Work Text:
The news breaks, and Katsuki bolts out of a twenty-first-storey window. He zips around skyrise buildings, dodging tall balconies and thick webs of electrical wire, but by the time he arrives, the smoke has already cleared.
The rubble sparks beneath his boots as he lands. It was one measly aerial sprint across the city, but the kickback is already a bitch. Jolts of pain shoot up his calves so they pull taut and burn. His good arm aches, but the circulation in his bad one is so fucked that he can’t feel a thing. A layer of frost pricks at his chapped face and makes his teeth clack together.
Katsuki hasn’t flown like that in ages, and he still didn’t make it in time. His heart races with misplaced battle adrenaline that he can’t even direct anywhere and his own lack of finesse pisses him off.
Half of the block has caved into a mess of waste and glass. Further down, a stray reverberating groan grates on Katsuki’s ears and he follows the noise to find Izuku shrugging off a ten-foot slab of concrete like he’s shrugging off a jacket. He rolls his shoulder, lays the slab down with a gentle pat, then dusts his hands off equally dusty trousers.
Katsuki grits his teeth, tasting blood and soot. He gives himself a second, cause he’d rather die again than limp onto a battlefield he didn’t even fight in, then walks out towards Izuku.
“So now you’re careful, huh?”
Izuku stills. The cloud of dust settles at his feet, and Katsuki sees that the stupid prim little button-down Halfie got him for his last birthday has come untucked. Around him is an assemblage of support items—protective armor, tendril shooters strapped to his wrists, and some small artillery Katsuki knows he hates using. With a faint buzz, they fold and collapse seamlessly into his figure.
“Dynamight-san,” Izuku says slowly, turning to face him. Katsuki bristles. There’s choppers overheard and sirens going off all over the block, but nothing’s louder than the creaky gears spinning in that dumb head of his. Katsuki can’t wait to hear it. “I uh, didn’t call anyone in.”
“Yeah. I noticed.”
Izuku’s mouth clicks shut like the gears in his head have jammed. He shrinks.
Good , Katsuki thinks. He surveys the area— easy on his left foot—and Izuku watches him with a frown.
Behind Izuku, the villain is knocked out cold. Their limbs are purpling and mottled from forced and sudden overgrowth—a dead giveaway that they’re shooting and quirked up. Acrid fumes steam off skin that’s nearly translucent. Liquid trickles from their jaw and sizzles when it hits the concrete.
Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose. It at least explains why the billboards have melted into the pavement. As far as he can tell, there isn’t a scratch or singe on Izuku. Just layers and layers of grime and that stiffness in his arm that even years of PT never fixed, but Katsuki’s chest seizes anyway. He doesn’t know how to stop it. His blood runs hot.
“I can explain–”
Katsuki flings one of Hatsume’s quirk canceling traps at the villain. It unfurls, clamps, then beeps twice. Secured, and transmitting for pick-up.
“–okay, uh, you’re mad , and I get that, but technically, I’m off the clock!”
“You always fight level-fives when you’re ‘off the clock’, Deku ?” Katsuki strides towards him and jams a respirator mask over the crusty mess of green hair before putting on his own.
“I think,” Izuku scrunches his nose and secures the mask on his face so his next words come out muffled and nasal, “this could be a level four.”
“I’ll shove the handbook down your throat if you try and tell me right now that’s a level fucking four. ”
At their feet, the growing puddle of acid crackles. It burns slowly into the concrete, turning it to sop.
Izuku looks down, then back up. He shuffles nervously. “Mm, I’ll file all the paperwork—?”
Katsuki shoves past him and it’s pathetic cause he nearly wobbles himself. They’re on the scene, and his body has the nerve to feel dizzy . It’s like his pulse is gonna thud right through his eyeballs.
He’s the number three Pro Hero who deals with citywide emergencies on the regular, but it’s this self-sacrificial reckless little asshole that constantly has him flirting with another heart attack. Cardiac rehab kicked his ass for two years, and it still never covered how to deal with Deku.
“I promise,” Izuku babbles, trailing after Katsuki as he circles the captured villain, “And this was my independent, sorta off-duty work so this wouldn’t affect the agency at all, or it shouldn’t anyway and I’ll make that clear in the press release–”
“You think I care how this looks ?” Katsuki snaps, turning on him. Their masks bump together. Izuku squeaks, stumbles back, and blushes all the way to his hairline. “This is on a three-team scale, minimum . A rookie could tell you that,” he snarls, “Or what, should I send you back to triage 101 with the interns?”
Izuku rears then glares. It’s the least threatening glare Katsuki’s ever seen, but he braces himself anyway. “Hey—I do not appreciate that tone.”
Katsuki pulls Izuku’s mask and lets it recoil with a snap. “Take it up with HR then, sweetheart.”
“You are so—! ”
“So what?” Katsuki spits, leaning in, “Impulsive? Sloppy? Let’s hear it.”
Dead silence settles between them and simmers. Izuku gives him another glare, colder this time, and Katsuki really doesn’t like that one. He turns away.
“Forget it,” Izuku runs a dirt-caked hand through his hair. His stiff, scarred fingers flex in irritation. “Not doing this with you right now.”
“What, too busy? Thought you were off the clock.”
“ You—“
“Might I suggest couples counseling?”
The vein in Katsuki’s forehead threatens to burst, but holds out. It’s been a minute, especially since they haven’t had the time to have a proper class reunion in years, but Shinsou’s voice still makes Katsuki want to scrub his skin raw with a wire brush.
“No. Get fucked.”
Izuku elbows him in the side then waves Shinsou off. “We’re fine. Are the kids okay?”
The acid stains slowly work their way through the concrete, and Shinsou creeps lightly around the perimeter like the poor man’s Eraserhead that he is. “Twenty heads, twenty bodies, all in one piece. Mostly.”
“Good to hear,” Izuku smiles with obvious relief, “Thank you.”
The mask hides Katsuki’s scowl, so he rolls his eyes and glares at Shinsou with an amount of disdain that would have even Eijirou running.
Shinsou grins and doubles down. “This guy bothering you, Midoriya?”
Before Katsuki can even blink, a fist wraps around the back of his utility belt like he’s a rabid dog on a leash. “We’re fine,” Izuku repeats in an overly polite tone. His grip on Katsuki is iron. “I’ll be back on the bus in five.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki says, through clenched teeth. His molars grind so hard, they squeak. Everybody tells him that his sore spot’s too public and too obvious, but he doesn’t care cause it’s his . “The hero partners have actual work to do.”
“Funny,” Shinsou deadpans, “I don’t remember him calling you in.” He shoots them a smile that belongs on a watchlist. This can’t be the mind shaping Japan’s new heroes. “Oh, and Red Riot called. Asked if you were here, or if you’d finally brained yourself jumping out of your office window.”
Izuku’s hand twists around his belt. Katsuki pales.
The sirens in the distance fade into dampened noise as Izuku turns to face him. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. His gaze is so heavy with pressure, the hair on the back of Katsuki’s neck stands.
“You jumped out of your office window?”
Izuku burns a hole into the side of his head as Katsuki fumbles for an excuse up his ass.
In his defense, the elevators in their agency are slow and Cheeks jumps out of her window for coffee runs all the time. They both know that and turn a blind eye, cause it’s nice not waiting an hour for a triple shot of espresso. Somehow he knows though that his chances, if he brings that up right now, are not good .
“Had an emergency,” he says finally.
Izuku’s grip tightens and Katsuki gets jostled like he’s on a chain. “Twenty floors?”
“Twenty-one,” Shinsou supplies helpfully, because he’s just been watching them like a creep. They both have to flash him a look before he finally gets it. He waves before turning away, “I’ll wait for you on the bus, Midoriya.”
“Yes, please, thank you, Shinsou,” Izuku tugs Katsuki forcefully by the belt. There’s no quirk power backing it at all, but he still gets yanked all the way in. His stomach falls to the melting concrete. “I need to have a quick discussion with my husband .”
Katsuki sputters and scoffs, “Oh, I’m your husband now? Where’s all that Dynamight-san crap from earlier?”
“You two are revolting,” Shinsou calls as he disappears behind the rubble.
The ring on Izuku’s left hand digs into his back as he pulls him closer. Their belts clink together. Izuku never got that second growth spurt, but the way he leans into Katsuki’s ear makes Katsuki feel like the smaller one.
“Tell me, since when are you medically cleared for that altitude, dear?”
All the wind chill from flying melts away as Katsuki’s face heats up. “Like I said. Had an emergency.”
“Hmm, am I supposed to be the emergency?” A hand sweeps around his hip and settles on his belt buckle. Katsuki does kinda feel like a dog on a leash now. His throat goes dry as the idea crawls to the back of his mind like a fucking parasite. Quietly, Izuku says, “I had it covered.”
“Oh, don’t piss me off.”
Izuku hums, “Well, don’t piss me off either.”
“I see you fighting a level-five, you think I’m not gonna come running?”
Big green eyes soften slowly like syrup. Katsuki’s chest aches. “Preferably not from two hundred feet off the ground, my love.”
The ring glides along his belt buckle, before Izuku raises his hand to cup the side of Katsuki’s neck. It brings Katsuki all the way back to the days of antiseptic and the cloudy haze of morphine on tap. Half dead with a patchwork heart, held together by the nation’s best rehab center and one visitor they physically couldn’t tear away from him, no matter who tried. Sitting bedside, Izuku asked the doctor to teach him what to do, just in case Katsuki’s cardiac rhythm went haywire again. Sometimes in the mornings, Katsuki catches him practicing with his own pulse in their bathroom mirror.
Izuku’s fingers run alongside his throat, and Katsuki shudders. Guilt is his oldest and ugliest friend. He’s familiar. It’s those big fuckin’ doe eyes that really do him in.
A full minute passes. Katsuki’s body might be fraying but overall, he feels fine. His legs scream through the worst cramp he’s had in the last ten years, and he’s running hot and cold all at the same time like he’ll catch a fever later. Still, his pulse is steady. Izuku shakes his head, unsatisfied.
“Can you please be careful?”
“You’re telling me.” He’s lost his bite. His skin crawls with a residual rush of adrenaline, but his temper is bullied into a corner by Izuku’s pathetic little face.
Izuku smiles, dull and shaky. “You know I don’t mean to scare you, Kacchan.”
Well, you do . Katsuki feels like he’s gonna be sick. The way Izuku looks at him, all miserable and expectant like he’s asking Katsuki for something—he looks worse than he did when Katsuki got here. He was fighting a level-five solo, and it’s Katsuki that hurts him like this.
At the far end of the block, through the smog and ash, Katsuki sees the bus pull up. Its headlights flash twice.
“Truce?” Izuku offers. It’ll hold them until they can both get home and talk it out. “I just … I have to go–”
“What, now?”
“Temporary truce,” Izuku clarifies, cupping his jaw, “We need to talk. I promise I’m not done with you.”
“I’m not done with you either,” Katsuki says. It’s an empty threat. His voice is weak even to his own ears.
Izuku steps out of his space with a dry, humorless laugh. His hands fall to his sides. “See you back at the apartment, okay?”
Katsuki nods and lets him go. Just before Izuku makes it out of eyesight, he turns and waves. The dirty silver ring glints as he disappears around the rubble.
It was given to Katsuki when they’d moved apartments for the third time after graduation. Inko had slipped him a thin silver band, passed down through her bloodline, with a loving suggestion to ‘make an honest man out of her son’ and a familiar glare. The same one Izuku likes to shoot him, only Inko’s is threatening—possibly the most threatening in the world.
Katsuki took his time anyway. Of the mind that when he proposed, he’d at least be half worth the trouble. Growing up, he was so good at making Izuku feel like shit; he could do the opposite, too, if he tried hard enough. There was no end goal of penance. It could just be proof that Katsuki could love him too—as well as and then even more than he had once hated him. So, so much more.
Even in that, Izuku never let Katsuki surpass him.
Katsuki was on a week-long mission away when he caught a fungal infection that busted and ate at his chest cavity. The way he and Izuku got knocked around, they never could heal just right. A week turned into a month in some hospital in Otheon. Allegedly , Izuku tore into the commission, chewed out his agency head, and threatened Katsuki’s handler, before getting tipped off by an old friend. He dropped in through Katsuki’s window on the same night.
“They wouldn’t tell me where you were,” Izuku ranted, furiously unpacking takeout containers of curry at his bedside, “They said I couldn’t legally know! I’m your hero partner, but they said—they said it doesn’t count.” He turned to Katsuki and tried to steady his shaking hands by wiping them down his pants. “So I think we should get married.”
Katsuki ran a hand down his face. He was on a cocktail of drugs. Nurses kept asking him for the date and time and place like he’d know any better than them. Part of him still believed this Izuku standing on the ugly ceramic tile was a hallucination. It was like somebody had taken his brain apart and used the bits in a game of pinball.
“You’re fuckin’ kidding me.”
“I am not,” Izuku said firmly, even if he looked like he was going to burst into tears at any moment, “I was already going to propose anyway! I booked a rental camp van thing, we were gonna go away for the weekend, and I was going to take you to Auntie and Uncle’s cabin—don’t make that face, you would have loved it. I even ordered that cake you like. It’s collecting mold in the fridge, by the way.”
“Throw it out.”
“When I take you home.” Izuku unfastened the railings and crawled around the tubes coming out of Katsuki’s arm to get into the bed like he was playing Twister. Once he settled in, he took Katsuki’s face in his hands, “I was so worried about you. I hate not knowing where you are and not getting to take care of you,” He pushed Katsuki’s cheeks together with a wilful look, annoyed at the thought that Katsuki wasn’t taking him seriously, “Kacchan, I don’t even like waiting for you to come home on a normal day! They said everything was classified, I’m not cleared for it, I don’t have access, blah, blah—but I’m the best at making Kacchan feel better. I need to be here for things like this. So give me access to all of you.”
He sat back on his haunches, waiting. Katsuki blinked, stunned. Izuku’s lip wobbled.
It was the least romantic situation, possibly ever. (Why did they always find themselves professing love in overexposed hospital rooms?) Izuku smelled terrible and sorta like livestock from the travel, and Katsuki was in a diaper and a suspiciously stained sick gown, probably smelling worse. Izuku was, once again, glaring at him. They weren’t even holding hands.
He decided to fix that and took Izuku’s scarred hand in his. Then the nerd really did burst into tears. The stress of the last month poured out of him in hiccups and huge baby sobs and snot that got on Katsuki’s splint.
Katsuki’s weak little heart was going to slip out between his ribs. It squeezed and squeezed with gross affection. “Can you at least ask properly?”
“Marry me,” Izuku demanded. In a too tiny hospital room, after racing through a seven-thousand-mile obstacle course just to find him.
Katsuki had a hard time fathoming the devotion, until he recognised it simply mirrored his own. He would storm any building and raze any city in the world to find Izuku because, between the two of them, he had always loved Izuku harder. Katsuki thought he was sure of that—now he had Izuku crying his way through a proposal after crossing the world just to lie with Katsuki in his sickbed. How could he say no.
Izuku left the ring in Japan, because of course he did. Simple platinum, crafted by Hatsume to be completely fire-resistant, and tried and tested on IcyHot. Even now, it still irks Katsuki that Todoroki wore it first. But it’s Katsuki’s neck that it hangs around every day. He’ll spend his whole lifetime earning it.
He runs a trembling hand through his hair, and blasts off to the school bus, sliding in right before the doors close.
Several pairs of eyes focus on him, but he doesn’t care. Being gawked at comes with a job. It’s not always though, that he catches Izuku’s eye and feels the blood rushing to his face—-his sore spot. No level-five, no national emergency, no diabolical jobless creep villain makes him feel like this.
“Holy shit, is that Dynamight?”
From the front seat, Shinsou sighs and closes his eyes.
Izuku shushes his class, made up of a bunch of sophomores who look way smaller than Katsuki could ever remember being. A pile of smudged wet wipes sits in Izuku’s lap, but even with his best effort, he’s still covered in soot. Dark hair frizzes around his ears from the humidity. His dress shirt remains rumpled and untucked and his face is splotchy with imprints from the heavy respirator.
Izuku cocks his head, “Yes, Kacchan?”
Katsuki couldn’t have flown more than a hundred feet, but he can’t seem to catch his breath. It stops in his throat and burns. His heart hammers in his chest, always unable to keep up with his own mushy feelings.
Through the screen on his watch, his monitor pings. A similar alert buzzes for Izuku.
“Keep your phone on.”
The corner of Izuku’s mouth twitches. “Okay.”
Katsuki works around the dryness in his throat. “I was worried about you. Even if you think you have it covered—I hate not knowing where you are and not having your back.”
I jumped out of my twenty-first-storey window because I couldn’t sit and watch you fight alone.
The bus falls into an unimpressed silence, but Izuku bites back a smile. He fails and straight up cheeses and gets up from his seat. “Take this stupid thing off,” he demands, toggling with the straps of Katsuki’s respirator. Once the mask is off, he kisses him, quick and clean. Katsuki can’t tell if it’s because of the students or because he can’t stop smiling long enough to give him a good one anyway.
“I’m sorry I worried you, Kacchan,” Izuku says as Katsuki kisses him on the forehead. He has freckles there, too. He also tastes like dirt. Katsuki doesn’t care. Izuku tilts his face happily up towards him, and Katsuki can’t handle it.
If his husband’s going away for a weekend to babysit some kids along with a creep they went to high school with, he should at least get to kiss him goodbye. So he does, tugging at the nape of dark hair for a proper kiss. Izuku hums against his mouth, pleased, and Katsuki snatches him by the waist to pull him closer.
He’s kicked in the shin—fucking Shinsou —but it’s worth it.
“Me too,” Katsuki says thickly when they pull apart. “I’m sorry I worried you, too.” Some things are still hard to say but the surge of affection in his chest is worse. It escapes him because he actually can’t contain it or the tenterhooks in his heart might snap, “I love you.”
Izuku laughs, “I love you too, Kacchan.” He throws his arms around him and squeezes, “See you at home.”
—
The next morning, Katsuki wakes up to a predictable news storm. Dynamight flying at irresponsible speeds, Deku acting recklessly and alone. Is there trouble for the Wonder Duo? The news outlets are dying to know. His publicist’s calls go ignored ‘cause one thing Dynamight’s not doing is being perceived on his day off. Instead, he scrolls through the identical headlines and Tweets until he sees something different.
He opens up his chat with Izuku. There’s one tweet forwarded from Izuku’s chat with ‘Shouto 🍓’ that reads: ‘why are dynamight-sans knees so janky he is thirty years old.’ Determined not to blow a fuse before noon, Katsuki decides to scroll past that.
>good morning!! they found a crab in the toilet
>Morning. Staying out of trouble?
>being so good daddy i promise
> twitter.com/status/07150420: “Hero Deku Goes on Vacation Without Husband, Rescues Family of 4 From Whirlpool, and is Expected to Make a Speedy and Full Recovery!”
>…
>did u see the part where i rescued a family of 4 from a whirlpool
>ok so i dislocated my shoulder, but it’s fine
>What else
>ct scan and lungs all clear ╮ (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ╭
>👍🏻
>👍🏻?
>👍🏻
> Text me when ure back in the city
> 🧡?
>👍🏻
> saw ur heart rate spike on my watch
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
>Don’t send me that shit
Katsuki stares at the screen and runs a tongue over his canines, considering.
It used to feel like the world was caving in when they fought, with Katsuki frankly terrified that Izuku would leave him ‘cause Katsuki had a short fuse and a body that knew how to hurt him. Izuku caught on to that pretty quickly and made it clear just how stupid he thought that was.
Now, even when they’re supposed to be arguing—and Katsuki doesn’t doubt a proper argument coming when Izuku gets home, like they both promised—they fall into this easy thing. Chalk it up to how much time they already spent beating the shit out of each other when they were kids. Other people might not get it, but Katsuki thinks it’s one of the greatest things about them. That they can blow up and still wanna hold hands on the way home, fuming but refusing to be too far apart.
The truth is that Katsuki wants Izuku to be ugly with him like that. Dynamight and Deku are always amazing and reliable on the battlefield. It’s a performance they’ve managed to keep up, even through literal death. Partially because the public needs to believe in heroes, to ride on Dynamight’s ambition and grit and bask in Deku’s shining light of hope and heroism or whatever. It’s an incentive that’s got a nice shine, held up purely on the good fortune that Katsuki’s a selfish little asshole. Katsuki likes that behind closed doors, they can fall apart around each other. All of Izuku’s burdens, the dreams that make him seek Katsuki out like a kid at night, the heartrending pain that made a home in his body—-those are Katsuki’s too. The rest of the world can depend on Izuku to perform, but Katsuki will sooner choke before asking for the same. If it were up to him, no one would ever get to ask anything of Izuku ever again. Maybe nobody should even get to look at him.
Instead, Katsuki tries to twist his greed into something sweet. To keep Izuku in check—remind him of his doctor’s appointments, get his support gear tuned, tell him when to take a break and call him out on his bullshit. That’s his sore spot, his dumbass who’d kill himself for a cat stuck in a tree if it meant he would be of help. He’s Katsuki’s to keep, and it’s mutual. Izuku is probably—maybe even quite literally—the only reason Katsuki’s still alive.
Neither of them owe each other a thing. It’s just the commitment they keep. Katsuki doesn’t half-ass anything, and neither does Izuku. When it comes to each other, they’re all in, and that’s why this shit matters so much.
> Also
> Was looking at flights last night. There’s a sale.
> are they sending u away again? :(
> kacchan works too much
>Our honeymoon’s way overdue stupid
Katsuki gets hit with a wall of hearts that the cellular networks can’t even process. His phone has to break it up into two separate messages. The mush in his brain acts up again and he rolls to his side, kicking a leg over the pillow acting as a makeshift Izuku, smiling so hard it hurts.
>where did u want to go?
> Guess
>clue clue
>Least romantic city on earth
> !!!
> kacchan
> rody will be so happy to see u
> Stfu
> IM GONNA TEXT HIM RIGHT NOW
Katsuki starts typing, an incomprehensible mash of typoes in all capital letters, but before he can hit send, he’s added to a group chat with the world’s worst asshole and the love of his life. He sighs.
> Hi. Me and the nerd might drop by soon. Clear your schedule.
>Do you promise to replace my couch this time?
> No.
> Okay.
> Can’t wait <3
Katsuki makes a face of disgust and moves to leave the chat when he’s interrupted by a call.
“Hey,” Katsuki says before Izuku can even get a word in, “The fuck is up with the heart?”
Izuku laughs, “He can’t help it. Kacchan’s just so cute.” His voice has that throaty rasp like he forgot to drink water before bed again.
Katsuki can imagine him right now, bundled up in his sleeping bag, stiff arm tucked into his side. Izuku always wakes up with sore joints that need to be warmed up, before he’s ready to go. Sometimes, at the ass crack of dawn, he rolls onto Katsuki’s side of the bed and taunts him with his cold feet, shyly asking for help.
“So whaddaya think?” Katsuki asks, working to keep his voice even. It’s so stupid. You’re married, you dick , he tells himself. It feels sorta like when he finally asked Izuku out on a proper date, and his hands sweat so much that he had his first quirk accident since he was eight years old. That panicky voice that doesn’t know when to shut up, it just comes from wanting to have Izuku all the time.
“About Otheon?” Izuku hums in consideration, “I like it. We’re always working when we go—or, y’know, sick. And Rody says that if we get bored, you can take one of those scenic trains and end up in a whole new country. They have really good hiking trails there too, wait, I just saw this reel with this waterfall—”
Katsuki swallows. “So is that a yes ‘cause I’ll book it.”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah, of course—but go see your cardiologist first, okay?” Izuku pauses. Katsuki hears the gears in his head at work again. “Wait, Kacchan, why would it not be a yes?”
The tips of Katsuki’s ears burn up. At least it’s not a video call. “Dunno,” he says coolly, “You might be busy or whatever.”
Izuku doesn’t buy it for a second, which is annoying. Katsuki can hear him grinning through the phone, as if that’s possible. “Was Kacchan nervous to ask me?”
“No,” Katsuki says. Too fast.
“Did you have your coffee yet?”
“What–? No.”
“Your heart rate’s going crazy right now—”
“Oh, fuck you .”
Izuku laughs and laughs. Over the phone, Katsuki hears a faint grumble and footsteps storming out of the room. Something muffles the noise—a hand over the receiver, Katsuki thinks—and then there’s the sound of a door slamming shut.
“Shinsou says we’re gross and that I’m a really bad roommate,” Izuku whispers.
Eugh. “Tell him to sleep outside then.”
“Kacchan is so mean,” Izuku says in a dreamy tone, because Katsuki knows he actually really likes it. He’s an endless well of affection, whereas Katsuki’s more like a geyser. The pressure builds until he pops and ends up biting Izuku till he cries.
Speaking of, his canines kind of ache right now. “I miss you,” he blurts out instead.
The smile in Izuku’s voice makes Katsuki smile too. “Really?” Izuku breathes, “You just saw me yesterday.”
“So?” Katsuki’s chest is all wound up and tender from how much he means it. It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t all aimed at Izuku with his disgustingly huge heart. All that compassion and humanity that had Katsuki falling headlong before he even knew it. That’s Katsuki’s, too. “I always miss you when you’re not around.”