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Aizawa’s the one who calls him.
“Midoriya, your husband’s here with me. You need to come get him.” Izuku blinks, but before he can ask the obvious, Why would I need to do that? Aizawa adds a casual, “By the way, he’s sixteen.”
And—oh.
It’s on the news apparently. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight turned into a teen mid-battle against a gang of villains—all of whom are successfully captured by the other heroes on scene.
According to Aizawa, the Quirk—Impression—is touch-activated and can only be used twice a day, with no insignificant cost to the user, considering it forces the user into such a state of exhaustion that they sleep for a full day. Impression is an Emitter Quirk, specifically a Reality Quirk, and Izuku’s sure Katsuki will be annoyed something like this is what incapacitated him for the day.
Impression. A Quirk that reverts the target into an age that left a significant impression on their own view or state of reality. It’s a clever name, Izuku thinks, considering it refers to both the act of transforming the victim into a former impression of themselves while also reflecting a moment of time that transformed the victim. Honestly, Izuku thinks it’d be better suited in the psychological field, but it’s not as if he can sit the villain down and give him life advice.
He hasn’t been on patrol for a few days now, taking his mandatory (completely forced on him!) break, and he doesn’t have the car, so he takes the train to their agency, using the time to read the news. One of the articles he reads showcases young Kacchan in all his glory, a surprised scowl on his face, a look of shock on the surrounding heroes’ faces. It’d be funny if the sight of a younger Kacchan didn’t make Izuku’s stomach twist around in knots.
Sixteen years old.
He doesn’t go inside when he arrives, instead idly pricking his own palm with his car key as he walks down to their parking spot. Thankfully, he doesn’t run across anybody he knows so it’s a quick stop.
Sixteen years old.
He arrives at U.A. soon enough, shooting a quick text to Aizawa to let him know he’s here, stationing himself outside the gates. There’s no energy in him to meet with his former co-workers and he doesn’t want to have to explain to a younger Kacchan why all the students seem to fawn over him.
Sixteen years—
Izuku spots them immediately, Aizawa all but metaphorically holding Katsuki by the scruff by the looks of it, and Katsuki’s arms are crossed, his features twisted into a forcefully bored look. Ah. That means Aizawa hasn’t told him who’s picking him up.
That fact is only confirmed when Katsuki spots him because he comes to an abrupt stop, only six meters or so away from Izuku, and Aizawa mutters something at him, but Katsuki only stands, frozen, staring at Izuku as if he’s seen a ghost.
Katsuki is sixteen years old, but Izuku isn’t, so he walks forward instead, closing the six-meter gap between them easily.
“Hi,” Izuku greets Aizawa, not having to force his small smile of relief. He thinks a part of him was worried Kacchan wouldn’t actually be here when he arrived. Maybe a part of him even thought this would all be an elaborate trick. He directs the smile at Katsuki as well, melting a bit inside when Katsuki’s eyebrows shoot up. Izuku looks back at Aizawa, bowing his head. “Thank you for calling me. I’m assuming he’s the one who demanded coming to U.A.?”
“Oi.”
Aizawa rolls his eyes, ignoring Katsuki. “Of course he was.”
“Oi.”
Izuku makes sure his smile doesn’t slip when he glances back at Katsuki. Ugh. It’s ridiculous that he’s still almost as tall as Izuku is now. Izuku was proud of his growth spurt in the summer before their final year, finally shying just a few centimeters under Katsuki.
“Hi, Kacchan,” Izuku says politely, trying to reign back the affection from his tone. Katsuki’s too intelligent to not pick up on something like that, and Izuku wants to wait until they’re at least home before letting Katsuki realize anything major.
“Nerd, what the fuck are you doing here? I thought the hag was picking me up.”
God, even his voice sounds so different. It’s not even just the fact that it’s just a little bit higher pitched than his Kacchan, it’s the purposeful harshness this Katsuki uses to enunciate each word. Still so much to prove.
Izuku simply beams at him. “No, Auntie is too busy for you, so you get me instead.”
Katsuki’s scowl deepens. “The hell? Then, take me to my place then. The adult me’s place or whatever. Why the fuck would you be here, huh?”
“We live together, Kacchan.”
That shuts Katsuki up immediately. It almost surprises Izuku, but he knows Katsuki’s on Alert now, probably beginning to assess his situation in a different manner than before. Izuku wonders if he’ll land on this all being a nightmare or a villain’s Quirk first.
Izuku nods at Aizawa again. “Thank you again, Aizawa! Our next dinner will be my treat.”
Aizawa rolls his eyes. “You always make it your treat, Midoriya, no matter how many times I complain.”
“I’ll be sure to buy you extra meat!”
He looks back at Katsuki, gesturing to their car, waving at Aizawa one last time before turning away completely, not even looking at Katsuki, but cataloguing every step he hears him make. He knows Katsuki’s probably secretly freaking out underneath all that quiet analysis, but Izuku also knows that he’s too proud to ever admit that. So, Izuku won’t do anything to overwhelm him too much. Kacchan needs his space.
Izuku’s almost expecting complete silence on the way home, but not even five minutes into the drive, Katsuki breaks.
“So, we live together?”
Izuku strums his fingers against the wheel. He doesn’t even know where to start with any of this.
“Yeah, for a while now,” Izuku vaguely responds.
“And how long is that?”
Ugh. Curse Kacchan for being too smart. He can’t even try to lie—Katsuki will only become more on guard if he catches him lying, which he most certainly would.
“Almost nine years.”
When Izuku chances a glance at Katsuki, the younger boy immediately looks away, a flush high on his cheeks as he props an arm up on the car door and stares resolutely out the window. Izuku swallows, returning his gaze to the road, and this is so much harder than he expected—seeing Kacchan like this; so, so young. The scars Izuku’s so used to aren’t there anymore, and Izuku can’t just easily reach out like he usually does. They’re both used to being so touchy with each other, but this Katsuki screams unease with every tense breath.
It's been so long since Izuku’s felt the force of Katsuki’s discomfort like this—it never deterred him too much when he was a kid because he was a kid. A kid who was obsessed with everything he deemed better than him, Kacchan included. A kid who was all too used to Katsuki’s anger, his irritation, the scowls and shoves.
Katsuki hasn’t been like this for so long now and Izuku somewhat wishes he was a kid too so that this wouldn’t settle as restlessly as it is inside his throat, clamping up every word that threatens to slip out.
“How old are you?” Katsuki asks, still looking out the window.
“Thirty-two,” Izuku replies. “You turned thirty-three recently, though.”
“What the fuck happened to your dumbass face?”
Izuku nearly laughs at that; Katsuki hasn’t actually changed that much.
“Just a bad fight.” He doesn’t want to talk about Tenko right now.
Katsuki scoffs, obviously not pleased with his answer but not pushing it either. Instead, he lets out a cute, little huff and responds with, “You look stupid.”
Izuku does laugh at that. “Yeah, uh, not sure that’s ever going to change.”
There’s no reply to that remark at all and the car fills with an oppressive silence. Izuku wants to ask him so many things—wants to ask him what the last thing Katsuki remembers is, wants to ask him what Katsuki thinks about all this, wants to ask him how he’s feeling, and if he needs anything.
Izuku does not ask him any of this.
The rest of the car ride remains silent.
When they arrive at their house, Izuku can tell Kacchan’s surprised they even live in a house.
“Thought we’d be living in an apartment. You’re telling me we moved into an actual house together?”
Izuku truly knows Katsuki too well.
Only letting out a slight hum as reply, Izuku gets out of their car, pulling out his keys. Katsuki’s close behind him, still quiet and tense, but when Izuku idly points the key to lock the car, Izuku hears Katsuki suck in a breath.
“What is that?”
Izuku frowns, glancing at Katsuki who’s staring straight at the keys in his hand. Izuku looks down. Ah.
Right.
There’s a tiny acrylic photo keychain of him and Katsuki grinning widely at the camera, their faces smushed together, a high flush on both their cheeks. It was the weekend after they got engaged, and he swears they were only slightly tipsy when they were forced into an impromptu photoshoot by their friends. Izuku’s always been grateful to them in the end; to this day, the photos are some of his favorites anyone has captured of them.
Katsuki’s eyes are wide in the I figured it all out way and Izuku’s heart races pathetically—he was hoping to at least have a few more minutes before getting into this.
“Come on,” is all he replies, unlocking the door and removing his shoes in their genkan, every part of him feeling taut and upset. He feels bad for not wanting to deal with this; he’s sure Kacchan feels even more frustrated. But, still, Izuku misses his Kacchan.
He expects Katsuki to bombard him with questions as soon as the door is closed and locked behind them, but instead, Katsuki just pushes past him, as impolite as ever at his age, and Izuku follows dutifully, watching Katsuki piece it all together.
He watches Katsuki stare at all the photos of them on their wall, watches Katsuki observe their joint Hero merch, watches Katsuki take note of their kitchen—fit for the two of them, just as they both like it.
“I saw your ring. In the car,” Katsuki suddenly says, not looking at him at all. His voice is hard, guarded.
“Yes.”
Katsuki does look at him at that and Izuku sees every emotion flit across his face. There’s the anger, the disbelief, the wonder, and, underneath it all, there’s the guilt. The pain.
“Don’t do that.”
Izuku swallows. “Do what?”
“Look at me. You fucking… you still look at me the same. Why the hell do you still look at me the same way all these years later?”
Hesitant, Izuku steps forward, and he’s pleased when Katsuki doesn’t move away. Katsuki’s staring at the ring on his hand. Izuku lets out a helpless smile.
“It’s gorgeous, right? We picked them out together.”
Katsuki’s eyebrows furrow, eyes so red. It’s almost as if they shine a different color entirely at this age. Izuku isn’t sure if that’s a good or bad thing, but he doesn’t think it matters. He’s loved Kacchan throughout all his different shades.
Probably overwhelmed by the close attention, Katsuki turns his gaze away again. “Whatever.” He pauses. “How much longer now until this fucking Quirk goes away?”
Izuku gestures at their clock—a limited edition All Might clock that Izuku spent way too much money on. “It’s just after four now… so around one in the morning.” Izuku grimaces, realizing he’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight. He doesn’t sleep that well without Kacchan.
“Ugh.”
It’s pathetic—how useless Izuku feels right now. On some level, Izuku figured he’d be able to handle this better, but it’s awkward. It’s awkward to pretend that the past seventeen years haven’t shaped his very being. He didn’t like the way his relationship with Kacchan was at sixteen years old, and it’s strange now to be forced into reliving it.
“Where’s your shower?”
Izuku blinks, putting on a bright smile—his Hero masking technique is all he knows sometimes. Katsuki glares at him.
“Are you wanting to take a shower?”
“Obviously.”
Izuku only nods, walking in the direction of their room. Their house has two floors—something that Katsuki apparently wanted very much—but their master bedroom is downstairs. They had tried sleeping upstairs the first month being here, but Izuku’s nightmares were far worse when they did. The possible reasons made for a long list, but, in the end, Izuku chalks it all up to him not being able to leave their house as easily if they’re upstairs in the case of an emergency. Another part of him, a much smaller part he hasn’t even admitted to Katsuki, thinks it’s because his body remembers Katsuki falling, remembers the way he could do nothing to stop it.
When they reach the bathroom, Izuku gestures only a bit pitifully inside. “Here. Our room is through the other door inside, and your clothes are in the closet on the left.” He gives Katsuki a long once-over. “Actually, you’d probably fit better in my clothes,” Katsuki pulls a face, “but it’s up to you what you want to do. I’ll bring you some fresh towels, wait.”
Katsuki just grunts and Izuku rushes off to grab some of their guest towels. He assumes Katsuki’s feeling so disoriented that he’s wanting to take a shower to find some sort of balance. His Kacchan still does this—needing a shower just to calm himself down or wash away some of his restlessness.
After those showers, he’s usually overly affectionate, and they’ll wrap themselves around each other, Izuku’s hand tugging lightly at Katsuki’s wet hair, and Katsuki will sigh softly against his neck, a sense of serenity that Izuku never tires of.
Izuku doubts very much that this Katsuki would want Izuku to even breathe too closely near him.
While Katsuki showers, Izuku is only mildly a creep, pacing outside the bathroom and pressing his ears against the door after Katsuki spends an inordinate amount of time in there, the water running and running.
He wonders if Kacchan is hungry? What if he is, but he isn’t in the mood for whatever Izuku cooks? Izuku tries to remember what Katsuki ate at sixteen, but his anxiety is making everything come up blank.
When he hears the water stop running, Izuku rushes away, wandering over to the fridge to open it and stare balefully inside. He supposes he could make shrimp kakiage with their ingredients? Kacchan always loves Izuku’s kakiage for some reason, even though, personally, Izuku thinks Kacchan’s is better, but Kacchan always claims he loves Izuku’s food in general. Kacchan loves cooking even more, though, and he loves watching Izuku eat his food, always with a pleased little smile he pretends he isn’t making, it’s so cute when he smiles like that, and is Kacchan even hungry right now? What if Izuku starts making it and he just scoffs like he always did at this age and Izuku is left with a ton of kakiage? Well, that’s not really a bad thing now that he thinks about it, he does love kakiage too, but he’d feel bad if Kacchan wasn’t eating with him. Although, technically, Kacchan could just make something on his own, he’s always been self-sufficient after all, and even more so when he was sixteen. Izuku remembers waking up early sometimes and watching Kacchan from just outside the elevator as he cooked meals for himself, the world quiet around them. Kacchan caught him once and Izuku had scrambled away, not wanting Kacchan to feel like he had to put up some kind of front with him when all he wanted was a moment of solitude. Kacchan’s always been someone who liked his quiet, but it was nice, in the last years at U.A., when Kacchan would cook for him, when Kacchan—
“You’re going to make all the food go to shit holding the door open like that, idiot.”
Izuku startles so badly that the fridge door slams shut so loudly he cringes. He turns in place, Katsuki simply gazing impassively at him. He’s wearing Izuku’s pants and one of his own shirts in the future—one of Izuku’s favorites on Katsuki, actually—and the sight is so adorable that Izuku fights back a cheesy grin.
“Kacchan! How was your shower?” Izuku asks instead, even though it’s painfully obvious that the shower helped Katsuki a lot. He stands more assuredly, visibly more comfortable in his surroundings, and Izuku is so, so glad. He just wants Katsuki to feel safe here.
Katsuki only shrugs in reply. Swallows. Shrugs again. This is all quickly followed by slightly flushed cheeks.
Weird.
“Ah, I was….” Izuku motions to the fridge, “I was thinking about making shrimp kakiage? Uhm, are you hungry at all?” He pauses. “It’s fine if you aren’t.”
Katsuki huffs, finally walking forward and gently shoving Izuku out of the way with his shoulder, which prompts a soft laugh from him. He expects another withering glare, but Katsuki just ignores him, opening the fridge and starting to pull out the ingredients.
Izuku wants to argue that Katsuki does not need to be cooking, and that he’s perfectly able to, but he knows it won’t matter anyway. Besides, cooking is another thing that brings Katsuki a sense of balance and normalcy, and Izuku won’t hinder that.
“Thanks, Kacchan!” Izuku coos. “I’m going to go change the sheets on the bed for you.”
“Whatever,” Katsuki mutters, opening all their cabinets to make out where everything is. “Fucking weirdo.”
Izuku only hums in reply.
Izuku spends more time than he needs to making the bed for Kacchan. He fluffs the pillows about a hundred times, lost so deeply in his own thoughts that when Katsuki knocks loudly on the door and yells, “Food’s ready, shitnerd,” he startles again, nearly dropping the overfluffed pillow he’s holding. Wow. He’s truly not at his best today.
After setting the pillow back down, he leaves the room, immediately smiling when he smells Katsuki’s cooking.
“Smells good, Kacchan!” Izuku exclaims brightly as he seats himself at their table. Katsuki’s already plated the food, and weirdly, Izuku notes that he takes the chair he usually sits in. Hmm. Something to note in his Kacchan notebook.
“Don’t just stare at me, Deku, eat your food, fuck.”
Izuku blinks, smiling down at his food. Kacchan always takes such care when he plates meals. It’s so cute.
He picks up one of the kakiage and as soon as he bites into it, he lets out a small moan of appreciation. When he glances up at Katsuki, Katsuki’s rolling his eyes, but his cheeks are flushed again.
Ah. He’s attracted to Izuku.
That’s what all the blushing is about.
Izuku holds back a laugh, enjoying the food instead. He doubts Katsuki even realizes how obvious he’s being.
They eat in silence, both finishing at the same time, too. When Izuku stands up to clear the table, though, Katsuki speaks up.
“So, you love me?”
Izuku falters, instantly putting the plates back on the table. He sits down and Katsuki is staring at him so intently, obviously trying to understand him.
“Yeah,” Izuku finally breathes. “I love you so much, Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s eyes widen, pupils dilating. Izuku already knows why he’s so surprised.
“I loved you even when I was sixteen, by the way. I loved you when I was twelve and I loved you when I was only five years old. I know you think you don’t deserve it, but you do.”
“You don’t know shit,” Katsuki bites out, eyes flashing now.
Izuku gives him a placating smile. This hurts—seeing Kacchan like this. Sixteen years old. Just sixteen years old. “But I do, Kacchan. I’m sorry about all this, though. This must be confusing and scary—nobody should be forced into their future like this.”
“This could just be some fucking villain’s Quirk. There’s no real truth to any of this.”
Izuku nods, shrugging. “You’re right, maybe it is. But maybe it isn’t? Do you not like this future, Kacchan?”
“No.”
Izuku can tell he’s lying, but he doesn’t point it out. “Okay, well, then I’d prefer you think it’s all just some Quirk, then. I don’t want you to feel unsafe or uncomfortable.” He hesitates, deciding to humor him. “So, if this is all just a Quirk, how do we break the ‘illusion,’ I guess?”
At that, Katsuki pauses. Then, “Why would I tell you that? The villain’s probably listening in.”
Izuku nods. Of course. “You’re so smart, Kacchan, you’re right. It’s not the best idea to say it out loud. Although, aren’t you concerned the villain is in your head, too?”
Katsuki frowns. “There’s no way the villain’s in my head because then they’d make it so I wouldn’t be thinking any of this shit. They’d probably just have me try and go along with all of it.”
Smiling, Izuku nods again, crossing his arms as he muses, “And this is why you’re one of the top heroes. A lot of other pros wouldn’t realize any of this so quickly.”
“Don’t fucking look down on me!” Katsuki shouts then, standing up so abruptly, his thighs hitting the table when he does. Katsuki doesn’t even spare the table a glance. “This is so stupid. A joke. What kind of creepy Quirk is this anyway? Why would… why would this be what it tries to trick me with?”
Izuku gnaws at his lower lip. Both he and Katsuki already know that Katsuki already knows.
“Fuck.”
Katsuki sits back down, all fight gone from his body. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything soon, and if Izuku were less in love, he thinks he’d be able to leave Katsuki alone completely.
That’s never going to be true, though, when it comes to Kacchan.
“Kacchan, can I ask you… what the last thing you remember is? Or what just happened to you in your life?”
Katsuki’s expression twists. He doesn’t respond.
“You don’t have to reply,” Izuku says then, heart falling. He just wishes he had a better frame of reference from when exactly this sixeen-year-old Kacchan comes from.
“You’re mumbling, nerd.”
Izuku shuts his mouth. Katsuki lets out a deep breath.
“I’m almost seventeen.”
And, oh. That changes… that changes a lot, actually. Explains a lot, too, considering Katsuki came with him at all when he went to pick him up. Izuku shouldn’t have written that off to be a small outlier in Normal Kacchan Behavior.
Katsuki swallows, and Izuku’s already placing everything together in his head. If Katsuki’s almost seventeen then that means it’s April… that means…
“You just left us. And,” Katsuki scoffs, “you left me that stupid fucking letter. You’re such a hero, huh?”
“I’m sorry, Kacchan.” He is. Izuku’s always been sorry for that. His Kacchan wakes up sometimes, grip tight around him, muttering angry, You don’t ever get to leave like that again, you understand?s into his shoulder before falling back asleep.
Katsuki sniffs, turning away. “You told me you loved me.” His voice is heavy with emotion as he says it. Izuku bows his head, trying not to let his old shame break through every nerve of his body. He’s better than this, but… but this Kacchan has an ability to disarm him and make Izuku feel like he’s sixteen years old right there with him.
“I did.”
Katsuki whips around to face him, eyes shining. “You didn’t even let me fucking say anything back. You just tell me you love me and that you’re sorry and that you’re grateful that I helped you? That you’re grateful we could share secrets? That you’re grateful for our friendship? And what’s the fucking point of saying shit how we could be heroes together again if you’re basically writing me a suicide note? You didn’t even let me go with you. You’re just….” Katsuki swallows, fighting back tears. Izuku forces himself to listen to this; Kacchan needs it. Kacchan needs him to be here to listen to him when sixteen-year-old Izuku couldn’t. “You’re just selfish.”
“I am. I’m sorry, Kacchan, really.”
Katsuki sneers at him. “There you go apologizing again! You didn’t even let me say that. Didn’t you think I could say that to you? That I could fight with you? You think so little of me even when you tell me you supposedly love me? How the fuck does that make any sense, Deku?”
“I know. It doesn’t make any sense. At the time, it seemed like it did—I wanted to protect you and everyone else, and I didn’t want to burden you any more than I already was.”
“You’re so fucking stupid.”
“Yeah.”
Katsuki goes quiet again, wiping furiously at his tears, and Izuku wants to say more, do more, but then Katsuki is standing up and grabbing their plates, removing himself so he can clean the dishes and calm back down.
The thing is—this Kacchan doesn’t even know that this will become the biggest detriment to their upcoming relationship. This Kacchan doesn’t know about how he basically signs his own suicide note in the upcoming fight against AFO and Tenko either.
This Kacchan doesn’t know anything about the full year after that they didn’t even discuss the letter; they were too busy with healing, both mentally and physically. This Kacchan doesn’t know about Izuku breaking down into tears because he felt like a murderer, and he doesn’t know the way that Kacchan had hugged him without saying anything at all—no small mollifying remarks intended to assuage him of his guilt. He just held on and let Izuku cry.
This Kacchan doesn’t know about how difficult it was to finally start a relationship in the time after that. He doesn’t know about their arguments and fears. He doesn’t know about how deeply-rooted their insecurities were and how that made those arguments and fears even worse.
What this Kacchan does know, though, is that not only does he love Izuku, but also that Izuku loves him back. It’s what he just realized.
It’s what has left such an impression on him that it changed everything for him.
Izuku sighs, closing his eyes. He wonders how his Kacchan would handle this. If it was him with younger Kacchan, he’s sure he’d be a bit impatient with him. Overly critical, even.
If it was him with younger Izuku, though… the thought makes Izuku feel like his heart’s caught in his throat. He knows Katsuki would be so gentle with younger Izuku. Younger Izuku would need it, too.
Finally, Katsuki wanders back to the table, not sitting down. Instead, he opts to just stand and stare at Izuku instead, arms crossed, eyes redder than usual. Tears always make his eyes stand out even more than they usually do.
“So, you… you’re okay.”
Izuku nods. “I’m okay.”
“We win?”
Izuku hesitates. It always feels strange to this day to refer to everything that happened as them winning. Still. “We won.”
“When did we get together?”
“At the beginning of our last year at U.A.” Izuku huffs out a small laugh. “It wasn’t easy, honestly.”
Katsuki snorts, shifting in place. “Nothing ever is for us.”
“Yeah,” Izuku agrees, smiling softly. He sighs. “Though, it is now.”
That pulls a lovely blush from Katsuki. He really is so obvious.
“I just realized my… my… ugh, my feelings for you. Your dumbass shit letter helped me realize so I guess it was good for one thing.”
“I’m sorry you found out that way, Kacchan.”
Katsuki nods stiffly in response. Izuku can see tears pricking at his eyes again. He’s so angry, Izuku can see it, but he can see how Katsuki is doing everything to hold it back from boiling over. Katsuki’s so, so fearless.
“You’re so shitty,” Katsuki says, voice wobbling a bit as he does. Izuku only nods. He’s heard all of this so many times at the beginning of their relationship—even before they started dating. They sometimes couldn’t stand to be apart from each other and then other times they couldn’t stand to be near each other at all. “You’re so reckless. Yet… I keep thinking that maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s impossible to catch up to you, after all. But aren’t you supposed to be a fucking hero, Deku? Why would a hero not be able to say this kind of shit to my face?”
“I didn’t want to burden you,” Izuku replies. It’s the truth but he knows it’s not enough for Katsuki to hear only that. Katsuki’s crying outright now and Izuku stands up finally to meet him. “Kacchan, can I hug you?”
Katsuki pauses, still crying, and he doesn’t say anything at all; that alone is his response.
Izuku steps forward, grabbing gently at Katsuki’s arms and pulling him closer. Katsuki is almost his height, so his face tucks perfectly against his neck, and Izuku feels the small, ragged breaths he sucks in and then lets out. Izuku doubts this Kacchan has been hugged in a long time—perhaps not even since Toshinori hugged him. This Kacchan didn’t know yet how to ask for affection and care.
“I love you, Kacchan,” Izuku mumbles against his hair, tears pricking at his own eyes. At that, Katsuki finally lets go, openly crying against his neck, and it’s messy and gross and Izuku just hugs him closer.
“It’s so h-hard caring about you like this,” Katsuki mumbles, his mouth hot against his skin. Izuku swallows.
“I know, Kacchan. That does get better. It takes a lot of time, but it gets better. I take care of myself now. You’re a big reason for that. We take care of each other.”
They stand like that for another minute or so, Katsuki shifting minutely so his face is tilted down, pressed against Izuku’s collarbone. Then, Katsuki speaks again, voice so faint Izuku almost doesn’t hear it.
“I’m sorry, Izuku. For everything.”
Izuku can hear his heartbeat, it’s so loud, and he can only press his face more into Katsuki’s hair, one of his hands coming up to rest against the other side, fingers pulling softly at the blond strands.
“I know, Kacchan. It’s okay. I forgive you. So does he.”
He doesn’t exactly know how long they stand there hugging each other, and Izuku can’t help but spend that time remembering. The first time they told each other that they loved each other, the first time his Kacchan admitted that he hates feeling so weak around Izuku, the first time Izuku admitted to Kacchan that he still wanted to be a hero, despite it all, despite losing the embers. The bento boxes Kacchan would make for him, the way Izuku lost their apartment key not even a week into living together and Kacchan laughed so hard he cried. And then there’s Kacchan’s shy but proud expression when Izuku found out about the suit, the way Izuku kissed him so hard that their teeth knocked like they were teens figuring it all out for the first time. The time Toshinori had a stroke and Kacchan and Izuku held both of his hands while they waited for him to wake up, Izuku sobbing so much he nearly became dehydrated, even when Toshinori did eventually come to, huffing an embarrassed laugh but thanking them for caring so much about him. Then, there’s their engagement, no real proposal, just the two of them finally saying they wanted to be married, that they wanted to truly be together. There’s the hugs Izuku gives Kacchan from behind while he’s cooking and there’s the fondly annoyed, Get the hell off me nerd, you’re going to make me burn this shit. Even waking up with Kacchan next to him, too, is always his favorite thing—immediately making his day a better one.
This Katsuki doesn’t know any of that yet, and it fills Izuku with a sort of bittersweet care that only makes him wish that it could be 1 AM, just for this boy to remember that the past is in the past, only an impression of their memories.
Eventually, Katsuki does pull away, wiping at his tears with his shirt that’s too big on him, and he’s looking down at the floor, unable to meet Izuku’s gaze.
“Do you need anything, Kacchan? Do you need me to do something for you?”
Katsuki shakes his head, still determinedly facing the floor. “I just… don’t say anything about any of this shit. I’m tired of crying, it’s fucking embarrassing.”
“Okay, Kacchan.”
He looks up then, eyeing their TV. Izuku wipes at his own tears before grabbing Katsuki’s hand and dragging him to their sofa. Katsuki comes without protest, probably too exhausted from crying so much. Izuku will need to get him some water, too. Maybe a hot tea.
“Here, we can watch something, and then you can go to bed. I’ll be sleeping in here.”
Katsuki bows his head, an acknowledgement that he heard Izuku and is fine with it. Izuku smiles. Kacchan really is so cute.
He hands Katsuki the remote, standing up to make the hot tea—he thinks they still have some hojicha, but in case they don’t, something with ginger would be good, too. Hmm, maybe he can—
“Thanks, Deku.”
Izuku’s eyes widen, and he smiles even bigger when he sees the high flush on Katsuki’s cheek, rising all the way from his neck, even to his ears. So, so adorable. Izuku laughs, leaning down to press a tender kiss to Katsuki’s cheek. Katsuki immediately almost topples over, mouth gaping in shock, and Izuku is already pulling away, off to make the tea.
From the kitchen, he hears Katsuki put on some kind of action film—probably something inspired by All Might, if not a straight rip-off one of one of his documentaries. Izuku and Katsuki secretly adore the rip-offs just for how absolutely awful they are. Izuku loves Katsuki’s commentary more than anything, honestly.
Izuku returns with the tea and water, and Katsuki’s still obviously so flustered that Izuku takes pity on him and doesn’t try to cuddle him outright.
“Found this shitty looking movie,” Katsuki mumbles, gesturing to the screen with his head.
“Mhm, looks fun, Kacchan.” He’s seen this film nearly fourteen times, thirteen of those times with Katsuki himself. He does not say this.
Katsuki looks pleased with himself as he settles in more comfortably, sipping at the tea every now and then, the movie playing. Izuku has to hold himself back from humming along to the soundtrack.
They don’t say much during the watch except Katsuki does give into muttering out a few insults every now and then (“They couldn’t even get a good fucking actor to play the wannabe All Might. So lazy.”).
It’s something his Katsuki has said exactly two times as an adult. Just another thing to note in his Kacchan notebook.
When the movie ends, Katsuki is putting on another one without even asking. Izuku glances at the time—it’s still just the early night, but he can already feel himself getting more exhausted. And as the film plays, he shuffles closer to Katsuki instinctively, resting his head on Katsuki’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He’s usually the night owl, but today has been too tiring for him, and Izuku didn’t get a lot of sleep anyway. It’s as if he knew last night that today would be a strange day.
Izuku doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he does remember the feel of Katsuki resting his head against Izuku’s head and the warmth of their hands pressed together.
As soon as Izuku wakes up, he lets out a small groan at just how much his neck hurts. In fact, most of his body hurts, tilted in such an uncomfortable way Izuku half wonders if he’s been kidnapped and tied up somewhere for torture.
He opens his eyes. No, he’s on his couch and Kacchan is beside him. Oh, they fell asleep watching the movies. Wait, what time is—
Izuku tilts his head, heart stopping when he sees his Kacchan sleeping, head completely tilted up, his mouth open as he lightly snores. There’s even drool.
“Kacchan!” Izuku whisper-yells, immediately launching himself up and at Katsuki, grabbing his face with both of his hands as he presses kiss after kiss all over Katsuki’s face. Of course, Katsuki wakes up immediately, groaning at most likely his own body aches, but also probably because of Izuku’s assault.
“‘zuku, what the fuck’s your problem,” he mumbles tiredly, but when Izuku kisses him on the lips, Katsuki’s mouth opens to let him in, pressing back as much as he can in his tired state.
Izuku hums, feeling the rush of endorphins hit him so much quicker than usual. It’s insane that just kissing Katsuki after all these years can make him this happy. When he pulls away, a trail of spit follows, and he meets Katsuki’s barely open eyes. “Kacchan, you’re back.” Katsuki just frowns at him.
“Huh?” He sits up, cursing loudly at the way his neck pops. “Fuck, Deku, aren’t we too old to fall asleep like this? Where the hell’s our bed?”
So, Kacchan doesn’t remember. That makes sense, he supposes. Since the Quirk forced the user into a state of sleep then maybe it forced his Kacchan into a state of sleep too while the younger impression of himself was let free. How interesting! Truly, maybe he should see if he could talk to the villain about changing his career from villainy to something in the psychology field… it’d just be a benefit for everyone, he thinks.
“Nerd, shut the fuck up. Why,” Katsuki glares at their All Might clock, “are we awake at three in the morning?”
Izuku kisses him again, smiling against his lips. “Sorry, Kacchan. Here, let’s go to bed.” He stands, pulling at Katsuki’s arms to pull him to stand up with him. Katsuki’s eyes already fall shut again and he follows Izuku blindly into their room, hand warm in Izuku’s.
When they collapse on the bed, Katsuki is quick to wrap himself around Izuku’s body.
“Did you change the sheets or something?” Katsuki mumbles, confused and shifty as he moves his body slightly to feel the texture underneath him.
Izuku laughs, turning so he’s facing Katsuki, their chests pressed against each other. “Yes, I did.”
Katsuki lets out a small hmpf. Then, “Good. I didn’t want to. Even though it’s my chore week.”
Katsuki falls asleep immediately after, which Izuku's convinced is the cutest thing ever. Kacchan is always the cutest person ever. He sometimes doesn’t know how he’s supposed to function when he sees him, and like this, especially. All sleepy and affectionate. It’s really too much!
He grins to himself. Sixteen-year-old Kacchan really missed out on cuddling. He’s glad they worked through that early on; he doesn’t know what he would have done if he didn’t get to be as touchy as he is with Kacchan in the time after the war.
Izuku remembers falling asleep this time, next to his Kacchan like he does every night—it’s as it always should be.