Chapter Text
To say that Izuku was nervous is an understatement. On the best of days, he’s already a ball of anxiety and neuroticism. But today, in front of the softbox lights and tripod video cameras surrounding him, he feels heat rising up the back of his neck and sweat gathering at his temples.
“You okay there, buddy?” Present Mic asks from his music studio desk. He plays a little jingle on the keyboard as if to punctuate the question.
“Y-yeah,” Izuku replies, wiping his damp hands on his pants. He shifts in his seat, the leather couch squeaking under him. “Just…dandy.” He wants to smack himself.
Hizashi studies him for a moment, then offers a reassuring grin. He rolls his desk chair closer and pats Izuku’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” he says flippantly. “It’s just a one-take livestream performance of your debut album. No big deal.”
Izuku cringes. “Present Mic, please,” he begs.
“Call me Hizashi.”
Izuku makes a discomfited face and doesn’t reply.
“You’ll do great,” Hizashi insists. “We’ll take breaks between songs to answer some questions from the viewers.”
This makes Izuku blanch even more, and he takes a long swig from his water bottle to settle the nausea bubbling in his chest. “I don’t know why I agreed to this,” he mumbles. “I just wanted to drop the album and hide for the rest of my life.”
Hizashi barks out a laugh. “That’s not how any of this works. You know that.”
Unfortunately, he does know that. He’d written enough songs for other artists and watched them all rise on the charts to know exactly how the process goes.
But he didn’t mean to become a singer himself. He just happened to post an original song on his music channel that went viral beyond his imagination. He’d only ever recorded covers before, and suddenly he was signed up by a record label and was asked to write an album in eighteen months. At least they didn’t ask him to make music videos.
Izuku sighs and glances at the clock. Four minutes until they go live. He fiddles with the clips in his hair, a pair of orange Xs that keep the curls out of his eyes. He’d taken them from Kacchan’s room before he’d left, and they bring him a little comfort, as if Kacchan was there with him.
He hopes Kacchan is watching.
But he also hopes that he isn’t.
——
“Scoot over!” Mina demands as she squeezes between Denki and Sero on the couch. She accidentally kicks Eijirou in the head from where he’s seated on the floor.
“Oof! Mina!” he whines.
“Whoops, my bad. But I gotta get comfy before it starts!”
“Should we turn off the lights?” Ochako asks.
“No, no,” Tsuyu says firmly, shaking her head. “I don’t like the backlights on Bakugou’s TV.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Excuse you, the lights are fuckin’ great. It’s called an immersive experience.”
“More like an immersive distraction,” Hitoshi mutters.
“Then y'all should have just gone somewhere else instead of tormenting me with this bullshit," he grumbles.
Ochako turns down the lights anyway and the room darkens, the space illuminated by low-lit lamps and the TV's glow.
If someone had told Katsuki three months ago that he’d be hosting Deku’s debut album livestream viewing party with both his and Deku’s friends, he’d probably smash his own TV just to avoid it.
But alas, he watches as the live chat scrolls at the bottom of the screen. Behind it, the logo of Present Mic’s One Take Studio Sessions flashes garishly.
DekiruDeku: omg I hope he sings vampire
sticksnstones: a breakup album from a no name singer? 🥱
jelly: Im pretty sure hes going to sing vampire. Hes probably contractually obligated to
BeatsbyBree: Didn’t he write most of Nejire's latest album? I’m glad he’s doing his own stuff now
user264188: I remember when he first started out singing covers years ago. He was such a cutie. But now…🥵🥵🥵
Katsuki grimaces. Deku was the farthest thing from cute back at fourteen. He was a weird little gremlin, always hunched over his notebooks, scribbling and mumbling during class.
Now, though, Katsuki can admit to himself deep, deep, deep down, that the little freak can be…endearing. Sometimes. Ugh.
The logo blinks out of existence and is replaced by a view of Present Mic’s studio, the man himself lounging in his chair.
“It’s starting! It’s starting!” Mina squeals.
“We can see that, now shut up!” Katsuki snaps. He leans forward slightly, searching fruitlessly for Deku’s presence on the screen.
“Hey there, listeners!” Present Mic greets. The award winning producer flashes a wide grin. “Welcome back to One Take Studio Sessions! This session we have a very special performance with one of today’s most renowned songwriters in the music industry.
“At only twenty years old, he has written for some big names you might recognize—Nejire, All Might, Miruko, and countless others. And now he’s making a name for himself with his debut album, GUTS!” Present Mic holds up the large record album, the purple cover vibrant on the screen. “Let’s give a warm welcome to Deku!”
The camera zooms out to reveal Deku seated on a couch next to Present Mic’s desk. His eyes are wide and he’s got that wobbly smile on his face as if he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Katsuki snorts.
Same old Deku.
“Aww, he looks so nervous!” Mina coos.
“I, too, would be nervous if there were thousands of people watching me sing!” Tenya remarks.
“It’s so manly though! Performing in front of everyone takes a lot of courage,” Eijirou adds.
Katsuki’s attention drifts to the view count, and sure enough, there are over twelve thousand viewers and counting.
On screen, Deku gives a shy wave. “Hi, everyone,” he says, voice almost too soft for the mics to pick up. He clears his throat. “Thanks so much for the support! I’m excited to perform some songs from my debut album for you all.”
He does not look excited at all.
Katsuki can’t hold back his exasperated snort. “Fuckin’ nerd,” he mutters fondly.
Present Mic and Deku chat for a bit about his music history, which Katsuki ignores in favor of watching the orange X hair barrettes shine under the light. The sight of them clinging to Deku’s curls causes a strange rolling sensation in his stomach. Probably just indigestion.
A clip of one of Deku’s first covers plays—a low-quality snippet of a Nejire song. When the segment ends, his face looks like it’s about to burst into flames.
“Heh.”
Tsuyu peers over at him. “You knew him at that age, right? Did you ever listen to his covers?”
“No,” Katsuki lies. He’d watched all of them, multiple times. Even with Deku’s face out of frame in his early videos, he immediately recognized the freckle between his thumb and forefinger. He’d lost count of how many times he’s watched that hand glide up and down the guitar neck.
“Riiiight,” Jirou drawls.
“Shut the fuck up," he says.
Deku flails as he talks. “—and that’s basically how I ended up studying abroad in America and learning under All Might."
“And at the tender age of fifteen,” Present Mic says, impressed. “You must be very proud of your accomplishments.”
Deku flushes, his shoulders hitching up in embarrassment. “I don’t know about that,” he says wryly. “My teen years were…rough.”
Present Mic chuckles in sympathy. “And that's what your album is all about, right? Spilling your guts about the golden teen years of angst, insecurity, and growth! Which is an excellent transition into your first performance of the night!”
Deku’s lips stretch into something like a flat smile. “Can’t wait!” he says with forced enthusiasm. The camera pans as he strides over to the microphone stand. He gently grasps the handle and takes a soft breath. “So this song is the opener to my album, and it’s basically an introduction to who I am as a person. You’ll get it once you hear it.” He shoots the camera a shy smile, one more genuine than before. “This is called ballad of a homeschooled kid.”
Everyone straightens up when the backtrack of electric guitars and beating drums start.
The intro plays for a few measures and Deku’s head bobs along before his lips part and he sings, “Cat got my tongue, and I don’t think I get along with anyone. / Blood runnin’ cold, I’m on the outside of the greatest inside joke.”
A self-deprecating smile grows on his face as he finishes the first verse. The music builds and at its height, a full-blown grin takes over. “I broke a glass, I tripped and fell, I told secrets I shouldn’t tell. / I stumbled over all my words, I made it weird, I made it worse.”
Katsuki involuntarily snorts. At least he’s self aware, he thinks.
“Each time I step outside, it’s social suicide,” Deku sings, his voice rising and stretching at the end of the line. “It’s social suicide, wanna curl up and die, it’s social suicide. Ah, ah, ah.”
Katsuki has to force his fingers to stop tapping to the rhythm. But he can’t help but smirk as Deku sings about his social ineptitude. It’s fuckin’ funny and…charming. And annoying.
And despite the lyrics narrating his awkward moments, Deku keeps grinning, poking fun at his own expense.
When they were younger, Katsuki had never imagined that Deku would have such a powerful voice, but when he really thinks about it, he’s not so surprised. Deku had always somehow made himself be heard, even when the world tried to shut him up. Even when he’d tried to shut Deku up.
It’s a strange sort of confidence that has something fluttering in Katsuki's chest.
Damn, he should take some antacids.
“Thought your mom was your wife. / Called you the wrong name twice. / Can’t think of a third line. / La-la-la-la-la-la…ugh.”
Deku finishes with an exasperated sigh and grimace, and Katsuki can’t tell if it’s real or part of the performance.
Before the backtrack even ends, Mina is squealing in excitement. “Oh my god, that was so good!”
“That was very…Deku,” Ochako agrees with a laugh, and everyone joins in.
“Wow, the chat is going wild!” Denki exclaims.
True enough, the messages are zooming on the screen, faster than can be read. Katsuki glimpses mostly positive comments and solidarity, along with some teasing remarks.
OrdinaryTime: protecc himmm 🥺
user2893: the confidence thoooo
09GeneeDean: omg id die if i was that me 💀💀💀
futbol4life: voice of angel
noanon: and to admit all that on live?? naurrr
PeteEats82: you'd never see me again
starry: ✨✨✨
It was pretty good, Katsuki has to admit. The song really was an introduction to everything quintessentially Deku. Self-deprecation, playfulness, bravery, and honesty.
He watches as Deku slips the mic back onto the stand. He’s got a flush on his cheeks—from embarrassment or from singing. Either way, it makes Katsuki want to bite them.
“What an opener!” Present Mic enthuses as the camera zooms out. “A true expression of teenage existential dread.”
Deku laughs, rubbing the back of his head. “Yep, that’s me. Even at twenty, that feeling hasn’t gone away.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s a universal experience, which is what makes that song so relatable.”
A gentle expression falls over Deku’s face. “That was my hope for this album—for listeners to feel like they’re not alone in experiencing all the weird, exciting, awkward, terrifying, heartbreaking, and fun parts of growing up.”
Present Mic grins playfully, brows lifted in suggestion. “And your next song is really fun, isn’t it?”
Katsuki didn’t think it was possible, but Deku turns even redder.
“I-I guess we’re going straight into it, huh?” he stammers.
“Well, why don’t you tell everyone a bit about this next one.”
Deku huffs out a sheepish sigh. “Um,” he falters. “If this album tells you anything, it’s that I’m made up of bad decisions and insecurities,” he jokes. “This song is called bad idea right? and sometimes I think it was a really bad idea to include this in the album, because when—if he—hears this song…well…I’m going to curl up and die." He laughs wryly.
He? Katsuki wonders with a frown. Who the fuck is he?
“Oooh,” Tsuyu says, tone rising in interest. “A song about someone.”
“From the title, it doesn’t sound like anyone good,” Hitoshi remarks.
“A bad boy!” Momo exclaims. “How daring.”
Katsuki feels Shouto’s eyes glide over him with a knowing look. Fuckin’ asshole. He turns his attention back to the screen.
The mic is in Deku's hand again, and the drums beat out a quick rhythm. An amused smile appears on his lips as he starts in a teasing tone, “I haven’t heard from you in a couple of months / But I’m out right now, and I’m all fucked up. / And you’re callin’ my phone, you’re all alone / And I’m sensin’ some undertone.”
Heat creeps up Katsuki’s face because he knows, he knows, this song is about him. The hints in the lyrics are too familiar to be about anything other than what happened a few months ago.
“And I’m right here with all my friends / But you’re sending me your new address. / I know we’re done, I know we’re through / But, god, when I look at you.”
“Wait.” Ochako’s quiet voice cuts through the music. “Wait, wait, wait.”
God damn it, Deku. Seriously? Katsuki wants to sink into the couch cushions and become one with the upholstery.
“Seein’ you tonight, it’s a bad idea, right?”
“No way,” Ochako mutters in disbelief. “He wouldn’t.”
“He wouldn’t what?” Momo asks curiously.
“Seein’ you tonight, it’s a bad idea, right?”
“Ochako-chan, do you think this is about that one night?” Tsuyu asks, laughing lightly.
“Seein’ you tonight, it’s a bad idea, right?”
“No, no, no, you’ve got to be joking,” Ochako exclaims. Suddenly, her wide eyes swivel to Katsuki.
He stares blankly at the screen, posture loose and expression nonchalant.
“Bakugou,” she says, shaking her head in warning. “Tell me you didn’t.”
Try as he might, he can’t help the way the corner of his lips quirk up.
On the screen, Deku flashes a teasing smirk and lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug. “Fuck it, it’s fine.”
In a flurry of movement, Ochako is on her feet and scrambling over bodies to get to Katsuki with a screech. “It was because of you!”
“Whoa, whoa!” Eijirou yelps, grabbing Ochako by the waist and pulling her down.
In the background, Deku keeps singing, every word digging a deeper and deeper hole for Ochako to bury Katsuki in.
“Yes, I know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect? / ‘I only see him as a friend,’ the biggest lie I ever said.”
“Wow,” Jirou drawls, eyes darting over to Katsuki.
“Bro,” Sero chirps as the pieces fall into place in his mind. “Is this song about you?”
“Can someone please explain what’s going on?” Denki whines.
Mina snatches the remote off the table and turns the volume up. “Or at least pipe down so I can hear the rest of the song.”
“What’s going on,” Ochako answers lowly. “Is that Bakugou hooked up with Deku when he knows damn well—”
“Allegedly,” Shouto adds for no reason at all.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were seeing Izuku again,” Denki chimes in.
“I’m not,” Katsuki replies immediately.
Deku’s singsong voice adds, “I just tripped and fell into his bed.”
Ochako lets out an aggrieved groan, slumping in Eijirou’s hold. “Dekuuu,” she laments to the screen. “Why would you do this to yourself? Again?”
“And I told my friends I was asleep / But I never said where or in whose sheets.” Deku draws out the last word with a suggestive lilt.
“Midoriya-kun is so messy,” Tsuyu says, chuckling.
“And I pull up to your place on the second floor / And you’re standin’, smilin’ at the door,” Deku glances straight at the camera with a flirtatious grin. “And I’m sure I’ve seen much hotter men / But I really can’t remember when.”
At this, Katsuki lets out a bark of laughter that stretches on and ends in a delighted wheeze.
Ochako looks at him in disgust. “Ugh. I don’t know what he sees in you.”
“‘I only see him as a friend,’ the biggest lie I ever said.”
He snorts, nodding at the TV. “Well, you heard it from the nerd himself.”
She rolls her eyes and climbs out of Eijirou’s grasp to take her place next to Tenya on the floor. “I can’t believe you were the reason he bailed on us that night.”
The rest of the upbeat song continues as he recalls that night, five months ago.
——
It had been a coincidence.
He was on his way home after a late night at the university’s chem lab when he heard it: A loud guffaw, followed by hushed whispers, coming from the alley behind the Lawson near his apartment.
“Come on, Deku,” someone said in exasperation. “You can’t sleep here.”
Katsuki stopped in his tracks at the name and pressed close to the wall.
“I’m fiiiiine,” a familiar voice whined.
“I don’t know, Midoriya-kun,” another raspier voice said. “You’re kind of a sloppy drunk. Here, drink some water.”
“I’m not that drunk.” There was a splashing sound. “Ah, shit, my pants.”
This led to a round of giggles.
“Finish your water and we can keep going.”
“Go where?” Deku asked.
“Back to the karaoke bar. The others are waiting,” the first person said softly.
“Ugh, my ears are still ringing from Iida's last ballad,” Deku complained. “I cannot listen to another Nejire song.”
“But you wrote it,” the huskier voice replied, amused.
“Ew, I know.”
“You can sing the next one.”
There was a loud sigh. “Just let me get some fresh air for a bit. You two can go back first.” A long moment passed before Deku continued, “I promise I’m not that drunk. I’ll finish my water and be right there.”
“If you’re sure,” the softer voice said.
After a beat, Katsuki heard some shuffling and he took it as his cue to keep moving. Ten minutes later, he made it to his apartment, but his mind was still stuck by the alley where Deku was presumably drunk and alone. He ran a hand through his hair and huffed in irritation. Fuckin’ Deku.
Before he knew it, he had Deku’s number pulled up and the phone pressed to his ear.
“H-hello?” Deku’s tinny voice came through the line.
“Deku,” he said flatly. “You’re drunk.”
“K-Kacchan?!”
“Who the fuck else? Did you even bother to check the caller ID before answering?” Fuck, what if Deku deleted his number? It had been, like what, two, three months since the last time they spoke?
“Ah, I did, but I just wasn’t expecting…”
Katsuki dragged a hand down his face. “Look, are you back with your friends yet? At the karaoke bar?”
“Wha—how did you—?”
“Yes or no?”
There was a brief pause, then a quiet, “No…”
He bit back a tirade about the buddy system and useless friends and an even more useless Deku. “Go back to your friends.”
Deku made a noise like a whine. “I don’t wanna.”
He threw his hands up, not that Deku could see it. “Then call a fuckin’ cab and go home.”
“Don’t wannaaa.”
Katsuki huffed. “Fuckin’ infant. Are you just gonna sleep in that alley until morning?”
Deku stayed silent for a long while, to the point where Katsuki thought he had hung up.
“Kacchan, how do you know where I am?” he eventually asked, innocent curiosity in his tone.
Katsuki didn't reply right away. What the fuck was he supposed to say? I heard you drunk and alone in an alleyway, and I wanted to bring you back to my place. And for what? He had no answer to that. After a moment, he muttered in annoyance, “Don’t fuckin’ worry about it. Worry about yourself.”
“Oh…” Deku said breathlessly. “Kacchan, are you worried—”
“Fuck you," he snapped without his usual heat. "Are you going home or not? Don’t make me go over there and drag your drunk ass to your mom’s.”
“No, Kacchan, don’t!” Deku pleaded. “I—I’ll go back.”
He waited to hear some movement on the other end of the line, but no sound came. “Deku.”
“Um,” Deku started nervously.
“What?” he gritted out. Maybe he shouldn't have called. Maybe he should have just let the nerd fend for himself if he was so dead set on being useless. Or maybe—he tried not to think—he should have shown up in the alleyway and dragged Deku back when he had the chance.
“I don’t know which karaoke bar we went to." Deku's voice was low and sheepish.
Katsuki exhaled a long breath, and before he could think it over, he blurted, “I’m sending you my address.”
“Huh?” Deku said dumbly. “I know your address. You’re, like, a thirty minute train ride from here.”
“I moved.” Katsuki pressed send and tried not to regret it when the delivered and read notice appeared.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh.’ Now get your ass over here. Or do you need me to come walk you because you don’t know how to use the map on your phone?” He hadn't realized that he was already standing at the entryway, poised to put on his shoes.
“Ah, no, I can do it.”
He finally heard some shuffling, the light tapping of fingers near the phone’s mic, then the rhythmic sound of steps. After a few minutes of listening to Deku’s soft breaths through the line, Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m hanging up.”
“Oh, okay, Kacchan! I’ll see you soo—?”
He went back to the living room and tossed his phone on the couch, burying his face in his hands. Why? Why did I just do that?
He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there contemplating his life choices, but soon enough, he heard the ping of the elevator from the hallway outside his front door. He calmly, in an unhurried manner and without any degree of concern, opened the door and casually, very coolly, leaned against the frame as Deku stepped out of the elevator. And if Katsuki saw Deku’s eyes light up and his cheeks flush a fetching shade of pink across his freckles, then he most certainly did not feel any particular way about it. Not at all.
“About fuckin’ time,” he grumbled, dragging Deku in and closing the door.
Deku slipped off his shoes and peered around Katsuki’s apartment with open curiosity. “Wow, Kacchan! This place is bigger than your old one.”
“Yeah, well, I barely get to spend any time here because of school and the internship or whatever. At least the rent’s okay.” It actually wasn't all that cheap, but the location was good—right between the university and his workplace.
Deku nodded enthusiastically, his hair flopping over his eyes. “I heard about your internship from your mom. It’s with Best Jeanist, Inc., right? That’s amazing!”
“It’s whatever.” He shrugged and looked away from Deku’s green, gleaming eyes. Gross. “Have you eaten, or did you get drunk on an empty stomach like a dumbass?”
At that moment, Deku’s stomach made itself known with a gurgle. “Uh, umm,” he stammered, hands waving anxiously in front of him. “I’m fine! I ate earlier, but I don’t exactly remember how long ago. We ordered food at the karaoke bar too, but I think Ochako was pouring me drinks all night so I didn’t get to try anything. Which is a real shame, because the chicken wings looked really good, but Iida—”
Katsuki reached over and grabbed him by the chin, squishing soft cheeks with his fingers. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done that, and he tried to tamp down the giddy feeling building in him. “Deku.”
Deku blinked in surprise. “Yesh, Kasshan?”
He wanted to make him shut up. Wanted to squeeze his cheeks until they popped. Wanted to yank his hair so it would stop flopping over his green eyes.
Instead, he gave Deku’s face a little shake before letting go with a tired sigh. “Go shower while I heat up some food.”
“Yes, Kacchan.”
Fifteen minutes later, Deku was sitting at Katsuki’s kitchen table, wearing Katsuki’s too-large shirt and sweatpants, eating Katsuki’s lunch for tomorrow, and drinking the last of Katsuki’s barley tea.
He stared at Deku from across the table and took great pleasure in watching him squirm. After several long minutes of suffering through Deku’s aborted attempts at making conversation, he leaned back in his seat and decided to show some mercy.
“So what’s the occasion?” he asked casually.
Deku looked up from his bowl, cheeks puffed with rice. “Occasion?”
Katsuki grimaced. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. And, yes, what’s the occasion for getting so wasted that you can’t even remember where your friends are? Did you even tell them you’re not going back?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I texted and told them I was going home.”
Katsuki raised a brow but didn’t comment on the lie. “So what were you getting so drunk for?”
“Ah, well,” Deku started sheepishly. “Ochako said it would help me find inspiration, or self-love, or healing, or something like that.”
“By getting drunk,” he said flatly.
Katsuki’s unimpressed expression was enough to have Deku barreling on. “I—I mean, yes, but also not like how you’re thinking. Not that I know what you’re thinking! I wouldn’t assume—but it was supposed to be a fun night to relax. Which it was! But I got tired, so we went to Lawson for a break, and—”
“So did you find what you were looking for?” Katsuki asked, not particularly interested in the answer, but wanting to stop Deku's rambling before it could go full swing.
“Find what?”
He rolled his eyes. “Your inspiration or healing or whatever,” he muttered.
“Oh,” Deku said, tilting his head like a puppy. “Maybe? I’ll find out in a few days, I guess.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snarked, irritation flaring in him. Why couldn't the nerd just be clear? It was like they were speaking two different languages. They never used to have this problem back when—
He stopped his train of thought before it could spiral into his usual ruminations of their past and how much their…Association? Bond? Friendship?…had changed. And how agitated it made him feel.
“Hmm, it’s part of my process, you know,” Deku replied. He glanced up at Katsuki with a shy look. “I’m writing some new stuff.”
“Stuff,” he repeated. “For Neji-whatever-her-name-is?”
“Nejire. But, no, not for her.”
Katsuki waited for him to expand further, but when nothing else came, he just shrugged. “Whatever,” he grumbled, slouching in his chair.
“Aww, Kacchan, aren’t you curious?”
“No, fuck you.” Yes, I want to know everything about you, like how I used to. Frustrated, he stood up and started clearing the table, knocking Deku’s hands away when he tried to help.
Deku grinned, eyes sparkling. “You wanna know what I’m writing?”
“No,” Katsuki retorted. “Get ready for bed. It’s fuckin’ late and I’m gonna be tired as fuck tomorrow.”
“Okay, Kacchan,” Deku agreed easily.
Too easily.
Which is why ten minutes later, Katsuki was ready to drop-kick the nerd off the balcony.
Deku was standing outside his bedroom door, pillow in hand.
“No.” He wouldn't be able to handle it.
“But Kacchan,” Deku whined.
“No. You’ve been cleaned, watered, and fed. Go the fuck to sleep.” He didn't want to know if it still felt the same as it did back then, when they were—
“I will if you would just scoot—”
“—on the fuckin' couch you useless—”
A look spread over Deku’s face—the one where his brows furrowed and his bottom lip jutted out. The same one he’d wear when someone told him he couldn't do something but he’d do it anyway just to prove them wrong, even if he broke an arm doing it. Like that time he climbed a tree to save a cat that didn’t need saving.
Katsuki flopped over onto his stomach and groaned into his pillow. He was losing sleep by the second. “Whatever,” he muttered in a muffled voice.
There was a squeak of delight and he felt the bed shift as Deku climbed in and pressed his ice-cold fuckin’ feet against Katsuki’s calves. “Fucker,” he said without heat, too tired to put up a fight. And feeling too nostalgic to resist.
“Goodnight, Kacchan.”
Moments before he drifted off to sleep, he heard a quiet humming and Deku murmuring in a singsong voice,
“Bad idea, right?”