Chapter Text
“New assignment.”
Katsuki’s first thought is: no. He’s literally just stepped foot through the agency doors on his way back from subduing and then wrangling a six-armed, four-hundred pound heteromorph into handcuffs. There’s enough sweat pouring from his skin to fuel a jet plane. His pants are ripped at the thigh and he’s bleeding and he hasn’t even gotten to sit down yet, and here’s Burnin, following him through the office and waving a folder at him.
“You’re gonna love this one,” she says, because she delights in his suffering. “You in the mood for babysitting?”
Katsuki’s next thought is: absolutely fucking not. The biggest agency in the country, with all of the heroes and sidekicks they have to choose from, and they want Katsuki, famously abrasive and hot-tempered and a nightmare for their PR team, for a protection detail? What a joke. He continues stomping through the hallways, grumbling beneath his breath about how this is beneath him, because it is. He’s Pro Hero Dynamight; he’s one of the top heroes in the country; he’s not going to allow himself to be used for babysitting.
Used to his temper and ever amused by it, Burnin trails after him until they arrive at his small closet of an office–a desk, a chair for him and a chair for a guest, a window, and a door that Burnin hurries through before Katsuki can slam it in her face–and then she tosses the folder onto his desk. He ignores it. She ignores his eye roll. “Aren’t you even a little curious?”
“No,” he says, unhooking his bracers and dropping them into the guest chair he’s shoved into the corner by the door. “Because I’m not taking it. Go bother Icy Hot; he’s an easy mark.”
“You’ve already been assigned.” Burnin leans against the door frame, arms crossed. Her hair crackles and glows around her face, and even those green curls of fire are teasing, somehow. “You’re both still under contract for the next three weeks, anyway. You wanna piss Endeavor off right before your grand exit?”
Mask, gloves, belt: all dumped onto the chair. “I could not possibly care less about that old man. He already knows we’re one foot out the door. What’s it to him if our contracts are up and we’re flying the coop?”
Burnin nods, as if expecting this answer. She allows him a brief moment of peace. It’s hollow. She’s leveraging the silence against him, he knows, but he’ll take it; it gives him time to wipe the cooling sweat from his forehead, to examine the cut on his thigh through the slice in his pants. Shallow, if a little dirty. Easy enough to take care of himself.
He’s pulling the heavy-duty first aid kit from beneath his desk when Burnin makes her final move. “Listen, Bakugo, I’m going to level with you: you were requested for this one. By All Might.”
Katsuki fumbles the first aid kit. It lands with a loud thunk on his desk. He is extremely conscious of the way his eyes dart to the assignment folder just inches away from his hand.
“Yeah, I thought so,” Burnin says, smug. It takes two steps for her to reach his desk and pick up the folder. She flips it open then holds it out to him. When he focuses on unlocking the latches of the first aid kit instead, she sighs and mumbles, “You’re such a child,” before scanning through the page and giving him the barebones summary: “Your protectee is Midoriya Izuku, 25, a Tech Specialist at one of I-Island’s development labs. Looks like he ran into some trouble with some information there and some disgruntled ex-employees are pissed at him. Damn, he’s got, like, four different engineering degrees and a doctorate. A doctor, and he looks like this? ”
Is Katsuki out of gauze? Seriously? None in the main compartments in the kit, none in the bottom where he keeps miscellaneous medical supplies. He yanks open his desk drawer and rummages.
“Bakugo, seriously.”
“What’s the job,” he snaps, finding a discarded roll at the back of the drawer. He slams it closed and glares down at Burnin. “Why does some nerd need protection from other nerds? What’s he got to do with All Might?”
“Oh, curious now that All Might is involved, huh–”
“Curious about the boring-ass support extra I’m about to be saddled with for the next three weeks? Yeah, moron.”
She snorts. “Alright, don’t get testy. Apparently All Might’s kind of his… patron, I guess would be a word for it? Sponsor? Talent scout? He came across Midoriya when he was a kid and saw how stupid-brilliant he was, so All Might gave him a scholarship to the support academy on I-Island.”
“An insufferable nepo kid,” Katsuki drawls, pulling an antiseptic wipe and surgical tape out of the first aid kit. “Great. Endeavor approved this? I’d rather him just punch me in the fuckin’ face and get it over with if he’s that pissed I’m leaving.”
“I think he’s more upset that Todoroki’s going with you, but,” she shrugs. “What do I know? Ew–are you going to do that in here? That’s a biohazard–go get a medic to clean that up, idiot!”
Katsuki perches on the edge of the desk, leg propped up on the spare chair, pulling at the torn, bloody slash on his thigh to look for debris. It stings something fierce. He’ll need to take his boots and his pants off to get better access to it, which would be simple enough if Burnin would just leave him the hell alone already.
“Will you get out of here?” he snaps, snatching the assignment folder and tossing it behind him on his desk. “I don’t have time to go get badgered at the clinic if I have to write up a report for the mission I literally just finished and then review this trash job I’ve been stuck with.”
Shaking her head, Burnin backs out of the door, as slow as the grin growing on her face. “Better get a good night’s sleep–you start tomorrow afternoon!”
In probably her first wise move all day, the moron makes herself scarce before Katsuki can throw something at her–the stapler, his gauntlet, a fistfull of fire, whatever ammunition he reaches for first.
With a loud groan, he starts unbuckling his boots.
*
Me [3:46 PM]
Take this assignment for me.
Icy Hot [3:49 PM]
I can’t. I’m assisting with raid prep this week.
Me [3:49 PM]
SWITCH WITH ME.
Icy Hot [3:50 PM]
I’ve been specifically forbidden to switch assignments with you. Sorry, Bakugo.
If it helps, I was in the room when All Might came to ask for assistance.
He really did request you.
Me [3:51 PM]
Whatever.
Icy Hot [3:51 PM]
I do not think it will be as bad as you're expecting.
Me [3:51 PM]
WHATEVER.
Me [3:53 PM]
Take this assignment for me.
I’ll buy you a beer.
Flaming Sidekicker #2 [4:10 PM]
Hey dude!! Burnin told me you might text
No can do friendo it’s forbidden
Easy gig for your last 2 weeks tho!! Take it easy man!!
Me [4:11 PM]
Take this assignment for me.
I’ll buy you a beer.
Flaming Sidekicker #3 [4:16 PM]
I’m working with Todoroki on that raid, sorry
Me [4:20 PM]
You think you can use your big-money attorneys to get me out of my contract early?
Ponytail [4:33 PM]
Hello, Bakugo!
I don’t know of any attorneys who could do that within the three weeks you have left.
The litigation alone, with an agency like Endeavor’s, would take longer than that.
We'll have already started 1-A before we'd reach any kind of agreement.
Why?
Bakugo?
Me [4:34 PM]
FUCK YOU, OLD MAN.
Endeavor [4:47 PM]
Read ✔️
*
The rest of the day goes by quickly. Word must spread that Katsuki’s in a foul mood, because all the office extras scurry out of his way when he storms through the office on his way out.
It's a warm summer night. Katsuki stops by his favorite ramen place for dinner–manned by a crotchety old man who doesn't speak to him and over-spices his food, it's great–and then meets Kirishima at the gym. The guy acts like he hasn't seen Katsuki in years even though they met for drinks only last week; he sprints across the gym lobby and wraps Katsuki in a hug, picking him up and swinging him around. The hardened steel bands of his arms are inescapable.
“Put me down, idiot,” Katsuki snaps, glaring at the giggling attendant at the front desk. Once he's back on his feet, he transfers the glare to Kirishima, who looks unashamed and simply happy to see Katsuki. Disgusting. The responding smile that threatens his own face is likewise disgusting.
He tamps it down. Like hell is he going to be caught smiling in public.
They work on cardio first, racing one another on the treadmills until they're out of breath, then move to their usual circuit of weights.
Kirishima talks the whole time. It's an endless stream of words, comforting in their familiar cadence and just loud enough to be heard over the music turned down low in Katsuki's headphones. He and Mina had a good time on their trip, did Katsuki see their pictures? He's been thinking of getting a dog; he'd be a good dog-dad, right, bro? Fat Gum is sad that he's leaving but is proud that their high school class is still sticking together seven years later, and now they're all starting their own agency, that's just wonderful. Isn't it so exciting, the old gang back together again? It’s going to be fun.
It's when they start talking about work that Katsuki is glad they've moved to the big open area designated for non-quirk sparring. All day he's practiced his stupid deep breathing techniques his therapist gave him instead of giving into the urge to punch something. It would've been an impossible exercise had it not been for the promise of him and Kirishima beating the shit out of each other at the gym later in the day.
They go a few rounds before Kirishima calls for a water break. There's a nice bruise starting to form on Kirishima's shoulder. Katsuki can taste blood in his mouth; he'd bitten the inside of his cheek hard when Kirishima landed a kick to his leg, accidentally digging his heel into the hastily bandaged cut on Katsuki’s thigh and then falling over himself to apologize when Katsuki backed away with a pained hiss.
It's good. The exertion has him feeling warm, balanced. He’s still irritated about work, though, which he begrudgingly admits when Kirishima asks him what's got him all worked up.
“I should be on the raid team,” he grumbles after explaining the situation. He presses a thumb into his sore knuckles, again and again, the dull pulse of pain keeping him calm. “I'd be more useful there. It feels like I'm being benched. Taking three weeks off to sit on my ass and bodyguard some nerd is three weeks I'm not out there solving cases and getting shit done. It's… frustrating. I don't fuckin' like it.”
Kirishima, nodding, pats at his sweaty face with a towel. “That's totally understandable, man. It's pretty cool that All Might himself requested you, though. Doesn't that mean he's impressed with your skills and your body of work and that he trusts you to protect a person that's really important to him?”
The heat in Katsuki’s face is from their workout, surely. He clenches his jaw and pointedly looks at a spot on the wall. “No.”
“Aw, come on, Kats, don’t be like that. I’m your best bro for a reason–you don’t have to pretend you’re not tickled about it,” Kirishima says. He grins and swats his towel at Katsuki’s arm. “It’s All Might, dude. Get excited.”
“I’m not hanging out with All Might,” Katsuki grumbles. “I’m watching over his, like, protege or personal support minion or whatever the hell.”
“Ha! Well, cheer up. Who knows–maybe you’ll come out of this with a new friend?”
Katsuki scoffs. Like he needs any more friends–he has more than he knows what to do with, more than he really considers friends, anyway, more like people who insist on hanging out with him. Annoyances. Pains in his ass, all of them.
“Awww, are you smiling, dude?” Kirishima says, taking Katsuki’s wrist in his hand and shaking it.
“No! Fuck off!” Scowling, Katsuki shakes Kirishima’s hand off and tosses his own towel onto the bench before stomping back towards their boxing area. “Let’s go. And stop pulling your punches, idiot. I can tell.”
Laughing, Kirishima gets to his feet and cracks his knuckles. It sounds like rocks grinding together. The shark-sharp grin on his face is nearly intimidating. It gives Katsuki a bit of hope–maybe, if Kirishima gives him a concussion, Katsuki can beg off of this stupid assignment and get back to his normal smash-and-grab assignments. Worth a try.
*
Even with his alarm turned off, Katsuki wakes bright and early. Unfortunately unconcussed, body bruised and sore in the best way, he climbs out of bed and stretches. He’s got plenty of time to make a nice breakfast and take a long jog around the city. When he gets out of the shower, there’s a text from Burnin threatening him to take this job seriously, along with the time and location that he’s to meet his nerd at.
He puts on his hero costume, tosses the assignment folder into his backpack, and, with a huge, heaving sigh, gets on with it.
Lightly Labs is a fifteen minute train ride from the Endeavor Agency, but since Katsuki is officially on duty, he says fuck it and takes to the sky. It's only about five minutes as the crow flies; enough time for him to complete the cycle of grief he'd started yesterday. As much as it chafes to admit it, Burnin really got him by the balls when she admitted that he’d been chosen for this by All Might. Though his childhood idolization for the man had shrunk to a quiet respect as an adult, it’s still there, buried deep but burning bright, just a tiny little ember of excitement and awe: out of so many heroes, All Might saw me, chose me, trusts me.
Katsuki reaches resigned acceptance as he touches down on the narrow walkway outside the address he’d been given. It's a nice area, if a bit boring: a quiet side street surrounded by blocky, concrete office buildings, telephone wires crossing here and there like spindly spiderwebs. The lab is new enough that it doesn't even have a sign yet; there's a piece of paper taped to the side of a building that reads, in a blocky scrawl: LIGHTLY LABS, DOWNSTAIRS! It includes an arrow and a kaomoji that looks slightly crazed.
He finds the stairs leading to a basement office and heads down. The front door is propped open by a worn cardboard box full of broken gadgets, casings cracked open, wires split and curling. The lobby is painted a bright white and lit with cool fluorescents and is similarly littered with mechanical junk: piled high along the walls, disorganized stacks in the middle of the room, falling out of containers on the reception desk, nuts and bolts disappearing down the hallway like a trail of breadcrumbs. Somewhere in the depths of the basement, there’s the faint beat of bass-heavy music and a repetitive clanging sound, metal-on-metal.
“Hey,” he yells, banging a fist on a clear spot at the end of the reception desk. A circuit board rattles off the edge and falls to the floor. “Anybody here?”
The clanging stops. Katsuki hears approaching footsteps, a mumbling voice, familiar…
A sense of foreboding crawls up his spine.
Rounding the corner is a pink-haired menace dressed in dark overalls and a ratty old t-shirt. As soon as Hatsume Mei sees him, she stops dead in her tracks and inhales a dramatic gasp. “Why, are my incredible eyes deceiving me, or is this Bakugo Katsuki in the flesh?”
“What are you doing here?” Katsuki asks, knee-jerk, taking an instinctual step back.
“This is my business!” Hatsume grins. The gold aperture of her eyes shift as she looks him up and down. It’s just as unsettling now as it was when they’d been at U.A. “What are you doing here? Ooh, need one of my babies? The lab isn’t officially open yet but I have at least five old projects in boxes around here that I could totally spruce up for you while you’re here, maybe six, if you’re ballsy enough and aren’t too attached to your fingers–ha! ”
Katsuki clenches his fists; he is very attached to his fingers, and he’d prefer they stayed attached to him. “No, I don’t want one of your stupid babies. I’m looking for someone. Deku? I was told he’d be here.”
“Who?”
“Hatsume, I’m not here to play games,” he snaps. “Is there someone here named Deku or not? Endeavor sent me. I’m his new babysitter.”
“The only other person here besides me is my best buddy Midoriya! He came all the way from I-Island to help me get started, isn’t that the sweetest? I’m gonna get all up in his brain for some juicy ideas while he’s here, heh. Hey, move this way–”
“Don’t touch me.”
“Well, get out of the way!”
Heavy steps hit the basement stairs behind him. Katsuki does move out of the way, because he may be an asshole but he goes to therapy, alright, he’s trying to grow or blossom or whatever the hell his shrink calls it, and he turns around to see–
Well, it’s–that’s–uh–
It’s a guy his age, carrying an enormous piece of machinery almost his size into the room. He’s wearing dark cargo pants and a loose tank-top, which reveals honey-tan skin freckled to high-heavens and huge, scarred biceps straining with effort. As he maneuvers through the stacks of junk in the lobby, he turns his back to them–he’s shorter than Katsuki but broader in the shoulders, and as he drops into a squat to carefully put the machine down on a clear spot on the ground, the thick shape of his thighs, his ass , are fully on display.
A hand reaches over and smacks the bottom of Katsuki’s chin hard enough that his jaw shuts, teeth clacking. He rips his eyes away from those–from that–damn fuck shit what the hell is wrong with him–and glares at Hatsume.
She cackles. “Midoriya! You have a visitor! I’m heading back to the workshop–you two play nice!”
Midoriya stands up and swipes his hands clean on his pants as he steps free from the machine. A body like that, and a face like this? Soft, freckled cheeks and pink lips, wide green eyes, wild green hair. Katsuki hadn’t been listening very closely to Burnin yesterday–he rarely does–but he does remember her studying the file that’s stuffed, forgotten, in his backpack, and the way she exclaimed, a doctor, and he looks like this?
“Hi,” Midoriya says on an exhale. He smiles. “Ah, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight!”
“Just Dynamight is fine,” Katsuki says. “Or Bakugo, since we’re stuck with each other for the next three weeks.”
A deep red blush starts at Midoriya’s cheeks and blossoms down his neck and up to his ears. “O-oh,” he stutters. “It’s–he hired you, then, wow, he never said who–he didn’t tell me it was you, that’s–”
“Did you not know I was coming?”
“I did! Well–not you, specifically, but All Might told me that he was hiring someone at Endeavor to watch over me while–well, um, I don’t know how much you know about what’s going on and I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you–there were confidentiality issues and the security team at the island had me sign so many disclosure forms so–”
The guy’s a rambler. Wonderful.
Katsuki crosses his arms. “Deku. Shut up. Is this going to be a problem?”
“No!” Midoriya’s eyes go to Katsuki’s face, to his arms, back to his face. “What? My name’s Izuku.”
“Doesn’t matter what your name is–my job is to keep you safe,” Katsuki says. He takes a second to look Midoriya over. Physically he could probably hold his own, no matter what his quirk is–those arms, damn–but it’s that brain of his that Katsuki’s worried about. “I’ve got ground rules: I don’t give a shit how smart you are, if something seems off, if someone’s following you, if you get a splinter, I need to know about it. No keeping shit to yourself. If there’s an issue, you tell me. Got it?”
“It does matter what my name is,” Midoriya grumbles, turning away, walking through the doorway and stomping back up the basement stairs.
“Is that the only part you heard, idiot?” Katsuki follows him. “Get back here! You’re not supposed to leave my sight!”
*
So that went well.
*
They spend the rest of the afternoon moving equipment into Lightly Labs, and then arranging everything the way Hatsume wants. None of it follows any kind of earthly logic, which, knowing what he does of Hatsume, makes sense. It’s fine: Katsuki’s here to keep an eye on Midoriya, not try to understand the strange enigma that is Hatsume Mei’s mind.
He’s also not here to argue with Midoriya about any number of topics that come up–the truth of Hatsume’s stories about him from U.A., which All Might era is the best, where they should put this heavy-ass hydraulic press because they’re carrying it together and if he drops it on his own foot because Midoriya is moving too slow, he’s going to kick Midoriya’s ass, seriously–but, well. It can’t be helped. The guy is hell-bent and tailor-built to argue with him.
Once the big moving truck outside is empty and Hatsume is satisfied with their progress for the day, she tells them to get out because she has work to do and all but slams the door behind them.
“Well,” Midoriya says, standing on the doorstep, hands in his pockets. “Um. Now what?”
Katsuki nods towards the stairs. “I’ll escort you home, let’s go.”
“Uh.” The look Midoriya gives him is strange, but he leads the way, leaving Katsuki to try desperately not to stare at the ass that is directly at his eye-level as they walk up the stairs.
Back in the parking lot for what feels like the hundredth time, they approach a gorgeous red motorcycle, which must’ve been hidden by the moving truck that had been parked here before. Midoriya pulls the key for the motorcycle out of his pocket, because of course he does–not only is he built like he could lift a car for fun and crush Katsuki’s head between his thighs like a watermelon, he also rides a kickass motorcycle around town like he hasn’t driven straight out of Katsuki’s wet dreams.
“Want a ride?” Midoriya offers, opening the storage compartment and offering a helmet to Katsuki.
Does Katsuki want a ride? Does he want to sit behind Midoriya, his crotch basically pressed against Midoriya’s ass, their thighs pressed together, his arms around that solid waist, feeling up his abs as he holds on tight through turns and curves of the road–does he want–?
For his own sanity, Katsuki snaps, “No, I don’t wanna ride that dumb thing,” before blasting up into the air. Once he’s safely on the rooftop, he shouts down, “I’ll keep an eye on you from up here! Don’t fuck around–go straight home!”
Midoriya mumbles something under his breath, but he’s too far down for Katsuki to catch the words. He watches as Midoriya puts his helmet on and swings a leg up and over the motorcycle, straddling it. The engine rumbles. His bare biceps flex as he grabs the handlebars. Once he’s situated, he gives Katsuki a thumbs up; when Katsuki responds with a middle finger, his shoulders shake with laughter.
The entire ten minute journey to Midoriya’s place, Katsuki keeps an eye out for danger, because he’s good at his job, dammit, but the whole time, he thinks, fuck this fuck this fuck this.
*
The apartment building is in a good area–there are a few hero agencies close by, so crime is low, and there are a few restaurants and konbinis a short walk away. A family with small children are skipping to the park; there’s a grandma walking her tiny dog; a young couple sit together on a retaining wall, eating ice cream together. It’s nice. It’ll make anything suspicious stand out.
Midoriya parks his motorcycle in a small lot behind the building. He takes his helmet off and ruffles out his hair, which glows a shiny emerald in the warm golden hour. Katsuki studies the area as they walk up the outside stairs to the third floor and along the hall to apartment 304.
“Here we are,” Midoriya says, cheerful, typing in the code and opening the door. He holds it open for Katsuki. “You coming in?”
“Gotta scope it out, make sure there’s nobody lurking in your closet,” Katsuki grumbles.
In the genkan, Midoriya toes out of his ugly red high-tops and steps into the apartment proper in his socks, but it takes a minute for Katsuki to get out of the heavy boots of his hero costume. He follows, surprised by how plain the place is. A small kitchenette, a dining table with two chairs, a living room with a couch, coffee table, and a television stand, and a hallway leading to two bedrooms and a bathroom. Boring hotel-level decorations–black and white photographs of a river, some weird abstract painting above the couch–nothing with any personality, any color.
“You just move in?” Katsuki calls, checking beneath the beds, opening the closets. Empty.
“Yeah. We’re renting it for the next few weeks, remember?” Midoriya’s voice gets closer, closer, until Katsuki closes the bedroom closet and sees Midoriya leaning in the doorway. “I like it! It’s a lot bigger than my place on I-Island, but it’ll be nice to have the space so we’re not on top of each other, you know? Not like–! Not actually on top of each other, oh god, but like, having to share close quarters. I’m glad All Might found a place with a bedroom for each of us. Um, Bakugo? What’s that face?” He laughs, just a little, breathy and nervous. “It’s, um, a 24-hour surveillance duty, so we–you’re living here. With me. Did you seriously not read any of the assignment briefing…?”
Katsuki crouches down and screams into his hands.
There’s a shuffling, like Midoriya’s coming closer, but before he can do anything, Katsuki stands up, leaves the room, and grabs his bag from the genkan where he dropped it. It’s too much–he needs four walls and a closed door and the empty calm of silence. Midoriya stutters out a question, and Katsuki snaps out, “I’m fine,” before stomping back down the hall to his new bedroom and slamming the door.
He’ll need to go back to his place tomorrow and pack an actual suitcase, but for now, he’s going to get out of his hero costume and think about ordering something for dinner.
And then he’s going to read that fucking assignment.
*
Shitty Hair [9:15 PM]
How’d it go man??
Me [9:21 PM]
I don’t want to talk about it.