Chapter Text
Izuku twisted the stem of his wineglass slowly, contemplating its amber contents. Kacchan was late, which wasn’t necessarily unusual, but he would have hoped that on today, of all days, he would have made an effort to be here on time. Izuku glanced around the restaurant, carefully avoiding the prying eyes of those around him despite the secluded area of the table he sat at. He was used to people looking at him as the number one hero, but tonight he simply wanted to be Izuku and enjoy an anniversary dinner with his husband. If Katsuki could be bothered to show up, that is. Izuku brought the delicate stemware to his lips, sipping his wine just before draining the glass and setting it back down, cheeks briefly puffed out with his gulp while watching as the waitstaff flitted over to refill it. He didn’t bother waving them off, if Kacchan was going to do this again, he didn’t want to be entirely sober to hear the excuses, tired as they ever were.
A ripple of excited murmurs drew his attention toward the front of the restaurant, and he sat a little straighter in his seat. Katsuki had finally made his appearance, scanning the room for the telltale flag of his green-haired husband and zeroing in on him with a curt wave of thanks to the host staff. Izuku watched him approach, his irritation evident even from this distance, and sighed. Kacchan smiled so rarely anymore, even when it was just them, there was always something bothering him. It was a shame, his smile was one of the most beautiful things Izuku had ever seen, even more precious for its rarity that used to be reserved only for him. Now, it seemed, even he was barred from witnessing it.
“Sorry.” Katsuki grumbled, taking his seat with a huff. A waiter came forward immediately to fill his wineglass and he glared, eyes narrowing. The waiter froze mid-pour, unsure of whether to finish or not as he glanced nervously at Izuku, who smiled and gave a reassuring nod just as Katsuki growled an irritated “Well?” His crimson eyes flicking between the innocent wineglass and the equally guiltless waiter. Izuku sighed softly through his nose, giving Katsuki a chastising look as the waiter hurriedly finished his task and scampered away. He would have to give the staff his personal thanks for their patience, he could already tell.
“You don’t have to be so angry, Kacchan.” Izuku said, raising the barrier of a menu between them. “They’re just doing their job.” Katsuki snorted, doing the same.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, lowering his voice further to utter what Izuku could only assume were further grievances. Izuku rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. It was their anniversary, he could still turn this around, all he had to do was steer Katsuki away from whatever minor inconvenience had sparked his foul mood.
“Shinso started up at the outreach program with me,” he said with forced brightness, “he said to tell you ‘hello’ and wished us a happy anniversary.” Katsuki merely grunted acknowledgment, entrenched in his sour mood, and Izuku’s grip tightened on the board of the menu in his hands. “It’s nice to see our old friends from UA, it makes work feel less like work, you know?” He added hopefully, looking over the barricade of menus between them. A flash of memory played unbidden, another anniversary in another time, where Katsuki held a menu up to hide their faces as he kissed him so fiercely that Izuku had lost his breath and all thoughts of dinner had left his mind in favor of getting home with his love.
“What are you staring at, Deku?” Katsuki demanded, eyes never rising from the menu in front of him. Izuku dropped his gaze to the empty place setting in front of him, the wisp of memory snuffed out as quickly as it had come.
“Nothing.” He answered dully, sipping his wine for the excuse of silence. Red eyes flicked over the edge of the menu before Katsuki laid it aside, looking at Izuku.
“Say it.” He challenged, scowling when Izuku clicked his tongue, looking anywhere but at him.
“It’s nothing, let’s just try to have a good night.” Izuku tried, already knowing it was an unlikely outcome. “Tell me about your day.”
“Same bullshit, different day,” he snapped, leaning back forcefully in his seat. “Stupid, small-time villains and idiot extras.” Izuku only nodded, laying his hands in his lap when the waiter cautiously approached with the fresh bread, laying the plates before them with the same trepidation as he would a wild animal—the animal in question being Katsuki. Izuku helped himself to a roll, tumbling it aimlessly in his fingers before taking a hesitant breath.
“The publicity tour is shaping up nicely.” He said suddenly, glancing across at Katsuki for any spark of reaction. The Commission had come to him with a project, asking that he make the rounds of schools within the country to help make heroes seem more approachable, just like the police force but with powerful quirks. Izuku could remember All Might doing the same, and how excited he had been at the prospect of meeting his ultimate hero in person, how could he not follow in his mentor’s footsteps? They had asked Katsuki to participate as well, but he had declined, despite Izuku asking him personally to consider it. Even if he only completed a small contract with The Commission, it was good to have his foot in the door. Hero work was rough on the body, surely someday he would like to at least have the option of a more administrative position. “I think Shoto said he would be available for a few appearances, and Ochaco.”
“Getting the whole band back together.” Katsuki rumbled, almost to himself. Izuku pressed his lips together, unsure if this topic was one Katsuki would settle on but excited to talk about it himself. He was so happy their old friends would join him for parts of the tour, he hoped more would become available. The demands of hero work kept them all busy, it had been a while since Izuku had gotten to properly visit anyone and Katsuki was consumed with his own hero work. It was a miracle they had been able to meet tonight at all, Izuku didn’t know when it had happened, but they had somehow become no more than roommates passing each other on their ways in and out of the home they shared. He began to feel foolish for thinking Katsuki could have put aside his constant sour demeanor for one night, pushing his uneaten bread away in favor of his half-finished wine. He shouldn’t have bothered making the reservation, he had reminded Katsuki all week of it and every time he had been met with a hostile ‘I know’ followed by some form of insistence he didn’t need to be reminded. And he had still showed up late. Izuku looked out over the restaurant at tables filled with couples and the occasional larger party, unable to suppress the twinge of jealousy. Jealous that these others could look at their dinner-mates with ranges of admiration, amusement, love…Enjoyment. This wasn’t an anniversary dinner, it was a societal chore. An expectation of a couple not yet in even a decade of their marriage, supposedly nothing but in love with each other, and they couldn’t even hold each other’s gaze. Izuku drained his glass once more and held it up to the waiter, signaling a refill. Katsuki narrowed his eyes at him.
“You might want to eat something first.” He said, noting the blush that stained the spaces between the freckles on Izuku’s cheeks.
“I thought we were celebrating?” He answered coolly, taking the refilled wine. Katsuki scowled as he watched him take another drink.
“Celebrating what? Me having to carry your drunk ass home?” Another vignette of memory played for Izuku, another time, another place, and he had indulged too much. Kacchan had thrown him, laughing, over his shoulder while he trudged toward their home, his hand sliding up Izuku’s inner thigh on the pretense of support while his fingers had been teasing Izuku’s cock through his clothing. ‘What am I going to do with you?’ He’d asked, the hunger evident in his raspy voice sending a shiver down Izuku’s spine as Kacchan had playfully bitten his ass before setting him down so they could walk arm in arm, kissing like fools.
“You won’t.” It was both a promise and a prediction. The thought of Katsuki being playful with him like that was so far removed from their new realm of reality that Izuku would have bet the house on that statement. Katsuki snorted, scanning the room with his perpetually annoyed stare.
“Good.” He muttered, drinking deeply from his water glass. Izuku watched his throat bobbing with the action, dropping his eyes to the tablecloth before he noticed and could demand what he was looking at. As if it was some mystery as to why his husband would be looking at him. They ordered their meals and sat in an awkward silence punctuated only by Izuku’s waning attempts to spark a conversation, each topic met with closed off answers, or worse: a simple nod. Izuku’s heart sank. Kacchan wasn’t even giving him the hallmark of his tempestuous demeanor—he was giving him nothing. It wasn’t that he clearly took no interest in the projects Izuku was working on, he hadn’t even given him the courtesy admonishment of a ‘damn nerd’. Izuku swallowed thickly, pushing his food around on his plate, gripping the stem of his utensil until his knuckles whitened against the sinking pit in his stomach. This didn’t matter, none of it mattered. He didn’t matter. Not anymore.
In truth, Izuku knew he shouldn’t still be shocked. He had felt the distance growing for months upon months, an insidious weed driving its thorned stalk like a wedge between them. He had always chalked it up to some other culprit: they were just tired, every relationship had growing pains, work was putting a ton of stress on them both…There were a million little needling reasons for Izuku to fall back on, blinding himself to the truth. Izuku bolted upright from his seat, banging his knee on the table as he made a beeline for the restrooms, Katsuki sighing shortly and watching in his wake.
“Called it.” Katsuki grumbled under his breath, throwing his napkin on the table and motioning their waiter over to ask for the check. Deku was, without a doubt, hurling his guts up in the bathroom after drinking so much wine, and Katsuki knew he would need to go home. The damn idiot was always drinking at their dinners these days, he would have to broach the subject with Deku if he didn’t start being more careful. Katsuki leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankle under the table while he waited for Deku to return so they could leave. He felt in his pocket the small box that contained the keychain he had scoured collector shops for, a trifle of a trinket to anyone else, but Deku was going to love this. It was a previously unreleased piece of All Might memorabilia that only had a precious few cases produced before the production company went another direction with the design, the resulting mass distribution was made up of lesser quality items, but this was a solid metal, beautifully painted homage to their childhood idol. Deku had mentioned it only a few times before, but Katsuki had made it his mission to find one. He adjusted himself in his seat, waiting impatiently for Deku to return from the restroom. He should have made Deku let him cook for them tonight rather than go out, anything he had made would have been better than the food here, but Deku had been so insistent on the reservation. ‘You’re always so tired when you come home, let’s just go out and let someone else take care of the cooking’ He’d said. Bakugo sighed heavily. It was true enough, there was always some crisis to handle, large or small, and no one at his agency could handle them the way he could. Sidekicks are great, but in the end, he was their leader, and it fell to him to ensure the task was completed properly.
“Kacchan, do you think we could go ho—” Bakugo’s gaze snapped up to Deku’s face, he hadn’t noticed him returning from the restroom while he was lost in thought over the gift hidden in his pocket. He rose abruptly from his chair, motioning Deku forward to follow behind him.
“Yeah, yeah, I already paid the bill,” he muttered, laying a hand on Deku’s waist, anticipating him stumbling at some point given how drunk he likely was. “You looked as green as your fucking hair.” Izuku glanced over his shoulder at Katsuki, quickly looking forward again to watch where he was going.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, swallowing against the bitter taste still left in his mouth that came with the perfect clarity of all the damning evidence pointing to the cause of his uneasy stomach: it was gone. His friend, his lover, he was gone and all the was left behind of him was this person still wearing Katsuki’s face, a mockery of what was. His Katsuki would have jibbed him for insisting on going to a restaurant rather than let him cook, but would have been stroking his legs under the table all the while. His Katsuki would have followed him to the restroom, guarding against imagined threats and asking if he was okay to stay or wanted to go home. His Katsuki wouldn’t be scowling and accusing, he would have been the steady presence watching over him. The hand at Izuku’s waist wasn’t Kacchan’s, it felt like the hot brand of an unwelcome stranger. He quickened his pace, freeing himself of the offending touch and loosening the shirt buttons at his collar. He heard the faint growl of annoyance behind him, but he ignored it as he burst onto the sidewalk outside the restaurant, a crowd of people looking up in unison as their faces ignited with excited recognition.
“It’s Deku!” One faceless voice cried, fingers pointing in his direction as Katsuki came to a stop just behind him. “And Dynamight!” Izuku schooled his alarmed expression into a reluctant smile as he gave a weak wave. He really didn’t want to deal with fans right now.
“Come on,” Katsuki said roughly, grabbing Deku’s upper arm and plastering a fierce some smile on his face as he dragged him away, waving at the crowd with his free hand. “The Commission will have a shit fit if they hear fans saw you drunk.” He uttered through teeth clenched in a smile.
“I’m not drunk, Kacchan…”
“Yeah, sure.” He answered, still ushering Deku down the street with his hand tightly clenched on Izuku’s bicep. Not that he could wrap his hand around it, anymore. Izuku scowled, shaking Katsuki off roughly.
“That’s enough, Bakugo.” Katsuki looked up sharply, eyes wide with surprise at Deku’s suddenly angry tone. He never lost his cool in front of fans, what the hell?
“Deku, let’s just—” Deku smacked his reaching hand away, veins of green lightning sparking around him just before he threw his arm out, black and green threads carrying him away before Katsuki had been able to fully process what was even happening right now. He looked between the crowd and Deku’s rapidly shrinking form the further he got away, scowling before launching himself into the air amid a controlled blast from his hands. Fans waved and snapped photos on their phones as the heroes retreated, but Katsuki was focused only on following his husband home to ask what, exactly, had possessed him to act in such a way tonight.
~~~
“What the hell, Deku?” Katsuki growled, stalking into their home after him and letting the door slam behind him. Izuku was already powering into the kitchen, shoes kicked off in the entryway without a backward glance while Katsuki hastily followed suit. Glass jars rattled in the door of the refrigerator as Izuku threw it open, eyes automatically landing on the wine he had stocked but opting for the water instead. The buffer of a gentle alcoholic buzz would normally be appreciated when Kacchan’s sour moods flared into temper, but tonight he wanted perfect clarity. His chest was tight with questions he was unable to ask even himself, but he knew he could still find the answers he sought even sparing himself the harshness of speaking aloud the vile thought that gnawed raggedly at him: it’s over. Izuku hurriedly uncapped a bottle of water, drinking in long pulls while Kacchan’s murderous stare bored holes into the back of his neck. He briefly pressed his knuckles to his mouth, swallowing heavily while he screwed the cap back on.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to go home.” He said, closing his eyes against the derisive snort from Katsuki before turning to face him. “I wasn’t feeling well, but I’m fine now.” A truth and a lie. Izuku knew Katsuki was convinced it was the wine that had turned his stomach, when in reality it had been the crushing wave of doubt relentlessly pelting his security in their relationship. Katsuki crossed muscled arms over his chest, leaning back against the counter as he stared suspiciously at Deku.
“You sure?” He asked gruffly, eyes flicking over him up and down once. Izuku drew a deep breath, trying desperately to clear the feeling of wrongness that hung heavy in the air between them. It would be easy enough to fall back on the exhausted excuse of being tired and simply going to bed early. He could ignore this feeling one more night, he could ignore it for a hundred more, but it would only continue to grow until it became an unbearable burden. This unfamiliar strain chafed at him, and he longed for the forgotten ease of their relationship. Where had it gone? When? Izuku licked dry lips, drawing the edge of the lower between his teeth a moment before stepping forward hesitantly. If they couldn’t find solace in each other, then maybe they truly had grown too far apart. It was their anniversary, the day Izuku and Katsuki had celebrated their love with swaths of onlookers and cried happy tears in the dark of their room as they’d tumbled together for the first time as more than lovers but as husbands. Izuku tried and tried to summon forth that feeling of elation and love he knew had been there as he looked at Katsuki now, but it only manifested in foggy memory, a time come and gone.
“Fine,” Katsuki muttered with a sigh, pushing himself from the counter. “I’m taking a shower, then.” Izuku blinked, snapping back to the present moment and watching as Katsuki turned away, leaving him standing in their kitchen with nothing but the soft hum of the refrigerator to punctuate the ever-present silence of their home.
“Kacchan.” He said, waiting a moment to see if Katsuki would reappear in the archway of the kitchen before following after him. “Kacchan!” He called, a little louder.
“What.” Izuku followed the muffled, annoyed word to their bedroom to find Katsuki standing, arms wrapped in the shirt halfway up his body as he stared at the doorway Izuku walked hesitantly through. Katsuki’s brow furrowed with suspicion as he approached, and Izuku nearly lost his nerve. He had never felt so unwanted in all the time they had known each other, and he could have choked on the sorrow of it. Katsuki raised an eyebrow, shifting to face him more fully as he dropped his shirt back into place. “Goddamnit, what’s wrong?” The harshness of Katsuki’s demand masked the concern underlying it. Deku was looking at him like someone had died, and he was not in the mood for alcohol-infused hysterics. He watched as Deku took a few rapid breaths before closing the distance between them, squeezing his eyes closed as he pressed his lips against Katsuki’s around the shocked grunt he let out. Katsuki went rigid but didn’t pull away. “What are you doing, Deku?” The question stabbed Izuku through the heart, his lips faltering on Katsuki’s, but he had to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that his Kacchan was nowhere to be found anymore.
“It—it’s our anniversary.” He answered quietly, eyes downcast as he cautiously laid his hands on hips he had held so many times before that he was sure if he squinted hard enough he could see the slopes molded just to his touch. Izuku couldn’t bring himself to explain any further, surely Kacchan understood. How long had it been since they’d had sex? Weeks, months? Izuku swallowed hard at the implication. Kacchan had gradually sought him less and less, always exhausted from work, and now… Now he felt like a lecher, begging his husband to touch him on their anniversary but at the same time afraid that he would. Izuku didn’t want this angrily placating man to indulge him out of expectation. He wanted his husband, the fiery and insatiable need that he exuded, bleeding into Izuku until they were both consumed with it on no more than a nameless evening because they wanted it. They wanted each other.
“Deku…” Katsuki sighed, running his hands up his arms. He didn’t want it like this, not when Deku had something upsetting on his mind that he was apparently refusing to talk about. Guilt needled at Katsuki’s sides for not digging deeper, but Deku would tell him when he was ready, right? The guy couldn’t keep a single thought to himself, he was always muttering and rambling when he got lost in thought, he’d tell him eventually. It felt like Deku was forcing himself and while it had been a while, there would be time later for this. Time when Deku hadn’t had a liquid dinner, perhaps. Katsuki began gently extracting himself from his grasp, when Deku suddenly threw his arms around him, gripping the back of his hair and kissing him roughly.
Katsuki jerked in surprise, his stiff mouth opening for Deku around a confused grunt. He could taste the remnants of the wine’s tannins on his breath, sour and sweet as his tongue glided over his own as Katsuki let him kiss him, awkwardly at first in the way that strangers kissed after an underwhelming date—unsure if the chemistry was there or not but trying anyway. Deku was obviously determined, only advancing when Katsuki tried to slow their mouths, and he gave up. If this is what Deku wanted, fine. Katsuki let his hands come around Deku, acquiescing to the oddly demanding fervor of his touches. He probably was fucking drunk, despite his insistence he wasn’t. Deku pawed at Katsuki’s pants, undoing the belt and pushing them down, and Katsuki tried to pull his hips back. “Oi, Dek—” Katsuki was embarrassed he wasn’t hard at all, and he knew Deku was about to touch him and find this out for himself. The hand closed around his soft cock briefly and Deku’s mouth finally slowed on his, pulling back slightly.
“Kacchan?” His voice was so quiet, so small and almost…pleading? Katsuki’s cheeks flushed. What was wrong with him? It was just sex, he should be able to get out of his own head long enough to just give Deku what he so clearly wanted, he was going to jerk off in the shower anyway before he came in here. He let out a frustrated growl, turning the advance on Deku and kissing him as hard as he had been kissing him only a moment ago. Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, letting Katsuki back him against the wall and grind his cock against his hand. Izuku tried desperately to lose himself in the action, gripping Katsuki’s dick and stroking it to life, unfamiliar with having to coax it from him. Izuku dropped to his knees, suddenly, taking Katsuki’s slowly thickening cock into his mouth easily without it being fully hard yet. Katsuki sighed above him, leaning on folded arms against the wall while Izuku sucked him, holding onto his hips for support.
Nothing. Izuku thought, mechanically going through the motions, waiting for his own body to stir to life but only feeling the slow descent of his heart. Nothing, nothing, NOTHING. Katsuki let out a hiss, his hand darting to Izuku’s hair when his lips pulled too hard in his frustration, and he slowed his motions on the gradually hardening length in his mouth. It would have taken nothing more than a single stroke of his tongue to have Kacchan hard as a rock before, and now Katsuki wasn’t even looking at him, his face buried in the crook of his elbow. He didn’t see the tears welling in Izuku’s eyes, not because he was gagging, but because he knew. He knew he should stop because neither of them wanted this, but he needed to see the truth of it for himself. Katsuki may be able to lie, but his body couldn’t. Izuku slid his mouth off him, awkwardly sidling out from under him.
“Here,” he said, hurrying to switch off the overhead light. Under cover of the darkened room illuminated now only by the bathroom light left on Izuku could allow a few tears to spill over his cheeks without Katsuki knowing, he didn’t want to hear another aggravated ‘what’s wrong?’ now, not from Bakugo. He walked back to Katsuki, his tenuous arousal already fading without the benefit of Deku’s mouth, and switched off the bathroom light in the process. Izuku led Katsuki to their bed, letting him sit while he removed the practically untouched bottle of lube from the bedside table. Katsuki let out a quiet breath, shifting his pants down and off before taking his shirt off. He quickly rubbed a hand over himself, trying to hide the fact he had mostly lost the semi-erection he had had just a moment before. Deku would take it the wrong way, it wasn’t him it was just… nothing about this was organic. Deku had come in here with an agenda and Katsuki owed it to him to give him what he wanted, he just couldn’t get himself in the mindset.
He heard Deku warming lube in his hands, he would have found the sound almost comical in the near silence were he not focusing so hard on trying not to disappoint him. Katsuki jerked slightly at the warm, slicked hand gripping him, leaning his head back and closing his eyes to try to drown everything else out. He almost let out a relieved sound when he felt the tiniest spark of heat low in his gut, easing himself forward into Deku’s touch. Katsuki bit his lower lip, imagining other times, other scenes, as the lewd sounds of Deku’s lubed fist pumping him up and down filled the silence of the room, anything to keep his arousal where it had to be for Deku to get any enjoyment or satisfaction from him. Fingers teased the seam of his ass, prodding and encouraging him to spread his legs as he felt a finger press into his hole. Katsuki’s head fell back with a short moan when Deku found the soft ridge of muscle, pressing his fingertip into it while he stroked his cock with the other hand.
“Come on, Kacchan, get there.” Deku grunted, circling his thumb over the tip of Katsuki’s dick.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he growled back, his focus faltering a moment. All he had to do was cum once and he could eat Deku out, suck him until he cried, whatever took the attention and the pressure off himself. He wished he had thought to simply service Deku first, he would have been able to get away with leaving it at that, he bet. Guilt immediately flooded through him again at the thought of treating sex with Deku as something to ‘get through’, but the caseload at work, training the new interns, catching up on the file reports… No, fucking FOCUS, you goddamn idiot! Katsuki pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until starbursts exploded in the dark, working his hips into Deku’s hand with the singular goal of making himself cum for him. Deku withdrew his finger from him, dragging his hand over Katsuki’s balls and eliciting a shudder from him as he squeezed. Katsuki let out a muffled moan of pleasure, his chest heaving with staccato breaths the closer he got, until finally—finally—he came. Warm spurts decorated his belly, and Deku slowly pulled away. Katsuki sat forward, fully intending to turn the tables on him, but Deku laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“It’s fine, baby,” Katsuki’s brow furrowed at the oddly thick sound of his voice. “I’m actually really tired, why don’t you just take your shower and I’ll clean up in the downstairs bathroom.” He rose from the bed, halfway out the door before Katsuki could even think to ask what the hell just happened. Sure, it wasn’t his finest moment, but he hadn’t even touched Deku yet.
“Oi, Deku,” Izuku paused in the doorway without turning around, hand resting on the frame. “Are you sure…I mean, don’t you want me to…” he stumbled over his words, choked out by the voice screaming inside his head how laughably inadequate that was, how laughably inadequate he was.
“I’m sure.” His voice was steady again, certain, and Izuku disappeared into the hallway leaving Katsuki to look after him in confusion. It was the last night they slept under the same roof.
~~~
Katsuki glared at the report in front of him, fingers punching angrily into the keyboard as he typed up details his interns had gotten wrong. He was going to wring their necks the next morning for this—it was sloppy, careless work, and he would fire them if they didn’t immediately improve after this. He glanced at the time in the corner of the screen, not that it mattered how late he stayed anymore. In the six months since Deku had moved back in with his mother and then gotten a place of his own, Katsuki had spent increasingly longer hours at his agency under the pretense of finishing work. Staying overnight in his office wasn’t an unusual occurrence, and his staff had quickly learned to hide their askance looks when he emerged from his office to go shower in the on-site gym. The first morning he had done this he’d scared his office manager half to death as she had become accustomed to being the first one there in the mornings, she had thought someone had broken in.
“Who the hell would be stupid enough to break into the agency!” He had demanded, stomping down to the gym and pointedly avoiding her the rest of the day. She’d asked him if he had been there all night, but it wasn’t the question itself that had made him grit his teeth, it was the soft undercurrent of concern. The unspoken question of why in the world wouldn’t he have gone home? And then, the news broke. Everyone began looking at him with those same, pitying eyes behind his back after that, and he had to physically restrain himself from blasting every single one of them if he had to insist he was fine one more goddamn time, even months later. The question came less frequently after he had nearly bitten the first person’s head off, but still, they pried and prodded until his only escape was work and patrols.
He always knew when news reports about Deku were being broadcast, because the channel was quickly changed as soon as he walked in the room. Fine by him, he didn’t fucking care. The little bastard had blindsided him the morning after their anniversary with a packed bag and the sorriest excuse of an explanation Katsuki had ever heard. At the time, he had thought Deku just needed space, so he just watched his husb—ex-husband—leave amid a stunned silence. He fully expected Deku to call later that night, and then the next day, and the day after that. After three days of radio silence Katsuki had showed up to Inko’s house, asking to see Deku, and he had to hand it to the woman, she may have only been tall enough to barely clear his chest, but she was as fierce as an opponent as any he’d ever faced in her refusal to allow him in. He’d apologized for bothering her and left, and that was when it hit him. This wasn’t just a rough patch, this was serious, and the pure rage that engulfed him after that lasted for weeks. Deku hadn’t even tried to talk to him, and then refused to speak to him after. He just decided for them they were done, and left Katsuki to pick up the pieces in the avalanche of the dissolution of their marriage.
The desk screeched in protest from the force of Katsuki pushing himself back from it, rising angrily from his seat. He had to return home tonight for fresh clothes, and he was dreading it. He would never admit to anyone how much he truly hated setting foot in his house now, but in these precious, quiet moments alone in his office, he could admit it to himself. He hated walking down hallways laden with memory, their edges tainted and burned into jeering mockery, his own personal haunted house. He hadn’t looked at the framed photos adorning the walls in months, but he felt their eyes always needling at the back of his neck. Katsuki rubbed a hand over it now, cheeks puffing out with a frustrated breath and shook his head. Fuck, he should just go home and get this over with. He could stay in the office a few more nights this week afterwards, but he needed to do laundry first. Packing his things in the bag that had now become commonplace, he slung it over a shoulder and made his way out of the agency to start the dreaded journey home. The word felt foreign in his thoughts, but what else should he call it now? House? Dwelling? Pile of bricks he thought nightly about burning to the ground? He should just get on with selling it. At first, he had been sure Deku would come back so he held on to it, but now… It was just one of the many things he dragged his feet on, including the divorce paperwork weighing down the bottom of his bag. In truth, though, he delayed signing the papers as a small act of revenge. Deku hadn’t given him the opportunity to speak when he left, he would deny him the freedom of divorce now as long as he pleased. Or as long as he could ride the deadline out, anyway.
Katsuki avoided walking through the pools of light punctuating the darkness along the sidewalk, preferring to move unnoticed if he could. Most people were already home, winding down after a long day and preparing for the next, save for the ones getting ready to go out for the night and take advantage of all the entertainment to be found under cover of the witching hours to come. Katsuki huffed to himself, hiking his bag higher over his shoulder. Night patrols were either slow as hell or full of some of the wildest situations he had seen, he was glad to be off the schedule tonight. His phone vibrated with a message, and he took it out to check the screen with a grimace. Speaking of people who enjoyed the nightlife…
Hey! What are you doing? You should come meet us.
He sighed, typing out a response to Eijiro. He messaged at least a few times a week to try to coax Katsuki into coming out with him and a few other of their friends, but Katsuki rarely took him up on it. He had never been one to stay out late when they were in school together, and the habit never left him.
Some of us have to work in the morning, shitty hair.
Katsuki would never admit how addicted he was to the brief lightening of his heart every time Kirishima messaged him, a small reminder that though he may have been isolating himself these past few months, he wasn’t truly alone.
You always say that! :(
Come on, it’ll be fun, I promise :)
Katsuki knew Eijiro’s infectious demeanor would eventually rub off on him and they would end up having a good time if he went, it was only convincing himself to go. He was just so tired all the time these days. When he wasn’t throwing the entirety of himself into his work, he found the quiet spaces in between bore down on him with an interminable weight that only relented in the emptiness of sleep. His steps slowed as he licked his lips, nibbling at the lower while he considered. Maybe…Maybe he could go for an hour, and if the place sucked he could just go back to the house and only be out an hour of his time. It had to mean something, didn’t it, that even though he had fallen further in on himself and become admittedly more brooding than he ever had been that his friends still reached out to him. It drove him to the brink of insanity every night, running through the list of reasons why Deku would have left, never being able to come up with a definitive answer even after so many months. Katsuki had given up on trying to talk to him as he was ignored at every turn, and his pride wouldn’t allow him to try any more. He did his part to ignore Deku’s existence publicly as well, actively avoiding news reports and bowing out of conversations that turned toward him as a subject. It had been difficult at first, but he had swallowed all his hurt until only the anger remained. What other choice did he have? If Deku didn’t want him anymore, he wasn’t going to chase after him—he had done that all their lives, and maybe it was finally time to stop.
Had he not been planning on returning to the home he had shared with Deku, he probably would have ended up saying no to Eijiro, but he couldn’t refuse the lifeline Kiri had unwittingly thrown him.
Fine. Where are you assholes?
A short cab ride later, Katsuki already regretted this decision as he waded through the club in search of Kirishima and the promised group of Denki, Sero, and Mina. They got together at least once or twice a month on their own, considering everyone’s busier schedules. Kiri worked alongside Bakugo at his agency while the other three had branched off in their own more independent roles. Katsuki had definitely missed the last few meetups, however, as he was unfamiliar with this new, much louder meeting place. He was on the verge of just turning around and leaving when he spotted Eijiro waving excitedly. Once he stood it was nearly impossible to miss the tree of a man with flaming red hair, and Katsuki steeled himself to press through the sea of bodies toward his friends.
“You made it!” Kiri shouted, everyone at the table shuffling along the rounded bench seat to make room for Katsuki.
“Barely, what is this place? Why not the old bar?” He asked, nodding thanks to Sero when he handed him a glass of beer from their pitcher.
“We thought we’d give it a try, Denki said he was ready to get back out there after Hitoshi.” Kirishima had to lean closer to be heard over the steady thump of music, and Katuski raised his eyebrows over the kiss of beer foam at his lip, looking over at Denki. He hadn’t even known they’d broken up.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Katsuki apologized, swiping his mouth clean and missing the uneasy glance the rest of the table shared.
“Yeah, it’s no big deal, you’ve been distracted.” Denki answered quickly, shifting forward to lean his elbows on the table. “You knew he joined the tour The Commission set up though, right?” Katsuki had to physically stop himself from grimacing at the mention of the endeavor, schooling his features into bored neutrality as he was instantly transported to that horrible night of the anniversary dinner. Yes, he remembered Deku mentioning Shinso joining him for the stupid thing.
“What about it?” He asked flatly, looking out over the darkened room illuminated by neon lighting. Maybe Deku had made some comment to Shinso about the demise of their relationship, and Shinso had relayed it to Denki before they had broken up. Katsuki scoffed internally at himself for even thinking such a desperately stupid thought, drinking deeply from his glass. Fucking idiot.
“Well…” He glanced up at the hesitant, uneasy word trailing from Denki’s lips, but Kirishima slapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, pulling his attention back to him.
“Forget about it!” Kiri said brightly, his broad smile plastered over his face. “We came here to set Denk loose back in the wild, and if you’re here we’re sure to attract alllll the available singles.” His smile widened to a grin, shaking Katsuki’s shoulder for emphasis as Katsuki rolled his eyes. He hadn’t come here to get his dick wet.
“Come on! Let’s go dance.” Mina squealed excitedly, pushing Sero and Denki to get up. Kiri waggled his eyebrows at Katsuki, nodding along with the beat of the music. He was impervious to Katsuki’s dead stare, insistent that his friend join them on the dance floor.
“Absolutely fucking not.” Katsuki grumbled loudly as the other three hopped up from their table, entering the flow of bodies.
“Come on, Kats,” Kiri said more softly, “it’s enough, isn’t it? Just for tonight?” Katsuki went rigid at the quiet question and its unspoken undertone. Kiri doubled down at Katsuki’s hesitation, “It’s been six months, you deserve one night off.” Katsuki sighed, looking at his friend staring hopefully back at him. Kiri was trying, damn him, and in that moment Katsuki couldn’t bear to disappoint the friend who thought he was on the brink of breaking through Katsuki’s solitude. Nothing would be able to fill the aching hole in his chest, cursed to bleed until he bled to his death, but he couldn’t condemn his friend to watch him do it. Katsuki gulped down the rest of the cheap beer, slamming the heavy bottomed glass back down on the table as Kirishima’s eyes lit up.
“One dance, dunceface.” He grumbled, scooting off the seat to stand as Eijiro jumped up beside him.
“That’s the spirit!” Kiri cried, practically dragging him out onto the dance floor. He sighed tolerantly, forcing the long-forgotten muscles of his face to work themselves into a reluctant smile as he watched Kiri easily find the beat of the music, swaying in time with him. He couldn’t deny the sun when it shone so hopefully in his face, and just for a moment, he closed his eyes and let Kiri’s warmth chase away the shadows hanging constantly from him.
~~~
One dance turned into two, followed by a beer break which Eijiro cut short before Katsuki could find the socially acceptable spot in conversation to announce his departure, holding him captive out on the dance floor once more. There were worse things in life, he supposed, than being held against his will by Kirishima. He was certainly the only one who could have possibly gotten away with it at this point. Katsuki leaned his head back, riding the high of pleasant alcoholic numbness and letting it guide his body to move with the beat of the music, whether that be a good decision or not. He had drunk too much without being in the habit of it and the alcohol buzzed warmly through his veins, tilting the world just so. Was this what Deku’s attraction had been to it? The thought of him didn’t have quite the same stabbing impact it usually did, and the only difference Katsuki could think of was the beer. Maybe Deku had been on to something, after all.
Hands slid boldly over his hips and his eyes snapped open to find Kiri laughing drunkenly, pulling him closer to him. Katsuki allowed it out of sheer morbid curiosity more than anything—what was he doing? Eijiro’s face was as red as his hair, but it wasn’t the flush that drew Katsuki’s attention, it was the slow faltering of the easy smile Kiri had worn all night. Katsuki had to tilt his head back to look up at him, his face so much closer than it had been a moment before. Had he said something and Katsuki hadn’t heard? He looked questioningly at Eijiro, the bass of the music falling away to the warning beat of his own heart pulsing through his ears when Kiri’s eyes dropped to his lips. Katsuki realized too late what was about to happen as Eijiro pressed his lips to his, out of practice after so many months alone. Kiri laid a single, chaste kiss on his mouth, his lips hovering uncertainly as he waited for a reaction from him. The wave of want that crashed into Katsuki knocked the breath from his lungs, and he was suddenly acutely aware of every single point of contact between them, his skin singing with electric pulses of desire under Kiri’s hands, begging to simply be touched. A tremor worked its way through his entire body with the effort of keeping himself in place, but god if he just closed his eyes… He had never wanted so desperately to be held, only now realizing how completely numb he had truly been all this time as Kirishima’s lips teased the hint of life back into him he hadn’t realized had gone missing.
“Eijiro—” his name was a trembling plea, though for what, Katsuki didn’t know. Guilt rushed over him for dominance over his selfish desire, and he dropped his chin slightly, unable to look his friend in the face. The remnants of his vows to Deku circled his chest, constricting until he was fighting for short breaths, but what did they matter anymore if he didn’t matter anymore to Deku? Katsuki would have given anything to feel something just one more time, and here it was, right in front of him. Katsuki gripped the front of Kirishima’s shirt in his fist, parted lips brushing against his. Katsuki knew he had felt the ghost of a spark within himself just now, and he couldn’t stop himself desperately, hopelessly searching for it again, just once… To prove to himself he was still alive, somewhere, that he wasn’t just going through the motions.
He blinked at the sudden, damp streaks leaking from the corners of his eyes, shaking his head and rubbing harshly at his cheeks as bleak numbness settled back in the forgotten corners of his heart. Katsuki shoved his way past Kirishima, ducking his head and plowing through to the restrooms. What the fuck was he doing? He should have just done his laundry like he planned, but the thought of being alone in that goddamn house repulsed him so much he had given in to Kiri’s invitation, and now look what he had done. God, Eijiro probably thought he was out of his mind. Maybe he was.
Katsuki punched through the swinging door of the restrooms, going straight for the sinks to splash water on his face, squeezing his eyes shut against the intrusive thoughts lining up to take their shots at him.
“They only pity you…Everyone can see how pathetic you really are without Izuku…He had to be drunk to even be around you…Anyone would have to be drunk to be able to stand you…”
Katsuki pressed his forehead into the smooth cold of the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink until his knuckles turned as white as the ceramic. His throat burned with all the emotion he tried to swallow back; he never should have come here tonight, not when he had been planning to go back to that godforsaken house. Katsuki’s palms glowed a faint amber, threatening to serve as the outlet for every screaming thought he didn’t dare speak out loud.
“Kats?” The gentle hand at his shoulder startled him so badly he practically threw himself back into the painted brick of the wall next to him as he whirled to face Kirishima.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?!” He demanded, trying to even out his heaving breaths. Everything felt too close, the music, the walls, the air, everything was pressing in on him at once and it felt too tight in the room. Eijiro took a step back from him, holding up his hands in surrender.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that out there, I just thought…” his face crumpled with shame, “I dunno what I was thinking, I just came to make sure you were okay.”
“Well, I’m not!” Katsuki blurted out, leaning heavily against the wall behind him. “Every day I keep just fucking waiting for—” he circled his hand through the air, searching for the right words, “something, anything, to go back to normal or to feel right again, and it never fucking does!” He let his hand fall to slap against his thigh, his head thudding against the wall with his frustration. “I have this goddamn void in my chest, and it doesn’t matter what I throw at it, it never fills. I can’t watch TV, or read the news because they always have something to say about him, I can’t walk into a room without people suddenly going quiet like I don’t know what they were talking about, he’s on goddamn billboards, I can’t even go home because…Because…” Katsuki’s voice cracked with rising tears and Kiri took a cautious step closer, reaching anxiously for him. He had never seen Bakugo break down, not like this, and he didn’t know what to do to help him other than to try to physically hold his friend together when he was so clearly falling apart. “I feel nothing, Kiri. There’s this hole and I try to fill it back up, I try to fill me back up, and nothing works. I’m just floating in this ocean of nothing, and I can’t get out of it, it’s just darkness, and numbness, and alone.” Katsuki choked out a breath around the sob he was trying so hard to hold back. “He’s everywhere I go, Eijiro, he fucking left but he’s still everywhere I am.” He finished on the barest whisper, tears spilling freely down his cheeks, and Kiri hauled him into his chest, crushing his arms around him.
“I’m sorry, Katsuki, I thought everything was fine.” He said, holding onto him so tightly when he felt Katsuki’s shoulders sag into him. “Or as fine as it could be, anyway.” They stood together for several moments like that, Katsuki’s face buried into Kiri’s broad shoulder until he slowly, hesitantly, wrapped his arms around Kirishima as well. “What can I do to help?” Kiri’s voice was almost pleading, desperate to do something to alleviate the awful pain his friend was so obviously still in. The club itself was lit only by black and neon lights and the restroom was no different, casting an otherworldly hue over Katsuki as he looked up at Eijiro. His mind was swimming with thoughts crashing into one another, Katsuki could barely single out a coherent request but the singular resounding thought that screamed louder than the rest was simply he didn’t want to be alone.
“I just don’t want to go back to that house tonight.” He said instead, hoping Eijiro could see through the words for what he couldn’t begin to articulate. He could have begged Kirishima on his knees to only stay by his side for the night, anything to stave off the soul crushing numbness that waited in the wings for him, smirking at his pitiful attempt to be free of it if only for a few hours. Eijiro didn’t deserve this, this broken mess he had hidden beneath aloof words and scowling masks all these months, but the warmth of his touch had shattered Katsuki’s fragile shield keeping everyone at bay from seeing the truth of it. And Kirishima, in his eternal, selfless benevolence, took Katsuki’s cheek in his hand.
“Then don’t.” He said, smiling as softly as he spoke. Katsuki released his tenuous hold on his restraint, chasing wildly after the spark of feeling Kiri’s lips on his had evoked before as he kissed him now, his mouth moving on hungered muscle memory against his. He needed to feel something, anything. Katsuki welcomed even the lingering shame and guilt that tinted the edges of the flickering matchstick of want he felt for Kirishima now, anything was better than the horrible, empty nothing that followed him everywhere he went. Eijiro yielded to him, his tongue commanding Katsuki’s into a rhythm of movement that sent a shudder of relieved desire skittering through him. He should have been embarrassed by the flood of heat rushing straight to his dick, but he had missed this, had missed being desired and the eager anticipation of welcome touches. Katsuki pressed himself along the hard line of Kirishima, so similar and yet unfamiliar in the ghost of memory his body expected. Eijiro was taller, his body harder, and he took control of Katsuki as he pressed him back until the cool of the cinder block wall bled through his sweat dampened shirt to fevered skin. They didn’t fit well together, Katsuki had to make allowances for Kiri’s size, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was the breath Kiri breathed into him, stoking the embers of his former self back to stumbling life.
Katsuki threaded his fingers through the thick mane of Eijiro’s hair tied back from his face, so much softer than the green curls his fingertips remembered, and a small, needy moan escaped him as he ground his hips against his. Kirishima slid one thick thigh between Katsuki’s legs, and Katsuki cried out as he broke his mouth away from his, panting softly while he shamelessly rode Kiri’s thigh, clinging to his shirt for balance.
“Fuck, Kats,” Kirishima whispered, licking his lips as he let a hand drop between them to feel Katsuki’s painfully hard erection through his pants. Katsuki couldn’t hold back the pathetic whimper at the contact, and Kiri dragged his eyes back to his face. “Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, undoing the button and zipper of Katsuki’s pants quickly, “let me do this.” Katsuki’s eyes rolled back in his head when Kiri’s hand circled around his drooling cock, drunken moans echoing loudly through the bathroom as he fucked himself into his grip, slick with his own leaking precum within two pumps. Katsuki leaned his cheek on Eijiro’s shoulder, unable to stop the snapping of his hips as he moaned incoherently while Kiri trailed soft kisses along his neck, whispering assurances and praises that only ensured Katsuki’s endurance would be short lived, but he couldn’t stop chasing after feeling something, scrabbling for the relief Eijiro’s warmth next to him.
“Eijiro…I—I’m gonna…” he panted, his body tensing at the delicious coil building in his gut.
“I know, it’s okay, I’ve got you, Kats,” Kiri murmured, kissing his cheek as he began working his fist up and down Katsuki’s cock in earnest. His entire body convulsed when he came, a single, keening moan slipping through clenched teeth as he twisted his fist in Kiri’s shirt and buried his face in his neck. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been touched so intimately by someone else, and part of him hated how laughably quick Kiri had been able to make him finish, but a louder part was just so relieved to feel it again. Kirishima whirled with Katsuki to face the person who barreled through the bathroom door, keeping Katsuki’s back to the intruder to hide his positively obscene expression and the evidence of what they had done from them. “Do you fucking mind?” Kirishima demanded angrily. Katsuki heard the intruder snort.
“Do you?” They countered. After a brief, tense silence the door swung open, music spilling into the space before muting again with its closing, and this time Kirishima bolted the lock, holding Katsuki all the while.
“I’m sorry,” Katsuki mumbled, disengaging from Kiri and quickly readjusting himself. He looked around the space a moment, dazed, before grabbing a handful of paper towels to try to clean up the mess he had made on Eijiro’s clothes. Katsuki’s hand shook slightly, embarrassed and confused at the gamut of emotion tearing through him, only looking up when Kiri took his hand in his.
“It’s okay,” he said warmly, gently squeezing Katsuki’s hand before taking off the ruined shirt and wiping his belly clean with it, “I was hot, anyway. Do you want to get out of here now?” Katsuki swallowed thickly, suddenly grappling with the gravity of what he had done. He should say ‘no’, he had already imposed himself on Kiri in ways he could never rightly apologize for, and yet…He could feel the walls of empty nothingness threatening already to collapse and bury him beneath their rubble once more as if angry he had escaped them for even a few minutes. Was it unforgivably selfish to lean on Kiri’s strength a little longer? “We could grab some take out on the way to my place, pop a movie on, we can just chill, Kats,” Eijiro leveled him with a serious stare. “Just like old times, no big deal.” Katsuki was forever thankful for the black lighting to hide the sheen of tears stinging the corners of his eyes, but he was more grateful to Kiri, for the unspoken reassurance he offered his bruised and broken friend. He wasn’t asking him back to his place to finish what Katsuki had started here, he was merely offering a night of shelter. Katsuki wouldn’t have to bear going to his house tonight, Kirishima had rescued him in so many more ways than he would ever know, or Katsuki would be able to tell him.
“Yeah,” he sniffed, checking to make sure his clothes were back in place one last time to hide the rising blush at his cheeks. “That sounds good.”