, I knew I wanted this stuff,” the other grinned happily.

“And you can eat more than two spoons without people judging you,” he added. That Gala food really hadn’t cut it for a meal.

“Yeah. Next year we’ll eat before we go,” Izuku agreed.

“You’d willingly go there another time?” Not that he didn’t like the casual way Izuku had said it, like ‘Next year’ was already a done thing.

“Sure. It was kind of fun. Different. And there were a lot of cool people, that I hopefully can talk to about actual work then.”

“In that case, don’t let me stop you. We’ll have to come up with a different story, though.” He could’ve kicked himself earlier for not having a suitable explanation as to who Izuku was. Normally he tried to avoid going, and if that failed he tried to avoid talking to anyone that wasn’t in his circle already.

Izuku smirked. “Next year, I’ll just be the Squad’s favourite support engineer slash consultant, and it’ll be great advertisement. I’ll be swimming in commissions afterwards,” he declared.

“And so the corruption begins.” He was struck by a wave of affection for that devilishly clever mind of his Angel.

“Oh, actually, guess what happened while you talked to your sponsors.”

He groaned at the memory. They’d been insufferable today. “What?”

“Okay, so Mina came to talk to me…” Izuku launched into a retelling of his (much more interesting) conversation at that time, pouring more wine.

“I can’t wait for Shitty Hair to come talk to me,” he laughed at the end of the tale.

“Please record it for me,” Izuku begged. “I feel kinda bad for them now, but they’re just… They’re trying so hard to wingman this-” He broke off into another fit of laughter.

“They will never let it go when they find out we messed with them.”

“Nope,” Izuku agreed, laugh petering out into a small sigh. “Hey, by the way, Kacchan?”

“Hm?”

“So, remember what you said earlier about stuff once we got home?” The Nerd shuffled his feet, looking at him imploringly.

“Yeees…?” he tried, unsure where this was going. He had said that, hadn’t he?

“So… We could- I mean. There’s no one watching now?” The other tried, nodding towards the speaker that was still playing quietly in the background.

“Oh. Uh, sure!” Not where he had expected this to go, but it was a small thing to ask. Again, he took Izuku by the hand and led them out into the living room, turning the music up as they went. There wasn’t really that much space here, so they could only turn in slow circles. He found he enjoyed it even more for that.

Izuku kept looking at him, with an expression that would have elicited some good-natured barbs on any other occasion. Now that he was on the receiving end, he couldn’t quite come up with any. “Having fun?” he asked eventually.

“This is nice,” Izuku answered, going on his tiptoes and stretching closer. Right, he’d wanted a kiss earlier.

“It is.” Well, now he could easily fulfil that particular request. Izuku tasted sweet, like tiramisu and wine and something else that was just… warm.

“You know, I could get used to this dancing thing.” Izuku smiled, looking doped out of his mind with affection.

“It has its perks,” he admitted.

“Mhm. It was a fun evening.” Izuku rested his head against his shoulder, cuddling closer. “Good thing we figured this out beforehand. Wouldn’t have been this nice if Shinsou or Mina asked. I mean, it’s nice to know they would have, probably, but I wanted you.”

It took him a moment to connect the thought with the Bucket List Jenga. “They would have,” he confirmed. And probably stood in line, too, to make sure Izuku had a good time at the Gala. “And then I would’ve had to evict them from the premises,” he continued the thought. Izuku huffed a laugh, slouching further. “Any ideas for the next Jenga game? You need to prepare those. You saw there’s no giving wishy-washy answers.”

“Hm. Well, if I have to think of something right now… Maybe a camping trip? With everyone?”

The suggestion evoked an image of the squad spread around on a blanket under a big old tree somewhere in the middle of nowhere, holding beers and telling stories. “That’s actually a really good idea.” Getting away for a week to do dumb shit? He’d be 100% on board with that. “We could bring it up as an idea for next year’s holidays. I don’t think the weather will be in our favour until May.”

“Hmmm.” Izuku hummed something.

“You good there, by the way?”

“Tired. And my head feels a bit weird. Cotton-y.”

“That’ll be the wine. Goes straight to your head.” He’d kinda forgotten Izuku couldn’t hold his liquor. Whoops.

“I don’t think I like wine all that much. The other stuff was better.”

“Because of the gallons of sugar, dumbass.” He glanced down, but couldn’t see much besides green hair. “Alright otherwise?”

He felt a weak nod. “I think I need to go to sleep.”

“Yeah. Do that.”

“…So are you gonna let me go or what?”

With a sigh, he released his Nerd, who shuffled off towards the bathroom to get ready. In the meantime, he turned towards cleaning the kitchen. Thankfully it looked worse than it was, and he got done just as Izuku shuffled past him in the other direction. “You coming, Kacchan?”

“Five minutes,” he replied over his shoulder. Those five minutes turned out to be ample time for Izuku to almost clock out completely. Besides a grumble and some shuffles in his general direction, he got no reaction when he finally slid under the covers. “Night, Angel,” he tried.

Indifference.

He laughed under his breath and turned the lights off. He could see himself doing this again next year.

Especially when he was woken to the smell of breakfast come next morning. “Morning, there’s food, and maybe coffee, come get it before it gets cold,” Izuku told him after knocking against the doorframe, face buried in some notes.

Whyever the nerd was up at half past seven on a Sunday to read notes was a question he didn’t dare to ask on an empty stomach. Or after he’d eaten, truth be told.

He threw in a quick workout whilst Izuku did some studying, and the other seemed completely engrossed by the time he came out of the shower afterwards. Thinking it might be best to leave him to it – he belatedly remembered Izuku had that exam coming up – he went to search out his baggiest clothes to piss off his hag on purpose, just because he could. “I’m going to head out for a bit,” he announced.

Izuku’s head shot up, startled. “Where to?” He took in the unusual outfit with a questioning look.

“Gonna go say hi to my parents and get back the stuff they borrowed.” If he recalled correctly, his mother had taken a muffin tray, the big salad bowl and several containers of Tupperware that she was still holding for ransom, along with his recipes. And he couldn’t recall seeing his silicone spatula anywhere, now that he thought about it. He’d trade the containers they’d brought the food in when they’d broken in after his brief hospital visit. The usual hostage negotiations. “It’s just gonna be a short visit, I’ll be back in two hours tops.”

Izuku chewed on the end of his pen, staring into space. “…Can I come?”

He paused with one shoe halfway on his foot. “Ha?”

“If… I mean, I’ve kind of been trying to… And I feel really bad about it, I mean, they know I’m here, and they’re probably curious and I haven’t said a single thing to them, and I just thought…”

“You don’t have to.” He felt like he had to offer the out. Izuku didn’t seem remotely convinced on this.

“I know, but I sort of want to, even if I don’t want to, if you know what I mean, and I’ve been trying to talk myself into it, so I figured, if it’s just a short visit, I could maybe tag along and see what happens?” It was definitely a question.

Katsuki sighed and ran a hand over his face. “There’s a fifty-fifty chance your mum will be there too.”

The shaky resolve in Izuku’s eyes flickered, but it didn’t go out. “Alright.”

They stared at each other for a beat. “Okay. But I will call them beforehand and warn them. We don’t want any more poor surprises.”

Izuku nodded, keeping his head down once he was finished. “Probably for the best.”

He wanted to say something else, to argue, but Izuku was one of the few people who could out-stubborn him and also one of the few people who could guilt-trip him for meddling, and that was a power he didn’t want to face. It wasn’t his decision to unmake, even if he recognised it as a poor one.

With a sigh, he unlocked his phone and punched in the number of his childhood home from muscle memory alone. It rang a long time, until he wondered if anyone was even home. Not that he particularly cared – he still had a key, so he could get his stuff on his own – but he hoped for the sake of this stupid not-plan that it was actually the case.

“What?” a voice asked. No dice, then.

“I’m coming over to get my shit back,” he told his mum.

“You still have some of ours.”

“Yeah, yeah, I have it right here. Listen, Izuku wants to come say hello, so I’m bringing him.”

There was a brief pause. “Why didn’t you start with that? Right now? I don’t have shit in the fridge!”

“We’re not staying long,” he said, lowering his voice and walking into the kitchen to fish the Tupperware from the cabinet. “I’m not even sure this is a good idea, he’s just guilt-tripped himself into going.” He glanced back over his shoulder. Izuku was tidying up his notes, apparently getting ready to leave. “He’s not jumping for joy, if you know what I mean. Looks more like he’s getting dragged to his execution.”

“Well, we’re not forcing him to come,” his mother said petulantly.

“I know, it’s just… try and don’t make a big deal out of it? And leave him space? Don’t ask any fucking questions at all, he hates that. Is auntie there?”

“Yes, she is – I’ll talk to her, don’t worry.”

“Good. And I am reserving the right to dip the moment it gets too much, just so you know.”

“Alright. See ya later.” She hung up just like that.

“Auntie’s gonna be there, too,” he warned, but Izuku seemed to have set his stubborn mind to the idea. He was already at the door, shoes on, jacket in hand. It didn’t escape his notice that the Nerd had switched to a long-sleeved shirt. With a groan, he steeled himself and handed the bowls over for Izuku to carry. “Let’s go, then.”

The silence in the car grew tenser the closer they got to his childhood home.

“You can just wait here,” he tried again, a last effort when they finally arrived.

Izuku silently got out and started walking, back straight, brandishing the containers piled high in his arms like a shield. Katsuki could only shake his head in fond exasperation at this display of thick-headedness. He didn’t bother with the bell, instead letting them inside with his key and practically shoving Izuku through towards the living room, so they’d not have this talk in the entryway.

When they walked into the living room, their parents waited, standing by the sofa in an attempt at casualty. The only sound was the click-clack of dog claws on the floor as the little mutt came over to greet them, sniffing excitedly at the newcomers. “Hey there, girl.” He obligingly bent down to pet her. “This is Togo,” he told Izuku, as if he didn’t know already.

“Hello there.” The Nerd shuffled his stack over to one hand to devote some earnest attention to the dog, never averting his eyes from her. “Hi,” he mumbled in the general direction of their parents. Great start.

Said parents stood there staring, like a bunch of cats seeing a lit-up Christmas tree for the first time. Auntie was already tearing up.

“Well,” his dad eventually began, “can I offer you anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Oh, thanks, but I don’t think we’re staying that long,” Izuku deflected. “Kacchan has a lot of work to do, and I need to study for my final exam, and… y’know. We just wanted to say hello.”

His mom put a hand on auntie’s back and patted gently, all the while forcing herself to not cry as well. “Final exam, huh? Isn’t that rather fast?”

“Oh, not really, I mean, it’s just the written parts, I haven’t done anything practical. That’s the real timesink. But I’ve got a job offer!” Finally, Izuku pried himself free of the dog, looking up.

“That soon?” Auntie finally seemed to have gotten her voice back. “Oh, baby, promise you won’t overwork yourself. Are you alright? Make sure to take all the time to rest you need.”

Taking a deep breath, he turned around and went to search the kitchen for his stuff. Izuku picked this battle, he could well confront the consequences of his actions on his own. At least then then they could leave faster. He heard more questions that Izuku mostly answered with monosyllables.

“Oi, brat.”

Katsuki nearly hit his head against the cabinet as he spun around. “What the fuck, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“If it’s that easy to sneak up on you, you should get your hearing checked.”

His hearing was perfectly fine and she knew it. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing in particular.” Her shit-eating grin told a different story. “I just wanted to ask what was up with that boy you went out with?”

“The what?” He wasn’t even sure what she was talking about, but his heart stopped for a second nevertheless. The hag had seen something she wasn’t supposed to, and if Izuku weren’t a room over he’d genuinely consider jumping out of the window and legging it.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen?” She frowned and swiped through something on her phone, turning it around for him when she found whatever she’d been talking about. To his absolute dismay, it was a picture of himself walking alongside some plain-looking guy whose features seemed a bit blurred. It also had several thousand comments and retweets.

“Ah, fuck.”

“So?” his mom asked again. “Who is the cutie, and when am I gonna meet him?”

He deliberated for a second, then leaned forward and hushed his voice. “That’s just the Nerd, we disguised him so he could come shopping for a few necessities. Don’t tell anyone about that, though, you’re not supposed to know we can do that. Satisfied?”

The anticlimactic reveal seemed to disappoint her a little. “Shame. And here I thought someone was finally willing to put up with you.”

“Fuck off. And tell me where that muffin tray went.” He quickly grabbed the rest of his stuff and beat a fast retreat before his mum could entertain other ideas regarding his relationship status.

“Yes, mom,” Izuku sighed exasperated when he walked back into the other room. “How often do I need to say I’m fine? I can’t laze about all day. The rent isn’t gonna pay itself.”

“Rent?” she shrieked, turning her head in his direction.

He raised his hands in surrender. “He bullied me into it, I swear.”

She apparently decided to not hear him. “Izuku, you shouldn’t have to worry about rent! You can always come back home. I’ll make katsudon for you, lord knows you’re too thin.”

He could see Izuku force a calm breath. “I’m fine. And I have a home, one I enjoy very much. It’s great, really. Don’t worry.”

“I’m your mother, it’s my job to worry about you.”

Izuku threw his hands up. “Well, you can stop. I don’t need it!”

The ensuing silence gave him an opportunity to get a word in edgewise. “He’s fine, he eats enough, I do need to keep him because we’re in the middle of a case and otherwise I will be the one starving. C’mon, Nerd, back we go, I just got a message and people want to urgently talk with us about The Thing.”

“O-Oh, well, can’t let them wait!” Izuku all but jumped for the door. “Sorry to cut this short, but what can you do, I’ll see you around, bye!”

Katsuki followed him as fast as he could, before he said something he’d regret. Was it really necessary to treat Izuku like a helpless child? Couldn’t she just be glad he was fine and owning his education and career goals? Would it have killed her to say ‘I’m proud of you’ just once? And implying he wasn’t taking good enough care of the Nerd, of all things!?

Izuku sank down in the passenger seat once the house was out of sight. “Urgh.”

“Yep. Can’t wait to tell my therapist about that one.”

Izuku tilted his head to look at him. “You talk to your therapist about me?”

“Well, not yet. Technically she’s a trauma counsellor, we all have one, and we’re in agreement we’re gonna want to see them after that whole Peregrine shitshow is over. Mina and I have the same one, can’t wait to show up to her office and dump all the gossip on her.”

“Sounds plausible.”

“Yeah. Y’know, sometimes we wonder if all those counsellors know each other from work and whether or not they have something like a self-help group where they get together after we rolled up to them. I hope they do.”

“Because you find the idea hilarious?”

“You know me so well.”

“And you actually talk about me?” Izuku seemed sceptical.

“As I said, I haven’t been in a while. She knows of you. Actually, I need to make sure I get my appointment before Mina. I wanna see her face when she finds out you showed up again.”

“Your poor therapist.”

“She knows what she signed up for when she chose her profession.”

“You know, maybe I could just come along, like show and tell.”

He laughed at the image that invoked. “Sure, why not. Ask her about the family drama. She’d be fucking relieved to talk about that instead of whatever bullshit it is I have to report. Certainly beats ‘Hey, you wanna hear about that one night I saw people hunted for sport?’”

“And the classic sequel, ‘Hey, want to hear about that one night I was hunted for sport?”

He groaned at the poor joke. “Nooo.”

“To soon?”

“I changed my mind, you’re not allowed to meet my therapist, she’d disown me for that and finding a good one is difficult. Get your own.”

“How would I even do that?”

He chanced a look to the side. It seemed a genuine question, and he couldn’t believe he’d get the issue on the table that easily. “You know there’s a person whose job is to specifically sort that out for you for basically every agency, right? They have their list of people and depending on what you need and who has openings they give you a list of options.”

“Like therapist tinder?”

He nodded. “Haven’t heard it described as that but I guess you’re not wrong. I can hit them up later if you like.”

There was a longer pause. “But am I not supposed to keep contact with other people to a minimum? I wouldn’t want to cause a problem for Peregrine this close to the end.”

He sighed. This was his own fault, wasn’t it? “Yes, but our concern was that you being recognized would raise questions about what I am doing with a missing person, which in turn would make the Auriculates ditch me at best. Anyone in the medical field has this secrecy oath or whatever, and the likelihood of them being the mole is literally zero, so there’s no risk whatsoever. Go if you wanna.”

Izuku chewed on his lower lip, staring ahead at the road. “I don’t know. Should I?”

He shrugged. “Gotta figure that one out for yourself. But it can’t hurt, can it? And it would open up an entire field of gossip for you during bar night. Everyone in the squad goes at least once a year, and we always compare notes afterwards. It’s hilarious.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.” He couldn’t ask for more than that.

“What was it with the message you mentioned earlier?” Izuku asked, blatantly changing the topic.

“What? Oh, I made that up so we could leave. As if we didn’t have enough to do already.”

Izuku sighed deeply. “True.” The planning was in the final stages, meaning the bosses were already assigning targets to everyone. The hope was that in the timespan between securing the Goldsmith to enlisting and mobilising Nightingale, the small Peregrine squad could already apprehend most of the Auctioneers – to prevent them from fleeing or communicating to the rest of the Auriculates. As the Auctioneers were the main communication nexus, this part was critical, and they would take it seriously.

Which in reality meant he had to pour over floor plans, timetables and street maps. Not to mention the legal side of the whole affair. How busting down a door, which on average took him five seconds, could take literal hours of preparation to make sure he wouldn’t get sued afterwards was a mystery to him. At least they assigned him to Ueda. The look on that bastard’s face would certainly be worth it.

Two days after the disaster with the parents, he was woken by the ringing of his phone in the middle of the night. The sound had a profound Pavlovian effect on him, namely instant wakefulness thanks to an adrenaline spike he could taste. At this time of day, it could pretty much only be either dispatch or the hospital calling him as an emergency contact.

So the subsequent irritation when the caller turned out to be one Saneharu Haga (and how had he even gotten past the do not disturb?) seemed justified. “What the fuck do you want?” And why did he always have to call in the middle of the night?

“’S wrong, Kacchan?” a sleepy voice mumbled behind him, but he paid it no mind as Haga spoke.

“Good evening, and apologies for the disturbance. I forgot it was this late in Japan. I have just a very quick question for you, if you don’t mind.” After a pause in which Katsuki kept silent, he continued, “See, I’ve been enjoying my holiday abroad for the past ten days, until I am called by several of our… acquaintances, in various states of anger and distress. It seems there have been some concerns regarding security, and I wanted to ask if you had any insight into the topic?”

Oh shit. So this was serious. Both Peregrine and Nightingale had reported some unrest amongst the Auriculates, but that sentiment carried back months, even before he’d taken part in the hunt on the Playground. He’d seen further signs in his time infiltrating the group. But that Haga was calling in meant there was likely something else afoot.

“I’m afraid not,” he answered truthfully. Peregrine had been trying to flush out select members in order to close in on the mole, but these were artfully crafted traps designed to blend into the usual Nightingale machinations.

“No? Some of your friends work with Nightingale, don’t they?”

Katsuki was glad Haga couldn’t see his expression. He was bringing Nightingale up, just like that? Well, two could play that game. “They don’t tell me anything. I’m sure your friend on the inside could tell you more,” he sneered. Immediately, he wondered if that was telling too much. Fuck this guy for catching him off-guard.

Haga sighed, and he sounded… worried. “Look, I am… trying to work with you here. I can give you information for information.” He sounded young, and stressed, and Katsuki remembered that this man was not that much older than he.

He couldn’t confirm anything, but Haga firmly believed him to be a spy already, regardless of evidence. He thought. Maybe he could use this in his favour without compromising the operation. “What exactly seems to be the issue, then? I have genuinely no fucking clue what you’re talking about. As far as I know, your rats have been running off the ship for months.”

“Yes, and I don’t care about the small ones. It’s how nervous the big boys are that has me concerned.”

Now, why would they be nervous? He couldn’t fathom a single reason. There was no way they found out about the upcoming raids. Was there? “I’ll see what I can find,” he promised, wondering if he was going to keep that particular one. Haga could be useful.

“I suppose that is all I can ask. Remember; I repay favours with favours, and I have an avid interest not getting caught up in anything unnecessary.” He laughed, high and strained, and seemed to argue with himself for a moment. “Look, I haven’t gotten this far in live not knowing what battles to pick, and I’m not particularly fond of this one. Just… really think about it. If you have a boss, ask them. All I want is for me and the Princess not to get caught up in crossfire.”

“As I said, I’ll go see what I can find. Alone,” he added for emphasis. This might still be a (very weird) ploy to catch him out on double-crossing them. (Because the alternative was that Haga was fucking desperate, and he didn’t want to know what could’ve possibly caused that.)

“Right, right.” The other composed himself a little. “I’ll wait for your update on this dreadful Nightingale business then. Anything will do – we don’t have another hero there to give us the details, so don’t be picky.” With the way he’d said it, that weird inflection on the word ‘hero’ – like there was someone, just in another spot, maybe? – Katsuki felt the prickling beginnings of anxiety stir inside him. Haga hung up without waiting for a reply, and Katsuki was now 95% sure this was him trying to save his own skin, and that of his girlfriend. Just what was going on?

Neither Izuku nor the Peregrine squad could offer any ideas. He brought the issue up immediately with Fat Gum, and then again when an impromptu meeting was called come seven in the morning. No matter how hard they looked, they couldn’t find anything unusual happening in the last two months. For a while, they speculated it had something to do with the Collector’s arrest, but no matter how eager the bastard had been to talk to get himself a lighter sentence, he hadn’t actually known anything of substance. Not more than the other small fry they arrested here and there.

“Sometimes this is just how it goes with these organisations,” Endeavor said finally. “The heroes have been chipping away at them for years now, and the efforts have more than tripled with Nightingale’s formation. Mole or not, they might have simply reached their limit. It’s possible there was a shift in organisation, or power, and the new management hasn’t inspired the same confidence as the old one.”

“True,” Jirou conceded hesitantly. “It took a while until the Auriculates were even identified as the group connected to the trafficking, and then almost two other years before our side had gathered enough information to start acting on it, but ever since they have been under considerable pressure.”

He crossed his arms. “Well, what do we do about Haga?”

“He could still be useful. Very much so,” Aizawa insisted. There were two definite sides regarding the topic of recruiting an Auriculate, and Aizawa was firmly for it. “He seems like he’s privy to their trust, if they turned to him with their concerns, and it stands to reason he even holds some power. We could use that to help find the slave owners, and maybe even the Goldsmith.”

“And if he’s playing us, they’ll be gone without a trace,” Iida protested.

“So we have him come to a location we can control for the questioning. If he is intending to help, he’ll cooperate.” They had been going in similar circles for close to twenty minutes now, and the ensuing stare-off didn’t bring them any closer to a solution.

“We’ll think on it before the next meeting,” Fat Gum suggested. “What I find more concerning is his claim about no heroes spying for them.”

Katsuki blew out a breath. “Yeah. The way he said it suggested that there was a spy, just that it wasn’t one of our co-workers.”

Shouto shuffled some papers. “We have looked into other people as potential suspects – friends, family, colleagues, interns – but it’s a substantial list, and there’s more than three dozen that aren’t clear of suspicion yet.”

“Or he could be trying to lead us on,” Kirishima pointed out. Everyone sighed in defeat.

It was a frustratingly vague list of speculations, and the following twenty minutes were much of the same. “Either way,” Aizawa announced eventually, raising his voice over their discussions. “There are a few new details to look into. Look over your assigned tasks before the next meeting on Thursday just in case something catches our attention, but the crux of the matter is that we’re out of time. With the Auriculates allegedly on the move, we’ll keep to our original timetable of trying to capture the Goldsmith and mass-arrest as many of them as we possibly can. We can’t afford to waste more time investigating. Dismissed.”

They filed out calmly and quietly, saying hushed goodbyes as they parted. The stairwell was silent as he and Izuku made their way down, save for their slightly echoing footfalls. “So. Two weeks, then?” Izuku eventually asked.

“Yeah.” Two weeks. Or more precisely, twelve days. That was the countdown until the planned execution of their masterplan.

“At least we know Nightingale will be entirely on our side,” Izuku tried.

“If Haga’s word is any good.”

“I think it is. You know, I don’t recall ever hearing talks about any Scion. What if he’s really just a new guy who didn’t want to be there?”

“There’s something he’s not telling us.” Obviously, there were a lot of things, but Katsuki could tell there was one tiny piece of the puzzle that Haga was holding over their heads. His own insurance, and it made sense, but that didn’t help the uneasy feeling nipping at his heels, chasing him towards their deadline. So many things could go wrong. There were so many factors, and no way to control them all. The Goldsmith might get away. They could start a small war with the organization.

“Think we can go back to that Italian place once I’m rid of this?” Izuku asked, tugging at his necklace. “Or maybe for some waffles. Or the movies. Ohhh, I could come grocery shopping!”

He smiled at the childlike anticipation. Grocery shopping? “Sure. Whatever you like.”

Chapter 22

Notes:

Crawls out of a ditch at the break of dawn frothing at the mouth and screaming like a rabid possum "I LIVE"

“OW! What the fuck, man?” Pikachu fell flat on his ass after the punch nearly knocked him out.

“Quit whining, I didn’t hit you that hard,” he shot back, and extended a hand to help the loser up (because he’d still hit harder than intended).

Pikachu took it with an eyeroll. “Look,” he whispered, “I get that you’re trying to impress your crush over there, but my crush is also over there, and if you break my teeth she’ll have words.”

He glanced over to the rest of the Squad, who were watching from the sidelines or warming up for their own turn. Immediately zeroing in on his Angel, he saw that the Nerd hadn’t even been watching. Too busy pointing out something in his notebooks to a thoughtfully nodding Round Face. Earphones, on the other hand, stared straight back and raised a single challenging eyebrow, as if she’d heard their exchange. Which she might’ve. “Your boyfriend’s fine,” he whispered, just in case. The other eyebrow rose.

“And he’d like to keep it that way,” Kaminari muttered, walking off the mat. “Next!”

Katsuki followed, making room for Shitty Hair and Soy Face. “And?” he asked into the round, inviting judgement from their onlookers. Not that he expected anything but praise today. He was on his fucking A-Game.

“That was amazing, Kacchan!” Izuku seemed dangerously close to exploding from excitement.

“You weren’t even looking.”

“I was! Just distracted for the last part… Anyway, I don’t wanna be rude, but Kaminari, I think your centre of gravity was a bit off there? When you tried that throw? I think that’s why it didn’t work.”

Kaminari crossed his arms defiantly. “I’d like to see you do better.” Drama queen.

“Oh, no, no, I could never - I’m just saying that if you kept that in mind,” he continued towards Kaminari, “I mean, I’m by no means an expert, that’s just what it looked like to me, and under normal circumstances you would have your quirk, which changes the entire setup of the fight, and then you also probably don’t even need to get that close to someone to immobilise them, and-” The mutters got quieter as the Nerd turned beet red under all the attention.

“Listen to the Nerd, because he’s right,” he added as Izuku shuffled over to their bench, looking like a mortified tomato. “But since when are you an expert in hand-to-hand combat too?” Not that he was surprised.

The other just shrugged, staring hard at the floor. “I’ve trained in self-defence and all since middle school. Just a few things here and there. I mean, I haven’t been practicing for almost a year or so, so I am probably a bit rusty, but, uh, I was confident on the theory?”

“A year? That crazy bitch let you practice combat?” According to his calculations, he’d been at the manor then.

Izuku shrugged. “It wasn’t like we could do anything against her, and she never really cared what we did in our free time. Not sure she even knew.”

“Fair point,” Shouto conceded. “So you just like the exercise? Or why combat specifically?”

Again, Izuku shrugged, suddenly fascinated by his own shoes. “It’s just… I mean, without a quirk I couldn’t become a hero, so I thought it wouldn’t matter. But then I realized that sometimes there won’t be a hero around, and the villains don’t care that you can’t defend yourself, so… best to be prepared. Not that it did me much good in the end.” He laughed awkwardly, and the faces of the others fell.

Katsuki silently wondered if this had anything to do with a certain incident. He decided to keep quiet. “So,” he leered instead, “does that mean you are here to participate?”

Izuku looked at him like he was stupid. “No, I came in my sports clothes for the fashion points. I was just discussing some quirk-related questions with Uraraka here.”

She nodded emphatically, then suddenly froze. “Oh. Oh my god. You haven’t- HEY, SERO!”

“What?”

“Get over here! Get over here and find out how you will die!” she shouted, then turned around. Her eyes burned with excitement. “I take it you have some thoughts on his quirk as well, yes? Yes?”

“Yes…?”

Sero arrived, rubbing his shoulder where Kirishima had last punched him. “What is it?”

Izuku flipped through his notebook before eventually smoothing out a page with unintelligible chicken scratch. Clearing his throat, he announced with a grave voice “Someone will tear your arms off,” and proceeded to elaborate. It was, as always, hilarious. (For everybody except Sero, who appeared unusually pale by the end).

They were interrupted by the quiet but insistent beep of their stopwatch. “Break’s over,” Round Face announced, silencing it without looking. “Izuku, do you maybe want to give it a go?”

“I don’t think I can stomach any more theory.” Sero nodded encouragingly, leaning on Kirishima for support.

“Well, if you think so… I’ll probably only hold you back, so don’t feel obliged!” Izuku said. His excited expression was at odds with his words.

“You’re here, that means you’re going, Nerd.”

“And don’t worry about ‘holding us back’,” Earphones agreed, using air quotes. “Going against someone new might actually get this lot to try, for once.”

It earned a round of token protests, but she was right in the sense that no one wanted to faceplant into a mat in front of someone who hadn’t already seen them do it a dozen times over. They had a reputation to protect.

“Well,” Izuku said, closing his notes with force as he hopped up. “Time to get some practice in! Who wants to pair with me?” He looked around, and added “Meaning who wants to go easy on a beginner?”

Katsuki wasn’t surprised when all fingers pointed in his direction. “I guess I’m being volunteered, then. Great! Let’s go.” He took the leftmost mat, with two other pairs squaring up in the centre and to the right of the room respectively. They all did their best to appear occupied, but he did not miss the odd glance thrown in their direction. “They’re still trying,” he commented under his breath, grinning at his Angel.

“I honestly don’t know what they are hoping to achieve here. Homoerotic sparring is a bad trope even for porn.”

The unexpected comment made him snort louder than he liked to admit. “You can’t just say things like that!”

“Why not? I’m right!”

“I was trying to take this seriously. What the fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s what they’re hoping we’ll do.”

“Nerd!” Was Izuku trying to make him laugh on purpose so he would have an advantage? How was anyone supposed to work like this? “Concentrate!”

“Right.” Izuku stretched his arms, eyes turning cold and calculating like the flick of a switch as he stared him down. “What are we doing exactly?”

“Dunno.” He moved into his standard combat pose, waiting on his opponent’s first move. “Why don’t you show me what you can do, for a start?”

“O-okay. It’s nothing too good… I haven’t done this in a while…”

“Nerd,” he interrupted. “It’s fine. This is what practice is for. Don’t sweat it.”

That got him one of those cute timid smiles. “Right.” He moved into a starting pose, readjusting his footing a few times. “I’ll just-” Izuku tried a quick jab that Katsuki easily blocked, followed by a half-hearted kick.

“C’mon, follow through! Are you even trying?” The form wasn’t too bad, at least.

“I’m scared,” Izuku whined, “you could totally kill meeeee.” He laughed nervously, dancing around to the side all the while, looking for a new angle.

“True,” he conceded with a smirk, keeping a careful eye. “But if it helps, I currently have no plans on trying to seriously hit back. ‘S no fun bullying small fry.”

Izuku narrowed his eyes. “What, scared?” He then went for another kick, aimed straight for his groin.

“Oi! That’s against the rules!” He caught the foot and pulled, sending Izuku to the floor.

Izuku stuck his tongue out and mumbled “All’s fair in love and war,” as he pushed himself back up. That was the last of the idle chatter. His angel had his Serious Face on, trying to get even one hit in using different combinations of trickery and speed. He never quite succeeded, but Katsuki felt impressed regardless. Against someone of his own skill and expertise Izuku was hopelessly outmatched, but he could tell the Nerd had taken his training thus far seriously.

“Not bad,” he admitted after a few minutes. “You’re overthinking your moves, though. Makes you slow. Just go with it.”

“Easier said than done,” Izuku panted, wiping sweat from his temple.

“’S a matter of practice. Form ‘s fine from what I can tell.”

“Really?” The beaming smile that praise earned him made him yearn for sunglasses.

“Sure.” He dared to speculate Izuku could’ve held his own during the first semester of their 1-A, but he feared admitting that out loud would get him blinded. Possibly permanently. “We can work with that. Anything you want to go over specifically?”

Izuku hummed in thought, tilting his head side-to-side. “Nothing comes to mind. Whatever you can show me?” He looked so excited at the prospect, too. Unfair.

“Sure.” The next few minutes were spent showing Izuku his favourite dirty tricks in battle. Some of them Aizawa had taught them, some of them they’d thought up themselves to get the upper hand in their sparring matches back in school. Those were the true life-savers more often than not, and more importantly, they were also really easy to execute most of the time.

Izuku spent a lot of that demonstration hitting the mats. “Uff. That was just dirty,” he sighed, sorting his limbs out.

“That one we owe to Round Face. File that complaint with her. Your turn.”

“Kacchaaaaan. I can’t do that! I’m not strong enough to pick you up like that.”

“You haven’t even tried.”

“I don’t need to try when I have common sense.”

He huffed. He was fairly sure the Nerd could do it if he gave it a go. It wasn’t like Katsuki was going to resist or anything. Then again, he could hardly force him. “Fine. Then what?”

“I don’t know… Oh! Actually, I have a question?” The Nerd put his left arm behind his back, gesturing as he explained. “If someone got a grip like this on you, how would you get out of it?”

“Easy enough,” he began, moving into position behind Izuku to take the role of opponent, carefully keeping his arm in place. “You’ll want to kick behind first, aiming for their foot or shins if you can, and once they’re off balance you can either throw them forward over your shoulder, or try to twist sideways for a punch.” He guided Izuku through the motions a couple of times, until the other was confident he got the gist of it. And then some more.

“Alright, and how would you proceed if there were multiple people around you?” Izuku eventually tossed in. Katsuki didn’t like how oddly specific that question was. It made his mind race. Was this just Izuku’s way of finding an area he could work in? Grapples and such had been an extensive topic in the first year U.A. combat courses, so maybe Izuku had gotten the idea from there. Or… was it something that’d really happened?

“One more time,” Izuku insisted, hands propped on his legs as he stood half-bowed from the exertion.

“I think that’s enough,” he protested. Shouldn’t the stop watch already have signalled the end of this round?

“Just-”

“We’re done. Break time.” The words came out curt, moreso than he had intended, but Izuku’s insistence bordered on frantic, and it left an increasingly acrid taste in his mouth as his imagination filled in some blanks. The resulting rage made him want to seriously hit something, which would’ve been fine if his sparring partner were Kirishima or even Half’n’Half. With Izuku, the only thing he wanted to do was hug him and squeeze him tight enough to leave bruises, which was also not a good sentiment. The mere idea left him curiously disappointed in himself, which added to the anger. It was a miserable spiral. And a very persistent one at that.

He was still caught up in it when they got back home, where he escaped the sight of Izuku by calling dibs on the shower, and then channelled his fury into chopping vegetables for dinner. That helped a little.

“What’re we having?” Izuku asked after sorting their bags and taking a shower himself.

“Stir fry with chicken.”

“Cool. How long?”

“Twenty.”

“Can I help with something?”

“’M fine.”

“…Are you mad at me?”

The question was totally out of the blue. “What? No. Why would I be mad at you?”

“Well, you’re mad at something, and it started when we went training.”

Crap. What was he supposed to say to that? Yes, he was mad, about something that probably happened, years ago, and that Izuku didn’t want to talk about. “S nothing.” He just wanted to think about something else. There was no point dwelling on the matter.

“If you don’t want me to come along, you can just say so,” Izuku offered. “We don’t have to be attached at the hip. I understand if this is a Squad activity. And I’m nowhere near your level, so if I’m slowing you down-” and off he went on a quiet rant.

“Hey.” With a sigh, he abandoned his food preparations and went over to where Izuku was leaning against the doorframe. “It’s nothing you did, I fucking promise, ok? I’m just…” He wasn’t really sure. Mad at the world in general for being this fucked up?

Izuku hummed thoughtfully. “Anything I can do?” he offered, looking decidedly too pure for this world.

That made him crack a smile, at least, and he leaned close for a quick kiss. “You’re too damn adorable, you know that? Don’t worry about it.”

“Maybe I want to worry. What’s a boyfriend for?”

“I could think of a few things.”

“Hm. Interesting. Like what?”

“Like this.” He went to kiss Izuku again, and again, and a few times after that, until his brain caught up, and he pulled back slightly, breathless. “What’s this about? You tryna seduce me, or what?” He’d aimed for teasing indifference, but he heard himself and it was disgustingly vulnerable.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Izuku hissed, grinning. “How dare you look so hot all the time? It should be illegal. You’re a tease. Are you trying to drive me insane?”

Katsuki shook his head, or at least tried to. Izuku’s stare kept him firmly in place. “Well, see, there’s this really cute guy, and I have to keep him interested somehow. He’s far too good for me, but you can’t blame a man for trying, can you?”

“Seriously? This is-“ Izuku broke off, leaning in and kissing him hard. “You say this stuff just to try and see how long I can keep it together? Is that what you’re doing? Do you even hear yourself? Do you know what that sounds like?”

Katsuki leaned forward, trying to chase that kiss, but Izuku’s hands wouldn’t let go of his hair. “What does it sound like?” he asked, breathless.

“It sounds like you weren’t done with me earlier. And I certainly was not done with you.” Izuku’s grip loosened, until his hands slid down to rest on Katsuki’s shoulders. He swallowed hard, averting his gaze the slightest bit to the right, avoiding Katsuki’s eyes. “It sounds like you want me, too. Like you want to be around me. Like you want to do… this.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what ‘this’ entailed, but yes, for fuck’s sake, he sure did want it. Whatever that word would give him, he’d take it. He brought his own hand up to cup Izuku’s face. The other leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed. Izuku brought his own hand up to grip his hand…

He put his hands on Izuku’s shoulders and gently put some distance between them. “Listen, Nerd…”

“Kacchaaaan!” came the whine. “Why not? I want to.” Izuku leaned up on his tiptoes, angling his head. “Don’t you?”

He did. He really fucking did. His fingers twitched, unsure which orders to follow. He should shove him away. He should pull him closer. Rationale and need warred in his head, and he couldn’t do either.

Katsuki could count his one-night stands on one hand, and the rest of the math followed suit. It’d always been weird, and awkward, and at least a little bit drunk. What if this would be the same? What if he’d mess it up, or he wouldn’t like it, or Izuku wouldn’t like it, and that’s how far their relationship would get? On the other hand, they hadn’t done anything since Izuku ambushed him with that blowjob either, (not for lack of subtle hints and invitations from Izuku’s side), and he could tell his Angel was getting unsure about it.

“Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice was low, husky, tempting, and those green eyes were half-lidded and dark.

With a whimper, he screwed his own eyes shut, still unable to fucking move, do anything. “Fuck.”

He trusted Izuku.

He couldn’t see anything. Only feel Izuku’s breath mingle with his own, surrounded by that intoxicating smell of apple shampoo. The air between their bodies heated up beyond bearable. He swallowed hard, and tilted his head downwards the tiniest fraction.

Izuku’s lips met his own in a soft, warm caress. It felt lovely. Soothing. He hadn’t known defeat could taste this sweet.

The tension left his body with a pleased shudder, and he pressed back, moving against Izuku’s lips with infinite care. God, this felt good, he felt so good, and he craved more of it.

But Izuku just hummed in content, and the sound was music to his ears.

They stayed like this for a while, trading slow kisses with the occasional gasp for oxygen.

After minutes or hours, it was hard to tell, Katsuki felt teeth nibble on his bottom lip, and then the hot swipe of a tongue as Izuku pressed closer. A hand trailed from Katsuki’s shoulder to the nape of his neck and pulled.

Katsuki let out a noise that was supposed to be a ‘Hell yes’ but it came out needy and weak. The teeth returned, this time biting lightly, and Katsuki couldn’t help the way his mouth opened under the onslaught. The temptation was just too overwhelming, and the reward didn’t disappoint either.

Izuku’s tongue pushed into his mouth, hot and wet, and there was neither hesitance nor shyness in the way Izuku explored.

Katsuki hadn’t even known he could be so sensitive in these places, but every move, every lick and every swipe sent pinpricks of delight through his nerves. It pulled another sound from him, and there was no way to deny it: That was a moan, and Izuku’d heard it.

Izuku responded with a hushed “Hmm, Kacchan, so good,” and the delight spread to set Katsuki’s body on fire. His head swam and all he knew was he needed more, a need reinforced by the heat that pooled in his gut and, for some reason, behind his ribs as well.

His last line of defiant defence was the little distance between their bodies, where Katsuki knew he was obviously hard and he didn’t dare to confirm how Izuku was likely in the same state. Instead, he used all the willpower he had to keep his feet firmly planted when they wanted nothing more than to close that distance.

But he couldn’t do anything about Izuku. He felt something pull his shirt loose, and a warm hand travelled up the plane of his back, fingers wide, covering as much skin as possible. He gasped out of the kiss and had to brace himself against the wall, caging Izuku in.

His head hung down, eyes closed, arms trembling. “Izuku, if you don’t stop right now, I’ll fucking lose it,” he panted.

The fingers on his back curled, pulled, dragged. “Let go, then.” He could feel teeth against the shell of his ear. “Katsuki.”

“Fucking HELL!” The want was driving him insane, white-hot, and he needed more. He shifted his lips to Izuku’s neck, who turned his head to give better access, he bit down and kissed and licked the spot, drawing a line of marks from jaw to collarbone.

Only when he felt something cold and metallic did he stop, that fucking chain mocked him, and he didn’t want to think about it, he just wanted to have this, to enjoy the moment, so he attacked Izuku’s mouth instead, biting and licking there like a man starved.

He felt a hand shift from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, and from there into his hair, where Izuku grasped and pulled, growling, and that sting had never felt so sweet.

His own left arm came down from the wall, the other still needed to brace himself, and he wrapped it around Izuku’s waist, marvelled how he could fit him there perfectly, fingers stroking over his hip, and he pulled him closer until their lower bodies were flush against each other.

The hand in his hair pulled again, and it broke their kiss. “Hnngh, Kacchan, I need- Oh!”

He’d shoved a knee between Izuku’s legs and used his grip on his lower half to rhythmically pull them together, again and again, without his conscious input.

“What is it?” he growled out, pressing his lips against that sweet spot behind Izuku’s ear.

“Kacchan, please- Take me to bed, I want, I need- I’m begging you, Kacchan, now, please, please…“

He pushed himself off the wall, unable to resist anything Izuku asked of him, he would give him anything he wanted, he shouldn’t have to beg, ever, he’d give him everything. “Okay, okay, shhh, I got you, Izuku, hold onto me.”

Izuku obeyed with a frantic nod, eyes blown wide, and hooked his legs around Katsuki’s waist, who hoisted him up as if he weighed nothing. The movement brought them closer still, and Katsuki nearly faltered in his steps as he felt something deliciously hard rub against his own cock through their pants. “Ahhh, fuck!”

Izuku just whimpered, clinging tighter. “Yeah, you should, fuck me, Kacchannghhh!”

Katsuki kicked the door to their room open with no patience left. He let Izuku down on the mattress and ripped his own shirt off whilst already crawling over him, kissing him hard and deep and not getting enough.

Izuku’s hands grappled at his shoulders, blunt nails scratching over them, wandering to his neck, his shoulderblades, back again to his chest where Izuku dragged a nail over his nipple, eliciting a sharp hiss from him.

Their kiss broke for a moment, and Katsuki felt those hands shove him back. “Dammit, Kacchan, let me- wanna see-“

He didn’t really understand, being less than coherent at the moment, but he still obediently sat back, catching his breath.

Izuku’s eyes were blown completely black as they roved over his chest, his shoulders, his arms, stomach, and further down, where the denim of his jeans was tented, then back up to his face, where they lingered, searching. Katsuki watched Izuku’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “I want you. Can I have you? Kacchan?”

And because he was a fool, all Katsuki could do was nod. “Yeah. You have me.”

Without further preamble, Izuku pulled his own shirt over his head, and then proceeded to the zip of his trousers, which vanished after the shirt somewhere over the side of the bed before Katsuki had any time to process this new development.

There was a nagging, increasing hunger as he took in Izuku’s body, the flush that went from his face all the way down to his sternum, the way his chest heaved with his panting, the pebbled, pink buds he couldn’t help but want to touch, the ribs that barely stood out anymore, that toned stomach, where a light trail of hair led down to the waistband of his briefs, which were tented with a wet spot, the legs that stretched on seemingly forever. His eyes flickered to over the many small scars, some of which he knew from his childhood, some of which he had inflicted himself, and some of which were entirely new. He counted the freckles that imitated an entire galaxy on beautifully pale skin.

“Kacchan?”

The insecure whisper made his eyes snap back up, where he found Izuku watching him, worrying his lip between his teeth.

Those green eyes sent a shock of electricity from the roots of his hair all the way down his spine, and he groaned as he pressed a hand against the bulge in his jeans, unable to help himself. ’He’s self-conscious’, Katsuki realized through the haze in his mind, and he couldn’t have that.

He crawled up and leaned down so he could kiss that frown away, coaxed that bitten lip out with his own, and made it his mission to find and kiss each and every freckle there was. “You’re so beautiful, I can’t believe it, ‘zuku.”

“Kacchan…”

“Shh, I got you, I’m going to make you feel so good…” He proceeded to trail light kisses over Izuku’s cheeks, then followed the freckles down Izuku’s shoulder, across his chest and finally he licked a stripe over one of Izuku’s nipples.

A high keen rewarded him, together with some resistance as Izuku pushed his body further up, chasing the sensation. Katsuki left off with a playful nip. “How do you want this?”

“Huh?” Izuku sounded dazed, which was confirmed when Katsuki sat back again a little to take in the delightful image of Izuku sprawled on his sheets, already looking wrecked.

He tapped him on the nose with one finger. “I asked what you want to do.”

Izuku’s eyes sharpened, and he tilted his chin up in a challenge. “Do I look like I care? Just- do whatever you want, but do something!” He underlined his words by arching off the bed in a sinuous movement.

It made Katsuki’s mouth water. “Careful what you wish for,” he warned. He carefully took Izuku’s hand, the scarred one, in his own, and proceeded to trail his lips over each and every uneven ridge of smooth pink flesh, mapping the contours. Then he continued further up, to the scars on his forearm, and then the big patch of shiny skin on his bicep. “Can you even feel that?” he wondered as he worked his way up.

“Not as much as I probably should, but it’s there,” he breathed, tossing his head back further into the pillows.

Katsuki hummed, and made his way up to Izuku’s shoulder. He felt the form of the half-handprint there with his lips. “Did I ever apologize for that?” he wondered.

“Dunno. I- aaah!”

Katsuki sealed his lips on that spot and sucked, until he was sure a newer, better mark would be there tomorrow. Izuku’s cry was sweet, he wanted more, and he sucked another one further up, into the juncture of Izuku’s shoulder and neck. He could feel Izuku toss his head back, whole body twitching.

There was also a faint rustling. Izuku pressed something smooth and oval into Katsuki’s hand. “Fucking – get to work already, I swear on everything-”

“Okay. Shit.” He thumbed the cap of the lube bottle open without even looking at it – he was too distracted looking down between their bodies, watching as Izuku shimmied out of his underwear too. His cock was fully hard, flushed and with a bit of moisture beading at the tip already. As he stared, Izuku spread his legs further in invitation. A hand on Katsuki’s shoulder pushed him down, urging him on.

“Fucking hell, Izuku, I’m going to fuck you so good-”

“Then get to it!”

He nodded, unable to form more words, and coated his hand with the lube. He painted a trail down Izuku’s body with his index finger, starting in the divot between his collarbones, trailing over a nipple again and further, past his belly button, through that trail of light hair, and further, skimming Izuku’s cock, over his balls, going down, until he lightly circled that puckered ring of muscle.

The answering twitches and sighs were almost too much to bear. “Okay?” he asked, glancing up one final time.

Izuku rolled his hips down. “Kacchan. Please. You could be fucking me already- ah!”

He pressed his finger inside, which went surprisingly easy. He pumped it once, twice, and then added a second without preamble. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” He could feel the wet heat pulsate around his fingers and carefully crooked them on his next downstroke, searching for that shift in resistance and texture.

“Hnnngh, lower, Kacchan - aaah, fuck, there, do that again!”

He complied, marvelling in the sounds he could draw forth like this. Glancing up again he saw Izuku had a pillow half folded over his face, hiding his eyes. A shame. He’d have to lure him out again. “There?” he asked, teasing a finger over Izuku’s prostate again. His reward was a breathy moan coupled with delicious pressure as Izuku tightened around his finger. “You do this yourself often?” he teased, “Telling me exactly where to go, how to move, what you like…”

“I’m by myself ten hours a day, what the fuck do you think I do?”

The image was like white noise in his head. “Yeah? Think of me when you’re three fingers deep inside your tight ass?” he growled, barely registering what he was even saying anymore.

“Fucking yes, and at the pace you’re going it’s gonna stay a fantasy!” Izuku snapped back. He yanked the pillow off his face, revealing uncannily focused eyes. Izuku brought his foot to rest against Katsuki’s chest and pushed him back, off the bed. “Go take your pants off, dammit!”

He stumbled off in his haste to comply, cursing as he struggled to get his belt open with slick and shaky fingers. It took him an embarrassing three tries to pop the button before he could yank them off in one swift movement together with his boxers. The cool air on his skin was almost painful. When he glanced up, he saw Izuku watching him with hooded eyes, his gaze raking down his body in a way he could almost feel.

Any witty comment he could make as a retort died in his throat as Katsuki let his own gaze sweep lower – to where Izuku had apparently gotten so fed up with him that he was now three fingers deep inside himself, putting on a fucking show.

He felt like his knees would give in at the sight, failing him like his lungs and voice did. Somehow, he managed to stagger back onto the bed, where he gripped both of Izuku’s wrists and yanked them up to pin them against the headboard. Their faces were a mere centimetre apart. “If you don’t slow the fuck down, this is going to end badly for you, angel” he warned before pressing a bruising kiss to Izuku’s lips.

“And if you don’t hurry up this is going to end even worse for you, because I’ll just do it myself.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“As if you could.” He could feel Izuku’s legs shift wider. “Come on.”

Now frantic with need, he pushed himself up on one hand and blindly rifled through the drawer again, until he felt smooth plastic. His next issue was getting the damn thing open without moving away from his spot hovering over Izuku. “Fuckin-“

“Kacchan,” the other whined, arching his back. “Just leave it, we’re both clean-”

Realising this wasn’t going to work, Katsuki sat back and used both hands. “Yeah, I know, and so are my fucking sheets, I’d like to keep it that way.” He knew he wouldn’t clean up later, and he intended to make sure Izuku couldn’t.

“We can just wash them,” Izuku protested, whining.

“Spoken like someone who never bought sheets with their own money. Do you know how expensive these are?”

“No, but I know you’re taking ‘pillow talk’ a bit too literal right now,” Izuku shot back, rolling his eyes with a good-natured grin. “Hurry up.”

“Alright, alright.” Frustrated, he took his teeth to the packaging, which finally gave, and hurried to roll the condom on, trying to feel as little as he could doing so. He wasn’t sure this was going to last. Not with Izuku acting like the embodiment of every fantasy he ever had.

Finally, he lined himself up. “Okay?” He searched Izuku’s face for permission.

“Yeah.” Izuku’s eyes were closed, head thrown back into the pillows. Completely vulnerable. It made something inside him ache.

Carefully, he pushed against the tight ring of muscle, until suddenly the head of his dick popped inside that warm, tight heat. He barely registered the small “Ah” from Izuku.

“Holy-” It felt incredible. Channelling all his willpower into going slow, he worked his hips back and forth until he was bottomed out, all the while watching Izuku’s face for any signs of pain or discomfort. He could feel every slight movement, every muscle twitch and shift as the other panted into the elbow covering his face. “Izuku.”

With what seemed like reluctance, Izuku peeked out from under his arm and opened his eyes to reveal blown pupils, staring back half-focused.

“You good?”

Izuku reached out his other hand, clasping it around the wrist Katsuki was propping himself up on. “Move.”

And who was he to say no to that request? Pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in, he tried to set a rhythm whilst simultaneously aiming for an angle that would hit the sweet spot he’d discovered earlier. When he did, he was rewarded with a breathy gasp as Izuku arched his back off the mattress, hand gripping tighter around Katsuki’s wrist. “Kacchan-”

“So good,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss whatever skin he could reach without interrupting his pace. “So gorgeous. Angel.” And he was a sight, writhing in the sheets like that, making all those little noises just for him. Too good to be true.

“Kacchan, Kacchan please, I want-” Izuku’s hands started scrabbling at his arms, his shoulders, wherever he could reach in a bid to touch more.

“Shh, I got you.” He wrapped his arm tighter around Izuku’s waist and pushed the other up to Izuku’s neck, and then he pulled them both upright so Izuku was straddling his lap. The new angle allowed him to push deeper still, and his thrusts changed into something slower, rolling grinds that had them both gasp for air.

Izuku’s head was buried against his neck, where lips mouthed against Katsuki’s shoulder in tandem with the little moans and sighs he could hear. His own cheek rested against Izuku’s temple, and Katsuki’s eyes stared ahead unseeing.

It was all too much, and nothing like he ever experienced. Something behind his ribs swelled up to bursting, to the point it almost hurt as it rose up into his throat in an attempt to free itself. It felt like his bones would shatter and his organs would be squashed, that tight feeling inside him growing and growing and becoming overwhelming.

It was so distracting he realized too late what the tightness in his muscles meant. He tried to grit out a warning. “Izuku, I’m going to, I’m gonna-”

A hand on his jaw surprised him, and his head was forced back with bruising strength. Izuku’s eyes were liquid pools of black without any green in sight, and his face was slack with pleasure. But there was a burning intensity in his gaze that almost hurt. “Look at me, I wanna see, yes, look at me, Kacchan!”

It was all too much. His mouth opened in a soundless cry as his body moved without his input, hips stuttering, and everything crashed around him. He wasn’t sure if he was talking aloud or if the repeating cries of ‘Izuku, Izuku, Izuku’ were all inside his head.

He heard Izuku cry out, almost as if in anguish, and something hot and wet dribbled over his stomach.

Their moving slowed gradually, and he found himself laying down again, covering Izuku with his own body and gently carding his fingers through green strands. Their breathing was still frantic, until it calmed together with their heartbeats as they floated back down to earth.

“Hmmmmm. Kacchan.” Izuku’s hands slowly caressed down his back, up his sides and into his hair, where they massaged gently before pulling him into a kiss.

Katsuki tried to get his breathing under control. His eyes opened reluctantly, as if waking from a beautiful dream he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. “Hey.”

Izuku smiled. “Hi.”

“You good?”

“Hm. More than.” A contend sighed escaped Izuku as his body went almost fluid. “I don’t think I’ve felt this good in my life.”

Katsuki swallowed hard. “Me either.” He didn’t want to talk anymore, so he bent down again for more lazy kisses.

Those went on for a few blissful minutes, until Izuku turned his head away. “’M tired. Can we sleep? Just a bit?”

Katsuki’s mind flashed reminders of all the work he was supposed to be doing. “Give me a moment.” He gave Izuku another peck and then hauled himself out of bed, not an easy feat given how all his muscles appeared to have turned into wet paper.

He dragged himself into the bathroom, feeling a little drunk, and then he hurried back with a warm towel after he’d cleaned himself.

He found Izuku in the exact position he’d left him in, only his eyes had shifted to watch the door.

“Here.” He used the towel to carefully wipe the mess off Izuku, and then he indulged himself by simply running his palms up and down Izuku’s legs, massaging, before going back up to his hips, his stomach, all the way to his arms. He gripped both of Izuku’s hands, where their fingers intertwined like it was the most natural thing.

Katsuki didn’t know what to say. He knew he wanted to say something, wanted to let Izuku know how important he was to him, how he never wanted this to end. He just didn’t know the words to properly express any of it, and so he leaned down instead, giving Izuku a slow kiss that turned into two, then three, until he felt Izuku’s breathing slow and his fingers relaxed their grip.

He shifted off Izuku, onto his side, and pulled the other closer. Their legs tangled together and he had a secure grip around Izuku’s waist.

“Like your smell.” Izuku’s head pushed up underneath Katsuki’s chin not unlike an affectionate kitty.

He laughed at the random statement. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. Smells like home.”

Izuku drifted off to sleep rather quickly after that, breaths evening out in seconds.

Katsuki lay awake, mulling the last words over in his head. He realized how utterly screwed he was, he did. He knew he’d been screwed before, but this was a whole new level of screwed. This was ‘I just had a taste of heaven and I don’t know what I’ll do if it’ll be the last taste’ screwed. The shock he felt was rather from the lack of surprise at the revelation.

The next thing he knew, he opened his eyes to find it dark outside with the clock reading one in the morning. “Wha?”

“Kacchan?” There was another light shake. Izuku was peeking out from behind Miles, holding he plushie like a shield. “Kacchan, I’m hungry. Do you want to finish making that dinner?”

With a long, deep sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the mattress. “You are so lucky you are cute.”

Come morning, he came (dead-tired and pleased about it) into his office to prepare for his patrol only to find Aizawa waiting there, conversing in hushed tones with Kirishima. They fell quiet the moment he and Izuku entered. “Ah, perfect timing. Meeting, right now. Let’s go.” With that, their old teacher left.

“What’s that about?” Izuku wondered, pausing halfway between his schoolwork and the door.

Kirishima shot Katsuki a look and subtly shook his head. He wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean exactly, only that it couldn’t be good.

His suspicions were confirmed when he arrived at the meeting room on floor sixteen to find everyone else already there, sitting in oppressing silence as they stared at the table or the wall or whatever else was most interesting.

“Right,” Endeavor began, only to be interrupted.

“Ah, Midoriya, could you do me a favour?” Aizawa asked, holding out a keycard and an actual silver key. “I need some papers from the safe in Fat Gum’s office, it’s room 1507. They should be right on top, stapled together, about fifty pages.”

“Um, sure…?” Izuku took the proffered keys and turned to leave, shooting them one last questioning look before slipping out of the room.

Katsuki glared at Aizawa after the obvious dismissal. “What’s the matter with that?”

Aizawa’s lower face was hidden behind his folded hands. “We’ve noticed some unrest amongst the Auriculates.” He paused, probably in expectation of questions, but everyone sat stock still. “Worse, half a dozen of the people we suspect of wearing bracelets either disappeared off our radar, or their bracelets were mysteriously gone by the time we went in for a chat. Nothing on their person, nothing in their house.”

“You’re insinuating the mole is one of us,” Jirou surmised.

“No,” Aizawa continued. “I want to state again that everyone in this room has our complete trust. There could be a number of explanations for this – from weird coincidence to someone with an unknown quirk on the Auriculates’ end – but we need to rule out one of those options ASAP.”

Katsuki felt his stomach drop as his former teacher turned towards him. “Those planned arrests were known to Peregrine only. And information does not leave this room unsupervised.” They had their important data given to them, printed out only if there was too much to remember by heart, and if they wanted to take something home they had to ask for special permission and watch the folders with hawk eyes until they could lock them in a home safe. They also all knew the only people who ever used that option were Aizawa, Jirou, and Katsuki.

Aizawa continued, “The other thing that changed around that time is that Midoriya started coming to the office and helping as our sort-of intern.”

A cold numbness spread through his limbs. “What are you saying?”

“Your charge is leaking information to the Auriculates,” Endeavor said.

“That is NOT TRUE! He would never!” His chair toppled to the floor behind him, together with Kaminari’s.

“Bakugou is right! Izuku would never do that! There has to be a mistake.”

“That is my Nerd you’re talking about. I’ve known him my entire life, and I dare say I would’ve noticed something along those lines!”

“But that goes the other way, too. Your previous relationship earned him your trust without questions. It might’ve been a ploy to keep on your good side and divert suspicion,” Endeavor said.

Katsuki snarled at him. “Because you know so much about functioning relationships! Shut the fuck up, no one asked you. You’re the last person I’d take advice from in that regard, you absolute disgrace.”

There was a collective gasp and one slow clap from Shouto.

“Now, now, let’s all calm down,” Fat Gum tried. “He has been missing for four years-”

He didn’t even get to finish that sentence. Now there was an outrage, as his former classmates shot up and started arguing over each other, mostly in favour of Izuku.

“I will have order!” The rare outburst from Fat Gum had them all sink down in their chairs immediately. “Now. We are not saying he is a traitor. But we have since come up with the theory that the Auriculates may have used the Goldsmith’s quirk to turn Midoriya into an informant for them. Think about it – he was on The Playground the same night as you, and someone practically chased him into your hands. There is no question the Auriculates thoroughly investigated you beforehand, and it’s really not that difficult to figure out the two have a shared past.”

The silence turned contemplative as they listened further. “Aside from Midoriya’s report, the only direct information about the workings of the Goldsmith’s quirk is what Bakugou witnessed when he went to amend the commandments. And according to your report, there was only a vague verbal adjustment made, which could have been entirely for show, even. If there was a command in place that went something along the lines of ‘Report activities regarding the Auriculates back to us in secret’, it would be a convenient explanation for our current dilemma.”

“One of several possibilities, but too dangerous to dismiss,” Aizawa added.

“Is that why you sent him to your office? To see what he does?” Katsuki seethed. He actually hoped it was the case, because then they would see that Izuku definitely wasn’t doing anything of the sort. He knew The Playground had to have been pure, lucky coincidence. Izuku had jumped down a cliff at risk of breaking his neck. That was hardly a constructed setup.

Aizawa inclined his head. “The information I want him to retrieve is of course false, so in case the people listed on there start moving, we know. We also have the security cameras recording today. If he goes through it…”

“I can’t believe this. You fucking-”

“Watch your mouth.” Aizawa glared at him with red eyes. “We are testing a hypothesis. You will not say anything to him regarding the matter. If he truly is not involved, you have nothing to be concerned about.”

Incandescent with rage, he sat back down, careful not to burn his fingers into the table. “Fine,” he spat. It was a waste of time, but if they wanted to go through with this stupid experiment, let them. There was nothing to be concerned about, after all. No point wasting his energy arguing. It was true they only had his one witness report about the Goldsmith, and the theory was plausible at least, but something inside him was still convinced that something else entirely was going on.

“Where is he, actually?” Shouto wondered into the sudden silence. “He’s taking a long time down there.”

That gave everyone pause. Well, most of them were probably getting suspicious, but Katsuki was hit by a sudden wave of inexplicable fear. “I’m going looking.” Something on his face must’ve given him away, because Kirishima, Shouto and Iida stood and trailed after him.

“Easier if we split up,” Iida announced, and went for the elevator as the rest took the stairs.

Katsuki made a beeline for office 1507. He found it unlocked and empty. “Okay. Okay. This is- Nerd!?” he called down the hall, glancing both directions.

“Maybe he got lost?” Kirishima suggested. “Lord knows how often that happened to us during our first two months here.”

“Then why is the door unlocked, Shitty Hair?”

Shouto put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go look at the camera feeds. He can’t have gotten far.”

“Okay.” Katsuki felt like all sound was muted. He picked a random direction and set off, intent on combing the entire floor. Behind him, Kirishima had his phone out, probably letting the folks a floor up know what was happening.

He didn’t really register what he was seeing, even, the monotone corridors stretched on forever without a hint of green in sight. He wasn’t sure why he was doing this, too, he already knew somewhere deep down that something had happened. Abruptly, he stopped in his tracks and made for the eight floor instead, where the security feed was monitored. Shouto surely would have found something.

As he waited for the elevator, he could see Kirishima hurry towards him. “We’re supposed to go to the security room,” he called.

“Way ahead of you,” Katsuki replied. It came out as a barely audible croak. The whole world was tilting, as if someone was pulling the support from underneath his feet.

Clack

Katsuki glanced down at the sound. Something had touched the back of his hand, and-

A golden bracelet lay on the floor by his side, broken into four or five smaller pieces where the connecting links had seemingly spontaneously disintegrated. In a trance, he bent down and carefully collected them in his palm. “What…?”

He glanced up towards Kirishima for help. The other stared back, said something, but Katsuki couldn’t hear it. He was shoved into the elevator.

He was dragged out of the elevator.

He touched his right wrist.

He entered a room full of people and monitors.

Someone tried to take the broken bracelet, so he closed his hand tight around it. “What does this mean?” he heard himself ask. He looked around the room, saw the faces that were full of sorrow and pity.

Shouto, being closest to rational, answered “The only options that I can come up with is that either someone removed the necklace, or…” He trailed off into silence.

“No.” He shook his head viciously, as if that could undo reality. “No. He can’t.”

“You guys, look at this!” Jirou interrupted, pointing at one of the camera feeds. “See here?” The grainy screen showed three figures exiting the elevator in the underground parking garage and then taking off in a black car. One of them was clearly Izuku, but Katsuki couldn’t put a name to the other two. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen those people before.

“They left about ten minutes ago,” she explained, rewinding the tape more. The taller of the unknown persons approached Izuku outside Aizawa’s office wearing a janitor’s jacket, the other trailing behind quietly in a similar getup. They talked for a moment before Izuku handed over the papers and just followed.

“Okay, I admit this doesn’t look great,” Iida conceded.

Jirou rewound further. “But look at this.” They saw Izuku hurry through the maze-like hallways, clearly a little lost. There weren’t supposed to be any people around, given that it was in the middle of morning patrols, but another camera showed the janitors standing by their cart and chatting with an intern, which seemed to have been going on for a while.

Izuku nearly ran into them when he turned a corner, but retreated fast enough. “Watch this.” It was hard to tell, but the tall guy seemed to suddenly tense and turn his head after the weird figure that’d just retreated from their view. Suddenly, they ended their talk, and determinately made to follow.

“I don’t know about you guys, but to me it doesn’t seem like they were expecting to meet. Although they seemed to recognize each other.” Jirou pressed fast forward again, and they saw Izuku enter the office with clear relief, retrieve the papers, turn and then freeze in the face of the people standing in the doorway.

“See, I told you there was something else going on,” Katsuki snarled. “Who is that guy, where does he live, where did that car go? Come on, you fucking extras, are you just going to stand there?”

That got them going. Jirou and Kaminari went to searching the company profiles for the janitors and the car. Everyone was shouting orders and requests.

“His phone!” Katsuki shoved Shouto aside and brought up a tracking website, putting in the number and passcode for Izuku’s phone. He willed the tiny loading icon to go faster, and finally, it pinged… inside the building? He swallowed hard. “I’m going to check something.”

He made his way down on autopilot. Just as he’d known, somehow, he found the phone on the floor where the car had been parked. The screen had cracked on the concrete, rendering it virtually useless. Beside it lay a screwdriver and an assortment of nails and screws, seemingly discarded without a second thought.

He picked up the phone and the tool carefully.

“Bro? You good?” Kirishima seemed to appear out of nowhere. How long had he been there?

“This was supposed to be our solution if we got separated.”

“Hey, man, c’mon… we’ll track them down.”

Tiny droplets appeared on the screen, resting there in perfect half-domes. “Please. Eijirou, please, I’m begging you, but please find him. He’s gonna be fine, right? He has to be fine.”

His friend put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “He is, I’m sure. He’s a tough bastard and smarter than the lot of us combined. He can hold his own against a few dumb henchmen.”

Katsuki nodded, willing himself to believe it. But his wrist felt too light, and that could really only mean one thing, could it, what if that was the precise moment Izuku’s life had ended, without him even knowing, and this was it, he was gone, gone gone gone-

His hand shook, turning the droplets on the phone into tiny rivers, bubbling streams in February. He screwed his eyes shut. Didn’t want to see this. “I want him back. Give him back.”

“We’ll find him,” Kirishima promised. “He’s alive, and we’ll find him. So let’s get to work. He’s probably wondering why on earth we’re taking so long.”

He breathed in and out slowly. Not dead yet. “Right.” He put a metaphorical torch to his useless emotions, burning them all out until nothing but a detached numbness remained. There was nothing to cry about. Izuku was well, and he’d find him so they could go home together and make katsudon for dinner. There was no other possible option.

Just, standing around down here wouldn’t help. “Let’s go back to the others,” he decided, almost sprinting to the elevator, Kirishima right behind him. He pulled his own phone out and dialled on the way up.

“Hello?”

“How soon can you be at our office?”

It needed to be said, Shinsou didn’t even hesitate for a second before likely throwing all plans and orders on his end out the window. “Ten minutes.”

“Good, eight floor office. Someone took the Nerd.”

There was grim silence for a moment, and the muffled pounding of shoes on asphalt sped up. “Seven minutes.” With that, Shinsou hung up, and Katsuki proceeded to call Sero, Uraraka and even Yaomomo in the same fashion.

By the time they made it back to the eight floor office, which’d become their impromptu base it seemed, there was a beehive hustle as everyone shouted information and orders to coordinate their tasks. Shouto seemed to have been elected as the Hivemind.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, trying to discern their findings so far from the various displays on the monitors and computers around the room. He saw footage from traffic cameras, an inquiry into the registration of the license plate they were after, and judging from what he could hear Fat Gum and Aizawa were talking to the police to cordon off the highways.

“I want you to try and get in contact with Haga, so you can ask him directly what he knows about this man.”

“Got it.” He dialled without further prompting, and was eventually sent to the mailbox. Naturally. So he tried again, squeezing the phone tighter with every drawn-out dial tone, as if he could transmit the urgency. Could this stupid fucker be useful this once? Katsuki would vow to never ask anything from him ever again. He was just about to screw it all and figure out where Nemotors was located – easiest to just hunt Haga down in person – when someone knocked on the doorframe.

“Excuse me?” A young woman Katsuki recognized as one of their receptionists – Sakura? – stood in the doorway, clutching a phone. “Um, I hate to interrupt, but there is a call for you, Mr. Ground Zero, and they said it’s important, and normally I wouldn’t believe this, it might be a prank, but they know some stuff, um… It’s, he says, there’s a hostage, and about some Goldsmith, and your, uh, your partner…?”

Katsuki flew at her. “Give me that!”

Chapter 23

“Ah, Midoriya, could you do me a favour?” Aizawa asked, holding out a keycard and an actual silver key. “I need some papers from the safe in Fat Gum’s office, it’s room 1507. They should be right on top, stapled together, about fifty pages.”

Izuku rolled his eyes at the obvious dismissal, but he obligingly grabbed the papers and went on his merry way, wondering what had happened to create a mood like that. It wasn’t like he could really begrudge them their secrecy, he wasn’t an official part of the team, after all, and there were certain rules they had to follow. Kacchan would probably tell him everything in detail later anyway.

He pulled his hood deeper into his face and used the back staircase instead of the elevators. He came out somewhere around room number 1540, and went on to the right after the decreasing numbers. The offices were laid out in squares a 4 rooms, and he had a grand time walking around the blocks in his search for his destination. “Not confusing at all,” he grumbled after taking the wrong turn again.

It didn’t help there were still a few people around, mostly the janitors, and he had to dodge out of the way more than once. He idly wondered when they’d stopped really caring about that. Three months ago he’d have balked at the idea of sneaking around a floor full of people who might question his identity, but now he only felt the detached caution of someone who knew their way around a sensitive field. Like he was some punk kid who just knew he could outrun the cops.

“-‘ll be all, thank you.”

Izuku swiftly took a step backwards again as he rounded a corner and nearly ran into a couple of janitors and a Sidekick, who was in the process of emptying his wastepaper basket into the cart. So much for detached caution.

He stood there frozen for a couple of heartbeats, but no one called for him or came looking. Quietly, he walked the long way around, and then peeked around the corners before hurrying over the cross section – straight to room 1507. “Finally,” he muttered. “Next time consider putting up floor plans.”

He went to the small safe at the back of the room and unlocked it. Something that looked like the described documents sat right on top as promised and he grabbed the pile eagerly, careful to not disturb the other stacks and loose sheets. It was an organized madness, but it was still so much work. Making sure the safe was locked again, he wondered if he could potentially offer assistance for any of this. Most of it had to be related to Nightingale, and he still felt like he owed Aizawa for helping him out with the whole family situation.

Then he carefully, slowly straightened up and eyed the paperweight. His back prickled with the uncomfortable presence behind him, and he was quite suspicious about their continued staring. Why not make their presence known? He casually put a hand in his pocket and felt for the unlock-button on his phone as he turned around. “Can I help you?”

“You will,” the man said. He was tall, with neat black hair and merciless black eyes, wearing a janitor’s uniform instead of the suit Izuku remembered. He’d only seen Ouya a handful of times, but there was something about Ueda’s assistant that’d always rubbed him the wrong way.

Izuku sucked in a sharp breath. “Ah. So you’re the mole. Figures.”

Ouya adjusted his glasses. “Not quite. I’m here on personal business, but regardless, one ever suspects the lower personnel, do they?” He lifted his right arm and started fiddling with the sleeves.

“You’re not really lower personnel, wouldn’t you agree?” Izuku retorted, fixated on the man’s arm. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

There was a golden lock on his wrist. Funny. He remembered the Goldsmith wearing those leather gloves with the thick cuffs. So that was what’d been hidden beneath, he realized. The lock was a number-combination one, and Ouya expertly turned the little dials without looking.

“Hand me those papers.” The command washed over him in a paralyzing wave. Without his input, the stack traded hands. “You, get the rest out of that safe,” Ouya continued over his shoulder, diverting his attention to the second person with him. The man was completely unfamiliar, but it took Izuku no time to spot the necklace. The poor guy did as the command bade him, putting a hand on Ouya’s shoulder before reaching through the side of the safe and pulling documents out one after the other. Izuku noticed the man’s shoes sinking a bit into the floor, and his grip on Ouya was probably the only thing keeping him from falling straight through to the basement. Poor guy.

“Good.” Ouya put the stacks into the janitor’s cart without sparing them a second glance. “You two, stay silent and follow me.”

Izuku watched as his body betrayed him, obediently following Ouya as he led the way towards the elevators, selecting the parking lot. His face remained passive, but his brain was screaming at him, trying to analyse everything that was going on, trying to find a way out.

Why was Ouya able to give him commands when his chain was connected to someone else? Was there a way to somehow get out of it? Where was Kacchan, and how long would it take for them to figure out he was in trouble? Better yet, how could he manage to free himself before a dozen pro heroes laid waste to the city?

…What did they want with him? Why the fuck were they bold enough to kidnap him from inside a hero office with cameras all over the place?

They arrived in the parking lot, and Izuku glanced up at the one above the door. Was someone watching? If so, would they notice anything amiss? Right now, it looked like they were just three guys leaving for their car.

Ouya stopped in front of a big black van with a cleaning firm’s logo printed on the side. Izuku somehow doubted there’d be a matching address anywhere. The other man quietly took the passenger seat. Again, Ouya touched his wrist. “Drop anything that might help people find you or enable you to contact them, plus anything that could be used as a weapon,” he instructed with a monotone, bored voice.

Helpless against the command, Izuku watched his phone hit the floor, followed by his screwdriver and an assortment of screws and nails that he’d accumulated over the past days. He had nothing useful on him.

Ouya raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised at that, too. “Very well.” He slammed the heel of his shoe down on the screen once, twice. “Get in there and behave.” He held the sliding door to the cargo area open, and Izuku complied, taking in the on all accounts and purposes normal equipment before the door shut and left him in a dim darkness until his eyes adjusted.

The car roared to life, and he had to hold on to the sides to keep himself from falling over. After a moment, he carefully lowered himself onto the metal floor, glad he couldn’t really see it when his hands came away sticky and gross. He tried to keep track of the turns they made, but it was a futile effort. After a few minutes, he was completely lost.

Instead, he took to counting the time, so he could maybe guess how far they went. With the frequent starting and stopping, he reasoned they were still inside the city after ten or so minutes, probably not too far, since there were a lot of turns. He frowned at that. Something wasn’t adding up here.

The feeling intensified when they came to a halt after a total of fifteen minutes maximum, if not less. Time felt weird to him right now.

But the car stopped, the rumbling engine cut off, and he listened with trepidation to the sound of a door slam. Footsteps walked around him – multiple sets. He heard voices.

The door in front of him slid open, blinding him, and before he could react the Goldsmith grabbed the air in front of his neck and pulled a glowing chain into existence. The end was invisible, tethered in the aether, until he looped it around his hand once, twice, and then opened the lock on his wrist.

“We don’t need that anymore, do we?”

The chain fell apart. A few links crumbled into dust, and then it was just a loose end, no glowing, dangling in Ouya’s hand. It was a weird deja-vu. He knew exactly what would happen next. There’d be a new wrist, a new set of rules, and Izuku would be told to listen well and obey.

He had to do something. In slow motion, he saw the Goldsmith wrap the chain around his own wrist, saw him put a new combination on the lock, snapping it open.

Izuku surged forward and punched him in the stomach as hard as he could. Right now, there was no command in place.

This was his only chance.

The Goldsmith doubled over, coughing, and Izuku brought his hands up and slammed them down on his neck. It wasn’t elegant, it wasn’t refined, and it sure as hell wasn’t anything Kacchan had taught him.

He managed to scramble backwards, rip his leash free, but where to? There had to be guards outside the car, he knew, there was no way he could run, could get away. What to do, what to do…

Ouya now righted himself, slowly, hand going for something inside his jacket. Somehow, Izuku wasn’t surprised to see the gun.

He went through his own pockets, feeling through the chaos of miscellaneous items for anything he could use. His hands closed around a plastic bag, feeling the give of something soft.

“Stop that,” the Goldsmith drawled, pointing the pistol straight at him. He sounded calm enough, but the furious tone thrumming underneath didn’t bode well. He probably wasn’t used to people disobeying like that.

Izuku froze.

“It’s futile anyway.” The Goldsmith approached him again, lifting his hand.

He braced himself, but the force of the gun’s handle against his temple sent him to the floor regardless. He tasted blood before the pain even registered, throbbing across the entire right side of his face. Instinctively, his hands came up to shield his head on both sides, pressing over his ears. For some reason, no more blows followed.

Instead came another tug on his necklace, hard enough to lift his head off the grimy floor. He had to put his hands down to support himself if he wanted to avoid choking. It was hard to see through the tears of pain, but when he looked up, he saw the Goldsmith grinning, self-satisfied, reciting his usual routine. “Listen well,” he said.

Or at least that was what Izuku thought, reading his lips. He could not hear a sound through his earplugs. And if he wasn’t proficient in lip reading at all, who could blame him for not understanding a single thing The Goldsmith said?

It felt like an eternity laying on the floor, pretending to listen, watching out of the corner of his eye just enough to know whether or not he was still being talked at. He wondered what Kacchan was doing. They had to have noticed he was missing by now. And the phone in the parking lot was a sure indicator something went wrong. There were cameras there, too. Ouya really hadn’t thought this through, had he? (Or he had a plan that was so foolproof it didn’t matter the heroes knew, but Izuku highly doubted that. The entire execution was too shoddy.)

Ouya said something to him and then turned to exit the dim interior.

Hoping this was the expected thing to do, Izuku pushed himself up and followed. Too slow, apparently, as a hand grabbed his wrist with bruising strength. He let himself be pulled out of the van, lifting his free hand to his injured cheek to touch the tender skin there. Whilst he was at it, he used it as an excuse to nudge the earplug from that side away, curling it into his palm with his pinky so he could hear again.

They were in another underground parking lot, this one much smaller and more dilapidated than the one at Fat Gum’s office. There were no cameras. The asphalt was pockmarked with potholes, and the smell of old gasoline had him wrinkle his nose.

Their surroundings were at odds with the professionally dressed men by the doors, who seemed to be bodyguards of some sorts. Where they the same men that’d accompanied the Goldsmith to their meeting?

“Sir,” they greeted, holding the door open for them.

Ouya nodded at them. “Wipe the van of fingerprints and take it to the scrapyard. Set it on fire if you can.”

“Yessir!” One of them answered, setting off for his new task as the other kept post by the door.

“And get me Nomiyama down ASAP.”

Izuku threw one look back as he had no choice but to follow the Goldsmith to whatever destination he had chosen for them. He noted there was no sign of the second man with the necklace.

As they approached a dirty stairwell Izuku surreptitiously tossed the earplug aside, into a small pile of trash the wind had gathered up in a corner. Hopefully no one had noticed. His heart was slamming steadily against his ribs, and he wasn’t sure whether he dared to go for the other one as well, but then they descended into the basement and his opportunity was over.

He settled for pulling his hair over that ear, disguising it as a nervous movement. Not that anybody was really paying attention to him. These people really were sure of their quirks.

They made it two floors down before the Goldsmith set off into a dim corridor. Exposed pipes ran along the ceiling, occasionally clanking, some leaking small puddles of water onto the ground. Nondescript white doors broke the monotony of the mouldy brick walls. They had locks on the outside - big, rusty deadbolts. Ouya seemed to select one on random, glancing inside before pushing it open all the way. “Get in there.”

Izuku felt immense relief when the compulsion from his chain did not come. So far, so good. Still, he played his part, keeping his eyes downcast as he shuffled inside. He figured his best plan at this point was to buy time and hope Kacchan would find him on his own.

Trying to fight his way out would be risky, especially since most of these people seemed armed. He could hope for an opportunity, but he’d only get one shot at this. So long as he could fool them, he’d be comparatively safe. They had to want something from him, otherwise they wouldn’t have brought him here. (They could’ve just dumped his body into a ditch.)

Ouya left him standing in his spot, ignoring him completely as he made his way over to a metal desk that sat just slightly off centre. He spread the papers they’d gotten out of the safe in a random order, alternating between flicking through them and skimming sections that caught his interest more thoroughly.

Izuku watched as the minutes ticked by, not daring to move. Eventually, the door opened with a creak, and a woman stepped through, sparing him no more than a cursory glance. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes, yes,” Ouya answered, not looking up. “What news?”

The woman crossed her arms and huffed. “Nothing, really. The Violet and Eight left for a supposed holiday in Portugal, but I doubt they’ll be back any time soon. Rumour has it Madame Morte was sighted in Dubai, for what it’s worth. Our little Scion is still leaving us all on read. Ueda is doing what he can, but I can tell he’s grasping for straws. He’s been asking for you, you know. Don’t know how much longer we can ignore him.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Ouya scoffed. “Always all talk.” Finally, he glanced towards the woman. “And you are sure you don’t want to come along? There’s still time to pack.”

She frowned at him. “Unlike some, I have a certain degree of loyalty towards my friends.”

Ouya barked a laugh. “Sure. Friends. As if they wouldn’t serve your head on a silver platter if there was even a chance it could help them. This thing is done, Nomiyama.”

She sighed with the air of someone who’d heard an argument too many times to count. “What did you bring that one in for?” she asked instead of pursuing this fascinating line of conversation, regarding Izuku like something she’d find on the bottom of her shoe.

“This little twat nearly ran into me inside the hero office,” Ouya hissed, crossing his arms defensively. “And if I recognized him…” he trailed off. “Well, suffice to say, I couldn’t let him run and yap to his master. I had to get him out somehow.”

Izuku barely held back an incredulous bark of laughter. No, he thought, there was no way the Goldsmith could be the boss. Because this guy was an idiot. So this guy had thought, for some reason, that just because he’d recognized Izuku the reverse must also be true, and then, without confirming whether or not the poor, confused guy that’d seen him like twice without the mask had actually recognized him, he’d decided to kidnap said guy just in case, on camera.

Wow.

“And what do you need me for? Get rid of him?”

“Not yet. First, he’s gonna tell us what he knows, and if push comes to shove we can use him as leverage. He was carrying these. I knew that Ground Zero was a setup after all.” He waved at the stack of papers on the desk. “I bet he has a lot of good information on that entire operation. You, bring these to the big man. I’m sure Haga will appreciate it.”

Haga? As in Saneharu Haga… who went by Scion. Who hinted at his father being a big shot and admitted to being in the industry for a long time. Oh. The puzzle pieces inside his head started to rapidly click into places. He remembered talking about how Haga Senior had retired not too long ago. Maybe that retirement didn’t only concern his company? It would certainly help to explain the slow decline of the Auriculates over the past year.

“Yessir. Do you need me for anything else?”

“Just keep the Auctioneers off the trail for a bit longer. We’ll be out of here tomorrow.” He waved a dismissive hand in her direction as he turned back towards skimming the documents.

Nomiyama didn’t leave, hovering around with a nervous air about her. “…Are you certain it is wise?”

“Hm?”

“To just leave. Maybe Haga could-”

“Both Haga’s together wouldn’t be able to stop this. The Auriculates are done, and if you really believe those back-stabbing bastards could use their common sense long enough to coordinate a plan in which they’ll keep those heroes off my trail, then I have to applaud you for your naiveté.”

“But-”

“Dismissed. I’ll deal with this,” Ouya said, shooing her off. “He won’t be able to lie, I made sure of that.” The door closed behind her, leaving the two of them alone.

This guy was an absolute moron.

He wanted to call Mina so bad just to lead with ‘You won’t believe the shit that just happened to me.’ He wanted to take a deep breath and question this dude about his life choices. Not only did he kidnap a man underneath the noses of an entire office worth of heroes, he also knew that these heroes specifically were out to get him on a secret mission and their supposed ally was no ally at all, then proceeded to bring said kidnapped guy into a random office building because he had no alternative since there was apparently no plan to speak of, and then he laid out all of the important data this kidnapped person should definitely not know at any cost right in front of him, only to lock himself in a room with said guy alone, believing that his quirk would keep him safe.

Izuku felt almost sorry.

“You. Tell me how and why Ground Zero joined our organisation.” Ouya wasn’t even looking at him.

Izuku contemplated lying for a split-second, but for now it was imperative that Ouya didn’t suspect anything about his quirk not working properly. If he could just hold out long enough for the Squad to show up, it wouldn’t matter anyways. That guy was going straight to custody. “There’s an operation known as Peregrine who split off Nightingale after they suspected the existence of a mole. They had Ground Zero join in the hopes of figuring out who it is if that person then approached him as a like-minded ally.”

“I see. What do they know about me?”

“They know the Goldsmith is the one responsible for the chains, but they neither figured out how the quirk works nor have they made any progress in discovering your identity.”

That seemed to put his captor at ease a little. “Good. Tell me about these planned arrests.”

“Peregrine planned arrests over the past few weeks in hopes of flushing out the mole after the first strategy didn’t work, but I don’t know any details. They didn’t tell me anything important.”

Ouya frowned. “Didn’t tell you anything important, but sent you down with keys to the office and safe?”

Shit. “I – was told not to look at them.”

“Right.” Ouya straightened, tapping a finger on the table in an uneven rhythm. “What exactly is your relationship with this Peregrine?”

“They, uh, asked me a bunch of questions about the Auriculates, and sometimes wanted my thoughts on the operation?”

“I see,” was Ouya’s drawn-out answer. “And would you say they would agree to my demands were I to present you as a hostage?”

This somehow felt like a trick question. What was he supposed to say? If he said yes and Ouya contacted them with demands, it might give them a lead, but it’d place them at a disadvantage. Logically, he should say no. Would Peregrine even be allowed to deal with that case if they were at risk of impeded judgement?

“I… don’t know?” he tried.

Ouya stared at him for a moment, as if trying to discern some deeper meaning. “How very odd.”

Then it all happened very fast. One moment, everything was at least a simile of ‘fine’, the next, the Goldsmith moved in a way that made warning bells go off in his head. He wasn’t sure what the other was going for, he only sensed a shift in atmosphere and knew Now, or never again.

He could taste the adrenaline spike in his blood as he pushed forwards.

He would like to say time slowed down. He would like to say that his brain registered everything in a frame-by-frame playback, and that he could recall every detail with clarity.

Truth was, he had no idea what happened. There were snapshots, sharp moments he’d later use to piece the entire thing together: Ouya’s surprise as he realised he was being attacked. The feel of a shirt button digging painfully into his hand as his fist connected. A sick feeling of dread when Ouya pulled a hand out of his jacket. The silver glint of deadly metal. One moment, they were wrestling over the gun, the next, there was a loud noise and he knew it’d gone off, and he was almost sure he’d been shot. His hand felt hot, he jerked back on instinct as his body reverted to its most primal programming, and then he watched with wide eyes as Ouya fell to the floor, hitting his head against the table with a dull thud.

A few seconds ticked by in which Izuku stood stock-still in the sudden silence. When nothing more happened – no one came running, Ouya didn’t get up – he carefully inched a step forward. Okay. So far, so good.

The gun had fallen from Ouya’s hand. A small red stain on the man’s trousers turned bigger before a puddle started to form right above the left knee.

Seconds ticked by.

His hand smelled like gunpowder.

With a jolt, Izuku surged forwards. This was his opportunity, he realised. Whether no one heard the shot or they thought it’d been fired by Ouya, it didn’t matter. He had a few moments at least in which to plan his escape.

His first order of business was securing the door. However, when he approached, he noticed there was no keyhole on the inside. Recalling the deadbolts on the other side, he assumed these rooms had been designed specifically to keep people in, not out. He tried not to think about it. And since the door opened to the outside, he couldn’t even block it with the desk. Dammit.

Fighting his way out on his own would be madness - he didn’t know where he was, and he had no idea how many people were even in the building. Even if he got to the upper floor, he didn’t trust his ability to hijack a car. Running in a random direction felt too risky - if he could make it to a crowd he could call for help, but he was just as likely to run into an Auriculate, or get hopelessly lost. He’d have to wait for the others to come find him. They were surely looking for him right now.

Next, he took stock of the various items at his disposal. His phone was gone, all he had in his pockets were more earplugs, some tape, a rubber band, a condom and for some reason a grocery store receipt he certainly hadn’t gotten on his own. Not much to go on.

There was the table with the chairs, a hook screwed to the wall, and the pistol on the floor, which he slowly nudged away with his foot.

Then, he turned towards Ouya, who still wasn’t really moving. And probably had all sorts of useful things in his pockets.

He quickly rifled through them until he found a mobile. Jackpot. “Urgh, password… Hang on.” Hoping for some dumb luck, he picked up the man’s hand - the one that was not laying in a pool of blood - and pressed the thumb to the home button. The screen lit up. “God, I love fingerprint locks.”

His next problem was figuring out who to call. He didn’t have any numbers memorized aside from some landlines – Kacchan, his mom, aunt Mitsuki. Somehow, he doubted calling them for help would be a good idea. Straight to the police? But what if someone there worked with the Auriculates? It was maybe paranoid thinking, but there were surely some connections in that direction, and he’d really rather not risk it.

After blanking for a moment, he opened a web browser and searched for Fat Gum’s office. There was a hotline number in there, they would probably be able to put him through to someone who knew him. Whilst he was at it, he put the office into maps to get a route to his current location.

“Hero Office of Fat Gum, how may I help you?”

“Um, hello, my name is Izuku, I’m Kacchan’s – er, Katsuki’s… partner? Katsuki Bakugou. I know he’s in the office right now, but there’s been an emergency, and I really need to talk to him please, it’s urgent.”

“Oh. Partner…? I, er, didn’t - I’m sorry, but Ground Zero is not available at the moment. Can I relay a message?”

“No, no, listen, this is important.” Shit, what could he say to convince her? What was Kacchan even up to right now? Was he still in the office? They must’ve noticed he was missing by now – There. “Listen, there is most likely a big commotion in your offices that originated on floor sixteen. This is directly related to why I’m calling. It’s about the Goldsmith, I’m being held hostage, tell him that. Or just put me through?”

There was a brief, undecided silence. “Please stay on the line for a moment,” she finally said. Then her voice was cut off by some violently situation-inappropriate, cheery music as she put him on hold.

He held the phone away from his ear, keeping tabs on the music as he looked around further. He found a ring of keys in Ouya’s other pocket, together with a wallet. Nothing else. Pretty useless for him, but he gathered them on the table nonetheless. The police would probably appreciate those.

Suddenly, the music cut off, and he put the phone back to his ear just in time to hear Kacchan’s lovely voice. “Who the fuck is this. Where are you, and what the hell did you do to my angel-”

“Hi Kacchan!” he said cheerily.

“Izuku.” It sounded choked, as if Kacchan had been crying.

“I’m okay, I promise,” he hurried to reassure. “I had a run-in with some Auriculates. Er, I’m not quite sure where exactly I am, but it’s not too far from the offices. Wait, I have maps open…” He gave them the address. “I think we’re in the basement, I don’t know what level. Second? We came from an underground parking lot, then two floors down. I’m also not sure how many people are in here, the room I’m in can’t lock, I didn’t dare to go check... So far no one seems to have noticed…”

“Hang on, we’re on our way. Are you injured? Is there any danger?”

“I’m good, but. Er. The Goldsmith is here?”

“Oh, that little-! You listen here, you fucker, if you even think about-” Izuku pulled the phone away as Kacchan started screaming.

“Kacchan! He can’t hear you! Calm down.”

“Why not? What’s that asshole doing?”

“He’s… being unconscious. I think.”

“…What?”

“Look, I may have accidentally shot him, and then he hit his head on the table, and now he’s out cold… please pick me up?”

“We’re on our way. Just hang on.” There was some rustling on the other end before the sound of explosions came through, muffled by distance.

“Not the windows – oh well, off he goes,” he heard Uraraka’s voice all of a sudden. It seemed she’d been handed the phone now. “Anyway, Izuku, darling, you’re fine? No injuries?” the other began conversationally.

“Y-yeah, sure. Maybe a few bruises from being shoved around.” His right hand hurt from the punch he’d delivered earlier, aching down to his poor bones. His neck also felt a little tender from the rough pulling on the necklace, not to mention his cheek.

“That’s great to hear. Say, you mentioned earlier that the Goldsmith had been… shot? And hit his head?”

“Yup.”

“Alright. See, it would be incredibly inconvenient if he died on us, so how badly injured is he exactly?”

For lack of anything better to do, Izuku bent down again and checked that the Goldsmith was still alive. The pulse seemed steady enough, even if the blood puddle was still spreading. It looked concerning, but he’d seen people loose far more before they even passed out, and he relayed that to her. It didn’t look like any major blood vessels had been hit, and the guy was even somewhat lucid. There was some faint movement and groaning. After deliberating for a moment, Izuku pulled the man’s tie off and used it as a make-shift gag so he could not give any orders.

Then he waited. The minutes seemed to stretch for hours. It was the most nerve-wrecking boredom he’d ever experienced. Uraraka kept a steady commentary on her end and Izuku answered at the appropriate points, but his head swam and he couldn’t really concentrate on what was being said.

Finally, another explosion sounded in the distance – he heard it from outside, this time. It came from above, muffled by the layers of concrete. Bits of dust and plaster rained from the ceiling as a second one followed shortly after.

He could hear hurried footsteps outside. Someone banged on the door. “Sir, there are heroes approaching us, one of them is already in the building!” Izuku panicked. He reached for the gun and positioned himself by the wall next to the door, so he’d have a chance of surprising the guy should he come in. “Sir! Did you hear me? We need to leave, there’s a hero inside-” The door opened to reveal one of the assumed bodyguards.

“Yeah, that’s Ground Zero!” Izuku chirped, pointing the gun at the man and forcing his hands to remain steady. The man raised his own arms in surrender. “Did you know he’s my boyfriend? He’s gonna be furious.” He paused, thinking. “You know, you should probably not be in that hallway when he comes down? Could you, like, go to another room and wait there to surrender? I don’t want you to get hurt. Or worse.”

Another explosion, closer again. A panicked scream came from somewhere, before it cut off with another ‘bang’. He listened for some screamed insults, a challenge, even a ‘Die, you fuckers’, but nothing came.

Definitely ‘worse’, then. Over all the noise he couldn’t hear whether or not his other friends had also made it. Kacchan sounded closer by the second.

Still locked in a stare-off with the bodyguard, Izuku didn’t dare to avert his attention even one millisecond. He nearly jumped in surprise when a red blur appeared from the left side of the hallway, sending the man flying out of his field of view. Izuku nearly pulled the trigger in surprise.

“Midoriya!” He recognized Kirishima’s voice.

“Over here!”

As if he’d been waiting for it, Kirishima catapulted himself into the room a mere second later, fists raised, hair standing on pointy edges and clearly ready to fight. He glanced left and right, gaze catching briefly on the person prone on the floor before whirling around.

Izuku thought that he’d never been so glad to see someone. “Hi there,” he grinned weakly.

“Hi – Holy shit, don’t point that at me. You know how dangerous ricochets are? You could get hurt.” Kirishima carefully pushed the barrel of the gun to point at the floor before prying it out of Izuku’s hands.

“Shouldn’t you worry about yourself?” he asked weakly.

Kirishima just glared at him.

“Right. Sorry. I’m just – it’s been a day.”

“That it has. It’s about to get better, though,” Kirishima promised, gently patting him on the head as he glanced back at the door and whistled. Right on cue, Kacchan came barrelling in, taking the barest millisecond to take stock.

“Hey babe!” Izuku grinned.

“Do not ‘Hey babe’ me! You got some shit to explain! If you ever do that again- And what the fuck is even happening? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Good. So, if you ever do that again-” Kacchan broke off, eyes stuck on the side of Izuku’s face. “You’re bleeding,” he said faintly.

Izuku decided to finally take pity on the poor love of his life and walked over, and… “Kacchan! Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m fine, see? I’m totally fine.” He reached up to swipe the streams of tears away. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m okay.”

“You’re hurt.” Kacchan brought one of his hands up to hover just shy of touching his face, as if he feared he’d make it worse. “Why are you hurt?”

Izuku gripped the hand and carefully brought it to his face, willing himself not to flinch at the touch of the rough fabric. “It’s nothing. It’ll heal.”

Kacchan’s eyes flickered over the rest of him. Then he ripped one of his gauntlets off, suddenly frantic, letting it fall to the floor with little care. Izuku gratefully stepped into that space, feeling safer with Kacchan’s arm around him, as if it were a shield between him and the world. Kacchan did his best impression of one too, standing on his tiptoes so he could curl even further around him.

“I’ll get them, I’ll get every last one of them, they’ll pay, these fuckers don’t know who they’re messing with, I’ll make their lives hell, they’ll rot in prison forever-”

Izuku half tuned out the angry tirade as he heard a weird ‘thump-swish’ sound approach. Looked like the rest of the cavalry made it. “Babe, we have company,” Izuku said softly as Iida skidded the corner.

“They’re in here, plus one unconscious person! We need medical down here!”

“Thanks, Iida.”

“You’re welcome. Is there any imminent danger?”

“No, we’re fine here, I think,” Kirishima interjected, crouching down by Ouya’s side. Izuku had almost forgotten about him.

“There was one person outside just a few moments ago, though, I don’t know what happened to them…” he remembered.

Iida looked down the hallway at something Izuku couldn’t see. “Red Riot happened to him, from what I can tell.”

“Right. Can you get me on a line with Fat Gum or Aizawa, I got some interesting info, and I think we need to be really fast here. Before the Auriculates figure out what happened.” The arrest of the Goldsmith would send them all running. Their saving grace was that no one appeared to know what Ouya had even been up to, and the man himself seemed to have arranged it so his whereabouts wouldn’t be questioned for a while yet. That should buy them a few hours at least.

“Here, you can use my…” Kacchan fumbled for the earpiece, which Izuku gratefully accepted. Immediately, he could hear the voices of the Squad, trying to coordinate throughout the chaos. It was soothing, somehow.

“Hey folks, how’s it going?”

“Neeerd, you’re okay!” Mina wailed. “Thank fuck!”

“Gonna take a bit more than that to get rid of me. I’m a menace.”

“Our menace,” Kaminari agreed.

“Always. Anyways, the bosses there?”

“Naturally,” Aizawa said.

“Cool. Listen up everyone, we got the Goldsmith and that’ll definitely cause a panic among the Auriculates, but I have a strong suspicion I figured out who the Boss is. I can’t be a hundred percent sure, but we’re looking at a certain Haga senior, from Nemotors.”

“He’s the boss? How sure are you about that?”

“At least one of them - and sure enough to tell you to go take him in.” He contemplated before adding, “But I think we want to talk to Yorihime. If I understood correctly, she and the Scion don’t exactly agree with the business. If we offer them a deal, I’m positive they’ll tell us everything we need to know. Talk to the her after the Goldsmith takes her chain off. I’m not sure what lynch mob would stir if we coerced the Scion.”

“Got it. Shoto, Earphone Jack and Red Riot: Get on that as soon as you’ve cleared the building, the rest: Report to Nightingale headquarters immediately.”

There was a chorus of “Yes” and “Roger that” before the line went silent with determination. He let out a slow breath and sagged a little. This would be a long day, he could tell.

“Kacchan,” he said, tapping the other on the arm, “are you going to let me go now?”

“No.” He burrowed his face into Izuku’s neck, warm puffs of air making him shiver a bit. Then, suddenly, the warmth was gone when Kacchan did let go. Warm fingertips grazed his neck, feeling along the new necklace. “What is that?”

“Kacchan…” He didn’t know what to say. For him, this was the same necklace, but he realized with a weird sense of horror that he couldn’t see the bracelet on Kacchan’s wrist anymore. This was a new collar. “It’s, he tried to…” he said, turning towards Ouya. Medics were just loading him onto a stretcher. Izuku hadn’t heard them come in. Kirishima was gone, too, probably securing the floor.

“Oh, that little…” Kacchan grabbed him around the waist and led him right on over. “You,” he hissed at the Goldsmith, “you take that fucking necklace off him right now or I swear to god the only place you’ll be going is a mortuary!”

Izuku almost pointed out how killing the Goldsmith could backfire spectacularly, but he refrained. The guy didn’t have to know Kacchan was (likely) bluffing. Or at least exaggerating.

…If he were only conscious enough to listen.

“Ground Zero, with all due respect, this man is in no state to do anything right now,” one of the medics helpfully pointed out.

“He can fucking well-”

“Kacchan. It’s fine.” He put a cautious hand on Kacchan’s arm. “There aren’t… He didn’t get any commands on me. We can wait until he’s stable.” He didn’t feel bad for shooting the man, but he was a little nervous about the guy’s health. They did need him alive to undo the chains.

“He didn’t? How?”

“Well,” he began, feeling his face heat for no reason, “He always says to ‘Listen well’ whenever he does them, right? And the commands too only work if I can hear them. So I just… didn’t.” He took the second ear plug out, holding it in his palm for Kacchan to see. “He’s not very smart,” he added.

“Angel, you’re a genius.” Kacchan slumped back into his hug around him. “We’re gonna get that off ASAP, though. I don’t like it.”

“Ok. Let’s get back to the office, shall we?” The others seemed to have this building under control, and Izuku was quite frankly eager to not be here anymore.

“Good idea.” Without warning, the world lurched forwards. It took him a moment to reorient himself – Kacchan had him slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and swiftly walked out of the room and back up the stairs.

“Kacchan! I can walk!” He pushed himself up with his hands against Kacchan’s back to try and see where they were going.

“It’s protocol,” Kacchan shot back, peeking around a corner before he continued his ascent. Izuku shut his mouth.

They made it back towards the parking lot, where several cars he recognized from the office were parked together with a bunch of police and an ambulance. The place was bustling with activity all of a sudden, and Izuku was relieved when Kaminari waved them over and offered them a ride.

Kacchan shoved him into the backseat and climbed in right after, plastered to his side with as much contact as he could manage. “I’m putting a fucking tracker on you,” he warned, face hidden in the crook of Izuku’s neck.

He reached a hand up to pat those stubborn blond spikes. “You do that.” Truth be told, right now he would probably agree to have one implanted under his skin. He could make a fantastic case for the benefits.

The drive to Nightingale HQ was astonishingly short, and Izuku suffered two cases of back-to-back whiplash when first, they used the front entrance, and second, the place was packed. He’d seen upset anthills less chaotic. “What’s going on here?”

“Great question,” Kaminari supplied, craning his head this way and that to figure out an answer.

“Ground Zero, Chargebolt. Midoriya.” Aizawa materialised in front of them, looking as dead as Izuku currently felt inside – like he wanted to lay down for an entire week and maybe continue with hibernation. “Good to see everyone’s alright. Can I put you to work?”

“No,” Kacchan said flat-out. He was still draped over Izuku’s side. “We’re going to see Band-Aid first. And then I’ll take this idiot home, I don’t care.”

“Kacchan,” he admonished, before turning back to Aizawa. “What’s going on?”

“Well, whether we like it or not, the first domino has toppled and now we need to act on it. We’re mobilizing whoever we can get to arrest as many Auriculates as possible. We need you in the field, Ground Zero, and it’s not up for discussion. And Midoriya, if you could head up to the comms room and assist their consultants with our gathered knowledge, I’m sure everyone would greatly appreciate it.”

He looked around the room again. Heroes were bustling everywhere, strapping on gear and heading out the doors. Everyone was making calls or confirming orders over earpieces, and he could just tell this would be a long, long day still.

“Twenty minutes,” Kacchan pleaded quietly, finally standing up straight. “Give us twenty minutes and we’ll be good to go.”

Aizawa nodded. “Take thirty for all I care. We’re still waiting on folks. Once you’re ready, you meet up with team Gamma in the parking lot. I’ve put you on Ueda’s arrest.” He waved half-heartedly and headed off, before remembering, “Ah, Midoriya, comms is on the seventh floor here. I’ll tell them you’ll be along, someone’s going to assist you from there.”

“Got it.” Now again left to their own devices, Kacchan put an arm around him and started to steer them towards a corridor on the left side of the lobby, where prominent signs pointed towards a nurse station or something of that sort. The room was small, with only two beds and equipped to deal with absolute emergencies or small scrapes, nothing in-between.

“Oi, Mend! You there?” Kacchan asked loudly.

“Yes!” From a side room, a man about their age appeared. His dark hair stood up in all directions, and his light blue scrubs were wrinkled in a way that made Izuku believe he’d been sleeping in them. He dearly hoped this guy hadn’t been about to clock out after a nightshift, because he strongly suspected it wasn’t going to happen now.

Kacchan shoved him forward. “If you could please take care of him?” he asked, all polite.

Mend ran appraising eyes over his face and nodded. “No problem. Let me just get the paperwork. Which office do you work for?”

“Uh… No one, really. Maybe Fat Gum?”

“It’s complicated, the closest we’re gonna get is civilian. Hand it to me.” Kacchan filled out the paperwork whilst Mend asked him some general questions before touching his hand to the spot.

“This might sting a bit,” was the only warning he got. There was a sudden spike in the uncomfortable throbbing ache in his temple, which was then replaced by a tight feeling, as if his skin was stretched all directions. He wiped his watering eyes when the fingers receded, and a look in the mirror above the sink in the corner showed no trace of any injury.

“Huh. Neat. How does that work?”

Mend smiled at the compliment. “It accelerates healing. Basically, you go through the process in high speed. It’s only good for things that don’t need additional medical attention or won’t hurt too much, though.”

He was about to ask more questions when Kacchan grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him back out. “Thanks for the help, appreciate it. Let’s go, Nerd.”

Left with no choice but to follow, he let Kacchan drag him to the cafeteria to pick up a couple of drinks and some snacks before they meandered up the stairs to a quieter floor, where Kacchan ushered them into an unused meeting room.

His boyfriend kept entirely quiet on the way, and didn’t speak either when he shut the door, or when Izuku found himself sat on the desk with Kacchan standing in the V of his legs, hugging him.

Izuku hugged him back, watching, waiting. He wanted to say something, he just didn’t know what. The clock ticked noisily. “Kacchan…”

“You can’t fucking do this to me, you hear?”

“I know.” He used his thumb to massage gentle circles at the nape of Kacchan’s neck, hoping the closer contact would help calm him. He could only imagine how awful this must’ve been on the other end, but if it was anything close to like Izuku had felt when Kacchan got injured… “I’m fine. I’m here. It’s alright.”

“Hmpf.” After a few more moments, Kacchan reluctantly emerged from the crook of his shoulder. “I feel like I should be taking care of you, not the other way around.” He tried a weak smile, and Izuku took the offering gratefully.

“Well, it would greatly reassure me if we could get these snacks into our systems before we pull a twenty-four hour shift,” he began. They could be sad and mushy tomorrow. Right now, they needed to get close enough to normalcy to see this stupid mission to the end. They’d invested too much time and energy, and he refused to let it fail now because he was too busy being hopelessly gay for his Kacchan.

“Eat snacks, got it.” Kacchan then bit his ear.

“…Why are you the way that you are?” He tried and failed to wriggle away.

“What?” Kacchan transitioned to putting little kisses along his jaw, and he wasn’t all that opposed to the concept, just...

“Um,” Kaminari said, standing in the doorway. He held up the bracer Kacchan had discarded earlier, “I thought you might want this back before we head out, but I can come back later…?”

“Oh, no, don’t mind us. Kacchan was about to eat and then head down to meet up with you, wasn’t he?” Izuku felt his pointed glare bounce off Kacchan’s indifference.

“I wasn’t. But alright.” Finally, the stubborn idiot conceded, taking his gauntlet back and slamming the door shut in Kaminari’s face. “Here, have this.” Kacchan handed him some rice balls and took one for himself, scarfing it down as he went over something on his phone. Kacchan’s frown increased as he went over the texts, and he started checking over his gear one final time. The phone was pinging in rapid succession, and Izuku figured their thirty minutes were up.

Which reminded him, “Ah, Kacchan, can you write down your mobile number for me?” he asked as they simultaneously started to make for the staircase.

“You don’t know that by heart?” came the quip back.

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have had to argue with your receptionist to put me through to you.”

Kacchan grumbled something as he scribbled down the numbers on a paper napkin. “Can’t even fault her – Stupid rules … I really need to get your registered as my future husband.”

Izuku nearly choked. “Your what?”

“Future husband. We’re getting married.”

“When?” He couldn’t tell if they were being serious or if this was another way Kacchan got around his dislike for the word ‘boyfriend’.

“Oh, I don’t know. When are you free?” The smirk and wink made him lean towards the latter theory, but…

“I don’t have plans after this mission. How does Friday sound for you?” Two could play that game.

“Should be fine. I was planning to take a week or two off after this mission anyway. We could go on our honeymoon. Do you want me to get a ring and propose properly or should we just do the paperwork for now and the ceremonies and stuff later?”

“Uh-”

“Forget it, I’ll get one anyway.” Kacchan grabbed his shoulder and pulled him in for a quick kiss as they came to a stop by the elevators. “You need to go two floors up from here. Feel free to head home if you’re done before me. Get some rest. Later!”

“Later,” he echoed after Kacchan had already departed downstairs. What on earth had just happened?

A bit dazed, he went upstairs as instructed to find a hubbub of noise and activity. It took him several tries to get the attention of one of the people hurrying by, and they didn’t even pause to chat as they quietly pointed him down the hall towards a room full of computers, consultants and phone calls.

“Ah, Midoriya! How good to finally see you in person!” A familiar voice made him glance around before he finally remembered to look down.

“Principal Nezu?” What on earth was he doing here?

The little mouse (bear?) came towards him excitedly, somehow managing to not get trampled on despite the hustle all around. “In the flesh,” he confirmed. “Don’t look so surprised. Several of my best teachers are on this case, naturally I will lend a paw when needed. And it can double as hands-on training for you, which is the least we can do after we had to cut corners on the practical lessons. Now, if you could take a look at this list first and make sure we did not forget to include any high-profile targets, that’d be much appreciated.”

He nodded before he could think too much about it. From what he knew, Nezu’s quirk was uniquely situated to help out here, and so he tried to reason that it was perfectly normal he’d help out and there was no point panicking, because this certainly wasn’t an exam or something. Right.

Izuku took one last deep breath before he threw himself into the chaos. The plan Peregrine had devised for this specific scenario was sound and well structured, so he found no fault in the order of priority the arrests were taking place in. He was, however, pretty much the only one intimately familiar with it, so he found himself at the end of many questions not half an hour in, once people realized the weird guy was their resident expert.

He answered things like “What is this person’s quirk,” or “Where is the floorplan for this property,” or “Should we get this one next or skip to that one who looks like he’s about to escape the city?”. At one point he was handed an earpiece and assisted in leading Jirou through the arrest of the Auctioneer known as Four. Via the same method, Kacchan checked in on him periodically, confirming Ueda’s arrest and announcing he was fine after each of the at least a dozen others that followed.

He also kept an eye out for the rest of their Squad, tracking the screens and the conversations of the consultants around him to stay informed on their health and whereabouts. His coworkers were mostly a pleasant crew, patient and calm whenever he needed to ask a question about something or other. He supposed it came with the job, but it was nice nonetheless. One of them pulled him aside at one point, with a big smile and “Orders from Red Riot to show you this,” as they presented him with a video call.

Kirishima was grinning ear-to-ear, not bothering to hide it. “Look what I found!” he announced before he handed his phone over to a young woman with long dark hair and startling silver eyes. Her smile seemed a bit shaky, but the peace-sign she flashed was confident enough to assure him of her well-being. “Sayaka!” Immediately, he felt his eyes well up. “You’re fine!”

“I feel like I should be the one saying that, Deku. We were almost certain you’d been murked ages ago!”

He grinned. “Nah, I am too much of a menace to die that easily.”

“What happened?”, she wanted to know. “I was told you work with the nice guy that just kicked down the door. How?”

He grinned innocently at her. “He’s technically our neighbour, but he happens to have worked on the same case as Kacchan. They’re old friends.”

She blinked at that. “Kacchan,” she echoed. “Like that Kacchan?” Her expression turned conflicted. She’d always thought Kacchan (or Ground Zero) was rude and too loud, and he’d never quite managed to convince her otherwise.

“How many others do you know of?” he laughed. “Maybe I can finally introduce you two. You’ll like him more if you see him in person.” She avidly judged people through her quirk by analysing their personality and energies like a sommelier would a wine, but it sadly didn’t work through screens. She’d have to accept Kacchan was a softie under all that rough exterior after all. Like a S’more.

He laughed at the memory as she crossed her arms and pouted. “I highly doubt it. Urgh. Does that mean I’ll have to listen to more of your incessant crushing on the cretin?”

Oh, he really wanted to break those news to her in person, but the temptation was too great to keep silent now. “I’m not crushing on him anymore,” he told her with a grave voice.

“Finally come to your senses?”

“No, just dating. I might be engaged now? That part was unsure.”

“Hang on, you’re what now?” Kirishima inserted himself into the conversation with about the same amount of shock Sayaka displayed.

“Deku, no!”

“Aaaaaaaanyway, I need to get back to work, as do you I am sure, stay in touch Queen, we’ll meet up soon, you’re both welcome to the wedding, byeeeeeee!” He hung up and sheepishly waved at the perplexed consultant whose chair he’d stolen as he did get back to work. Apparently, The Butcher was next.

It was a weird day, and a bit exhausting, but strangely fulfilling. Izuku felt useful, like he was in his element, and he hardly noticed time racing by. When Aizawa arrived in their midst and took general control, allowing him a small break, he was shocked to notice almost nine hours had passed.

Hyperfocused on whatever was in front of him in the moment, he didn’t get the full scope of the operation, but some things caught his attention in little snapshots. Apparently, the arrest of Haga senior had happened without a hitch, and at one point another wave of names and places rolled, in courtesy to Yorihime and the Scion.

Nine of the twelve known Auctioneers were in holding cells, and they had to coordinate more temporary places for the many victims they rescued. There was a commotion as a bunch of heroes showed up to their room and left with one of the consultants. It was only when police showed up to take a look at that specific computer he realized they’d found their mole, and he hadn’t even realised. Not like there was time to elaborate or chit-chat about it. In terms of people that needed to know details, he was at the bottom of that list.

At one point he helped delegate several sidekicks to keep the press from camping the hospitals, as news began to trickle through despite their best efforts. The news reported a disruption to international travel as the airports had to delay or entirely cancel flights for “undisclosed reasons”.

Shinsou appeared briefly in the room just to check in on him and hand him a coffee, which Izuku gratefully took despite his distaste for it. His friend had been through the thick of it, sent out to peacefully subdue the Auriculates they deemed most volatile in an effort to keep the risk to their slaves as low as possible. After that list had been ticked off, they’d sent him to the clinic where the Goldsmith was being held, to keep him from doing anything ill-advised once he woke up.

It was a couple of hours after that Izuku felt something slide down the back of his shirt. His first thought was a bug or something equally terrifying and he jumped at the feeling. The offending object was jostled out of his shirt and he found the necklace under his shoe after he instinctively stepped on the perpetrator.

For a moment, he was unsure how to feel about it. He ran a finger along his neck to feel the naked skin there. “Huh.” He wondered if he should be ecstatic about it, but his earpiece demanded his attention. He’d been in the middle of figuring out where next to send Shoto and Ingenium, which was arguably a lot more important. So he kicked the necklace away under a far table for someone else to clean up and went back to it.

Eventually, the steady stream of activity slowed to a trickle. He used a break in the activity to step outside into the hall. There were no windows in the consulting room, as all walls were used to accommodate screens and maps and whatnot. Looking through the tall windows in the hall for the first time in what felt like forever, he was greeted by a black canvas tinged slightly yellow by the streetlamps below. Cars still went by, given that it was the middle of the city, but it was the slow trickle of late-night traffic that made one wonder why these people were still up and about. The sound of sirens ebbed and swelled in unsteady intervals when another team dispatched from the parking lot if the building they were in.

There was a spot a few steps down the corridor that was sheltered by a column half sticking out of the wall, and he slipped into the tiny space by it for some much needed quiet. There wasn’t anything more he could be helpful with aside from offering moral support and company to the equally tired consultants at this point. The heroes were still hard at work cleaning up the last of the Auriculates, those that had been categorized as ‘low risk’, and most of them were coming willingly at this point.

He'd received several offers for a ride home, but Kacchan was still out in the field, and Izuku wanted to wait for him here. Just so he could see him faster. Last he’d checked, there were two more people on Kacchan’s list, and he could… just… wait……

“Nerd. Wake up.” Warm, hushed laughter trickled into his consciousness, and he blinked his eyes open against stark artificial lighting to find Kacchan crouching over him.

“Hi. You’re back.” There was a crick in his neck as he sat up, and he realized with some embarrassment how he must’ve dozed off sitting on the floor. “Everything alright?” A quick onceover showed Kacchan to look exactly the same as when he’d left, save for the exhausted slouch in his posture. “Are you finished?”

Kacchan sighed. “Officially yes, but I’m tagging along with Cellophane and Ingenium for their last arrest. I thought you’d be home by now.” He gave a disapproving frown.

“I didn’t feel like sitting around when everyone else was working so hard. Besides, it was easier to stay updated this way. And the company was nice.” His brief stint with Ouya felt like it happened years ago, but he had a feeling that would change once he was left to process the events of the day. He took Kacchan’s offered hand and hauled himself up. “Where are you going?” he asked, stretching to work out the stiffness from his nap on the floor.

“Sanlyn Mansion.”

Izuku paused with one arm stretched high. It was all he could do to stare in surprise.

“They really don’t need me,” Kacchan continued after a moment. “But I figured I’d tag along to see if everything’s alright. Figured we have a bit of a personal investment in that one.” That they had.

Sanlyn Mansion was the official name of the Lady’s residency. One could tell it was old money when the house had its own name. Izuku had personally (and after a long internal struggle) put it pretty much at the bottom of their list. With how much of a recluse the Lady was, he’d figured the chances of the rest of the network coming to her aid would be low. The house was secluded by a forest and the most modern appliance he’d ever seen her use was a gramophone from the 60s. There was a distinct possibility she hadn’t even heard any news about the arrests yet.

“Can I come with?” he pleaded. “I could help. The place is a maze.” He knew he had no business being there, but he’d be content to wait in the car, even.

He was a bit surprised when Kacchan didn’t even argue. “Fine. But you’ll stick with me and do as I say.”

“Right!”

“C’mon, then.” Kacchan led him down to the garage by the hand. Sero and Iida were waiting for them, waving tired hands in silent greeting.

“The Nerd is coming along,” Kacchan announced, and no one bothered to inquire further. “You two drive ahead, I’ll take my own car.”

The fifty minutes of their drive were spent in almost complete silence, with only the radio and the occasional transmission from dispatch as background noise. Kacchan held his hand almost the entire time, and Izuku was content to watch the world drift by. “Thanks for taking me along,” he eventually whispered.

“’Course,” was the short reply, but they didn’t need to go into detail about it.

“Kirishima found Sayaka,” he added, feeling the gentle relief wash over him again.

“The one who doesn’t like me?”

“That one.”

The hand holding his squeezed tighter. “That’s good news. Let’s get the rest of them, shall we?” Their GPS eventually steered them off a somewhat maintained mountain road onto a far less maintained dirt and gravel driveway that cut right through the looming trees. At the end sat an impressive wrought iron gate set into a tall stone wall stretching left and right into the unknown. The gate stood wide open and showed the immaculately maintained grounds, with the mansion squatting in the middle of it like a brooding bird of prey.

A couple of other cars were already parked at the front door, including an ambulance and general police alongside Iida’s motorcycle. “Do we know what’s going on?” Izuku asked, motioning at the medical workers.

Kacchan pressed a finger to his earpiece and repeated the question. “They’re probably just here as a precaution, in case something were to happen,” he explained as he waited for a reply, “since this place is all the way out in bumfuck nowhere.”

Izuku nodded. That made sense.

“Apparently they have detained that lady and her head butler. They’re still scanning the house for other people, but Glasses has given us the go-ahead if we want to search the attic for your buddies.”

“Let’s go, then.” In all his time here, the Lady and the head butler had been pretty much the only people around save for the occasional construction worker or gardener when the notion for a major adjustment caught her fancy, so it should on all accounts and purposes be perfectly safe for them. Still, he let Kacchan take the lead as he directed them through familiar hallways and corridors. It felt a bit odd, but at the same time very satisfying to be able to walk as loudly as he wanted, with his head held high, looking at all the paintings and figures he’d had to dust and polish with disdain, and even raising a middle finger at the one statue of a giant tree by the eastern staircase.

The stairs changed from polished marble to rickety wood from the 1800s as they climbed beyond the fourth floor towards the attic. Izuku knew from experience that everyone upstairs would be able to hear the creak of the fifth step, and he silently apologized for the alarm that sound would cause. He caught Kacchan by the arm when they reached the paint-flaking door. “Let me?” he whispered.

“We don’t know who’s in there,” Kacchan objected with an apologetic look.

“Right.” Their safety wasn’t worth it, he had to concede there, even if the chances of an unwelcome surprise were close to zero. “Please be nice to them.”

“I’m always nice,” Kacchan grumbled. Then he grabbed the handle and pushed the door open as far as it would go (against the wall with a loud bang), walking inside with both hands raised and rapidly taking stock of the situation.

Hidden behind Kacchan’s broad back as he was, Izuku could only catch a glimpse of the interior – sloped ceiling with exposed wood beams, one drafty window, an old TV, a bunch of bedding lined up against the far wall, and a group of people standing huddled in a corner, holding lamps and pillows and an antique radio like it would help them.

There was a beat of silence as the two parties seized each other up. “Kacchan?” one of them – he suspected Yumi – asked in disbelief, followed by an almost comical gasp of disbelief as the rest came to the same conclusion.

“Oh my fucking god.”

“It is he.”

“It’s happening, I’m losing my sanity.”

“Like you ever had any.”

“Holy fucking shit on a shitstick.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“If Deku were here to see this…”

He took this as his cue to duck underneath Kacchan’s arm and enter the room. “Boy do I have news for you!”

His appearance caused another beat of surprised silence, followed by an even louder uproar.

“You’re alive!”

“Oh fucking hell!”

“Deku!”

“I must be hallucinating.”

“What is happening?”

He found himself tackled by Makoto first, quickly followed by Naomi. Then Yukan arrived and lifted him off his feet in a bone-crushing hug. “Deku! I’m so glad you’re okay! What happened?”

“Loooooooong story,” he deflected, knowing they hardly had the time for this. “Is this everyone?” Glancing around the room, he spotted two people he’d never seen before hovering by the edge of their gathering, and he found no sign of Aki.

Makoto nodded, fiddling with her ponytail. “Yeah. There was a commotion, so we decided to gather back here. I assume that was related to…?” She motioned in Kacchan’s general direction, who had long given up on getting a word in edgewise and had instead taken to glaring at Yukan. Who was still hugging him.

“Right!” Izuku freed himself and bounced over. “So, this is Kacchan-” (“We know.”) “-and he and his colleagues have been busy all day arresting the Auriculates, including the Goldsmith. Long story short, we’re here to get you home, folks.”

Kacchan wrapped an arm around his waist and nodded. “If you would grab your things and follow us downstairs, there’s transportation arranged for you- Yes?”

Naomi had raised a hand in question. She opened and closed her mouth uselessly at Kacchan, the chain likely preventing her from addressing him directly. Instead, she turned to Izuku. He envied her a little when that was, in her mind, not violating a commandment. He’d truly been dealt the harshest hand.

“Are you two, y’know. Together?” She motioned between them.

Izuku felt himself blush fiercely, and he dearly hoped they’d not repeat some of the things he’d said about Kacchan when he’d seen him do some really amazing stuff on TV. “Um, y-yeah.”

They went ecstatic. The cheers could likely be heard downstairs.

“Ahem!” A pointed cough from Kacchan got them to stand down a little. “If you’re quite done, I was tasked with escorting you lot downstairs, so could we get on with that?”

They didn’t need to be told thrice, eagerly stepping over the threshold and down the stairs. Izuku could swear he heard a few quiet sobs and sniffles as the reality of the situation started to sink in. He felt with them. This was the last time the draft would slam the door closed behind them, the last time they had to grip the banister to skip the rickety step without risk of falling, the last time they’d hold up their middle fingers to the stone tree-

“What did that statue do?” Kacchan asked, bewildered.

“Kacchan. Honey. Look at it.” Izuku spread an arm out to encompass the monstrosity. “This thing is made of rough stone. See the incredible detail on the bark, and the individual leaves.”

“Okay?”

“Kacchan.” He took a deep breath and leaned in for emphasis. “We had to dust that.”

“…Oh.” Kacchan’s eyes went wide as he took the thing in with that knowledge. “What the fuck.”

“That’s what we said every time.”

Kacchan stared at the abomination a moment longer, and said, without taking his eyes off it, “Hey, can you lot do me a favour and stand in that doorway over there?” He motioned to the far side of the hall. “Not you.” Izuku was held back by the scruff of his shirt. “You,” Kacchan announced, “stand behind me, and keep your face against my back.”

Izuku did as told, peeking just a little. He saw Kacchan raise his arm, palm open.

“Your hand.”

He reached his right hand forward, into Kacchan’s waiting left palm, and watched as it was guided to the safety pin on the release of the gauntlet. He could hear the malicious grin in Kacchan’s voice. “Pull it.”

His own grin matched Kacchan’s. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” he asked, and if Kacchan gave an answer, it was drowned out by a deafening boom as the tree went up in smoke and dust. Only a little bit of the stump was left standing, the leaves and branches shattered into a poor imitation of pebbles and sand. He gave a thumbs up to the attic rats, who applauded the heroic feat from the doorway. “That was very, very satisfying,” he admitted.

“Good. Now let’s get out of here before someone comes to ask what happened. If someone asks,” and he addressed all of them, “this was necessary self defense.”

They all nodded vigorously, and finally made it outside towards the cavalry. Iida raised an eyebrow in their direction, but a subtle shake of the head was all Kacchan needed to make him drop the issue.

Instead, Iida turned his attention towards the newcomers, giving a brief introduction and a rundown of their immediate situation. “So, unless any of you need immediate medical attention, we’ll drop you off at a hero office and they’ll sort you from there. We’ve got the Goldsmith in custody, meaning after they’ve gotten your info they can remove those necklaces and you should be good to go either directly home or to a temporary shelter. You’ve got to ask someone on the premise for further details in that case.”

They nodded and immediately began murmuring among themselves. Izuku knew that some of them, like the timid Naomi, didn’t have much of a family to begin with. At the same time, when there had been hushed talks of an uncertain future during their late nights, they’d never hesitated to promise her a place with one of them, and no doubt was a similar discussion taking place now. They’d figure it out for sure.

An arm settled over his shoulders. “Not to spoil your party or anything,” Kacchan whispered lowly, watching the antics of the attic rats together with him, “but your designated driver is nearing his fucking limit and would like to leave soon.”

“Of course. Everyone!” he shouted, waving a hand for their attention. “I wish we could hang out and catch up properly, but Kacchan and I need to leave now.”

“Oh, yeah, don’t sweat it, man,” Yukan reassured. “We’re all tired, I guess.”

“We can get together another time!” Naomi chirped.

“Definitely! We’ll be in touch once we got ourselves sorted, and then we’ll go on that night out we always talked about!”

He grinned at the idea. “Sounds good to me. See you!” A chorus of goodbyes and see you soons followed him to the car.

He wondered if they would uphold that promise. They’d come together as partners in crime (if on the receiving end of it), and their companionship was a very unique one born of necessity more than anything else. He cared for their well-being, sure, and he wished them all the best in life, but said life would undoubtedly take them very different directions now that they were free to take them. In a way, he’d be content to close that chapter of his life just as the car door closed between them now. Izuku turned and waved back at them as they left, until the night and the walls took them out of view.

His hand blindly reached for Kacchan’s over the middle console whilst his eyes resumed their vigil of the inky darkness around them. His thoughts circled like fish in a pond, slowly looping again and again without ever really getting anywhere. He was content with it. So much had happened in such a short time, and he’d probably be hit by the aftereffects sometime soon, but right now, all that mattered was Kacchan by his side and a comfy bed to look forward to.

He blinked himself back to wakefulness when Kacchan took an exit that was decidedly not the one leading home. “Huh?”

“’M just going to the drive-through. Don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Kacchan explained softly. “Want something?”

“Sounds good.” He planned on being asleep for at least twelve hours, and he could do without his stomach interrupting that plan. “You pick for me, I’ve never been here.”

Kacchan nodded and placed their order. Izuku held on to a warm paper bag and two hot drinks until Kacchan found a parking space a bit further down the road. “C’mon,” he urged, and Izuku begrudgingly got out.

“We could’ve eaten in the car.”

“And get crumbs everywhere? I think not,” Kacchan protested predictably. There was a small bench by an overlook they sat on. Izuku quietly handed their food over, and Kacchan offered him a bagel and a muffin after sorting through the contents. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He leaned against Kacchan for warmth as they ate in companionable silence. The wind was chilling as it blew through dew-dampened grass with that characteristic smell of early fall. The overlook dropped down a rocky slope, the end of which vanished below the treetops. The valley below them had little spots of lighter yellow dotted through the canopies there.

Izuku squinted at the horizon. Was it just his imagination, or…? “Kacchan,” he asked carefully after swallowing his bite, “is that the sunrise?”

“Yup.”

Izuku slumped and groaned in defeat. Goodbye, sleep schedule. We hardly knew ye. “I’m tired.”

“Tell me about it.” Kacchan yawned and stretched, valiantly gathering more energy than he had any right of having. “Okay, so – one last stop to get that chain removed, and then we’ll go straight to sleep, alright?”

“What about gay to sleep,” he grumbled. Then Kacchan’s comment registered. “Oh, I didn’t tell you!” He jumped to sudden attention. “The chain is already off!” He announced, finally beginning to feel a trickle of excitement at the news. Maybe it was the relieved look on Kacchan’s face that had that effect on him.

“Really?”

“Yep! Shinsou must’ve gotten it sorted for me as soon as Ouya woke up.” He jumped up and spun around in a circle, arms outstretched. “Tadaa! Zero unwanted jewellery on my person.” He vigorously rubbed both hands over his exposed neck for emphasis.

“Good.” When he looked back up, he saw Kacchan’s fond smile before the other averted his gaze to the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. “So, um… What about wanted jewellery?”

It took him a moment to register the black box Kacchan fished out of a pocket. When he did, Kacchan opened it to reveal a silver band with an orange gem inlaid. “Ah.” He buried his face in his hands in an effort to fight the heat rushing through him. “Kacchaaaaaaaaan!” he whined. “I was half-convinced you were joking earlier!” He choked on the words through the lump in his throat.

“Well, I wasn’t,” Kacchan admitted matter-of-factly. How was he this calm?

“I figured.” With a defeated sigh, he let his hands fall away so he could look at his… his Kacchan. “Well? Are you going to ask?”

“Ask what?”

“You know exactly what!”

“Do I? You just said you thought it was a joke!”

“Well I obviously got that wrong!”

“Now I’m not even sure if you want me to ask!”

“Just do it.”

Kacchan looked away and turned his nose up. “The mood is way off.”

Izuku threw his hands up in defeat and blew out a breath. “Kacchan,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “please just ask the goddamned question.”

“If you insist.” Almost begrudgingly, Kacchan sank to one knee in the damp grass. “Izuku. Marry me.”

Technically not a question, but he could work with it. “Okay.” He held out his left hand so Kacchan could put the ring on him, which he did with infinite care.

“Weirdest proposal ever,” Kacchan commented as he stood.

“Probably,” he agreed. “We’ll have to come up with a revised version we can tell in polite company.” Then he threw his arms around his fiancé and surged up for a heated kiss. Something shiny and elated fizzed through his veins as he tried to come to terms with this new reality, and he had to break away when he couldn’t contain his laughter anymore.

Kacchan joined in the sound, lifting him up and spinning them in a circle. “What a day.”

“You can say that again.” He turned himself in Kacchan’s arms so he could get a proper look at his new accessory. The stone was orange at first glance, but there was something to it that caught and refracted light in an interesting way.

“It’s fire opal,” Kacchan explained to his unspoken question. “I don’t really know what that is, because I had to speedrun the shopping spree during the one thirty minute break I had, but I knew orange was your favourite colour so I grabbed the orange thing I liked best. I still have the receipt if you’d prefer something different.”

“No, this is quite alright. I’m more surprised you managed to get the size correctly.”

“Measured your ring size with a string while you were sleeping,” Kacchan admitted easily.

Izuku laughed at the nonchalance. “Been planning this?” he wondered, and realized that Kacchan must have. Speechless, he held his hand up and watched the ring catch the first rays of morning sunlight. “It’s perfect,” he admitted, feeling like he might burst. “Not as perfect as you, though.”

“Gross,” was all Kacchan had to say to that. He caught his hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it. “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah. Home sounds good.”

Notes:

On account of the increased chapter count: I decided we'll have an epilogue. Yay!

Chapter 24: Epilogue

Notes:

In my defense:
Endwalker crushed my emotions like an elephant laying down on five dozen egg cartons.

In my further defense:
Baldur's Gate 3

He hadn’t known it was possible to want to wax poetic at the sight of a door, but by the time he’d managed to drag his suitcase from the car to the doorstep, he stood corrected. This was the most beautiful door in the world. Especially when said door opened before he could begin to fish for his keys and he found himself tackled by an even more beautiful person. “You’re back early!”

“And failed to surprise you,” he retorted, not too bothered by the fact. “Missed you, Kacchan.” Izuku went on his tiptoes for a proper kiss, which extended for quite a while. He blamed his prolonged absence. Five and a half days were decidedly too long.

“Any reason you’re home an entire day before you said you’d be?” Kacchan asked when they finally separated. He grabbed the suitcase before Izuku could protest, carrying it inside like it weighed nothing.

Izuku followed and enjoyed the view in front of him. “Nah. I got the qualifications and all, and the rest of today was for dinner and networking and such. And as much as we all know I just love to be in a room full of strangers making polite conversation, I had a valid excuse when I mentioned my gorgeous husband’s birthday being today, so I don’t think I offended anyone too badly.” He set his phone down to charge and grabbed one of Kacchan’s hoodies from the back of a chair, eagerly exchanging it with the dress shirt he was currently wearing. “Although I was hoping it’d be a surprise,” he added with a little side-eye towards Kacchan.

“Trust me, I was very pleasantly surprised when I saw you were on the way back.” True his promise from four years ago, Kacchan had taken the standard-issue tracker all heroes wore when on duty and handed it over to Izuku after the mass arrests of the Auriculates. It had been half-intended as a joke, but he found himself taking it with him every time he needed to go out alone. Like to an important extended seminar regarding the updated regulations support engineers would have to follow starting August, which came with a certificate he’d need should he want to keep his position as Shoto’s head engineer.

He just felt safer knowing that even if they couldn’t keep in touch through texting because one or the other was occupied, Kacchan would periodically check that he was where he was supposed to be. That someone would come to help should he need it, and know where to look. That he wasn’t truly alone.

He was very proud of himself when he managed to survive going to an unknown location all by himself, and with minimal anxiety attacks to boot. His therapist agreed. This particular event had been less awful because he’d known a few colleagues there, Hatsume among them, but this was the first time he could truly let himself breathe easy since he left.

And it was Kacchan’s birthday, and he’d be damned if he missed one ever again. “So,” he began lightly, making his way over to Kacchan with swaying steps. “What plans do we have for the evening?”

Kacchan put his hands lightly on his hips, holding on and grinning back knowingly. “You look like you have some ideas.”

“Hmm. I could get you your present, or take you out to dinner, or you could pick a piece of furniture and I’ll go bend over it for you,” he offered, making no effort to hide which he’d prefer himself.

Kacchan laughed at the shamelessness, a light, happy sound that Izuku never tired of. “Sounds very tempting, but I am afraid the Squad came to me with the insistent offer of dinner a few days ago and I agreed to meet with them at the Italian place in two hours.”

“Two hours is plenty of time…”

“…for you to shower and take a nap. Mina and Shinsou have chat logs proving you hardly slept.”

“And they snitched on me like a bunch of traitors!” He crossed his arms in fake offense. “It wasn’t that bad. The hotel was just very loud,” he added truthfully. “Mini-Miles helped.” He fished the travel-sized kitty plush out of his bag to reunite it with its older brother as he went to grab a change of clothes. Kacchan had gotten it for him for their honeymoon, when actual Miles proved to be too long to justifiably take with them, and Izuku had taken it along whenever he needed to be away overnight ever since. It also valiantly kept Kacchan company when an injury required a hospital stay, which had fortunately only been three times.

“Taking a shower after all?” Kacchan asked when Izuku walked past him with the change of clothes.

“Yeah. Wanna join?” He winked for good measure, even though he knew Kacchan would decline before he sent a withering stare his way. They had tried that once, but it turned out shower sex wasn’t at all what people made it out to be.

“Hurry up and I might help you with your hair,” Kacchan teased, and like always, Izuku rolled his eyes to himself. Like he was the one being rewarded here. Kacchan was obsessed with his hair (“How is it that soft?”), and after one off-handed comment in which he’d said “Shame I didn’t get my hands on it when it was longer”, Izuku had started growing it out again. The sacrifices he made.

When he got out of the shower, hair still damp, he found Kacchan sitting on the couch with a hair brush and a tie already in hand. An older episode of some show provided a nice background noise as Izuku lowered himself to sit on the floor between Kacchan’s legs.

“So how was your trip? Aside from loud,” Kacchan asked as he began brushing the strands and sorting them so he could get a small braid started. It made the curls and waves look a lot nicer if his hair dried like that.

“Hm, nothing much, to be honest? There was a lot of talk about the new submission forms, and they’re amending some laws on hazardous materials, but I feel like that entire seminar could’ve been an email.” He sighed and leaned his head against Kacchan’s leg. The soothing motions were making him sleepy. “What about you? Anything interesting while I was gone?”

“Oh, totally,” Kacchan replied. “I invited the Squad over and we had a three-day party, with champagne and strippers and all.”

Izuku swatted at the knee in front of him. “How unfair. You never invite strippers when I’m here.”

“Aw, poor Nerd. Do you want some for your birthday?” Kacchan teased.

Izuku swatted again at the leg he was resting his head on, with more emphasis. “If this is your way of trying to get out of watching the starshowers with me-”

“No, we’ll go this year, no matter what.”

“Promise?”

“Already did like a dozen times, but sure. Promise.”

He let his head rest more comfortably against Kacchan’s thigh. “Good.”

They’d been trying to go and watch a meteor shower pretty much since the day Izuku gifted Kacchan the stargazing guide, but the weather had not been in their favour thus far. There was one coming up in a month, and the weather reports made them cautiously optimistic.

With a last snap of the hair tie, Kacchan finally released his hair. “There we go. Want to go take that nap? You’re half asleep already.”

“If I nap now I won’t get up again,” he replied, stretching with a yawn. He checked the time, and they needed to get going in thirty-ish minutes anyway. “I’ll go unpack,” he decided, hoping that moving around a bit would suffice to wake him up again. He sorted the laundry and toiletries and then suddenly remembered his certificates, which he’d stashed in the glove compartment of the car to keep them from wrinkling inside his bag. Better sort those immediately. He knew he tended to misplace things on occasion, but those were important.

Papers in hand, he walked into the office and ran his finger over the backs of the folders occupying the bookshelf. He stopped at the one simply labelled ‘documents’ in his own, barely legible handwriting. He insisted the writing was perfectly fine whenever Kacchan brought it up, but the truth was he first recognized this one by the slightly peeling label more than what was written on said label. He hefted the folder out of the shelf and dropped it on the desk with a dull thump. Izuku kept every document he might eventually have to show someone official in here, sorted by date, and the first thing that greeted him when he opened it was his copy of their marriage certificate, pristine in its protective plastic sleeve. He grinned at the memory.

The chilly autumn air bit at his exposed skin as he waited. Kacchan rang the bell for the second time. It was already dark and a Sunday, meaning absolutely no other soul was around. If it weren’t for the occasional passing car, this would’ve made a good horror movie set. “Are you sure someone’s in there?” he asked, breathing into his hands to keep them from freezing.

“They better be,” Kacchan shot back, glaring angrily at the faint illumination from a window two stories up. He rang a third time before he stepped back. Finally, the door buzzed and opened for them.

They trudged up two flights of stairs before entering a hallway decorated with plants and modern art. Plaques by the rows of doors on either side denoted offices. A tug on his hand made him turn his attention back ahead, to one on the left that was left ajar for them. “What?” Kacchan asked.

“Hm? Nothing. I’ve just… never been in a place like this.” It wasn’t necessarily bad, but it was big and empty, and the polished floors and panelled walls reminded him a bit of the mansion. The silence and the dark rooms added to an eerie feel.

“Hey.” Kacchan let go of his hand and turned to face him fully. “We don’t have to be here. We can leave if you wanna. ‘S no big deal.” He glanced down and to the side as he said that, seemingly not knowing what to do with himself. “I mean, it is rather fast and all.”

“No, no, that’s not it!” Izuku hurried to reassure. “I want to do this, really, truly. Even if it’s sudden.” He nudged their shoulders together. “I thought I had time once,” he admitted. “And then I almost had none. But being with you is one of the things I want most in life.”

“Ew.” Kacchan grinned, trying to appear unaffected by that. The pink ears gave him away, though.

“It’s the big empty building that’s making me nervous. I always imagined this a bit more grand,” he added.

“Oh? You’ve imagined this?”

“We are changing the topic right now.”

In the end, it came down to five more minutes of waiting and then ten minutes of listening to legal jargon and placing a whole lot of signatures, and just like that they were officially married. Kacchan, in his infinite pragmatism, had used the opportunity to get a whole load of other boring adult stuff sorted, like insurance and money and a bunch of overcomplicated stuff they needed to consider because he was a Pro Hero. It had been so mundane, Izuku sometimes even now forgot that he was actually, really and legally married to Kacchan, and when the realisation came back around now and then to hit him over the head, he’d sit around with the dumbest grin imaginable.

He glanced at a framed picture on Kacchan’s work desk. It was horrible and Izuku hated it with a passion. Kacchan looked fine, laying on a bed and grinning like the cat that got the canary whilst he pointed at the gleaming ring on Izuku’s hand. Izuku himself was fast asleep, hair going whichever way after a day playing in the ocean. The sunburn didn’t help, and neither did the fact he was clearly drooling on the pillow. Izuku had banned that picture from the living room walls.

It was taken on their honeymoon though, and he didn’t have the heart to destroy it, because Kacchan loved it so much. True to the threat/promise he made right after Izuku had been temporarily abducted for the second time, Kacchan had handed in a request for two weeks leave the day after the mass arrests and not waited for approval before packing their stuff and taking Izuku to a resort in New Zealand.

He fondly remembered those two weeks as some of the greatest in his life: The food, the beach, the hikes through the jungle, the music and the late night events down the main street AND the delight of having Kacchan all to himself during all of it? Bliss. They’d seen some shooting stars from their favourite little spot on the beach at night, and decided then and there they wanted to go camping by the lake again.

However, when they’d finally gotten back, reality had been waiting to slap them in the face with a metaphorical fry pan of work. They’d missed the biggest wave around the arrests, but an operation of that scale, with as many well-known figures involved, had of course caused an outrage. The news had still talked about hardly anything else.

Izuku had tried to blend out as much as he possibly could. He didn’t care anymore. He wanted to be done with it all. He was mostly successful by throwing himself back into his education, graduating U.A. a few months later with options in engineering and consultant work. The Squad threw a small party just for him, and he seamlessly transitioned into a part-time job with the support agency that made most of the Squads gear – until Shouto got his permits together, opened his own agency and much less seamlessly recruited him (read: dragged at gunpoint) to oversee matters there. (Which resulted in a very interesting legal dilemma wherein they had to figure out if heroes from other agencies were allowed to commission him even if their agency had a contract with someone else (they could buy blueprints if they paid out of pocket (which was another issue))).

With a sigh, he put the folder back and left the memories behind in the office. There were more important matters to attend to in the here and now, namely: What to wear. It was just dinner with the Squad, but for once he wanted to look a bit nicer for the occasion. His motivation reached far enough to fish out a green button down and put a simple black vest over it. After a bit of deliberation, he forewent his glove on the right arm, since it was mostly covered anyway. Deeming himself passable, he jogged back into the living room. “Ready to go?” he asked, a bit redundantly. Kacchan was already putting on his shoes.

“’Course.” Then the other glanced up and did a double take. There was no comment, but the sly smile on Kacchan’s face as he bent back down to do the laces on the other foot was all the affirmation he needed. Nailed it.

“I’m driving?” Izuku asked, already searching the entryway for the keys. Not in their spot.

“Nah, let me.”

“It’s your birthday-”

“And I’ll thank you to get me back here as the designated driver. Since I am still sober, I’ll get us there myself.”

With a huff, Izuku dropped the argument. His driving wasn’t that bad, even though Kacchan liked to joke it was, but he’d been behind the wheel for hours today already. And he didn’t enjoy the busy city traffic that much.

Kacchan parked the car as close to the Italian place as he could, and they walked the rest of the way hand in hand. Izuku craned his head as they entered to see who was there. It was a weekday, so it would just be a small dinner with whoever could make it outside of work. The big party was planned for the next Saturday. When they made it to their table, Shouto, Kirishima, Uraraka, Kaminari and Mina greeted them, seated in the back corner. To Izuku’s surprise, it seemed Sayaka had also managed to make it. He was a bit disappointed to see Shinsou was missing because he’d brought some new blueprints he’d made for costume modifications and was excited to show them off.

“Happy Birthd-” was as far as they got with their little chorus before Kacchan had a hand up in sinister warning.

“Try it and I will set your asses on fire.”

They wisely shut up. “No presents for you then,” Mina retorted, crossing her arms in mock offense.

“A small price to pay.” He took a seat on the bench and pulled Izuku in with him. Someone had thoughtfully already ordered drinks for them, although Kacchan snatched the extra wine glass away and replaced it with his water.

“Izuku! Nice to see you made it, man.” Kirishima reached over to clap him on the back, which was meant friendly, but nearly sent him into the table. “Thought you were off having a meeting or something?”

Izuku carefully glanced at Shouto, who was watching with rapt attention. He’d paid for the trip as a business expense, after all. “The presentations finished this morning,” he explained diplomatically, “and there was a dinner planned afterwards, but I decided I would rather have that with you.” He added the patented puppy dog eyes. “Since it is my husband’s birthday.”

Shouto nodded sagely in defeat as the rest of the table cooed. “Awww.”

“Still haven’t seen that wedding,” Mina joked.

Izuku grinned in apology. When they returned after their two-week absence four years ago, the rest of them had obviously had questions. Very long story short, when Kacchan and Izuku had announced they were now married, the rest had taken it as some sort of joke and thought they were merely dating or some such. They’d played along well enough with it that Kacchan and he, in turn, had thought the matter settled.

It was when Izuku filled out the paperwork for his new position in Shouto’s agency that the truth had come to light. Shouto’s face had been priceless reading the document thrice over, always catching on that little ticked box that read ‘married’. The ensuing fallout had been even more hilarious. There had been half-earnest outrage about not being invited to the wedding, until it was made clear there hadn’t been one, at which point the question of “When?” arose.

After merely helping Ochako and Iida plan theirs, Izuku and Kacchan decided it wasn’t worth it. Maybe they’d get drunk in the backyard with the Squad and allow them to read their speeches, but that would be it. Neither of them wanted gray hair this early in life. Besides, they’d get around inviting their parents this way.

His relationship with his in-laws was fine, but his own mom… Well. It was complicated. They could hold perfectly amicable conversations when they all met up for dinner, but when she’d found out he and Kacchan were a thing now, she’d said “Oh, well, he’ll look after you alright.” Izuku was sure she’d said it well-meaning, but it implied to him that it couldn’t possibly be the other way around, that he’d help Kacchan out as well, and he’d decided there and then that he was done with the topic.

Something impacted his shin under the table, and Izuku jerked out of the memory. He glared back at Sayaka, who just raised an eyebrow and went on to make polite conversation like she hadn’t just assaulted him with the pointiest heels in the history of mankind. “So how was the trip? Make it alright?”

He knew she wasn’t asking about the drive. “It was fine, really. There were just a bunch of people partying at all hours on what felt like my windowsill. Try sleeping then,” he huffed.

She nodded wistfully. “If it’s only that. Bring earplugs next time.” She winked.

“Of all the things to forget,” he agreed, raising his glass in her direction. He was very happy he’d decided to reach out to her once more after everything. He had no idea what most other people from the mansion were doing right now. They’d eventually just faded out of each other’s lives, going their own ways, but Sayaka was one of his best friends, and he owed her a lot. Without her, he wasn’t sure he would’ve made it at all. And it helped, having someone to talk to who would understand in a way the others never could, nor did he wish them to.

Even then, he’d feared she’d not get along with the squad, and Kacchan in particular. She’d made no secret of her distaste for him when Izuku told stories at the mansion time and time again (“He sounds like a right jerk, and an idiot to boot!”). When she’d met him in person the first time, she’d showed up with the same attitude, unwilling to give an inch. Then Kacchan had awkwardly introduced himself (probably hoping to make a good impression for Izuku’s sake), she’d used her quirk vision to squint at him like he’d offended her entire lineage, sighed and grumbled “It seems I have to retract some statements”, after which they’d just – been friends? Izuku had never figured out what exactly went down there, but she’d been absorbed into the Squad slowly but surely. She made her living by using her quirk to interrogate villains in record-speed.

“-and then I said bet, after which I naturally fell through the floor.” Laughter ensued at the end of Kirishima’s tale, and Izuku joined in despite only catching the last bit. Such a sentence didn’t really need more, to be fair. “Anyway, we managed in the end, but they deducted points because the poor kiddos had to take a break to laugh.” Ah, so this was about Kirishima’s cameo for training with the students at U.A.

“I mean, can you imagine watching a villain fall through a floor and not checking on them immediately because you think it is hilarious? That’d go over well with PR for sure,” Uraraka added.

“Yes, but we were in a timeout anyway because of technical difficulties. I’ve hardly been in a laughing mood during an actual chase,” Kirishima countered. “Just let them have the grade.”

“We laughed only after a job well done,” Kaminari added. “Like that one time-”

“-we doused Endeavor in fire suppressant,” Kacchan finished. “Still one of my favourite moments at that place.”

“To fire suppressants!” Kaminari raised his glass.

“To the guy who came up with the idea!” Kirishima tacked on, leaning towards Izuku with his glass tilting dangerously.

He raised his water, and in an effort to get attention off himself again, continued “Maybe to the actual birthday guy and my favourite husband!”

“To Kacchan!” the rest chorused in a toast.

“I still don’t remember giving you fuckwits permission to call me that!”

Notes:

Special thanks to "Footprints" by Foxville and "Battle Scars" by Paradise fears for inspiring the vibes of this fic, check them out if you're curious as to what got us here in the first place.