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Todoroki asked too many questions.
In his better moods, Katsuki figured it was just Todoroki’s nature to do things like that. The same way it was that he could fall asleep any place. The same way it was that he’d cross the street to pet stray cats. Every. Time. The same way he liked to fold down his socks, fiddle with his shirt sleeve when he was nervous, sometimes his shirt collar. Tilted his head a different way if he was confused versus concerned. Smiled when he really was fine versus when he was obviously faking it.
The same way that Todoroki had even become the subject of all these observations, this razor focus Katsuki had really only cultivated and practiced for one thing—hero work, being the best, a dream that he chased every waking moment. God fucking damn it. And for what? Why?
Katsuki had thought about it and came up with nothing. Nothing satisfying.
Todoroki was just…like that.
It wasn’t even Todoroki’s fault. The question thing. And honestly, Katsuki should have had enough practice with that by now. Izuku asked questions too. Incessantly. It was Izuku’s thing. His nervous tic. Katsuki had taken full advantage as a kid. Answering and acting like he knew everything there was to know about anything. What a little shit.
It was different though, with Izuku. Izuku’s questions were like popping popcorn. A teapot boiling with excitement, always on the verge of spilling over. There was an energy to it. The kind that could make you crazy. Hell, maybe it had. And that could go a long way in explaining why Katsuki was the way he was, and then they wouldn’t even have to bring his Ma or All Might into it.
Todoroki’s questions could make you crazy too. But not the same way. The energy was low. Persistence high. Todoroki was a volcano under the surface of still water. There was something he was always thinking about, something he was holding back. He’d ask Katsuki things in small doses, like he was building up a tolerance in Katsuki’s system. For…something.
Honesty?
It could be. Todoroki had too much of it. He said the kinds of things that shouldn’t be said. The kind of thing that anyone else in his position would happily ignore, because it would make things awkward.
Now. For example.
“Why have you been looking at me?” Todoroki asks mildly, and suddenly, it’s one of those times.
One of those times Katsuki wishes he could blast himself a hole and burrow underground until the earth could swallow him. “Hah?”
“I’ve seen you,” Todoroki says, matter-of-fact. “I was wondering if I was doing something wrong. Or were you watching my technique?”
There’s an out here. Clearly. At the moment though, he chooses the path of greatest resistance.
“I wasn’t,” Katsuki says. “I don’t need to watch your technique.”
Ego over self-preservation. There was an order to things. Even now. In his era of responsible adulthood and maturity.
Todoroki walks with him, fiddling with the button on his shirt sleeve. He’d changed back into civilian clothes now. The pale blue of his shirt brings out his eyes. Both mirror the sky, which is cloudless. A real clear view for a higher power to sit back and mock what’s become of Katsuki’s life.
Lucky lucky.
Beautiful. The word comes to his mind, unbidden, watching Todoroki talk. The way his soft, pink mouth forms words, every sound as careful and muted as it is low and cutting right through to the core. Watching him walk, in step with Katsuki, hands swinging at his side, just slightly. Which means he’s in a better-than-average mood. Which means he’s happy.
Katsuki registers every time their hands almost brush. Wants something so bad he can’t even name it.
After a moment’s respite, Todoroki questions him again. “So…I did do something?”
Katsuki heart thump-thump-thumps in his chest.
He tries, attempting to summon the above-it-all bravado of his thirteen year old self. “Nah. As if.”
“Oh,” Todoroki breathes out. Like he was actually worried. It’s stupid.
“Don’t ask shit like that,” Katsuki says, quietly.
What he means is don’t fucking worry. There’s never going to be anything wrong about the way Todoroki is. Katsuki’s the one with a screw loose. And it’s fine. They’re fine.
His face feels hot.
Todoroki’s voice sounds like the one from Katsuki’s dream, the one where he’s being kissed goodnight. “Alright.”
They walk down the street for a while. With the rest of the day off, they both have nowhere to be. And without thinking Katsuki’s started walking towards a little park he knows, just out of the way. The kind of nice, peaceful spot no one’d expect him to go. Which is why it suits him just fine.
Todoroki waves when he’s recognized, is pleasant. Katsuki, with his sunglasses and baseball cap, is more selective with his attention. All of it belongs to Todoroki. Who couldn’t even be bothered to wear a beanie to cover up his stupid half and half head.
“Where are we going?” Todoroki asks.
This is the first question Katsuki kind of enjoys. Because it implies that Todoroki is following him, and he, Katsuki, could take them fucking anywhere.
“You’ll see,” Katsuki says.
Todoroki nods. “Okay.”
“You didn’t favor either side today,” Katsuki says. “It was less predictable.”
Because he was watching Todoroki’s technique. The high walls of icy defense. The measured splinters and whip-like flames of attack.
“Kaminari’s been working on that too,” Todoroki says. “With his combinations. He’s trying not to be a small horse who only knows one game.”
“A one-trick pony?” Katsuki asks.
“That’s what I said.”
I want to smack you, the thought comes, unbidden. A small, desperate part of him wants to grab onto Todoroki’s hand and squeeze it for dear life.
“I have a YouTube channel,” Todoroki says. “Dedicated to my moves and the percentage of time I execute each one.”
“Does Deku run it?” Katsuki asks, and he can’t help but grin.
“He doesn’t have the time,” Todoroki says. “It’s someone else. But it made me want to add variety. Randomize.”
“You’re not a robot,” Katsuki says.
It’s a common misconception. Apparently since birth. That Todoroki is some kind of a tool that can be programmed. An asset. What a bunch of bullshit.
“What am I, then?” Todoroki asks, and if it were anyone else, the way he says it could pass for flirting.
The way he nudges against Katsuki when he says it. Playful.
But Katsuki knows better. Todoroki just wants to know. He’s like that. Not in a way that means he’s weird, even though he clearly is. Like that as in…special. Worthy of that thing Katsuki keeps so tightly bottled up. The cards he keeps close to his chest.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” Katsuki says.
He says it the way he’d say I love you. Watches Todoroki kneel down, the white head of a fluffy calico cat bumping into his hand.
The cat can demand Todoroki’s affection. Of course it can.
“She likes me,” Todoroki remarks, almost to himself. “You should pet her too.”
“She’s got awful taste,” Katsuki says, and he crouches down.
There was a time when he would have refused to do something simply because it was Todoroki who requested it. But he’s left that hell and skipped right into a new one, where he complains and then does Todoroki’s thing anyway. Knowing that the complaint is hollow. Because he’d walk to the ends of the earth. Sometimes it feels like everyone, Todoroki excluded, knows it.
The cat purrs as Todoroki pets under its chin, behind its ears. It pays Katsuki no mind. But he reaches out anyway, because the once seething jealousy and gnawing sense of hurt he used to carry isn’t so heavy now.
In this, he could be second best. To Todoroki. Who Katsuki doesn’t let win at anything. Who he regularly bests at Scrabble, at Monopoly, at Uno and at every other game ever invented where someone can win. And even some that are meant to be played for fun.
Izuku once said cats like Todoroki because they can sense that he’s kind. And that could be true, for all that Katsuki knows about cats. The grand total of which is comprised of the many cat-related conversations Todoroki’s subjected him to. Nothing more.
It’s just…it’s too easy. To wanna press up against Todoroki. Katsuki knows.
The cat headbutts Katsuki’s loosely closed fist. At the knuckles.
“Your cat mind that you pet all these strays when you’re out?” Katsuki asks.
He stands up straight, watches the cat wind between Todoroki’s legs.
“I haven’t asked,” Todoroki muses, his brow knits in concern. “Maybe I should.”
“Uh-huh,” Katsuki says. “Damn traitor.”
“I can’t help it,” Todoroki admits.
“S’okay.”
They’re close to the park now. Katsuki can see the trees on the edges of it. The opening in the middle, the grass is a particularly obnoxious shade of green. He’s reminded that he should text Izuku back. Some shit about dinner next week.
“Yesterday I went to the dentist,” Todoroki says. “One of my wisdom teeth is growing in. I’ll have to have it taken out.”
Katsuki thinks of the peanut gallery, Kiri and Kami and them. And the obvious joke about wisdom and wisdom teeth and all that. He wonders when he stopped wanting to kill them and instead started feeling them linger, not in a bad way, even when they weren’t physically there. Even the most inane and banal shit they like to say. It clings on like a second skin.
“If uh…you’ll be loopy after, cause of the anesthetic, I can come to take you home,” Katsuki offers.
There’s a little pause. Todoroki might buffering.
“Okay. I’ll text you the date,” Todoroki says.
“Yeah,” Katsuki says, suddenly unable to look at him.
“I’ve been to this park,” Todoroki says.
“Congratulations.”
“Have you been here before too?” Todoroki says, undeterred by either Katsuki’s face or his tone.
Katsuki considers telling him nah, they just arrived here at random after Katsuki took an extremely specific route through the city.
But he can’t. He’s too flustered for sarcasm. What was he thinking…offering to take Todoroki home. Like there aren’t ten other clowns in line for the job. Izuku at the front, Yaoyorozu third or second.
“I come here all the time,” Katsuki admits. “To be alone.”
“But you brought me,” Todoroki points out.
“Shut up.”
They go sit at a bench, because Katsuki needs to check his phone and not talk to Todoroki for a bit. Because if he keeps glancing at Todoroki, the stupid bastard is gonna notice and ask about it again. And because if he keeps looking at him he’s going to have that fantasy about the feel of Todoroki’s fingers against his face, his own unbuttoning the top button of Todoroki’s shirt, Todoroki’s soft breath against his cheek. Stealing a taste of heaven from his lips.
Shit. He needs. He needs to scold.
“Did you eat today?” Katsuki asks. “Before patrol.”
“Yes.”
Good.
“You should learn to refill your water bottle,” Katsuki says.
He had done it himself. Once before patrol and once after. When he noticed it was empty. He’d have done it a thousand times over. But Todoroki doesn’t need to know that.
“Mm,” Todoroki agrees.
“How would your ice still form when you’re not hydrated? You even think about that?” Katsuki demands, because getting angry is what he does when he’s angry with himself.
It doesn’t exactly work like that. With Todoroki’s quirk. Only a little bit. In the sense that any of his bodily functions not functioning at their peak would affect his quirk. There’s nothing particular about water and ice.
Katsuki’s just feeling irrational. He’s just feeling…and it needs to stop. It’s gotta stop.
Todoroki inches closer to him on the bench, leans in a little and says absolutely nothing. Puts his hand on Katsuki’s knee to steady it. How dare he? Katsuki wants to put him in his place. Wants him to never fucking stop.
He breathes hard for a few moments. Then exhales.
“Too hot here.”
There’s nothing in the world but heat and Todoroki’s hand.
“I started a crossword puzzle this morning, but quit after a while,” Todoroki says. “On my phone.”
“Idiot,” Katsuki says. “Lemme see.”
Todoroki pulls it up. And they reason through the clues for a little while. Finish it. Todoroki’s hand doesn’t leave his knee. His thumb even does this…caressing motion as they talk.
There’s no way Todoroki knows. He couldn’t possibly. This is just Todoroki being him.
“You’re good at crossword puzzles,” Todoroki says.
The praise cheers him up. A bit.
“They’re not that hard,” Katsuki shrugs. “It just takes general knowledge. Trivia.”
“I liked it better doing it with you,” Todoroki says.
“You like getting answers without having to work.”
“No, that’s isn’t it,” Todoroki shakes his head. “I like you.”
The wind is blowing his hair around. In another world he could have been some sort of model, some kind of an empty-headed pop star. He has that kind of face. Katsuki knows.
Katsuki knows too much and not enough and it’s killing him.
Katsuki can count the times they’ve hugged on the fingers of his hand. Not counting slightly involuntary group occasions. Being sandwiched between Todoroki and Izuku. Todoroki and Kiri.
Just them two. Twice.
And when Todoroki says I like you, like that, its all he can think about.
Once was the time Katsuki went abroad by himself for two months. To Italy. Where he spoke bad Italian and advised the hero commission there on dealing with organized crime. It was when he was leaving. Morning flight. He’d packed light. New suitcase, same old black shirt. Trading card in his pocket.
Katsuki had said something like what, not gonna hug me goodbye? As a joke. Really. Honestly.
Because Todoroki was the clingiest person alive. And everyone was so touchy nowadays. It was annoying. Not because he was asking for what happened next.
Todoroki saying, “Oh. Of course,” slightly surprised but willing.
Katsuki still remembers.
He’d hugged Katsuki so, so tightly. Not a proper goodbye hug at all. Not like Kiri had, the night before, before he boarded his own flight. No slaps on the back. No right, see you. Not like Izuku had, three weeks before. No wish me luck, Kacchan. Simultaneous tension and optimism so bright it could blind somebody.
This had been different.
This had been…embarrassing.
Todoroki’s smell. His pretty boy soap. Katsuki’s face pressed into his neck. So close. Too close. He’d hugged Katsuki until all the tension seeped out of his frame. Until he exhaled against Todoroki’s body. Admitting physically that he’d been and still was so fucking nervous about all of it, which he could never do in words. Which he couldn’t say to anybody.
Todoroki held on a few seconds too long. If there could even be too much of something that felt like being home. Piping hot curry. First place trophy. Blue ribbon. His dad’s cassette tapes. Fifth birthday party. All Might figurine. When his mom got him a telescope and showed him the bright red planet Mars.
In the present moment he looks into Todoroki’s mismatched eyes and sees himself reflected back. In blues and greys. He thinks about how he’s never touched Todoroki’s face. It’s a ridiculous oversight. Given Katsuki’s hungry need to memorize him.
It’s not like he would be bad at it. Touching Todoroki. First off, he’s not bad at anything. He could learn.The stuff people do. If Todoroki likes soft touches, being moved along, a steady hand at the waist. Holding hands. Sappy shit. Easy.
Katsuki would do it all. Kiss those cheeks. His forehead. His nose. That scar, if that’s something Todoroki allowed, if he wanted. Anything he wanted. Katsuki would beat him. One up Todoroki in taking away anything that’s ever hurt.
Rough stuff. Dirty talk. Hot, heated whispers in the moment. Getting pent up and getting away, stealing time. Pent up feeling turning into a hand in Todoroki’s pants, another over his mouth stifling the noises Katsuki knows he would make if someone touched him like that. Anything. If Todoroki wanted it too. Katsuki would get it done.
He’d fucking win.
“I like you too,” Katsuki says.
An excess of honesty.
There’s some kids by the pond flying a kite. It’s something Katsuki used to do. He’s also sure that Todoroki’s barely ever gotten to do it. The wind moves the stems of flowers around so they bob and weave. Katsuki’s never noticed it before. He’s always had a healthy mixture of finding himself to be better than everyone and hating himself in equal measure.
When Todoroki’s next to him, he can let go of both, for a moment, a second at at time. It makes him remember there’s something he kind of likes about being alive. Being in this stupid fucking world.
“You know,” Todoroki says. “I think I liked you first.”
“Nah. No way. I told you. There’s nothing in the universe you could possibly figure out before me.”
“Well…” Todoroki says.
He sounds almost apologetic.
He lifts his hand off Katsuki’s knee and onto Katsuki’s hand, the fingers curled into a loose fist, where it sits on the bench, resting between their thighs. He opens Katsuki’s fist, slow and sure, before threading their fingers together.
It’s his cold hand. But it feels warm. What the fuck even. But Katsuki’s too far gone to consider the thermodynamics of it all.
“I wasn’t sure until today,” Todoroki explains. “I just hoped…I thought that you…”
He sounds unsure as to how it could happen. As if loving and wanting him isn’t the most goddamn natural thing. Like breathing.
And just like Katsuki’s been sure before, about what Todoroki feels, about what he wants and about what he needs, Katsuki is sure about this. Powers of superior observation and all that. Something else too. Something deep in his soul that tells him. Something that’s just in his nature.
“It’s not something I decided cause it made sense,” Katsuki says, leaning in a bit closer still, so no one else in the whole world could possibly here what he says to say. “It doesn’t.”
“Oh,” he sounds sad.
One day Katsuki will kiss him so hard he’ll forget his own name. He’ll make this real and he’ll make this right and he’ll be here.
“No,” Katsuki says. “Listen. It’s not something that’s got logic. I can’t help it. There’s no reason…so there’s no reason why I could take it back.”
Todoroki nods. Crying isn’t his first line reaction. Not really. So Katsuki doesn’t expect him to now. But Todoroki nearly rests his forehead against Katsuki’s and his eyes close, just for a moment.
His eyelashes are so pretty its stupid.
When they open again Katsuki lifts the hand that isn’t holding Todoroki’s up to hold his face. “What are you thinking?”
“Um,” Todoroki says.
He’s actually blushing.
The kids have left the park along with their tired parents. There’s nobody there but them. And the birds. Who oughta mind their own damn business.
“Yeah?” Katsuki says.
“About my wisdom teeth.”
“What? Your teeth.”
“Yes. I wish I could get my wisdom teeth taken out today,” Todoroki says.
“What?” Katsuki laughs. “Why?”
His heart clenches at the way Todoroki leans his face into Katsuki’s hand. As if siphoning something intangible before the next thing he wants to say. Like a sunflower reaches for the sun.
“I won’t say it,” Todoroki says stubbornly. “You remember.”
Oh. Oh that.
Right.
He promised to take Todoroki home.
There’s a primal instinct to tease. Make a comment about eagerness. How keen Todoroki is to be with Katsuki. To be close to him. They could easily have that kind of dynamic. They’ve had it before. About so many other things.
But Katsuki won’t say it now. When things are so…new. Raw.
Love is like a scar. More than it is like anything poetic or beautiful. It bleeds and bleeds. It hurts like a motherfucker. And then it scabs over. Gets made into new skin and is just a part of you until you croak it.
Right now they’re still an open wound.
Cause Todoroki doesn’t know how much Katsuki wants him. So much that any teasing about how Todoroki’s eagerness would be stupid in comparison. Maybe once he knows that, then Katsuki could rib him. Maybe then.
No sooner.
If there’s one thing he’s going to do in this life it’s make sure Todoroki gets to have this one thing...secure.
“Tomorrow I’ll cook you dinner,” he says.
Todoroki nods, and his excitement is obvious. It fills Katsuki’s entire being with a reflection of the same light, the same nervous energy.
“What should I do for you?” Todoroki asks.
As if this is give and take. Pebble for pebble. Like they’re those mated penguins on the beach, from that documentary Todoroki made him watch with Izuku.
Katsuki decides to humor him. “Let’s see. If you like the food, you could let me kiss you.”
It’s a great thing, amid many other fucking great things currently going on, that Katsuki’s damn good at cooking.