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It’s the hot breath on the side of his neck, the brush of skin on the shell of his ear, the heat he can feel infiltrating his personal space.
Katsuki catches his breath before a gasp escapes him. Too close.
Shindou’s too close.
It’s a dumb after party in a hotel ballroom post-Heroism Recognition Night. Not Katsuki’s scene and he’s regretting being robbed into staying for it by his idiot lot of friends. The whole affair is a bustle of lights and loud music and people spilling drinks on an already-sticky floor. Definitely not Katsuki’s scene.
But then this freak with the perfect cookie-cutter smile –the brand you see on a sleazy politician— and hair that flakes out like someone Katsuki is intimately familiar with, approaches him. He sways to the music with the bravado of a guy who’s too full of himself and knows it.
Katsuki already hates him.
This stranger talks to Katsuki like he knows him or some shit, and it takes him a few minutes to realise that they actually met before.
None of this matters though because the moment the beat gets noisier and the crowd rowdier, this Shindou fucker grows the nerve to lean into Katsuki’s space and croon honey-laced words straight into his ear. The stench of alcohol is heavy in the air he blows unto Katsuki’s face. And in the few seconds where their cheeks almost brush, a shiver rakes up Katsuki’s spine. Time slows down for a fraction of second before it speeds up again.
And when it does, all Katsuki can see is green. “There you are, Kacchan! I was looking all over the place for you.”
Fucking Deku is all over him in a flash.
Chin nestled on Katsuki’s shoulder, arms around his middle, chest pushed up against his back, lips teasing the dip of his neck and that’s not the worst of it. Deku is smothering Katsuki from behind, grip as stiff as iron, but he’s not even looking at him. In fact, the nerd’s glowing eyes are fixated on the bastard standing right before them.
“Shindou Yo, what a pleasure to see you again!” Deku’s knifelike tone betrays his sweet words. The fucker sounds ready to bounce and kill. The hell is wrong with him? “I believe the last time we talked was in Osaka…?”
“Yes, the bribery scandal…how could I forget…?” The vibrator in a suit shoots a smile, but unlike his previously practiced doll face, this one is wavering. Whatever’s Deku hinting at, it’s making this Shindou guy shake in his boots, yet it doesn't scare him enough to back down.
It’s ridiculous.
They’re glaring at each other with fangs blared like a bunch of alpha dogs fighting for a mate. Neither are willing to budge, and Katsuki is about to lose his shit.
“Deku,” Katsuki hisses under his breath. With a sizzling spark from his palm, he grabs Deku’s wrist.
“Ah, Kacchan!” The shock of the motion alerts Deku to the reality that he’s heating the air around them with the electricity of OFA, the fucker.
Deku’s bullshit display of aggression seems to do the trick though, because Shindou backs off with a scowl and shrug.
“The hell was that about?” Katsuki spits, furious and confused. He doesn’t waste time in fisting Deku’s shirt and bringing the nerd to face him, readying an explosion with his other hand.
They’ve been dancing around each other for ages.
Katsuki had been silently begging Deku to put a label on this hot clusterfuck ever since they smacked tongues without a fucking beep from the nerd. And he chooses now to place his claim, to mark his territory, to flaunt their relationship, as if Katsuki was his and his alone all this time—
“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Deku says, voice unwavering and eyes sharp. This is the face of a little shit who doesn’t regret what he did. The audacity of this motherfucker. “He was eyeing you like you’re nothing but a piece of meat and it made me mad.”
Something about the way Deku doesn’t flinch in front of Katsuki’s nitroglycerin smoke, how unbothered he is about the stares they're getting, how unapologetic the bastard is about the unease he draped over the room with his quirk– it gets Katsuki going. A moment passes. The coin drops and Katsuki's anger seeps away. He flashes his teeth to mirror the confidence Deku is sprouting like weeds.
“Oh, you’re jealous!”
A statement that should leave Deku a red, stuttering mess, but the shitty nerd doesn’t break eye contact when he detaches Katsuki’s fist from his shirt. “Kacchan is amazing,” he mutters. “Everybody wants a taste, but I—” Deku takes advantage of the enclosed busy space of the ballroom and leans into Katsuki space. “I won’t let them have any.” Lips brush against the sensitive skin of Katsuki’s neck, and he feels strong arms hold him in a vice grip. “Because you’re mine.”
“Idiot,” Katsuki grits out, and pats away Deku’s wild hair from where it’s tickling his nose. “Stop glaring at him over my shoulders.”
And, like a switch had been turned off, Deku splutters and blushes and squeaks, burying his face in Katsuki’s shirt to whine, “But, I’m nooooooot!”
Fucking nerd.