Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

UA was a university well known for its rigorous academic and athletic programs; acceptance was a steep hill to climb, but a brilliant pedestal once enrolled. UA is home to Japan’s most driven students, well educated staff, and passionate alumni base to back, branching them out to international careers upon graduation. Among the grueling and prized programs offered by the university, the most well known was its collectively powerful winter sports divisions. Home to a high ranking Division 1 hockey team, collegiate figure skating, skiing, and curling, to name a few; UA dominated the field. 

From manmade ski slopes to a meticulously maintained ice rink, UA threw its funding into keeping their many winter titles. 

Their cherished and well-loved stadium sized rink sat dutifully on the edge of UA’s campus. Housing many of the winter teams’ locker rooms, equipment, and training facilities, it became a place of comfort and frustration for several of UA’s valued students. 

Izuku let out a small breath, chill from the Autumn breeze turning his exhale into a warm fog that licked at his face and eased itself into the evening air. The sun was bowing out at the edge of the horizon, ever reaching rays laying paint strokes to clouds and turning the sky into arrays of pink and orange. Izuku hummed happily, the buzz in his throat tickling his vocal cords and sending a shiver down his spine as he skipped towards the familiar building, entranced by the way it seemed to become illuminated in the backdrop of the passing sunset. 

Izuku Midoriya; a current Junior at UA, bolstering a GPA of 3.8 and a trophy case coated in gold. He wasn’t the type to boast about his achievements, often draping a tapestry over his medals’ shelf unless they were ripped from his grasp to parade on UA’s many displays. The shine of the gold almost rivaled the sheen of the chiffon he would often find himself dawned in on the ice. Izuku was a champion solo free skater, passing his Senior FS test by 13, and involved in a variety of local and international competitions thereafter. The repetition of sectionals to regionals and all the way up to nationals, folded in with the chaos of the Four Continents and the Grand Prix, was never tiring, and Izuku had managed to consistently sweep within the top three.

The name he garnered for himself led him down the path of being recruited to UA, and he had deemed it as one of the best decisions he had ever made. Izuku had grown close to skaters he only had the pleasure of meeting in passing before, was given unrestricted access to an ice rink just minutes away from his dorm, and was encouraged to embrace Winter in its entirety. How much sweeter could college life possibly treat him? Sure, it’s had its stressors, and fits of exhaustion would overwhelm him at times, but that’s just life, and it wasn’t something he couldn’t handle.

Izuku was more than ready to start up a new season, his eyes currently set on the Senior Grand Prix and Olympic qualifiers. 

The past Summer was more than pleasant. His time sunbathing gave him much needed rest for sore bones and chilled skin. His training didn’t stop, no, but the ability to balance relaxation and skating over academics and skating was much easier to digest. Nonetheless, being thrown back into his dorm room with a stumble, and a glide back onto the ice of his University rink, filled him with nothing but joy. 

His August move-in gave him time to settle into his courses and catch up with peers before the season started, and low and behold, practice sessions were finally encroaching on him once more.  His days were filled with stretches and light weight training, and ice time whenever free skate was available, but now scheduled practices were to begin. Izuku's preliminary meeting with his coach and season long plan was his first boundary before his Junior year tournaments, and he had the creeping feeling of excitement tingle under his skin, itching tenderly to escape and burn free. 

He walked without a thought in mind, other than a thrill of elation barely seated at bay, through the building lobby. He passed by offices and other branching rooms, for what he truly craved was beyond glass doors several feet away. With a pleased grin on his face, he shoved open the cool metal door handle, desperate to glide on the ice rink beyond it.

A gust of frosted air nipped at him as it blew through the entrance, love in every chilling bite as it soaked him to the bone. The figure skater took in the rink, a deep breath filling his lungs to the brim with frostbite and the scent of fresh ice. The cool light fixtures reflected crystals in jade eyes, eyelashes fluttering as he took in the towering beams and scuffed plexiglass before him. 

“Young Midoriya!” A booming voice broke Izuku from his love spell, echoing throughout the rink and causing his poor ears to tingle. He jerked his gaze to the figure who stood waiting, arms out and awaiting an embrace. With a sheepish smile, the figure skater bounded over. 

“Coach!” 

Toshinori Yagi stood proud, navy suit tucked around tall frame. His sunken cheeks darkened at the bright overhead lights, but his eyes and wide smile showed nothing but mirth. His coach, had been since he was 7, now around 13 years later, had held his hand in the world of figure skating. 

The towering blond man had once been a star of the rink in ice hockey, surprisingly enough, considering his main focus was now coaching a promising figure skater. Yagi was a huge hit in his prime, both in popularity and the danger he posed on the ice with his bearish figure. He had been a dependable captain and player with stats to back, but a harsh hit and particularly bad fracture of his ribs left him unable to continue, smothering his burning flame of a legacy. Despite the collapse of his career, fans cheered for the lost captain, and in turn, he never parted from his love for the ice. Yagi turned to coaching as an outlet, providing lessons privately and occasionally taking on seasonal teams. Through rekindling a connection with an old friend, Nana Shimura, an Olympic figure skater years prior, he turned to alternative ice sports to widen his pallet, in particular, figure skating. It was a far cry from ice hockey, but the potential of a challenge completely enraptured him and spurred him down rabbit holes and valleys of research and self indulgence. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it by the books. 

His chance meeting with Izuku was a complete fluke, a fool stumbling upon gold. 

-X-

Yagi was chiding away at a private lesson with a young teen, one of his early figure skating students, gently guiding them through the basics of some spins. They were holed up in a small training rink, secluded to the left of a standard rink that was currently being used for a free skate. At the landing of a salchow, Yagi gave his compliments, before being distracted by childish cooing at the outside edge of the small rink. Sparing a glance at the wall, Yagi spotted a young boy peering over the barrier to watch the lesson, cheeks and nose blushed from the cold, and from excitement. With a light chuckle, the former hockey player dismissed his student for the day, before sliding over to the wall on long strides and sharp skates. 

The boy in question seemed ready to burst, freckled cheeks kissed pink and puffed to the limit as a giddy smile took over his face. He looked up at the tall man with unspeakable glee, his grasp on the wall lessening and the bench he had clamored on top of to look over the barricade was practically shuttering as the boy shivered in excitement. “So cool!” 

A wide smile washed over Yagi’s face, as he took less than a second to consider his schedule for the day. “Yeah? Do you want to learn too?”

“Yes please!” The boy was bordering on squealing, the noise coming from the stadium rink being the only thing keeping his thrilled voice from echoing throughout the building. 

“Oh, Izuku!” A green haired woman quickly made her way to the young boy, a small stumble on her rented skates as a look of worry was evident in her stance and tight mouth. They mirrored their tresses of verdant and wide, fluttering eyes, striking Yagi instantly as mother and son. “Don’t bother the poor coach! I’m so sorry about him, he gets a bit excited about all of this.” The woman was flushed in embarrassment and gestured to the grandness of the building, making it evident that her son loved skating through and through.

Yagi quickly held his hands up, palms open and waving slightly to ward off any stress from the poor mother. “It’s no issue! I don’t have any more lessons scheduled for the day, so I wouldn’t mind taking him in for a bit.”

His mother seemed nervous, eyebrows draw together and her lips parting, on the verge of tumbling out another sentence before Yagi quickly interrupted.  

“Free of charge, of course! It would really be no issue.” He offered another smile, glancing down at the boy whose eyes were now fixed on his mother in a draw of his lips and wide eyes; a spot on puppy-dog face. 

She glanced down at her son, her resolve quickly diminishing and she heaved a sigh in acceptance, before sparing a glance back up at the tall coach. “ I can’t not pay! It’s your time!”

“It’s really okay, I enjoy seeing passionate skaters in the making.” He nodded in insistence.

She let out a deep breath, a fluster still present on her face, as she kneeled down next to the bench her son still stood on. “Okay... Izuku please be polite, and thank Mr…?”

“Toshinori Yagi.” 

A small smile eased her worried features, “…and thank Mr. Yagi plenty.” 

With a shout of glee, the young boy jumped off the bench with an unsteady wobble, righting himself on his skates and bounded to the small rink entrance that Yagi had opened for him. 

In that chance meeting Yagi would value Izuku as his star student. That chance meeting in a small rink had led to a path of tears and ice shaving, sore muscles and gold medals. That chance meeting forged a figure skater that couldn’t, and wouldn’t, put on the breaks. That chance meeting made Izuku into the starry eyed and Olympic seeking athlete he was today. 

It began an unconventional partnership that was leading to the very top. 

Yagi’s reputation as a prized alumni of UA aided in receiving a job in the coaching department, partial to figure skating. 

Although being his student, it was Izuku’s own determination that warranted his acceptance into the university, allowing for their continued accord. 

-X-

“It’s good to see you again. How has the start of your semester been treating you?”

“It’s been well! I’m ready for the tournaments this year. I’ve been practicing some of the more difficult transitions and triples in my free time, and I’m feeling a lot better about landing them each time. I've also gotten a hang of my sectional routine!”  

Yagi nodded along with a small hum of contemplation, a pensive smile on his face. His thumb rested under his own chin and a long index finger tapped at his face as determination set into the line of his brow. “Great! I also have some ideas on how to take you even further, increase your confidence a bit more and get you doing not only triple axels, but a quad axel, in your sleep.” He paused for a moment, trying to add childish flare and anticipation to his statement, hoping to get Izuku buzzing on his toes before he continued. The pause worked, having Izuku rolling on the ball of his feet expectantly, and Yagi continued excitedly. “I’m hoping to work you even further for your upcoming routines. To train you for it, we are going to illicit the help of a partner.”

Izuku paused his excited jittering, leaning his weight back into his heels and offering a subtle tilt of his head. “A partner? But I’m a solo skater?”

“I don’t mean to transition you into pair skating, it will just be for training and-“ He had been too late with his interjection, the figure skater already on a mental roll. 

“But Coach, we don’t have any pair skaters unless you mean Ochako and Tsu, but they only work well with each other. And even if I managed to pair with one of them, I would have to do all the lifts.”

“Young Midoriya...” Yagi weakly attempted to interject into the boy’s ramblings, which he had become so accustomed to. 

“Having a partner might be helpful though… I can image we could critique each other more thoroughly and I would have someone to rely on rather than just myself. But I would have to build up enough trust and-“ He seemed to be gasping for quick breaths during each short-lived pause between sentences, but he paid it no mind, pupils blown in concentration. 

“Young Midoriya!” The former hockey player grasped his student’s shoulders, giving him a small shake to bring him out of his own headspace. 

“Sorry, coach. Got a little over my head there.” The figure skater offered a sheepish grin, rubbing at the back of his neck and tugging at the green curls that rest there. 

“It’s alright. I’m happy to see you mulling over the idea. You are correct, we don’t have any other pair skaters, but we will be getting help from somewhere else.” Yagi paused once more, ensuring the figure skater was paying attention and not drifting off into his own mind palace of possibilities. “Have you seen any of the hockey games?”

“Of course! How could I not support our other teams.” That put Izuku in a chipper mood, nodding along eagerly as he recalled some of the games he’s viewed in the past semester. 

“One of the players, Katsuki Bakugou, will be joining us. I don’t mean to rely on him for the technicalities of figure skating, rather, we need someone who can lift you up. He’s a strong skater and his assistance will be thoroughly beneficial in readying you for our next planned steps this season.”

Izuku abruptly stopped. He could feel his lungs shudder under his rib cage, begging to take in a breath, but Izuku couldn’t muster the will to give in. 

Did he hear that right?

Izuku finally gave into his body’s cry, taking in a sharp inhale through trembling lips, seemingly stuck on the first few words out of his coach’s mouth. “Katsuki Bakugou? The captain?” He started to twiddle fidgeting fingers together, creating knotty braids with slim fingers, constantly unraveling and raveling once more. 

“So you know him! That’s good! I’ve already talked the details with Aizawa.” The coach gave him a hearty laugh and a heavy handed pat on the back. 

“I just saw a few games! He’s hard to miss!” Izuku proclaimed, an abashed fluster tinting his face in a deep rouge. He released his shaking hands to flail them loosely in front of him, clearing the tension from his body before grasping shyly at the hem of his shirt. “…and I briefly knew him as a kid.”

“Oh? Easier for introductions, then! We will be meeting him tomorrow, sometime during the beginning of practice. You can properly introduce yourself again then. I’m sure it will go great! Young Bakugou has truly been holding together the hockey team within the past couple of years, and I trust he will be vital in your training this season. I’m confident in your jumping abilities, but I want you to focus on in air rotation and landing techniques, so he will be doing the heavy lifting for you. I’m sure the increased airtime will help you work through the movements with more freedom. We also want to work into doing quick and difficult transitions this season, perfecting your landing every single time will be key before we move into anything else.” 

With the abrupt introduction into his overarching plan for the season, Yagi finally took initiative into waving Izuku out of the rink and into his office, eager to review more thorough information on upcoming competitions and planned themes. 

After a talkative hour, Izuku had finally parted from his trusted coach with a hug, and became the receiving end of yet another powerful pat to the back that left him tumbling out of the open office door. He let his student wander off with a last note of, “Don’t forget we changed your practice times this semester!” 

The figure skater gave an acknowledging nod, but his eyes were glazed over in a haze, pair emeralds seeming blemished with thought. With well learned unconscious, the figure skater was tucked in bed without processing his walk back to the dorm. 

There, Izuku lie in bed sucking at his teeth and chewing at his lip, gaze entranced by the shadows that crept on his ceiling from passing car headlights that disturbed the quiet night. His mind was a muffled mess of thought as he tried to process what was to come this semester. 

Of course had had seen a handful of hockey games.

Izuku took pride in the school he attended. UA has been his dream for a long time. His coach had attended, as well as an abundance of notable figures; athletics, actors, and academics alike. Their pedagogy was unmatched, their campus was gorgeous, for fuck’s sake they were known internationally as a high ranking University. He would be an idiot to not cherish his time here and support the other teams; the other players that fought tooth and nail to attend and are doing their damned best to stay at the top.

Izuku would consider himself a hockey fan, although never playing the game himself. It was something that came with loving the ice as much as he did. It was something that came with being coached by one of the greatest of all time. It was something that came with the faint memories of a childhood friend who could do nothing but praise the sport. 

-X-

As most stories from his childhood go, in the forefront of his memories was Katsuki Bakugou.

Izuku had cooed at Katsuki, offered dazzling eyes and kind words, ever since they were young. He had been his idol since the moment they were ushered into the same crib while their parents socialized. 

As far as childhood friendships went, they had gone above and beyond. They had been practically attached at the hip, hands often clasped and tugging each other along while they reveled in their childish whims. It was the sweetest memories Izuku could have ever wished for, nostalgia heavy and saccharin on his tongue. Whenever the weather would burn into Spring, he would be reminding of long days spent at the playground as they mourned the loss of snowy Winter days. 

In a sudden turning of tides, the pair barely out of kindergarten, their relationship had grown sour, bitter, colder than the ice they dearly loved. Izuku wanted nothing more than to be with Katsuki, share an interest and enjoy the Winter together, but it seemed the boy had other plans. He jostled him away from the friendship they had, off the ice they used to share, and then Izuku had abruptly moved away. 

Izuku had always been enraptured by the chill of a Winter dawn, snow tinted pink by rising sun and barren land coated in an ivory field as soft as down feather. His memories of Winter had always been fond, and it was natural for him to grasp at any opportunity to feel the loving chill once more when he moved away. He wanted to wrap the fragile pleasure of a cold morning into his bones, hold it tightly and carry it with him. Katsuki had been the same. He tried with the best of his youthful mind’s ability to fight off those treacherous thoughts, tried to find joy in the ice without a hand to hold, but it was painfully difficult. Winter wasn’t the same anymore, not without Katsuki. 

After his initial shock had worn away, finally gaining some sort of barring from the ravaged friendship, he had to relearn how to love the Winter. Izuku’s passions for ice skating finally came to fruition once more when figure skating fell into awaiting palms, the palms that reached to the heavens and asked for an answer to fill his lonely days. 

Izuku did not need to rely on anyone in figure skating. Did not need to look for blond locks in the fray, hoping for an answer back. He was alone on his pitch. No matter how much he did hope for a hand to hold. It was a sport that made him graceful, confident, but troublesomely lonely. But it didn’t matter to him. He had finally fallen back into Winter’s embrace and wished to never leave again. 

-X-

It had been a year since they had moved, yet the occasional packing box was still set under the kitchen table or in a corner of a bedroom. Either way, the house had finally started feeling lived in and homey, and any feeling that something was missing from Izuku’s life, he pointedly ignored. 

On that fated day, his mother had been busily flicking through tv channels for a cartoon to occupy her dear child as she prepared lunch for the day. The tv sparked to life for just a moment, glitter cascading across television screen in an array of iridescent glory, the soundtrack of an old song coming to its riling end, and the euphoric claps of a routine well done burned itself into Izuku’s optic nerves. He quickly gaped and shook at his mother to return to the channel, practically head banging in an enthusiastic nod as she hesitantly flicked back.

“You want to watch this?”

“Yes yes yes!” 

“Ok ok! Be good and watch the figure skaters. I’ll have lunch prepared soon.”

Watching in awe, he felt the igniting of a familiar spark bubble in his chest. This is what you could do on ice?

He felt himself talking well before his mind could catch up. 

“I want to be like that.”

From that point on, Izuku would find himself propped by the television whenever any form of skating or winter sport happened to play, finally feeling comfortable to indulge in Winter’s delights once more. The pipeline Izuku had entered had his mother over his shoulder, soft coos of wonder at his interests, and flinches whenever skaters took particularly bad falls, especially in ice hockey. He had become well aware of the name ‘Toshinori Yagi’,  known for his brutish strength and inability to backdown, always playing with an air of joy around him, and Izuku had to admit he had become a fan very quickly. Even at a young age he could appreciate the passion that oozed out of the man, noteworthy even through the static of the screen between them. He had felt devastated at the announcement of his retirement, and it wasn’t anything short of destiny when they met on that day in the small rink. Something about seeing his idol training a student in the sport he has grown absolutely enchanted with lit a fire in his veins that he couldn’t explain. He was practically short circuiting at the reality that he had made for himself, and with much effort and time, sore feet and tired joints, he had become as much a part of figure skating as it had become him. 

-X-

It was last year, the beginning of his sophomore year, when he first had the pleasure of viewing UA’s take on the enthralling sport of ice hockey. 

-X-

Tucked in a warm coat, Izuku sat on metal bleachers, a group of his figure skating peers crowded around him. The faint buzz of heat lamps propped several seats behind was easily muffeled by the crowd that had formed around the ice ink. 

“I hear these games get wild! They finish any fight they get.” Denki jutted a thumb out in the direction of the ice and used his other hand to pat Izuku’s shoulder excitedly. Ochako mirrored his enthusiasm, nodding vigorously, and Mina whooped in the background. Their thrilled chattering was at a pitch high enough to be heard around the cheering of the crowd as hockey players slowly made their way out of their locker room and flooded the outside border of the rink entrance. The players seemed eager, practically growling out their words as they tugged open the door and stormed the ice. The team quickly dissolved into a well practiced warm up after throwing down pucks, setting aside their extra sticks, and running a few laps. Defenseman were readying by the goalie as offensive pairs took turns on net. 

The opposing team didn’t hold the same presence as the UA players, easily blurred into the background, barely taking up the periphery of onlookers who were too entranced just by UA’s warm ups. 

Izuku’s gaze made its way to the bench, where the coach stood in an untucked dress shirt and blazer, a visible hue of purple eye bags and wreath of dark hair making him look utterly exhausted. 

Aizawa! 

The figure skater had yet to properly meet him, but he knew of him from Yagi’s gushing. They briefly played on the same professional team, before his abrupt retirement. Aizawa recently joined UA, three or so years ago, after his own retirement from the professional league. Yagi would occasionally set aside time to help Aizawa with arranging new plays and training regimens for the team, although never opting to become a coach for the hockey program. 

Izuku’s attention was abruptly disrupted by the loud ‘crack’ of a stick to puck. His eyes snapped towards the net in time to watch a blur pass the goalie and slam into the back of the net with a satisfying thud. The player in question seemed to snarl in satisfaction as he skated back to line, another offensive player taking his place and attempting to get passed a defenseman.  

“Goddamn that was loud!” Denki groaned and rubbed at an ear. "I can see why Tsu and Aoyama didn't want to come." 

“I heard of him. Katsuki Bakugou, I think? He’s apparently super aggressive, but a near perfect player.” Ochako tapped at her bottom lip in thought, wide eyes glancing from the group to the ice. 

Katsuki Bakugou? It couldn’t be… could it? 

“He has stats to back his attitude. A future position as captain is probably guaranteed for him at this point.” Mina interjected, hands cupping her mouth as if she was spilled a big secret. 

Izuku hummed in hesitant cognizance, continuing to follow the player in question as they dissolved into another form of warmup. His brain was stuttering, struggling, or rather downright refusing, to the process the information just presented to him. 

A loud buzzer echoed throughout the rink, burning at Izuku’s eardrums, momentarily striking his attention away from Katsuki. The players quickly collected excess pucks off the ice and jumped over the barrier, sliding into their place on the bench, aside from the first lines that circled eagerly at the center. 

The game started and Izuku couldn’t grasp why his vision seemed to focus on the sophomore center. He felt disappointment build in his chest and a soft whine in his throat whenever he was back on the bench after his plays, as pitiful as it was. Watching him was utterly enthralling. The figure skater had never seen someone shoulder hits like him, other players practically bouncing off of him. He had never seen someone so light on their feet yet so heavy handed when slamming pucks into the back of the net. He had never seen someone so so….   

The sudden thundering of sticks on the boards, crowd jeering, and shouting, drew his attention to focus once more. Gloves and sticks were abandoned on the ice as Katsuki and an opposing player circled, throwing venom laced insults, and Katsuki seemed intent on nailing those insults into that players skull with his fists. He grabbed at the player’s jersey, tight around the neck and pulling him close, causing his opponent’s skates to stumble from underneath him and a hand to grasp at Katsuki’s wrist to steady himself, but before a second thought, a fist was cracking under his visor and into his nose, followed by another successive hit, which had the player’s legs giving out from under him and splaying onto the ground. 

“Holy fuck! I would be shitting myself viciously if I was in the other team right now.” Denki was up on his feet as he shouted, trying to get a better view of the fight. 

The center was glaring at the other players, arms raised in a taunting motion as the ref was blowing the whistle and stepping in to check on the fallen player, who was grappling to get himself onto his knees.

Izuku was absolutely enamored at that moment. 

This is what Izuku had missed out on in the years of their parting? 

Katsuki Bakugou was amazing. 

And so unbearably out of reach. 

Izuku wasn’t sure what this feeling swimming in his chest was. Was it grief? Mixed with the underlying astonishment, it had him feeling nauseous. 

Izuku would be lying through clenched teeth if he said he didn’t rush to his dorm after UA’s win and pulled up Katsuki’s athlete profile on his laptop. He had thrown open a notebook he kept tucked into his desk drawer, which was filled with pages of information on top athletes that caught his attention on the ice; from Olympic figure skaters to speed skaters, and all in between. He had folded open a fresh sheet and jotted down all he could, every single unique moment he had burned into his brain from that one game. Izuku kept it up to date as best he could, he refused to let it fall empty and dust covered. 

Izuku didn’t harbor an unbearable yearning for his old childhood friend ever since that first game, that’s what he told himself. But, watching the ink bleed into lined pages and the feeling of excitement when UA returned from an away game with another victory under their belt had him buzzing at the edge of his seat, pride swelling under beating heart. 

-X-

Lying in bed, he rubbed his face with reckless abandon, feeling the warmth of his cheeks burn into his cold palms as he mentally prepped himself for tomorrow.

Well, how cruel fate was, presenting to him a partner who wanted nothing to do with him, who wouldn’t dare step on ice with him when presented the chance years prior. 

Chapter Text

It had reached the change in seasons where leaves have finally departed from their life on branch top and were cowering on the sidewalk, blanketing the ashen pavement in shades of warm reds and oranges, which were beginning to show the rust of brown at their edges. Passing shoes would crunch at the fallen foliage, occasionally slipping on leaves that were left moist from the damp Autumn air, finely coated in chilled dew drops. 

The given evening held on desperately to the residual warmth of the Summer, which had departed long ago. The frigid breeze that occasionally cut through the warmth was the only reminder that Fall was in full effect and Winter was close to its heels. 

Along with the crisp crackle of fallen leaves and the occasional slide of unsteady feet was a chorus of laughter and thrilled prodding that filled the night air. The deep base of a pocket speaker rumbled along to the thud of the group’s heavy steps. It sung out the tune of Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana, an odd and somber beat to their positive tempo, but welcomed nonetheless, for their playlists always had a fair mix of older rock and punk to get hyped to. It created a comfortable ambiance that melded into the sound of shifting clothes and casual conversation. 

The group all dawned the same navy blue Bauer jacket, down to the logo embroidered over their left bust. The stitching of the embroidery casted a sheen in the dim street lights and reflected colors of red, blue, and gold. They shoved at each other playfully, hoisting heavy bags on their shoulders, making it easier to tip and dramatically lean their weight on a colleague nearby, draping themselves across their back as they joked. 

“Stop fucking around!” Katsuki barked out from his place several paces ahead of the group, nose wrinkled and face drawn in a tight scowl. A sudden breeze swallowed up the laughter of his peers and ruffled at his blonde locks, only further combing up the wild hair to match his explosive personality. 

Katsuki Bakugou; a current Junior at UA, bolstering a GPA of 4.0, and star Center and Captain of their championship sweeping D1 ice hockey team. Katsuki had proudly dawned Jerseys of the best travel teams since his peewee years. But, a good team name on the athletic profile meant nothing to him if he wasn’t on the first line every single time, and fuck did he manage to get on the first line every single time. 

Within his last year of high school, busy balancing 18U AAA and his school’s varsity team, did UA sought after him. He would have been stupid to turn down the University.  

Despite the honor it was to join UA, landing a spot on the top ranking University roster wasn’t his end goal - it was a hard earned starting line. The trophies and game pucks on his shelves meant nothing to him when the possibility of getting drafted to a professional league was still at an arm’s length.  

This is where the battle would begin.

Katsuki had hopes to start his career in the West, much like other notable hockey alumni from UA, and Aizawa had been a tremendous help and advocate for him, despite his outward disinterested appearance. He had managed to vouch for Katsuki in a NHL Entry Draft; being an international student housed in Japan, it took a few strings to pull. His declaration for the draft was well on its way, and his fate would be sealed by the Summer. This draft would either make or break a potential future career in the USA or Canada.   JIHL was his backup, of course, already having pro contracts waved in his face by the league, but he knew ice hockey wasn’t Japan’s forté, no matter how much UA advocated for it. He knew he wouldn’t get the future he dreamed so desperately of here. 

Katsuki couldn’t stop now. He had to put his all into this season. Not to say he hasn’t done his damndest in previous seasons and on teams well before his time in UA. He would always give his all or nothing, no matter what. 

To say not only him, but the entire team, was revving for another season was an understatement.

“Aww come on, Captain! It’s our first day back together! We’re excited for practice! I know you missed us!” Kirishima stepped up to where Katsuki strolled several feet in front of them, trying to throw an arm over his shoulders in an attempt to pull him close. Before his arm could even hope to brush against the Captain’s shoulder, he was abruptly met with a scoff and an elbow to the abdomen. The red head was left momentarily wheezing, hand clutched over his gut, and a smile on his face despite the bruise he was sure to get.  

“First day back together? You asshats have been stuck to me since we returned to campus!” Katsuki gritted back his exclamation, turning to walk backwards for a few strides, facing the crowd and pointing his hockey stick at them accusingly. 

“It’s because we looooove you.” Several of the players replied enthusiastically. A choice few had the gall to bat their eyelashes and clasp their hands together, tucking it under their chin as if they were swooning over the love of their life. At that, Katsuki turned back around to face forward, with a roll of his eyes and venom on his tongue. 

“You fuckers better not drag me down this season.” 

“And you loooooove us too, Captain.” The team continued their annoying drawling, chanting, and proclamations of love. 

“Can you bake us those cookies from last season? The ones we got for winning the NCAA championship?” Todoroki spoke up from his place at the edge of the group, voice monotone but eyes betraying his eager anticipation at the potential for more homemade baked goods. 

“Oh yes! Pretty please??” Tetsutetsu jumped to his toes at the mention of free food, followed by noises of agreement from Tokoyami, Ojiro, and a handful of other players.

“Eat shit and die! Don’t act like I’m your mother!” Katsuki called over his shoulder and was practically chewing his words, teeth gnashing together as he punctuated each word. 

“I mean... if you happened to bake them into cookies… I probably would eat shit.” Sero attempted to reason with a shrug, a few of their teammates having the gall to nod along with consensus. 

Katsuki let a sigh pass through tightly sealed lips, and threw his head back, grumbling half heartedly into the evening air, before deciding to respond pointedly. “I’m not cooking you extras anything this season unless I see another gold on our shelf!”

“Sir yes sir!” They shouted in union, their hyperactive ardor multiplying tenfold. 

Katsuki gave an exaggerated huff in reply, poorly attempting to beat down the lick of pride that swelled in his chest. 

His teammates could be absolutely insufferable, he would tell them so straight to the face with a sneer, but in some odd ways, he couldn’t picture his life without them. No matter how irritating it might get when they barged into every little corner of his life; begging for food at his dorm threshold, scrabbling for praise, asking to be tutored - they were a team that would carry each other to gold every single season, and he counted on them as much as they counted on him, no matter how much he hated to admit it.

The group of rowdy hockey players neared their safe haven, the building that housed their beloved ice rink, letting out a soft whistle of admiration. They let their minds run wild as they reminisced on past seasons and allowed excitement to rouse in their bones at the potential for another goal, another fight, another check, another trophy. 

Adrenaline rushed through Katsuki’s veins, coating his every being with a heat that would never settle at the idea of taking on the ice once more. With the satisfying sound of the door’s seal peeling open, the group was met with a frozen gust. But, their enthusiasm rapidly tempered when the crisp sound of skates hitting the ice drew their attention. With baited breath, they peered passed the plexiglass from their position at the door. 

“Is someone on our ice right now?” Shoji murmured, looking over the group’s shoulders, attempting to peer into the rink. Iida briefly passed a look, warranted confusion written on his face, eyes visibly clouded as he pulled up memories of reviewing their practice schedule. 

“The hell?” Katsuki grumbled under his breath, the chill of the rink entering his warm throat leaving his mouth salivating. Surprise was soon overcome with muted annoyance and anger, an uptick of lips forming a resting snarl. 

“A figure skater? Cutting up our ice during our practice time?” Kirishima shifted on his feet, goalie bag swinging in tandem, as his eyes darted suspiciously at the poised practice displayed in front of them. 

Through pinched features and a hand shading his eyes, an attempt at avoiding the blinding cool lights, Katsuki observed the scene playing out before him.  The muted chorus of some old song hummed a lullaby, its solemn echo accompanied dearly by the clean cut of blades on ice. The figure skater’s hair of basil and phthalo green was bound in curls that swayed and bounced at each lax leap and set of crossovers. Somehow, he made the obnoxiously teal athletic hoodie he wore look runway ready with each composed step.  

Those green locks teased distant memories to unravel in Katsuki’s mind, but the harsh lights shielded the skater’s face from his prying eyes. 

What the fuck?

Although Katsuki can vouch for his elegance and grace, anyone with eyes could tell the sport ran through each artery of that boy’s body, this was their scheduled time. Katsuki was a second away from bursting a blood vessel.

“Wait a second… is that Toshinori Yagi?” Sero’s realization interrupted the Captain’s aggrieved mulling, his eyes pulling away from the figure skater and slotting over the the boards to where the former hockey player rested, watching the ice with delight obvious in his sunken features. 

Katsuki swallowed back a ball of excitement which started to form thickly in his throat, eyes widening a fraction as his jaw slacked in realization. Holy Shit.. that really was the star player from years prior! The same player who had pushed Katsuki into pursing center, into pursing the NHL, into burning hockey into his whole being. 

“Oh damn, it is! I knew he worked here, but I’ve never had a chance to see him in person.” Kirishima gaped, a hand cupping at the lower half of his face, glee electrocuting his gelled hair to stand even further on end.  

Katsuki set his face back to bitter neutrality and cuffed the back of Kirishima’s head. “Cut it out with your shitty fawning. Doesn’t matter who the fuck it is, we have to be out there in 10, and they better move their fucking asses out.” Katsuki’s growling was gruff and filled with unnecessary curses as he attempted to reel in the childish wonder that lit up within him. 

“Oi, good to see you guys are finally here.” A voice cut through their gawking, the shadowed figure looking over them instantly catching the team’s attention; an exhausted man with eye bags bearing the same shade as his mane of hair. 

A chorus of “Coach!” erupted from the group. 

“What’s up with the figure skater?” Shinsho interjected before Katsuki could spit rage, pointing out a finger in the direction of the rink. 

“We are changing up our practice time.” Aizawa almost made the mistake of pausing for a moment too long, nearly getting interrupted by the heated Captain, before the coach put up an index finger to ensure his silence. He proceeded to ignore the excessive growling coming from Katsuki as he continued. “It’s been moved to 9:30. Until then, I want you guys in the weight room. Throw your things in the locker room and get on it.” 

Katsuki’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance, leaning his body to the right with the weight of his hockey bag and he jut his chin as he sneered at the coach. “That’s gonna fuck with my sleep schedule.” 

Aizawa heaved with a roll of his eyes and rubbed at the scruff on his face. “You’ll live.” 

Sparing glances at each other and passing soft spoken confused murmurs, the team nodded and started walking away. Before Katsuki could turn with a frown and a poorly hidden scoff, ready to bust his teammates asses with a strenuous workout, Aizawa beckoned him forward.

“Not done with you, Bakugou. I need you to do something.”

“Haah?” He raised his eyebrow as he paused misstep. Given the look on his coach’s face, he gave a prompt nod, sending off the teammates who looked back at him in question with a firm flick of his wrist.

“What’s up, Coach?” Katsuki turned his full attention to Aizawa, hands burrowed deep into his pockets. 

“This season, you’ll be dividing up your time to help out Yagi and his student.” He paused from rubbing at his tired eyes to motion with a jerk of his head to the ice rink, where the figure skater had landed gracefully from a jump. Katsuki couldn’t be bothered to know what the name of the trick was.   

“‘Scuse me? I’m going to be wasting my time to help some figure skater? Fuck do they need me for?” 

“That figure skater,” Aizawa motioned with a firm point of his thumb and harsh stare directed as his team’s Captain, “is one of the goddamn best we have. It also means you get more ice time, so you’re going to get your ass out there and help him however he needs. He’s a good kid, talented too, and he might temper you out a bit.”

The Captain sucked at his teeth until it made a resounding tsk sound, knowing he wouldn’t win this argument, and quickly deciding not to bother wasting his energy for the apparent long night ahead. He scrubbed at his eyes in an attempt to ease his glower before leveling a look at his coach. “How am I supposed to help?”

“Yagi will fill you in on that. Show some respect and hear him out. I don’t want any talk back or I’ll have you doing supermans until your chest cavity caves in.”

Katsuki only muttered under his breath in response, eyes narrowing until slivers of scarlet were left to flicker around the building as he followed his coach to the edge of the rink. 

Momentarily averting his eyes from the figure skater’s loose warm up routine, Yagi took notice of the pair walking over. The lanky man clapped his hands together into a firm clasp, offering a wide smile that brightened his thin face as he quickly turned to the figure skater once more, calling out to him and motioning him over. 

Katsuki spared a glance towards the student on the ice, who promptly paused in the midst of, what the Captain assumed, was a lead up to another spin, and instead came to the boards in a handful of powerful glides. 

At the brief glimpse, Katsuki was left reeling. 

He couldn’t help the bitter feeling that swelled in his throat and swallowed back thickly, mind muddled as he took a moment to process who was skating before him.  

He could feel the floor collapsing beneath him as the figure skater pointedly refused to meet his eyes.

This was a joke, right? Why the hell else would he be standing in front of him. 

Katsuki remembered that face, a faint memory from years ago. The face of a childhood friend now worn with age, rounded cheeks, although still present, now formed against more prominent bone structure, eyes full of years, body had grown lean and proud, youthful freckles still littered across his skin. 

Friend was a kind word to use, too kind for what Katsuki had subjected him to. 

-X-

He had been cruel when he reached a certain point of his childhood, a tedious age where arrogance defined personality, verbal lashing secured your place in the playground, and a surmounting issue with controlling his anger to bat. It was stupid for kids to be so mean when they have barely stepped foot out of the thresholds of their own home. 

He would coerce the other child, pulled him close and pushed him down twice as hard, and the pitiful thing was, Izuku would never hesitate to get back up and run into those arms again. Their relationship took pigtail pulling to a new height. 

The cause? Their undying passion for Winter, as idiotic as that sounds. 

Being attached at the hip as children gave way to shared passions, encouraged by their fawning parents. They had both grown a love for Winter growing up, bonding over teetering on thin blades and barreling through snow piles whenever the chance presented. 

A form of possession grew within Katsuki, a need to protect territory that wasn’t his. Praise had spilled from the lips of adults nearby, and he had grown spoiled from the compliments he had received; he was going to be a promising prospect in just a few years time. Meanwhile, Izuku had desperately clutched onto him from behind. The admirations that would spill from Izuku’s lips, that he would trill when no one was around, felt different. Felt more empowering. And that left Katsuki feeling disgusted. How could his words dare to have such a hold on him when Izuku wasn’t half the skater Katsuki was at that age? Why did his praise mean so much to him? 

When his praise had started to filter into advice, offering hands after a bad spill, dusting snow shavings off of his back - Katsuki could feel nothing but vexation. He would slap away any offering of good graces Izuku would provide, throw taunts and shove at any notions that Katsuki would ever need his help. 

It was unwanted. It was damn well unneeded. Did Izuku believe Katsuki was pathetic enough to need a helping hand? He was the one garnering the attention and praise. Izuku should have known better. Who did Izuku think he was?

The turmoil from his overlapping emotions left him heated with rage, and then Izuku moved away.

-X-

And now Katsuki wasn’t sure why he could only feel a twinge of frustration burn under his skin, overwhelming what should be the guilt and subtle joy of seeing Izuku again. His childhood dilemma was right in front of him, how should he be feeling? He had grown old enough to understand his wrongs, reasoned through therapy and much thought on how to fix his behaviors, yet he wanted nothing more than to scream at the absurdity presented before him. 

Why was he stuck with someone he hoped to never see again?

Katsuki was certain he would be hearing earfuls of unwarranted advice from the figure skater. What else was to be expected? Izuku had grown tenfold since their last meeting, bounded up to being UA’s prized solo skater, according to Aizawa’s words. Katsuki was already dreading the practices to come, could already feel rage’s budding pressure in his arteries. He might snap if he was offered a helping hand, might revert years of self reflection and therapy in a single moment, if he dare hear a peep of advice. 

Katsuki felt his body lurch, hunching his shoulders and allowing his frustration to burn evidently on his face as he turned and propped up his sticks on the boards and dropped his bag on the ground, landing in a loud thud that dampened Yagi’s and Aizawa’s brief greeting. He finally turned to give the figure skating coach his full attention, prompting his explanation on the situation. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it. I need to go check on my team, make sure they aren’t playing catch with a dumbbell or whatever shit they decide to do this time.” Aizawa briefly nodded goodbye, turning to leave just as Izuku was stepping out of the rink and onto the rubber matted floor. He avoided Katsuki’s gaze and pressed a hand on the plexiglass for balance as he quickly bent over to wipe the excess snow from his skates’ blades. Izuku took a moment to spare a jittery look up at Yagi to spur his introductions. 

Yagi quickly took note of the pressure coming from the two star students, and offered them a share of his blinding smile. 

“Young Bakugou! Thank you for taking the time to talk with us. This is my student…” He paused and passed a look to Izuku, who seemed reluctant, but plastered on a minuscule, nervous smile, eyes still focused elsewhere.  

“Izuku Midoriya. We.. uh… Hi, Kaachan. I don’t know if you remember me.” He had finished wiping his skates down and gave a small dip of his head in a bordering chagrined greeting, before extending a hand out for a shake. 

Katsuki, in turn, glowered down at the hand offered to him. He frowned for a moment, features stern and furrowed and eyebrow raised as he stared at the open palm. His eyes traveled from the hand upwards to pass over the figure skater, whose smile dissipated, hand flinching away and falling limp to his side.

Remember him? How could he fucking forget? And Kaachan? That childish nickname from their childhood? How demeaning. 

“Shut it, Deku. This is a waste of my time. Don’t act like we’re four again.” 

The jab felt immensely sour on his tongue. The nickname came out like a reflex, shocking him down each spinal plate and brewing unwanted memories in the front of my mind as soon as that foresaken word tumbled from his lips.

Izuku cringed back and looked towards the ground, kicking his toe pick into the floor. “Sorry, Kaachan.” 

“So you two know each other, yes?” Yagi smile faltered for a moment, attempting to ease the stress emanating from the pair. 

“Mhm. We were childhood friends before I moved.” Izuku paused momentarily, looking up at Katsuki from under his lashes, as if nervous that the eye contact would kill him when he dared to mention they were ever friends. “Although we haven’t formally met each other since, I’ve seen some of your games.” Just as briefly as he looked over, Izuku was rapidly looking away, a hand finding its way over his mouth, as if he could take back the words he uttered and shove them back into his throat. Katsuki blinked away a look of surprise, shoulders relieving a fraction of their rigidity. Nonetheless, it failed to ease the annoyance that throbbed in the back of his head. He didn’t expect Izuku to be… this nervous around him after so many years. 

Katsuki sucked in his cheeks, gnawing and rolling the soft skin under molars. He pitched forward, bending over and hunching his shoulders slightly to become eye level with Izuku, who shriveled back in surprise. He eyed the figure skater, taking in freckles that have lightened with age, but stayed smattered across the planes of his cheeks, a kiss of youth  that rivaled the lean cut of muscle his body had grown into. His irises were still a gaudy and utterly irking shade of emerald that seemed lost and panicked by the close proximity, even his pupils fighting between constriction and dilation. 

How irritating. 

Katsuki finally eased up his pressure, leaning back until he towered over Izuku once more. 

“If you’re gonna talk to me, look me in the fucking eyes.” 

With that comment, he turned back towards Yagi, eliciting to ignore the panicked murmurs coming from the figure skater. 

Yagi cleared his throat with a timid smile, turning the attention back to himself. “I suppose I’ll get started, then. Young Midoriya is technical and talented, and despite being so advanced, it doesn’t mean practice can come to a halt. To try and get him used to more difficult maneuvers and decrease any latent fear, you’re going to step in as a temporary partner. I need him to focus his attention on increasing his rotations and landings for the time being.”

“So… what? You want me to throw his ass around?”

“Essentially, yes.” Yagi seemed delighted that Katsuki had caught up so quickly.

“Sounds like fun.” A serpentine smirk washed over his face. He popped a knuckle and casted a glance over to the figure skater who stood tall and graceful, shoulders back, but the expression on his face was nothing if not cowering, chewing anxiously on his lip and offering a nervous smile to the hockey captain. 

Yagi let out an enthusiastic chuckle, throat rumbling as he gave a hearty slap to both the figure skater’s and captain’s backs. 

“For today, we’ll be doing some off-ice training. We need to ensure you can throw around his weight properly before we attempt anything on-ice, and it would be good to bond a little anyway.” Yagi bellowed in unbidden excitement, gesturing to Izuku to take off his skates, before turning away from the pair. “I’ll go set up the studio. Young Midoriya will take you there once he’s situated.” 

At the coach’s departure, the figure skater took a seat on a bench which hugged the boards of the ice rink. He leaned down to pull his sneakers out from where they lie under the bench and began to swiftly untie the laces of his sleek black skates. Katsuki eyed the gaudy red sneakers briefly, musing over the similar tone that flushed over the frenzied figure skater’s cheeks.

“You never grew out of your shitty fashion sense from when we were kids, hm?” Katsuki didn’t know why he bothered mentioning it, didn’t even know why he noticed it, deciding it was a slip of tongue. 

“Oh! Uh- They’re comfortable.” Izuku paused from tying his shoes and looked up from where he was bent over his knee to bashfully pull at the mock neck of his athletic jacket.

Katsuki, hummed roughly and looked away, with question on his tongue, “So, we have a studio?” 

Izuku seemed to be relieved of some of the tension that was tied taut around them, happy to indulge in small talk. “Mhmm! It’s just a big empty room with some wood flooring, mats, and a mirror, meant for stretching or any off-ice practice. It’s just so we have a bit of privacy and aren’t flailing around on the rink’s border.”

“I could have assumed that, Deku. I’m not a blatant idiot like the extras on my team.” 

“Sorry! A lot of people just don’t know.” 

“Yeah yeah, twinkle toes. You done with your skates?” 

“Just finished!” Midoriya slipped on his last sneaker, index finger sliding in with his heel to adjust the shoe before getting up. He grabbed the long laces of his skates and swiftly tied them together in a thick knot. The figure skater offered a small smile as he threw the laces over his shoulder and motioned for the Captain to follow him. 

“It’s over here.” He sent a timid glance over his shoulder. “It’s opposite from your locker and weight rooms, so it makes sense that you’ve never been. Since you don’t have a studio, do you guys just warm up on ice?” 

“Don’t walk in front of me.” Long strides had Katsuki just a pace in front of the skater, who stumbled slightly at the sudden intrusion. His eyes blinked up owlishly, giving a curt handful of nods. He began fidgeting with the ice skates that hung over his shoulder, which would lightly click together at each step. 

“Sorry I just-!” 

“Don’t interrupt me either.” Katsuki leaned forward to meet the figure skater's eyes and snapped his teeth like a feral dog, all he was missing was a foaming maw, before setting his face and straightening his posture once more. “Stretching is a must before we do anything stupid. My guys are dumbasses and don't mind being embarrassing fools in public, so must of our warms up are around the rink or in the parking lot. It would be tough to confine us to a studio anyway. Sometimes we’ll go straight on ice and run some laps and simple drills before we really get into it. But before games, we’ll usually go out back to the parking lot and play a game of soccer or stick handle. Those fuckers would be spitting up blood and spraining their ankles at every step if I let them on the ice with cold bodies.” 

“Soccer?”

“Yeah, easy way to get our blood pumping and manage our adrenaline.” 

“Ah! That’s really cool! Soccer seems like a great sport to warm up with, especially for hockey! It helps with foot-eye coordination and reflexes, right? I imagine it’s especially good for defenseman and goalies in that regard.” Izuku mumbled rapidly under his breath, the hand that was comfortably resting on the laces of his skates released to grab at his chin, his other hand tucking itself across his chest and right under his elbow as concentration and wonder sprouted on his features. Katsuki blinked at the sudden verbal assault on his ears. 

“Oi! Shitty nerd! What’s up with the rambling? You’re about to choke on your breath.” Katsuki made quick work to interrupt before Izuku could continue, hand waving in front of his face to grab his attention.

“Sorry! I get a little too into my own head sometimes.” Izuku’s eyebrows knit together and his lips pulled back in a look of embarrassment, tapping his fingers together to try and settle his nerves once more. “I think I used to do it as a kid too. I never grew out of it.” 

“Really? That’s what that was? Whenever you were mumbling, I always thought you had trouble sounding shit out or something, so I let it go. It was always fucking annoying.” 

“You remembered me doing it?” A sort of faraway look took over Izuku’s face. The figure skater pushed aside the fumbling and embarrassed demeanor that had overcame him a few minutes prior, and turned to fully take in the hockey player. His face had slackened and his eyes were wide, and Katsuki couldn’t help but look away, observe the path ahead of them, ignoring the stare of his childhood friend. 

What the hell was that look for?

“Whatever. It’s nothing to get too excited about, I just have great fucking memory." He paused as they reached twin doors, both were sleek and grey, and had no viewing glass to hint at to what lies beyond its hinges. "Is this the room?” 

Izuku gave his head a slight shake to get out of his stupor, before shifting into a nod. “Oh, yeah! It’s right next to the figure skating locker room.” Izuku motioned to the leftmost neighboring door before pushing open the right, presumably studio, door, offering to hold it open for the Captain. Katsuki grumbled about wasting time and herded the figure skater in first, allowing the door to slam loudly back to its frame.

The studio itself was warmer and more comforting that the ice rink just outside, already begging for Katsuki to remove his jacket or else he would work up a sweat. The walls were painted in ivory, as was the entire building, but the wooden floors were a new site to gander at when compared to the industrial interior of the rest of the rink, where most of the floors were often concrete. The oak floors held a sheen of wax, and eventually gave way to black mats, similar to those by the rink boards, the closer they got to the mirrors that lined one wall. They seemed to be removable, judging by the stack of mats that lie at the far wall, just behind where Yagi stood in wait. 

Yagi glanced towards the door at the sudden noise, looking up from a manila folder he had clutched in his hands. The coach waved them in, turning his full attention to the pair as Izuku deposited his skates by the entryway. 

“We’ll just start off things easy.” He started as the pair settled in front of him. “Young Bakugou? Do you feel confident lifting Young Midoriya up?” 

“Confident?” Katsuki scoffed loudly at the absolute absurdity of his strength being questioned, barely sparing a glance at the figure skater as he stepped behind him and gripped the lean waist, lifting him into the air. “I don’t need confidence. It’s like lifting a shitty bag of feathers.” 

Throughout the transaction Izuku was letting out a panicked squeak, a hot flush running its course from the nape of his neck and down his spine, as he frantically looked around, gaining new perspectives from his position two feet off of the ground. 

“Perfect! Your stamina will be unbelievably helpful!” Yagi took no heed to Izuku’s panic, who was a stuttering mess once Katsuki placed him back on the ground. "We'll continue trying out some new lifts and positions for the remainder of the day." And with that, the trio dove into the practice. 

Soon after, the lifting exercises transitioned into tosses, which Izuku managed to land with ease considering he was without the handicap that was thin blades strapped to his feet. It was a relatively mind numbing sequence, time becoming lost to them as they continued the simple repetition of lift and toss. There was little verbal exchange as they were puppeteered by the coach. Silence had swallowed them, until Yagi's phone rang out in an obnoxious blare of alarms. The coach quickly whipped his phone out from where it was tucked in his back pocket and passed a bashful glance between the students and the caller ID.

"I need to answer this. Please continue what you were doing, and I'll be right back!" And with that, he excused himself, the alarms soon deafened by the closing of the door as he left the room. 

The pair, still taken aback by the sudden interruption of an ear-bleed symphony of alarms, took a moment to regain concentration. 

Katsuki rubbed at his ear, as if he could pluck the sound from his memory, and turned to the figure skater with a hidden mirth masked behind his eyes. “How high up do you think I could throw you?” He wasn't sure what spurred the sudden thought, what urged the playfulness in his tone, but he didn't let himself mule too long, the dull practice already forcing his feelings of anger to turn into exhaustion. 

Still wavering, Izuku passed a blank look to the Captain, not processing what he had asked. “What?” 

And without a second thought, Katsuki grabbed his waist and threw the figure skater straight up. 

A chirped scream of “Kaachan!” left Izuku’s lips before he had been caught by the waist once more and set to his feet. Izuku was in the middle of processing his amazement at being thrown so high, as well as the nail biting terror of being thrown so high. The fear mongering delight wasn’t shared by the hockey player, who stood in pause, dissatisfaction written in his features. The momentary bliss of exhaustion had once more reverted to irritation.

“Kaachan? You’re really gonna stick with using that old nickname?”  

Izuku blinked at the comment, uncertainty welling inside of him. “Sorry, it was a slip of the tongue. It’s just easier to say… a shorter name would also be easier to address on the ice if I needed your attention quickly. It still kinda fits you, I think.” He weakly reasoned and examined his fingers, finding them more worth his intent attention as he ran them together nervously.

Katsuki puffed out a breath, running a hand through his tufts of hair, urging them to only become further unruly. “Whatever, Deku.” 

“Deku..? And you’ll be keeping that nickname?” Izuku threw back at him, pausing his finger braiding. He refused to look up from where his eyes were downcast, tilting his head slightly as he mused over the name.

“This…” Katsuki motions to the surrounding area of the studio with gritted teeth “…is a useless waste of my time. And that includes you. So yes. Deku.“ He shouldn’t be talking down to him like that… should he? His mouth was talking well before his brain could catch up, running tangled emotions into a complicated web of words. Fuck it. It’s not like he was wrong. No matter how much his old psychologist might have groaned at his current behavior. 

“I… Sorry… I didn’t plan for this to happen or to waste your time. I know it must already be difficult to balance hockey and your courses.”

“Difficult balancing my time?” Was he already criticizing him? Seeing him as lesser? The thought had Katsuki’s fists balled at his sides. “That’s not at all the fucking problem. Don’t underestimate me. You’re fucking lucky you got partnered up with me rather than the extras on my team. Those motherfuckers can barely get to practice on time without me corralling them. Now we’re in this shit together, so I gotta get used to it. And stop saying sorry, it’s fucking annoying.” His last note was unnecessary, sure, but he was on a roll. He bit his tongue before he could dredge up older wounds, and he let the feeling of worthlessness simmer to a halt. Instead, he felt the flicker of a challenge light up within him. 

At suddenness of the tangent did Izuku pause, a bit taken aback, before noting a glimpse of unwavering determination in the Captain’s eyes. He may be crass… but Izuku  thinks, no, he knows, Katsuki isn’t going to back down and half ass this unwanted training session. 

Despite the previous barrage, he gave the Captain a dazzling smile, eyes soft and glistened through thick eyelashes as he gave an eager nod. It threw Katsuki off, eye lids parting wide enough for his scarlet irises to be rimmed in barriers of white. His eyebrows rose up this his hairline. 

“Hah? What’s with that face? Fuck off…” 

And with that, Yagi was bustling back into the room with a pleased grin. “I’m sorry to keep you both waiting! The call was longer than I anticipated. Considering the time, I think we’ll finish up for today. Next practice we will start to tackle on-ice training. Thank you for your time, Young Bakugou!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Katsuki waved off Yagi, who left the pair with a short goodbye and another pat the back, exiting the studio to urgently sketch out new plans for their training. 

Katsuki turned towards Izuku after the loud slam of the door, boredom evident in the tone of his voice. “So your practice starts at 7:00?” 

“Huh?” Izuku blinks back surprise at the thoughtfulness of Katsuki to have already remembered his practice time. 

“Slow on the uptake, huh, nerd? If I’m gonna be helping you, I need to know when to get here.” 

“Oh! I didn’t think you would come for the whole time! Thank you!” The pair finally departed from the studio, Izuku walking a few steps behind the Captain. 

“Yeah whatever, Deku.” He walked in the direction of his forgotten sticks and bag, that sat stagnant by the rink border where he left them. “I have to get into gear and start practice. I’ll see your ass on Wednesday.” 

“I’ll see you then, Kaachan! Good luck!” 

His happy-go-lucky tone had Katsuki grating his teeth. He had been relatively civil this entire interaction, tried his best to force it despite the clench in his jaw at each exchange, but by no means did Katsuki try to act friendly. For what reason was Izuku trying to act as if they had been dropped back in kindergarten, back before bitterness swelled between them? They were nothing more than acquaintances at best, forced by the hand of their coaches. The only reason Katsuki's interest has started to peak was out of personal intent, the possibility of a challenge to firmly prove to the figure skater that he did not need him. 

“And one more thing.” Izuku abruptly stopped his stroll to turn to Katsuki with a tilt of his head and question in his eyes. “Don’t misinterpret my tolerance for kindness. You got that?”

“Ah. Of course, Kaachan.” If Izuku had been affected by the comment, Katsuki had payed no mind, busying himself with tugging his bag onto his shoulder with a grunt. By the time he looked up again, Izuku was thankfully gone, and instead, pitted in unfortunate circumstance once more, he was faced with garish red hair. 

At the moment of Izuku’s parting, Kirishima had decided to stroll up, cheeky grin displaying his sharp teeth as he jabbed a finger into Katsuki’s side. 

“Yo? Kaachan?” Kirishima cluttered around in his clunky goalie equipment as he tried to mimic the pose of a love struck girl, one leg up and his two hands clutched and pressed to his face. 

“Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair, and go set your net in place. I have to go get dressed.” Katsuki shoved at the goalie, causing Kirishima to fumble as he tried to regain his balance. He laughed boisterously at Katsuki’s back as he retreated into the hockey locker rooms, only choking harder on his chuckles as Katsuki flipped him off. 

At each step Katsuki took in a deep breath, trying to tease away the complicated emotions the built behind his lungs, tried to reason his rage into adrenaline to prepare him for the practice ahead of him. 

Well, how cruel fate was, forcing upon a relationship he had burned the bridges of, with a partner he had refused to step on the ice with years prior.

The sudden thought of grazing the ice by Izuku's side once more made him burn in fury, even if it was just for practice sessions. 

This was going to be a hellish semester. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki let out a soft groan, reverberating thickly in his chest, as he rolled his neck. He lifted a calloused hand to rub a knot at his nape, thick fingers digging deep into his upper cervical. He released his grasp to comb his fingers through the fine hairs that lay dutifully in flaxen spikes upon his head. Katsuki’s eyes traveled across the brightly lit screen of his laptop, checking his assignment once more before submitting it to the online portal and firmly closing the top. The Captain allowed his arms to fall onto the armrests of his chair, fingers tapping diligently on the worn wood as he stared blankly at the window in front of him. 

The breeze was muted through the thick glass pane, but Katsuki could hear a ghost whistle from the unruly winds which managed to breach the slight gap between the window and its frame; only present due to faulty dorm construction, as the case with many Universities. He watched the leaves dance upon the branches to the tune of the whistle, cascading in beautiful harmony before being swept up into the wind’s lovingly torturous embrace once more. 

It’s going to be another chilly day. 

Katsuki’s gaze fell to his bedside clock, the numbers 6:30 glaring back at him in a bright scarlet that rivaled his own irises. 

And it was time to get going. 

It had been two days ago that Katsuki was not so gracefully warned about his new time constraint.  

Practices for the hockey team, and coincidently the figure skaters, were Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays, the remaining Tuesdays and Thursdays often utilized for weight training and the such, while weekends were for a scheduling nightmare of competitions, games, and everything in between. 

Yesterday, being Tuesday, meant Katsuki had received a much needed break before having to interact with Izuku once more. It gave him the ability to simmer, finally process the situation at hand, rather than choke up on the water in his throat from being thrown into the deep end by Aizawa. Katsuki had been placed in a tight corner, and he hated it. He attempted to reason with his feelings regarding the scenario, but the further he drew into his introspection, the more they seemed like a convoluted mess, so he did what he did best and pushed them aside. In the end of the day, his priority was hockey, and if it kept Aizawa from biting his head off, he would try and lessen the crease between his brows, no matter how infuriating it may be. 

He could have blissfully went his four years of college without ever knowing Izuku had been enrolled at the same time as him.

The only thing worse than his practice with Izuku was having to tell his teammates he would no longer be herding them before practice (but he still expected them to be on time, unless they wished to die by his hand). The medley of responses, from teasing to laughter had him contemplating running them over with the Zamboni. 

With a huff, his forearms left the cool embrace of the wood grain and he pressed his palms to his knees as he rocked up to a stand. Katsuki ran a finger over his earrings, tugging them out from his earlobe. It was irritating having to exchange his signature spiked studs for flat faces, but his trademark earrings would press uncomfortably under his helmet otherwise. 

He tugged a hoodie over the black thermal shirt he already wore, and slipped on a pair of sneakers without a second look. Grabbing at the keys that hung by his doorframe, he made his way downstairs and outside, gapping his lips for mouthfuls of Autumn air. 

It was a gorgeous evening-

“Kaachan!” 

Ah. Well there goes the gorgeous evening. 

Being thrown back into this forced relationship abruptly was not his plan for the day. Katsuki thought this relationship would start and end in within the confines of the ice rink. 

Katsuki pushed back his annoyance and slowed his paces, but refused to stop, or even bother glancing over his shoulder to acknowledge the incoming figure skater. He momentarily played with the idea of pretending Izuku didn't exist at all, but at the end of the day the effort would be futile when their destination was the same.  

Izuku finally reached his side with a hushed exhale, before righting himself and following in step just behind the Captain. Nerves seemed to flood from the figure skater, jittery and robotic, but he attempted to display a cheerful smile nonetheless. “Thank you for waiting. I didn’t know you lived in the same dorm as me!” 

Hm. Had Izuku already brushed off yesterday’s parting words? He always seemed to have short term memory when it came to disagreements, pushing them away and hoping all existence of the matter would disperse at the shove, even as children, evident in the way Izuku seemed to flutter excitedly by Katsuki’s side now. Katsuki couldn’t believe he never grew out of the habit, especially after the bitter ending to their childhood friendship. 

“Tch, lucky me.” 

Snorting at his sour tone and rolling his eyes, Izuku side stepped to bump his shoulder to Katsuki’s playfully, attempting to wave off lingering tension. 

“It’s nice to have company. I like to use these walks to destress before practice, but it can get lonely sometimes.” He twisted fingers together with a slight hop in his step as he looked between the path and the hockey player. 

Still caught up on the shoulder bump, Katsuki’s step faltered as he glared down at Izuku. “Are you trying to start a fight you can’t finish?”

“Huh?”

Barely giving him time to think, Katsuki looked over the figure skater, before knocking his own shoulder into Izuku, sending him faltering over his own feet. He let out a surprised, but gleeful, squeak, quickly righting himself and attempting to shove over the hockey player again. Katsuki leaned his weight into the side Izuku was on, refusing to budge as the figure skater struggled. Noting Izuku’s determination,  Katsuki dramatically sloped until his body was folded over the figure skater, who was gasping out his breath in exertion. 

“Ok ok I yield! I could never beat you, Kaachan!” Izuku stretched out languidly, a tender giggle kissing the figure skater's throat, when Katuski finally eased himself off of him,. 

Although the initial bump on Katsuki’s behalf was fueled with irritation, he felt lighter after the play fight. The admittance of Izuku’s defeat had a spark of pride running down the length of his spine, dissipated any annoyance that had started to buzz under his skin. Did Izuku’s praise really still have this affect on him? 

Katsuki clenched his jaw at the thought, and refused to confess to it. 

They walked in blissful peace for a few steps, Izuku’s laughs subsiding and drifting off with the evening breeze, before Katsuki rumbled his acknowledgment of Izuku’s previous statement. “The peace isn’t too bad. I’m always hounded by my guys.” 

“The team?”

“Who else? Bunch of fucking bumbling idiots.” 

“I know you don’t mean that, Kaachan!” 

He clucked his tongue, kicking a stone that stood in their path as their stroll was enveloped in a tranquil silence. 

The ice rink was coming into view as Izuku decided to talk once more. “Thank you again for helping out with my training.”

“Like I had a choice.”

“But still, you’re putting in an effort to be on time and all that. I know this isn’t the best scenario…” The implication of their complicated past was left unsaid, but was blaring in the momentary silence. “…but it means a lot to me.” He spoke in a tone that was solemn and gentle, attempting to soften the mood as best he could. 

“Yeah yeah.” Katsuki pointedly focused ahead of him, pushing open the ice rink door with low creak.

They were instantly greeted by a bellow of enthusiasm.

“Young Midoriya, Young Bakugou! Good to see you both here.”

Izuku waved excitedly from his place just behind Katsuki, peering over his shoulder and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Coach!”

The Captain muttered his own half hearted greeting as the pair rounded the rink to where Yagi stood in wait. 

“Would you both mind stretching in the studio for a bit? I’m just going to pick up some things from my office and meet you back here whenever you’re ready. Make sure to grab your skates, we’ll try to make a move on ice work.” He offered a smile as the pair of skaters nodded in agreement, and swiftly departed with long paces. 

“My skates are in my locker room. Do you want to get yours and meet- oh!”

Izuku turned his head from where he was watching the coach depart to look at the Captain, but was only met with the site of Katsuki’s back. The hockey player was turned away with his hands tucked into his pockets, already on the way to the hockey locker rooms. He slipped a hand out from the warmth of his pocket to raise it and offer a slight wave in understanding, without bothering to spare a glance to the figure skater. 

“Yeah yeah, already on it, Deku. I’ll see you there in a sec.” 

Izuku let a deep breath blow passed his lips, observing Katsuki’s back as he retreated to his locker room. He took in the broad shoulders, hunched over in a stalking stride, the way the hoodie stretched over his upper back and fell loose around a tapered waist. The disjointed memories of his childhood friend placed side by side were odd and left his heart aching. 

Distant memories of child’s play. 

Years after, the feeling of cold nipping at his bones as he sat dutifully on the bleachers, watching yards away. 

And now, getting the chance to once again tangibly interact with Katsuki. 

Throughout it all, his memories were tainted with views of Katuski's back. 

It was all sending Izuku in a spiral. 

Deku.

Izuku let the nickname roll around in his head as he watched, let it tug at the neurons that snarled unpleasant memories, and let the feeling chafe. It wasn’t a wonderful feeling, a bit bittersweet hearing that name again, but how could Izuku blame him? It was less than ideal circumstances, forcing the hockey player to dedicate time in his schedule that he was sure was already incredibly inflexible.

Izuku had always pondered over the potential of seeing Katsuki again, hope keeping him awake on rainy nights, wishing to rekindle childhood ties. 

It was painful to know the feeling wasn’t mutual. 

Monday had been…interesting and a bit of a mess if Izuku had to describe it in some way. It was a skirmish of pushing and pulling, Katsuki would give some, and take away just a moment later. Whatever Katsuki had been thinking was hidden well behind a sneer and furrowed brows, if Katsuki was thinking about anything other than anger, that was. 

With that final thought, he finally took a step back, away from Katsuki and away from his jumbled mind. Izuku turned abruptly from the direction Katsuki walked in, wondering off to slip his own skates out of their locker. 

Humming to the echo of his foot steps, he plunged into a small room neighboring the studio, taking in the walls which were lined with tall grey lockers, except for one plated in floor length mirrors. He slid around the benches, knocking the back of his knees into one bench behind him as he faced a locker. His fingertips slid across the cool metal of a lock as he pulled it open and grasped at the laces of his awaiting skates and set them aside. He slipped off the Mizuno windbreaker he wore, and reached once more into the abyss of his locker to remove his athletic jacket. Izuku tugged the light teal spandex over his head, taking care to slip his thumb into the sleeve’s thumb hole and not accidentally tear at the seams. He shifted a glance at the mirror, toying with the white strip that ran its course from the top of his shoulder down to his wrist’s cuff to straighten it. 

Izuku nodded absentmindedly and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, eyes unfocusing as he ran through his stretching routine mentally. He finally tossed the skates over his shoulder and left the quiet and comfortable locker room, making his way next door to the studios. 

Within an inch of the door parting from its frame, an annoyed voice broke the sound barrier in a frustrated lilt. 

“Fuck took you so long? Did ya sprint to Cape Sōya and back?” Katsuki barked out in dismay, voice crisp and resonating through the crack of the door. Izuku shuttered slightly at the onslaught of the baritone voice as he continued to push open the door and make his way into the studio, quickly becoming the target for the daggers that shot from the Captain’s casted glare. 

Katsuki was standing on one leg, other raised and bent, knee pressed firmly to his chest by the hands clasped underneath his thigh. Izuku blinked back his surprised and stepped into the studio, soundly closing the door behind him. 

“Oh! You started already?” 

“Wasn’t gonna wait for your rambling ass, princess.” He released his leg and rolled back his shoulders before perching himself onto the ground. The mocking name had Izuku balking, a sudden flash of heat coating the tops of his cheeks and had his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. His lips parted and his teeth clacked together as he attempted to force words to brew.

Princess? Him? Although probably meant to be teasing and picking him apart for the 'feminine' nature of his sport, Izuku couldn’t help but become a flustered mess at the name.

It was definitely a change from ‘Deku’, ‘nerd’, and the like. At least it outwardly sounded nice, despite the hidden intention. 

“Gonna join me or are you gonna stand there and stare?”

Izuku jerked at the rumbling tenor, slicing deep into his mind palace and tearing him from his flushed mulling. He offered a tight laugh in response, before seating himself on a mat near the hockey player. 

They passed through similar routines of lunges and rotation poses. Katsuki barely mumbled a word as Izuku filled the studio with rambling, speaking his thoughts about his upcoming competitions. 

“Coach was thinking I should try and explore some more song genres during preliminary rounds. I can usually read his expectations, but for once I'm not sure what he's been thinking for my qualifiers. He just seems to be really excited for this season.” 

Katsuki let out a soft grunt, in both acknowledgement and strain as he eased into another stretch, the soft pop of his hip flexor echoing in the studio, before releasing and sitting flat on the ground. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his palms, briefly turning to look at figure skater, who had finally halted his own chattering and sat silently in a pigeon pose. Katsuki’s watching was quickly interrupted as Izuku glanced in his direction. The figure skaters moved his hands to stabilize him as he turned on his hips and shifted into a sit. The figure skater rose a jittery hand to scratch at a freckled cheek, and at the rate he was going at, Katsuki almost feared he might pluck the little marks off of his skin.

Before this semester, Izuku often shared his practice time with another solo skater or two, their coaches trying to take advantage of the time, space, and camaraderie. It meant he adjusted his stretching regimen to account for a partner, and now he may need some help from the Captain, despite the embarrassment boiling under his skin. 

“What are you thinking about? The steam blowing out of your fucking ears is blocking my field of view.” 

Izuku paused, trying to work the words out of this throat. “Do you mind helping me with some stretches?” 

“Haah? You need my help?” 

“I’m used to spending practice with another figure skater, and we usually help each other stretch. I’ve gotten used to it and incorporated it into my routines so-“

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t need to talk my ear off. I’ll make sure you’ve never felt as nimble before.” Sarcasm dripped from his tongue as the expression on his face remained passive. 

Izuku blushed rouge at that, sputtering slightly as he waved his hands out, uncertain on how to respond. He didn't expect Katsuki to accept, and the thought of being that close to the Captain had him suddenly self conscious. 

Katsuki looked up with a quirked brow, a hand coming down to firmly smack at the rubber mat to regain some semblance of normality from Izuku. He jerked his head, obviously irritated by the stuttering. “What’s your goddamn issue?”

“Nothing! Nothing. Uhm.” Izuku stretched his legs out before him, far enough apart to be damn near a split. He hunched his back forward, arms stretching out before him as he waved Katsuki over. “If you can just apply weight here…” He motioned to his back, and Katsuki stood with a grunt, pressing the palms of his hands to his upper back and gently pushing. His hands were inhumanely heated, causing Izuku’s skin to burn under the contact, and a chill to rack his body when the Captain finally removed his hands. The normally warm studio air felt frigid under the impressions of the palm on Izuku’s back. 

They had shifted into a couple more poses, from Katsuki stretching his quads to his back.

Izuku racked his mind for anymore routine stretches, before pausing abruptly. “I think we can stop here.”

“That’s really all you needed me to do? I call bullshit.” Katsuki called pointedly from where he was rolling back his shoulders, waiting on Izuku's next instructions.  

“It’s just-!” 

“It doesn’t matter what the issue is. Practice without stretching properly is stupid. I should think you would know that, with how many awards you have under that glitter coated belt of yours.” 

“Most of my figure skating regalia doesn’t have glitter, Kaachan!” He huffed, before taking a moment to play with the seams of his jacket and subsequently nodding. “But alright, I guess you have a point.”

“I’m never wrong, nerd.” 

Izuku, despite himself, gave a mocking laugh, which had Katsuki sending him a glare. 

“You got a problem with that?”

“Whatever you say, Kaachan.” The figure skater attempted to stifle his chuckle with a hand before shifting to lay on his back. He lifted a leg with a grip under his thigh, allowing the palm to glide further up until it reached his calf, and his leg subsequently came down closer to his face. “And now can you just push my leg further down? It’s a bit weird… sorry… it’s just easier if someone helps me.” 

Katsuki’s eyes promptly ran over the figure skater, before he let out a sigh and set himself down to his knees. Thick fingers grasped at the place on his calf where Izuku’s hand formerly held, urging it down with gentle pressure. He awaited noises of affirmation from the figure skater before continuing his pursuit in adding more weight, until eventually Izuku was practically split in half and Katsuki had to brace his other hand by the side of Izuku’s head to stay upright. 

“Goddamn, that’s kinda impressive.” Katsuki let out a low whistle as he took in his position. 

“I do some gymnastics and yoga in off seasons. Nothing serious but it keeps me bendy.” Izuku puffed out shortly as he concentrated on his breathing, feeling the tug of his hamstring start to loosen. 

“I can see that.” The Captain let out an unexpectedly soft chuckle, which sent Izuku bursting into flames and bathing in red as he muttered a string of nothing at the sudden kindess. He only stopped to change legs. 

Katsuki’s additional comment as they continued to stretch of “You’re more talented than I remembered” had been backhanded, sure, which meant it shouldn’t send Izuku into a jittery fit, as if he was accepting praise. 

The Captain’s compliments had always been few and far between as children, so Izuku would grasp at anything that was offered. It had him feeling an odd mixture of nostalgia and shame to find himself still soughting after those hidden remarks. 

Once warm and nimble, the pair grabbed the skates that rested dutifully by the door and collapsed on the sole bench in the room to slip them on.

“You can feel free to just leave your sneakers in here. No one will be in the studio for the rest of the night.” Izuku swung up to his feet once his skates were secured. He clasped his fingers together and stretched them out before him, reveling in the subtle feeling of burning in his fingers’ joints from where the laces of the skates formed new callouses during tightening. He nudged his sneakers to the side of the room with his blade just as Katsuki grunted and stood up himself. 

With that, they made their way out of the studio and become enveloped in the steep drop of temperature beyond them. 

Standing on the ice and patiently awaiting their arrival was Yagi, who waved at them eagerly. The coach bore a bright red jacket, his old professional team’s logo embroidered proudly on it. It was absolutely vibrant, causing both Izuku and Katsuki to cringe back, as it was bright enough to reflect on his face and the ice below, smearing everything in a shade of crimson. 

“Goddamn.”

“I know. It’s a cool jacket, but I feel like I might go blind if I look at him for too long.” Izuku joked. 

They paused by the entrance to the rink, Izuku taking a moment to lean his hip into the wall as he bent a knee and crossed his opposite ankle over it, removing his bright green skate guards. 

Katsuki gaze out onto the freshly glazed ice, before parting to look down at Izuku, irritated by the hold up.

“What’s up with the neon? You get your taste in color from your coach?” Katsuki noted in question. The Captain had promptly removed his own skate guards in the studio, now left waiting for Izuku with his arms crossed in boredom, as if the task of removing the guards would take longer than ten seconds. 

“Kaachan.” Izuku looked up from where he was snapping off the guards, unamused. “Yours are bright orange.” 

“…shut up. Orange is a great fucking color.” Did Katsuki just pout? Izuku bit at his lip, attempting to contain another mocking chuckle, as Katsuki replied bitterly. “Don’t figure skaters try and go for more subdued colors? Glitter and baby pink and shit?” 

"Very verbose, Kaachan," He teased lightly. Izuku took a moment to reply further, switching his legs to peel off his other guard, pointedly avoiding Katsuki's gaze at the absurdity of the slander being perfectly true. “…I may or may not have a pair in pastel, but that is not for you to know.”

Katsuki barked out a laugh in victory. 

It caught Izuku off guard, but had a timid smile pulling at his cheeks regardless. He placed the skate guards on the ledge of the boards and stepped onto the ice, intent on meeting up with Yagi where he stood by the blue line. Within just those few strides, Izuku was already entranced with seeing Katsuki skate from up close. His style of skating was foreign to him, the different blade shape to thank for that, but it still held an ounce of grace under the guise of power. They came to an eased stop, kicking up a few puffs of snow as Yagi smiled down at them, dawning only a pair of his own sneakers as he shuffled on the ice. 

“Young Midoriya! Feel free to start warming up while I give Young Bakugou the rundown.” 

Izuku hummed in agreement and stepped back, taking a few minutes to round the boards in a few laps, leaning his body into crossovers at each curve of the rink, occasionally shifting his edges into swizzles or slaloms to keep his body warm from his studio session, making sure to repeat the laps backwards as well. As he passed his Coach and the Captain, he could only pick up bits and pieces of their conversation, which Izuku was miraculously able to piece together well enough. 

Today’s training, much like prior, would focus on lifting Izuku on ice and ensure the Captain was confident in holding his weight on blades. Katsuki was to remain stagnant, and Izuku would be the one to meet him, if any motion was involved in the lift. They may start doing simple throws, ensuring Izuku’s ability to land. They would proceed from there. 

A fear, a more numbing frost than the rink’s air, crawled upon his skin, leaving goose flesh in its wake. Reality had finally settled upon him, realization that he had to give more than he would receive in this on-ice partnership, and it left him feeling cotton mouthed.  

Izuku was trained in skating in singles. Any diminutive dreams he had of ever working with a partner were crushed years ago, for obvious reason. He had harbored his body to attain his goal, toned his legs and forged them for jumping on the thin blades by himself. He never imagined Yagi would grant him the opportunity to experience a partnership, even if it was just during practice. 

With how the years have passed, Izuku didn’t know if he was capable of relying on someone in that way. 

His leap of fate at each jump was critical, he had it well ingrained in his mind and every tendon in his body.  He knew once his blade left the ice, in that crucial moment of a split second, whether or not his trick would be possible, whether he should bail or preserve. Every calculated turn of his body was set up by that jump. 

Without the connection of blade to ice, he will have to wholeheartedly trust his partner. 

How could he forgo all of his training to have his partner ‘jump’ for him? How could he simply give up what he was trained to do?

That partner being none other than Katsuki was a double edged blade within itself. On one hand he hoped, no believed, Katsuki could be capable of bridging that blade-to-ice gap for him. And that allowed the small pit within Izuku which hoped for a reciprocating partner to flutter in glee. But, it was obvious Katsuki wasn’t doing this out of personal interest, and that left Izuku feeling devastated. He knew it was selfish to desire such when this relationship was built purely out of necessity.

Ultimately, he had worked hard to preform alone, and being tempted with a partnership he had always dreamed of, he feared, would be for the worse. How could he be given this opportunity with Katsuki of all people, and not dream of more? 

Sharply shoving away the lingering thoughts of Katsuki, he once again became overwhelmed with the thought of giving up his own control and offering it to his partner. Especially on the ice. 

Monday was different; studio training not yet being a commitment to the ice. That practice could have been briefly classified as 'fun' because of it, despite the awkward dance of tension the pair was ensnared in. The nerves he experienced since then had grown tenfold, filling his chest until his rib cage threatened to split under the pressure.

He was abruptly called from his dozenth lap, torn away from his contemplations, and motioned to center ice. 

Yagi’s confidence didn’t aid in quelling Izuku’s fears.

Izuku plucked at his cuticle nervously, running his fingernails along the nail beds in an attempt to calm his anxieties. His throat had felt a bit sore, and he was certain he was mumbling his worries at some point during his warmup. 

How he wished to play his practice soundtracks and to dissolve into each axel. 

Katsuki and Yagi looked at him expectantly, waiting for Izuku’s 'go ahead' to start the practice. 

“So? What’s the hold up? We don’t have all fucking day.” The Captain grumbled, grinding a blade to the ice to fill the static silence and prompt Izuku’s hesitance. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you! I’ve just never really been picked up, nonetheless thrown. Aside from Monday I guess.” He moved from thumbing at his fingernails to run a hand down the column of his neck. “I’ve never… had a partner on ice so this is all a bit much for me.” 

“For fucks sake. Come ‘ere.” Katsuki stuck his hands out in front of him, open and impatiently waiting for Izuku to approach him. 

Straining his teeth together to suppress a nervous chatter, Izuku hesitantly glided froward, only stopping when Katsuki firmly pressed his palm’s around his waist.  

“Just face me for the first few lifts. Put your arms over my shoulders if you need balance, alright?” Izuku looked as if he was about to interrupt, but Katsuki bit out a quick response; an attempt to halt any possible onslaught of verbal barrage from the figure skater. “And if I’m gonna fall, I’ll just make sure you land on top of me. That sound okay, Deku?”

“B-but-!”

“Don’t be a priss, princess.” The Captain interrupted. “Trust me, I’ve had worse than some figure skater falling on me. And I don’t have any plans on dropping you, so it doesn’t fucking matter anyway.” 

Izuku let out a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he tried to gain a false air of confidence. “Alright, Kaachan.”

“Great, here we go.” Katsuki pulled him in bit closer, flush to his chest, before bracing himself with a slight bend to the knee. “1, 2, and-“

Izuku was thankful for Katsuki’s countdown, but it didn’t help him prepare himself any better. 

Letting out an embarrassingly high pitched gasp, his hands flew to grasp at the top of Katsuki’s shoulder. From his view point above the Captain, Izuku had his heart caught in his chest, unfortunately more so from panic opposed to noticing the flicker of amusement behind the apprehension in Katsuki’s eyes. 

Katsuki continued to hold him mid air, self satisfied and snarky smirk on his face as he looked up at the figure skater. He had the audacity to swizzle a few paces backwards, which had Izuku shrieking and throwing his arms around Katsuki’s neck. 

“Told you you’d be okay, shitty nerd. Now let go of my fucking neck, you’re blinding me and I can’t put you down.” Katsuki’s voice was muffled from where his face was pressed into Izuku’s chest, trying and failing to pull the figure skater away. Taking a second to process his request, Izuku rapidly removed his arms, pulling them back in rigid surrender. 

“I’m sorry, Kaachan!”

“Whatever.” Despite his gruff way of brushing Izuku off, Katsuki took care in gently setting down the figure skater, ensuring his blades were stable underneath him before letting go of his waist.

Yagi clapped once from where he stood, garnering their attention.

“Good! Can you lift him up a few more time? Feel free to try it while Young Midoriya is facing you and away. I just want to ensure you build up some trust, and you won’t get too tired from doing this for long periods of time.” 

“Easy enough. You ready to get picked up again, nerd?” 

Izuku took in a deep breath, arching backwards slightly at the breadth of the inhale, and nodded stiffly. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” His reluctance was evident, but ignored. 

The tension didn’t quite leave Izuku’s body as their practice progressed, no matter how much he tried to urge it away. It had become quickly noticeable that Katsuki was brimming with annoyance. Bickering was the best word to describe their passing conversation, as Katsuki would jostle him in his arms, urging him to try something better, do more, but Izuku was still reeling from the fact that his blades weren’t firmly planted on the ice.  

“Kaachan, careful!” He managed to squeak out. 

“What, you can’t keep up, Deku?” Katsuki shot back in irritation.

Izuku was nothing less than troublesomely conflicted. He wasn’t sure if he could completely blame Katsuki for attempting to push him forward. But, Izuku was trying desperately to keep up with his paces, and it was becoming a bit too overwhelming. It felt a bit too familiar, as if he was staring at Katsuki’s back again, even though they were facing each other within the confines of the same ice rink.

Katsuki’s teasing and pressuring as he hoisted Izuku in the air was making his doubts of working with a partner return. 

It takes time to garner talent. Any faults in Katsuki’s lifts would need to be ironed out, and Izuku still needed to adjust. He tried to reason with Katsuki’s motives at pushing their training at an ungodly speed, but he couldn’t. 

It seemed as if Katsuki was expecting too much of him, and he just couldn’t keep up yet. It was their first day of on-ice practice, for fuck’s sake! He shouldn’t feel so downright depressed over experiencing some doubts. All he needed was more time to get used to this new form of training. 

But, the rational thoughts that attempted to reason his faults were quickly flooded with embarrassment. He felt pathetic. He just wanted Katsuki to recognize him. Wanted him to see Izuku as a potential friend again. And yet he couldn’t keep up. What could Katsuki possibly be thinking about him during all of this? Why did Izuku feel this way? The inner turmoil felt unbearably degrading. 

The weight upon his shoulders all came plummeting down, begging to pull Izuku down with it, just as Katsuki hoisted Izuku up further than normal, tossing him up slightly and allowing his forearms to catch the figure skater under the thigh. 

Jostling the skater in his arms, Izuku could do nothing but let the panic swallow him whole, writhing and attempting to pull back to get down from Katsuki’s grip, which was quickly met with a “Hold on, nerd! Let me-" But his struggling continued, and he finally managed to slip out of Katsuki’s arms and fall to the ground. Izuku winced slightly as he landed oddly, his skates slipping out from underneath him and causing him to collapse to his knees.

Izuku stumbled back to his feet with a certain fury brimming under his irises, evident in the taut way his shoulders were pulled back and fists were shakily balled up by his sides. The sudden change in demeanor caused any bitter remarks that Katsuki was holding to die upon his tongue. 

The prodding pressure in Izuku's mind unraveled, causing words to start to tumble from his mouth, running amuck before he could process a single phrase, bred by emotion. It felt as if an uncontrollable flood of molasses seeped out from his throat, keeping his jaw pried open in its sap, forcing out the sound of his mind’s eye through the gap of his teeth. 

“Listen, I get this all seems like fun and games to you, but it isn’t to me! I haven’t had a partner on the ice before, especially not one to throw me around. This is a dangerous, and I can’t allow myself to get hurt! It would be detrimental if my season became obsolete because of a stupid injury.” The unexpected outburst had Katsuki take a step back, nonchalant expression minutely broken by the subtle widening of eyes.

Izuku’s anger quickly dissolved into the pure, heart wrenching feeling of being upset, distress pouring from him. 

“I get it, Kaachan, I really do! I get that neither of us expected this to happen, and it’s a shitty situation for you, but I need you to work with me here! Skating is fun, it’s meant to be fun, even with all the practices I have to endure, I still enjoy it! All I can do is fucking hope that we can one day enjoy these practices together, but I can’t do that right now! I understand you want to get this over with as fast as possible, but I can’t handle this yet!  This is all too new for me! Please be patient with me!” Izuku’s breath had come out stuttering, his voice wavering as his outburst dwindled to an end. His eyes were glazed in unshed tears, blanketing verdant in a sheen of iridescence which weighed down his bottom lashes. He had folded over, his palms pressed into his knees as he stared up at the Captain, as if his own thoughts were weighing him down physically. 

Katsuki had been frozen in his spot, all of his posturing chipped away until he was left standing limp. Soft pants from figure skater was the only noise that dare break the silence that enraptured them. 

Yagi looked on hesitantly, deciding quickly that he shouldn’t get involved. They were both adults, and could hash out their own dilemmas without his involvement. 

“Alright.” The silence was finally broken, shattered into oblivion like a mirror that had been teetering endlessly on cabinet edge, begging for its chance to fall. 

Izuku’s body jerked at the intrusion of the voice. 

“A-alright?” It wasn't the reaction he was expecting, more so bracing himself for the barbed words he had become so accustomed to in their youth. It was no apology, either, Izuku wasn’t stupid enough to expect that. But, it was tolerance, and that was enough for him. 

“Yeah. I was being stupid. I shouldn’t have outpaced you. It’s your training and I’m supposed to help, not be the one to lead it. I’ll pull back.” 

Oddly enough, by the look on Katsuki’s face, a mix between shock, recognition, and acceptance, it seemed as if he was waiting for Izuku’s outburst. His expression soon tempered into understanding, and Izuku felt the threat of tears once more. 

With the awkwardness of the sudden interruption soon passing over them, they continued at a tempo Izuku found himself much more in favor of. 

Much faster than Izuku had originally anticipated, they started to play with the possibility of a simple throw waltz and throw loop. The jump still relied primarily on Izuku, and Katsuki would only play a part in directing and offering leverage for the skater, giving them both a better feel for how more advanced throws might soon play out. He could finally feel the anxieties that chirped in the back of skull come to a peaceful quiet as he felt himself losing the connection between his blade and the ice and trade it for Katsuki's hand. 

“Perfect!” Yagi’s voice rained down upon them once more. “You guys have been moving at more of a brisk pace than I expected. Do you feel comfortable getting thrown yet, Young Midoriya? I don’t expect any trick, I just want you to start becoming familiar with landing when you aren't in complete control of the jump.” 

Izuku froze up for a moment, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves as he mulled over the question. 

The pacing of the practice had started to suite him much better, and he did feel more confident in Katsuki as a partner. It wasn’t that he was scared of falling… no. He’s bared enough bruises and a fucked up scar on his arm from enough accidents. But that was a labor of love and burden onto himself. Being thrown by a partner? Sharing the risk of a jump/throw? He was still hesitant. 

He couldn’t risk taking down Katsuki with him, didn’t want to show him the side of him that was more error than success, didn’t want Katsuki to think of him as a failure and not worth his time. He didn’t wasn’t Katsuki to leave him again. 

His breath was caught in his throat at the intrusiveness of the last thought, a hand shifting to clutch at his chest, feeling the deep beating of an anxious heart under the cloth. 

Katsuki passed a look over to the fidgeting skater, and heaved out a sigh before turning back to Yagi with a crooked thumbs up. “Yeah, we can try.” 

“Kaachan?”

“You won’t be able to do shit if you get all in your head and don’t try at all. We’ll take it at your speed.” 

“Yeah.. yeah alright.” 

And with that affirmation, their session moved to lifts and throws. 

Izuku grimaced as he was first tossed to the air, falling on wobbly skates, and hands flying out as he quickly righted himself. A long winded exhale passed through his lips, which were turning kissed pink from the cold and exertion. 

Fuck. 

“It’s alright! Nothing wrong with a stumble. It's just your first time.” Yagi assured him, shuffling over in his sneakers to offer a pat to the figure skater’s back. “Did anything about that throw feel wrong? Or are you just not used to it yet?” 

Izuku contemplated the question for a splitsecond, before shaking his head. He didn’t know how this was supposed to feel, but all he could do for now was work at it until he could figure it out. “I think… I think I’m just not used to it yet.”

“Alright! Let’s give it a few more shots.” 

The next few times landed just a poorly, leaving Izuku in a tense mess. 

Katsuki seemed to feel the stress emanating from Izuku, whom landed flat on his ass. The Captain offered him a hand to pull the figure skater back to his feet. 

“Oi, taking falls like that, you could probably shoulder a few checks in hockey. Your ass alright, twinkle toes?”

The attempt to lighten the mood allowed a small smile to tug at Izuku’s face, as he gratefully took Katsuki’s outreached hand, pressing his warm palm tightly into the other. Upon standing, he rubbed at his lower back and gave a shrug. 

“I think I’m starting to get it.” 

“Are you now? After wiping out like that?” The hockey player teased mercilessly, motioning to the slick of snow that Izuku was still struggling to wipe off. 

With an exaggerated huff, Izuku pushed the hockey player back into his starting mark. Katsuki moved with ease, the ice and sharp blades doing wonders in allowing Izuku to push and pull him as he needed. “Kaachan! Put a little bit of trust in me. Throw me again. I won’t get off of this ice until I land properly a few times.” 

“You won’t get off the fucking ice, ey? I have my own practice after this, I’ll throw you right over the plexiglass.” 

Izuku groaned dramatically and rolled his eyes, before readying himself for another toss, determination set in a new crease between his brows. 

When he managed to land with just a fraction of the grace he exuded during his traditional practices, it was still enough to send the three of them whooping in victory. 

“Good! Keep at it!” Yagi shouted out from where he was now seated at the hockey benches. 

A few more throws rapidly followed in succession, some stumbles, but others landing with exceedingly more confidence. Izuku’s anxieties seemed far away with the thrill that started to thrum within him. The trance he has found himself falling into was abruptly broken as Yagi called for the pair’s attention. 

“Good job today, boys! I’ll be heading out because I have a meeting to catch, so feel free to wrap up. Get home safe, Young Midoriya, and have a good practice, Young Bakugou!” And with that, Yagi slid out of the hockey booth and out of the rink with a final wave. 

Izuku looked over to the hockey player, who met his gaze soon after with a nod of his head. “Nice work, Deku. Now get off my ice, I’ve got a practice to get started.”

The brief complement had Izuku preening, and with a skip off the ice, he called out his farewell. “Thank you for your help! I’ll see you next practice, Kaachan!” 

-X-

Finally back at home, Izuku could firmly collapse on his bed, dragged down by weariness and fading adrenaline. Practice had been turbulent, but, he was satisfied with the ending, nonetheless. 

The pair was starting to garner a better feel for their new partnership, and Izuku had a sickly feeling of desire overcome him, nostalgia for a partner he thought he lost years ago. 

Was it alright to feel this way? 

He heaved a sigh and physically waved a hand through the air, cutting through the static darkness of his dimly lit bedroom as if it would clear his throughs. He reached out for his phone, and allowed the bright screen to blind him as it bathed his skin in pure white. 

Izuku tapped tentatively at the screen, running through the evening practice once more, pushing past any emotional ties to process it in a more calculated measure. It had gone well, especially for a first on-ice practice, but they’ll need to improve quickly if Izuku wants to start garnering a grasp on the tricks Yagi had planned for him. He has to be able to start doing them on his own flawlessly, and as soon as possible, if he hopes to bring them to the Grand Prix or Olympic Qualifiers. 

With a contemplative huff, he opened up his messages, scrolling to one of the most recent numbers and listened to the soft clack of his nails on acrylic screen as he tapped out his thoughts. 

Might as well go to the source. 

Izuku: Ochako! Can I get some of your insight on pair skating?

His wait for a response was short lived, the small pop up of ‘…’ quickly following his own message. 

Ochako: Midoriya! Ohhhhh? Are you interested in pair skating??

Izuku: Nono!

Izuku: I mean yes! It’s super interesting, just not for me. 

Izuku: But Coach paired me up with someone to try and get comfortable with a few harder tricks

Izuku: And I thought oh! Who better to ask for advice than our own, amazing, talented, pair skaters!!

Ochako: Okok, I get it LMAO 

Ochako: How do you type so fast holy shit, my phone is buzzing like crazy and I think my prof is about to chuck her expo marker at me 

Ochako: I hate evening classes why did I sign up for this 

Ochako: Anyway, flattery can get you far, I’m very honored lol. You know damn right Tsu and I are the best. Who were you paired with btw? 

Izuku: Oh that

Izuku: Katsuki Bakugou

Ochako: The captain of the hockey team??

Ochako: I gasped a little too loud, prof is geared with an eraser this time and she is eyeballing me hardcore 

Ochako: I’ll ignore my potential death at the hands of my Finance prof for now because what!!!

Ochako: Man, what is your coach on!? That’s wild. How are you training for figure skating with a hockey player? 

Izuku: Well, he’s really just tossing me so I can get more airtime and focus on my landings and such  

Ochako: ok ngl I need to pop into your practice and see how that’s going 

Ochako: but anyway! Shoot! What questions do you have for me? 

Izuku: how did you build up courage when doing lifts and throws? Is there any technique to it? 

Ochako: oh a whole fucking load of technique and pizzazz. Tsu just trusts me not to drop her. I’m guessing your hockey captain isn’t going to be doing any axels with you, so all you really have to work on his making sure he throws you right and throws you high. 

Ochako: Be demanding!! I’ve never heard Tsu yell at me as much as she did when we were first starting out. Now I could throw her in my sleep. 

Ochako: If you’re just doing stagnant tosses right now, I doubt you’ll smash your skull in, but you don’t want to risk spraining an ankle or rolling a wrist if he doesn’t throw you the way you need him to. 

Izuku: ok, I see. Thank you!

Ochako: how strong his he btw?

Izuku: he picked me up like I weighted nothing

Izuki: It was terrifying 

Ochako: have fun being thrown around ;) 

Izuku: Ochako! 

Ochako: Don’t stress it too much! Tension is only going to fuck up your landing. Just make sure to yell at him lots! Good luuuuuuck, hope to meet him soon! 

Izuku groaned as he threw his phone to the nearby desk with a noisy clatter. He had found himself propped on his elbow during the text conversation, and finally slipped out of the position to let his head collapse onto the pillow below him. 

He tugged at his eyes, waterline wet with oncoming sleep, as he pushed aside thoughts of the ice to debate his schoolwork. 

Unintentionally, he had kept a secret from Katsuki. It wasn’t his fault, really, he just never knew what to do about it. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, the two days that Katsuki and Izuku technically had apart, aside from weekends, weren’t necessarily spent separated. The pair actually shared a single class, which Izuku was certain Katsuki hasn’t noticed in the slightest. The figure skater, embarrassingly enough, never had the confidence to approach him.

The first day of the course had him reeling when his attention was entrapped by broad back and blonde locks, but anxiety had him seated on the far end of the classroom. Izuku had mused over the idea of reaching out; tried and failed to squash down the hope of having scarlet gaze leveled at him and recognition flood his irises. Alas, that particular pipeline dream never came to fruition.

Seeing how their practice had been going initially, Izuku is rather thankful he didn’t reach out. He didn’t know what their professor would do if they started a shouting match in the middle of a lecture. 

But, Izuku thinks he is finally ready to approach him outside of the rink, and is determined to grow closer to Katsuki, despite his obvious resistance. 

Tomorrow, he promises himself, tomorrow is when he will get the chance to twist fate with his own hands. 

Chapter Text

The warmth from under the blankets roused Katsuki awake in a sheen of sweat, eyes fluttering open in a bleary haze as the sunlight forced its way through thin curtains. He sucked in a deep breath of stale air and let it slowly whistle through parted lips, allowing an arm to breach from under his duvet to tug at the blonde hair that became plastered to his forehead. Blinking away the sleep that remained over scarlet irises, he craned his neck to the side, scanning the alarm clock. 

Katsuki woke several minutes before his alarm, as usual. He huffed in pride at his body’s carefully catered routine and meticulous circadian rhythm, sitting up to stretch away sore joint. 

It was 7:30 AM, which meant a quick run or a few sets at the gym, a shower, and a beautifully crafted, mouth watering breakfast was easily achievable before his 10:30 AM class.  

His run was a light jog among dewy fog, letting the soft and sleepy chirps from song birds morph into his early morning soundtrack. Any students that were awake at this time had already been tragically locked in their 8 AM lecture halls, meaning a hush had fallen upon the campus for the time being. These were the times where Katsuki’s mind felt unimaginably clear, giving him a chance to mentally flip through his schedule and plan for the day. 

Assignment due tonight? He finished it last week.

Online lecture? Reviewed.

The team’s blade sharpening? Planned for Saturday morning. 

Deku?

Ah.

That was something he now needed to plan around. 

Katsuki had finally looped around and came to a halt at the dorm entrance, faint exhales of hot breath forging a steam which puffed around his face. He rested a hand on his hip as he caught his breath, taking a moment to enjoy the chill on his warm skin, kissing beaded sweat into vapor. He used the back of his hand to wipe away any sweat that started to trickle irritably into his eyes. 

Deku.

The previous evening had been an experience, to word it lightly. 

It gave Katsuki the chance to peer into those irritably wide eyes and pluck his thoughts straight from the optic nerve hidden naively behind iris pigmentation.

Izuku had always been a nervous child, nerves barely kept at bay by a wobbling smile and a side shuffle until he was hidden by Katsuki’s frame. To think that Izuku had continued to possess the habit as an adult was laughable. In their youth, Katsuki had to pry to convince Izuku into trying anything out of the ordinary, convince him that ‘that log is stable enough to be a bridge!’ or ‘let’s see how high I can push you on the swing!’, because what was childhood if they couldn’t explore and be the goddamn best at it out of all the kids in the neighborhood? His bravado of confidence always convinced Izuku into try to step out of his comfort zone. 

And much like when they were children, yesterday Katsuki had fallen into the habit of tugging, shoving, and all but growling at Izuku to do more, because how else was he expected to improve if all he wanted to do was sit on his ass and twiddle his thumbs? 

Izuku’s outburst was utterly unanticipated. He didn't expect Izuku to be opposed to his insistence, nor outright stand against them. 

That split moment of anger which soon dissipated into despaired pleading had Katsuki recoiling. There was a moment in the heat of it all that Izuku's opaque eyes rang clear, a sheen of passion, pure determination, glaring ever true between shuttering lashes. And despite Izuku’s panicked fussing, Katsuki had a moment of realization that maybe he didn’t need to force his hand in dragging the figure skater out of his own zone of comfort. Katsuki could attest for his drive and need to perfect his season’s routines, Katsuki mirroring much of his emotions in his own desire to make the NHL draft. So, Katsuki did what he hadn’t done before. He gave more than he should have, relinquished his desires to conduct in order to be conducted by the hands of the figure skater like a finely tuned violin. Izuku had not overstepped any bounds, telling the Captain how he should or shouldn't skate, and for that, Katsuki allowed Izuku to take the helm. 

The remainder of the practice had gone surprisingly well. Katsuki had successfully sidelined his need to lead and boiled away any annoyance with the ego boosting realization that Izuku needed him if any of this practice would be of benefit. 

He grunted as he pushed the thought away.  No way in hell was he going to waste even more of his precious brain power trying to prioritize Deku’s training when he had his own toppling schedule to worry about. 

With a sour look overcoming his features, hiding away any twinge of a smile that may have tugged at his lips, he reentered his dorm building. Katsuki made his way up to his unit, only passing by a handful of students whom successfully survived their 8 AM class and were groggily making their way back into the secluded shelter of their own rooms, presumably to pass out on their beds and recover from the early morning lecture. 

The dorm building was a mutation of a variety of living styles. Singles, doubles, triples, and quads littered every floor, along with other necessities, from lounges to laundry rooms. Katsuki had been indisputably cursed in regard to his own rooming situation, dragged forcefully kicking and screaming into rooming with Kirishima and Sero.  He was moments away from dangling them both off of the roof when he found out they managed to log into Katsuki’s housing portal and added a request to room as a trio. He could only thank whatever pitiful God was watching in securing them three single rooms in an apartment style complex. It meant he had to be near those baneful shits for most of his day, but at least he was given his own kitchen (because only Satan below knows when the last time Kirishima or Sero touched a pan was) and a bedroom door he could lock behind him for some peace and quiet. 

After a quick shower, he change into tasteful loungewear, cozy yet put together enough to avoid having his fashion forward mother tearing his ears off if she were to appear out of nowhere.

Katsuki stationed himself loyally by the kitchen counter. His morning morphed into tranquility as sizzling oil and the repeated crack of garlic clove on cutting board beat a symphony in his ears. 

Suddenly, the abrasive sound of heavy feet and the groan of a door opening interrupted his peaceful serenity, returning the scowl from his morning run back to his face. 

“Bakubroooo good morning.” The red haired oaf teetered in the threshold of his doorway with the balance of a one legged pigeon. “Can I have some?” Kirishima voice was drawn out and slurring as he stumbled over the few feet from his bedroom door to the kitchen, still sleep drunk from a restful night. He jerked a finger threateningly close to the heated frying pan, and let out a shocked whimper when Katsuki smacked it away. 

“Piss off, Shitty Hair.” 

“Come onnn. I’ll starve and die and then your only goalie will be Testutestu and you know we will get booted out of the league if we have only one goalie pleaaaaaase.” His words were picking up fever in the form of a run on sentence, now drawling out in an attempt to bother Katsuki rather than being from an aftereffect of sleep. Kirishima grabbed at the Captain's arm, shaking and pulling on it like an energetic toddler. 

“Oi!” Katsuki ripped his arm out of his grasp with a snarl. “ I am holding a hot fucking frying pan! I beg of you to rub together those two brain cells of yours for just a second to realize that I very well will hit you with it. Now get off me!” 

“Awww.” Kirishima backed up several feet and pouted sadly, lips drawn out in exaggeration and his eyes blinking widely.  The goalie’s shoulders rolled over in a hunch and he tapped together his index fingers, walking in depressed little circles, occasionally sending glances at his Captain during his roundabout with the face of a kicked dog. 

“Not this bullshit again.” Katsuki bemoaned as he attempted to pry his regard away from the food driven goalie. The blonde tried to focus back onto his cooking, but he could feel a shiver run down his spine at the pestering gaze that continued to beg for his attention and his breakfast. He risked a look over his shoulder only to see Kirishima practically curled into a ball, fingers still tapping together and his eyes wide enough that they would probably pop from his skull at any given moment.

Katsuki felt his nose wrinkle and teeth gnash in annoyance, perplexed on what mindset he was in to ever have the audacity to call this stupid buffoon a friend. 

“Fucking fine. Now stop with that stupid shit! Go get dressed or you won’t eat and you’ll be late for your class!” Katsuki flipped him off as Kirishima popped up like a cartoon rabbit, loud whoop of victory in his throat.

The shrill creak of another door cut through Kirishima’s cheers. 

“Did I hear Bakugou is giving us free food this morning?” Sero’s voice rang from the ajar bedroom door as he peaked out an eager head.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Katsuki’s posture sagged, throwing his head back with an exasperated groan. 

-X-

With roommates finally fed, Katsuki was able book it to his first class before they decided pin him down and drag him around to do some stupid bullshit that would impede on his pristine academic standing. 

The walk to the Life Sciences building was brief, standing tall and proud amongst the backdrop of trees and exhausted students. The interior was modern and sleek, pristine beige tiles and burnt orange walls accented with white pillars, the color combination adding a tone of warmth to the sterile appearance of the labs that lined several of the halls. Monitors were littered across different nooks, brightly reflecting anything from announcements for campus wide events to the weekly weather report. Katsuki's class was on the third floor, off in a branching hallway. It was some bullshit Medical Physics course, an elective he needed for his minor. He wanted to blow his brains out each time he entered the classroom. The material, for one, wasn’t nearly as difficult as other students made it to be, absolutely certain he could ace any exam that was thrown at him in his sleep. But, his professor’s droning had him fighting not to doze off. It was unimaginable how mind numbing the class was, with both the topics and the professor being painfully bland. 

He internally carped as he slipped into the familiar classroom and saddled into a seat at the top corner. It was his go-to spot no matter the course, in the front for easy viewing of the lecture slides, but off to the corner where no extras would bumble irritably around him. 

Well, that’s what he assumed would be the case.

“Oh! Kaachan!”

Katsuki froze from where he was loading up his laptop, fingers hovering above the keyboard. Some classmates spared a brief glance at the sudden intrusion of the high pitched voice, before returning to their own small talks. The excitable skater bounded up to where the brooding Captain sat kitty corner in the classroom, pointedly refusing to look up. Out through the corner of his eye he was assaulted with Izuku's obnoxiously saturated red sneakers and a vibrant yellow bag tucked over his shoulders. He was so goddamn bright; who the hell dresses like that? Katsuki's parents worked in the fashion industry and he could have sworn he had never seen fabric swatches that looked that radioactive before. 

What the hell was he doing here, anyway?

“I didn’t know you were also in this lecture!” Izuku continued with a jittery smile. 

Katsuki gritted his teeth and threw up a strained stare, eyebrows furrowing deep lines into his forehead. He huffed as he slammed down the top of his laptop and leaned back into his chair with crossed arms. 

“We’re fucking how many weeks into the semester and I’m just now seeing your ass?” Katsuki pointed a critical finger at the figure skater, words snarling out from clenched jaw. “Were you slacking off and not attending?”

Izuku jumped in response, blinking rapidly at the accusation and shaking his head to try and ease the strain pulling him taut. “I mean..! It is a lecture of 50 students and no one ever really socializes… Plus we weren’t formally introduced yet… and you do sit the front…” The figure skater shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, head ducking slightly to encouraged his curling green fringe to fall over his eyes and hide away any ounce of embarrassment visible on his face. 

Katsuki frowned and gave an unenthusiastic click of the tongue, uncrossing his arms and throwing an arm back to let his elbow rest against the back of his chair. He took a second to size up the figure skater in disapproval before responding dully. “Yeah, whatever.” 

The tension seemed to slowly dissolve from Izuku’s shoulders as his eyes darted around at the empty seats, before settling on one behind the Captain.

“Is anyone sitting next to you?”

Katsuki’s eyebrows momentary crested up to his hairline. 

What the fuck was Izuku trying to get at? Did the figure skater not have enough of him during their forced practice? 

Licking back the feeling of bitter bile coating his throat in frustration, he made quick work to neutralize his expression. He opened up his laptop once more as means to seem busy. “No, now fuck off.”

Izuku paused, before cupping a thumb under his jaw and tapping at his face inquisitively with his index, as if thinking deeply. The action, unwillingly, drew Katsuki’s attention back to the figure skater before him. “I don’t think I will.” Izuku finally decided.

This fucker.

“You’re a little asshole, aren’t you? Hidden behind all your prissy glitter.” He grunted with a roll of his eyes and jut of his chin upwards, as an uncharacteristically smug smile lit up Izuku’s freckled face. 

Before their downfall, some of his fondest childhood memories of Izuku, despite how few and far in between these memories were, was when he had fits of acting like a sly bastard. Pairing his wit and cherub appearance made the kid impervious to getting in trouble. The asshole had the gal to get Katsuki to take the fall for him if the pair ever did anything that their parents disapproved of. Katsuki used to preen at the idea that Izuku gained his second tongue in sarcasm due to him. It was surprisingly pleasant to know that Izuku never lost touch with that part of himself.

Katsuki gnawed at his inner cheek to prevent the nostalgic feeling from flooding his chest. He shifted towards the wall as Izuku began his squirming between the seats to sit behind the Captain, who talked over his shoulder as he typed on his laptop. “Why did you ask about the empty seat anyway? We’re in fucking college, it’s a free for all.” 

Izuku paused his unpacking with an abrupt gasp, causing the hockey player to briskly turn in his chair to assess the figure skater’s distress. To his distain, he was met with one of the stupidest statements he had ever heard. “It’s the unassigned assigned seat rule, Kaachan!” 

Katsuki sighed and let his head loll on his neck, turning his back on the figure skater. “You have got to be kidding me.” He groaned out, which was met with a gentle, teasing giggle from behind him. “You would have a fucking blast with some of my dim witted teammates, Deku.” 

As Katsuki continued talking, he could feel his words become grittier, a flickering lick of chagrin turning playful remarks into burning jabs. 

Why were they bickering like friends? He wanted nothing to do with Izuku. He detested the figure skater. Every comfort inducing word that left Izuku's mouth made him feel disgusted.

Blood coated his tongue as he continued to chew relentlessly at his inner cheek. Fuck. 

Katsuki sent a sideways glare at the figure skater, just to witness Izuku’s giggle turn into a stifled cackle as he successfully pulled his laptop out from the depths of the vivid yellow bag. “Maybe I should meet them sometime, I can waste their time instead of yours.” The abrupt pull back into the conversation left the hockey player reeling. 

“Please.” He responded with an exasperated drawl of the word, almost sounding like a curse in the way he drew it threw his teeth. “It would make my life easier. But, they’ll drop you first lift, I promise you that, twinkle toes.”  Katsuki proceeded to ignore the figure skater's acknowledging laugh, instead his leer flickering downwards, drawn by the colorful monstrosity that coated Izuku’s poor laptop.

“Holy fuck. What sorority girl threw up on your laptop?” 

Katsuki could feel a headache coming on as his eyes were drawn to examine the mass of stickers that clung to, what used to be, a sleek grey laptop. His vision traveled from a sticker of figure skates, up to their school logo, back down to a small decal of a dinosaur, and around and around until he felt woozy. He could spend hours staring at the laptop and still not see every sticker plastered to the poor thing. 

“Kaachan, don’t be mean! My friends get me stickers sometimes, and I have nowhere else to put them. It became a bit of a habit.” His grumbling sounded more like a whine, rubbing tenderly at his abashed flushed cheek until he decided to prop his head on a hand, pouting pathetically at his laptop.

Katsuki snarled out a noise that sounded like a mixture of a scoff and a laugh, apprehensive and mocking, as he pushed away his fleeting conflicting thoughts. 

The professor eventually waltzed into the classroom, clothing and hair swept in disarray, door swinging from behind, and brief case heavily set onto the desk. What was in the brief case to make it sound like a goddamn bowling ball thrown off of the roof whenever it was smacked onto the desk? Good fucking question, because he never removed a single item from that goddamn bag nor even touched it once it was set on the desk.  

"I was starting to hope he forgot to come to class." Izuku groaned into a palm. Although Katsuki would often scold his teammates when they foolishly hoped for a canceled class, he couldn't help but murmur a sound agreement in this particular case. The Captain shifted in his seat to face the front once more. 

The professor proceeded with his routine of struggling with the computer for the first few minutes, before the projector finally booted up and hummed to life, causing a hush to envelop the classroom and all of the students mentally preparing for another exhausting lecture. 

-X-

The breathy snores of several peers were abruptly hitched as the professor adjourned class after a grueling two and a half hours. It wasn’t the longest lecture Katsuki had suffered, but by God did he want to slam his head straight into his keyboard until the buttons were engrained into his face. He briefly heaved his arms over his head to crack his straining back and relieve it from its stooped position, before his attention was quickly drawn to obnoxious tapping at his shoulder. 

“What do you want, Deku?” He barked out, which was dampened by the sound of eager students shuffling out of the classroom and booking it, probably in an attempt to squeeze in another nap or a meal before their next class. Izuku blinked owlish eyes at him, the gentle tilt of his head easing Katsuki’s aggression minimally, almost feeling bad for biting out his words. Almost. The feeling of irritation chewed up the potential flame of shame and spat it out. 

“Do you have any classes after this, Kaachan?” Izuku glanced away from Katsuki’s scorn as he tucked his own laptop in its case, hiding away the collage of brightly colored stickers. 

Katsuki took a moment to stare into the abyss as he considered his schedule.

“My next class is at 5.” The Captain ultimately rumbled, and patiently watched as Izuku enthusiastically tapped at his own phone screen, presumably checking the time, before meeting Katsuki’s gaze, practically buzzing in his seat. 

“You have 4 hours! We should get lunch together!”

“Fuck no. You think I’m going to waste my precious fucking time with you?” Katsuki pressed his forearm into Izuku’s desk and hunched over the small distance between them, baring his teeth in annoyance. 

It was too late. Izuku had already started babbling incoherently, electing to ignore Katsuki’s outright refusal. Katsuki muttered curses under his breath as the figure skater looked like he was seconds away from choking on his own words.

“There is a new place that opened up a few blocks from campus! I think they are becoming well known for one of their spicy food challenges, but I can’t handle spice much. I’m partial to katsudon, and I heard they prepare their pork really well. I’ve been wanting to try! I’ve just never had anyone with free time-“

Katsuki’s eyebrows quirked at the promise of spice, interest peaked, curious to know if the restaurant was worth their talk.

He felt the initial irritation and fight in him drain, but the internal promise to beat Izuku’s ass if their food was abhorred made him feel better for going soft on the figure skater. 

If Katsuki entered that restaurant and found out their dishes were simply coated in capsaicin and didn’t hold an ounce of seasoning, he swore he would burn the place down with Izuku still in it. He absolutely loathed restaurants who would earn a paycheck for a cheap gimmick like the promise of spicy food. He’s been to more than enough eateries with the promise of ‘spice’ that left his mouth dry and unsatisfied. 

Katsuki begrudgingly rubbed at his ear to smother Izuku’s endless chatter as he firmly made his decision. “Alright, fine.”

Izuku finally stopped running his mouth like a motor, jumping up from his seat to throw his bag over his shoulder with an enthusiastic hop on the balls of his feet. “Really?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, shitty nerd.”

Izuku's smile grew unimaginable wider, tugging cheeks upwards until his scleras were barely visible passed thick lashes which drew deep shadows along the slopes of his freckle adorned face. “Thank you, Kaachan! It could be good bonding for us!”  

The first few steps leading out of the building were quiet, too caught up in the commotion of students flitting in and out of classes and lab rooms. Eventually, once they were embraced by Autumn’s cruel, cold claws and able to take in a breathe after the suffocating hallways, did Izuku break the silence. 

“So, we’re both taking Medical Physics? What do you need it for?”

“Minor.” He answered flatly. 

“Oh! Me too!” Izuku beamed up at him, all teeth on display and blooming irises reflecting the looming midday sun that strayed above them. Goddamn, not only his clothes, but he was naturally this fucking bright too? The figure skater just might outshine the gemstones on his competition costumes. It’s a miracle none of the judges have gone blind…at least Katsuki hoped none of them have. Would be funny as shit to witness, though. 

“What do you major in?” Izuku continued. 

“Why the fuck do you wanna know?” The Captain bit back. 

“Oh just-“

“Alright, shut up.” 

“I didn’t even say anything yet!” Izuku looked aghast, mumbling worriedly under his breath before Katsuki threw him another prickly glower.

“I could feel you winding up to go on another blubbering rampage of fucking mumbo jumbo.” Katsuki raised a hand to motion at his own eyes before he continued. “You get this stupid look in your eyes.”

Izuku’s face self-consciously bloomed in a deep shade of ruby red, traveling from the apples of cheeks down to the neck of his sweater. Katsuki thumbed at his nose as he dragged his attention away from the tumbling figure skater, huffing out his next few words. 

“Major’s culinary arts.” 

Izuku’s fluster seemed to ease into a delicate pink, eyes batting up at the Captain who pointedly looked ahead, finding the cracked sidewalk and fallen leaves more appealing than the conversation. 

“Kacchan, that’s so cool! Hockey and culinary? Are you hoping to be a chef when you graduate?”

“What’s it to you, Deku?”

Izuku let out a panicked squeak, which was consumed by a steadfast silence. The veil of tension and the crisp sound of twigs underfoot weighed heavy on them, until it was finally interrupted by a surprisingly soft spoken tone. 

“…in all honesty my all is in hockey. Culinary is a fun challenge, and I'm the goddamn best in my department, don't you ever think any less, but, I'm a hockey player through and through. I don't work my ass off on the ice to roll over and submit to my backup of becoming a chef. I know I will go far in hockey.” He paused for a moment, a determination set in his eyes as he peered over at the figure skater, who was both taken aback and absolutely enamored. 

Why the hell was he spelling this shit out to the nerd anyway? 

The thought was merely passing as he unconsciously pulled his shoulder's back in a confident bravado.

The gentle grin that was displayed for him caught Katsuki off guard, leaving him to watch intently as Izuku tugged shyly at his backpack straps, an understanding tint to his gaze.

“I know what you mean. I major in Bio. I’m super passionate about it, and I could become a physician or a physical therapist… but, if there is anyway I could go far in figure skating, I would take every opportunity offered to me.” 

“The medical path, ey?” 

Izuku nodded eagerly, but mellowed our as he considered his words before speaking. “Yeah... I had a bad injury when I was a kid. Absolutely shattered my arm. The doctors and therapists were amazing, it really left an impact on me and got me back onto the ice faster than I would have if I had done it alone. If I could be that kind of support for other children, I think that would be a good way to spend my career.”  Izuku grimaced at the memory, his attention drawn to his hands that ran along his backpack straps, using the tactile sense of each thread to keep him focused on the present. A strained smile had painted itself on his face. Katsuki studied him through squinted eyes and lashes, following the way he thumbed at the stray threads with a hesitant resolve. 

“Sorry to put a damper on the mood.” He murmured, shaking his head at himself. 

Something wicked curled within Katsuki’s gut at the visible apprehension and bated breath that overtook Izuku. 

Stupid, self pitying bastard. What the hell had he gone through when he wasn’t around? 

Katsuki licked his lips tentatively, pensive expression fogging up vermillion irises, before he let a heaved sigh roll passed his teeth. 

“Out of all the things you should apologize for, that’s not one of them. It’s a fucking noble thing to do, even if it’s just a backup plan. No matter which you end up pursuing, figure skating or medical, you’ll definitely be an inspiration. No fucking doubt about it.” He waved a limp hand, nonchalant as if he hadn't just combatted feelings that Izuku had been plagued with for years with just those few words. Izuku’s lip wobbled at the kind sentiment masked in a gruff voice. He seemed on the verge of bursting to tears, before a delectable scent captured him in a haze and his eyes darted out to a sidewalk easel.

“Oh! We’re here!” 

Katsuki paused, silent curse in his throat at the sudden shift of mood. He pulled his gaze away from the eager shuffle of the figure skater, critically eyeing the restaurant. 

It wasn’t terribly disappointing to look at, in Katsuki’s very humble opinion. The awning was a shocking black, breaking up the bold white font of the restaurant name, and contrasting with the deep red brick of the building. From what he could make of the inside through the thick glass pane; it was dimly lit, but the customers and staff alike seemed upbeat. 

The glass door was heaved open and the pair took a few paces into a short entryway, before being greeted by a burgundy curtain. They pushed it aside to formerly enter the establishment, and were instantly greeted by a hostess. She glanced up at them as she set down the menus she was shuffling through, and nonverbally prompted them with a timid smile.

“Table for two.” Katsuki voiced curtly, just looking passed the hostess to take in the interior. 

She nodded along and waved them over, picking up two menus from the top of her organized stack with a “right over this way.” 

It was a narrow restaurant, more like a long corridor which would eventually give way to the bathrooms and kitchen. There was a small partition between the bar seating on one wall and the booths that lined the other. Low hanging orb lights swung over the table of each booth, while a slim rectangular chandelier was positioned over the bar. They glowed a mellow orange, and when paired with the daylight that streamed through the large window front, they casted a welcoming light on the chestnut colored paint. The wood paneling, accent art, and decorative molding that hung on the walls gave the feel of a modern take on a traditional Japanese eatery. Hushed conversation and bubbling laughter was accompanied by the 80's city pop that played in the background. Katsuki could faintly hear the crackling of oil whenever the kitchen door would part to let through a waiter. The false warmth of the lights and the upbeat and jazzy ballad of Remember Summer Days by Anri purring from restaurant speakers made it seem like Winter wasn't creeping ever close.

It was soothing, a pleasant getaway from the busy campus. From what Katsuki could see, it had grown quite a bit in popularity with the upperclassmen, who just wanted a place they could eat a warm meal and disassociate with ease. It was a place that contrasted vastly from the hassle of visiting the shady bars that bordered the University; the seedy hole in the walls which first years would practically live in.

Their booth was much like the others, clean and well lit, plush umber seats awaiting them with the assortment of utensils and newly placed menus, beckoning them to sit. He barely acknowledged the hostess, who gave a quick bow of the head and walked back to the entrance of the restaurant, as Katsuki slid into place, opposite from Izuku. He was too occupied flitting calculated eyes across the bar, before finally dipping his head to look at the figure skater seated across from him. Katsuki felt a scowl pull at his lips when he was met with a face that looked at him with tender patience and expectance, illuminated by the honey colored ambiance. 

“What?” The Captain sneered at the insistent stare. 

“What do you think of it, Kaachan?”

“Looks mean nothing if their food is shit.” He tipped his glare down towards the menu, parting open a thick cover and allowing his fingers to slide over the laminated edges as he scanned the assortment of dishes. Izuku laughed lightly in agreement. 

“What are you getting?” Katsuki questioned in a huff, conceding to donate some of his attention to the skater before him.  

“Oh!" Izuku seemed surprised for a moment, as if he wasn't expecting the Captain to start a conversation. His surprise was for good reason, as Katsuki was appalled by small talk and had to force the question out of his own mouth. "I just wanted the katsudon.”

The blond flipped to another page, taking a moment to look over the katsudon, before another item caught his eye. “They‘re known for their spice, yeah? They better live up to that shit.”  

As he sealed his menu closed, a waiter made his rounds, curling around the booths until he reached the pair's table. He deposited two cups of water and a stout pitcher before pulling a notepad out of the pocket of his sable apron. The pair quickly placed their orders before delving into a comfortable silence, enjoying the music that washed over them. Katsuki allowed himself to ease up around Izuku, the promise of good food urging him to relax and allow the figure skater to pull him into conversation. It was irritating that he couldn't be at his dorm to finish some work, but hell, if it meant being away from his roommates for a few hours and possibly finding a decent restaurant, he'll be halfway willing to make the sacrifice of hanging out with Izuku.

The exchanges that filled their time were easy going and melded into the chorus of their environment. 

"So, why physics as a minor?" Izuku questioned as he lifted his glass to his lips, thumb running along the ridges of the hand crafted chalice and gathering the pilling of condensation.   

Katsuki's arms were resting on the top of the booth's seat, head craned back as he surveyed the detailed molding that curled around the light fixtures. "Thought it was fun. You?"

"It pairs well with my major." He offered back promptly, before continuing to another train of thought hesitantly. “How has hockey been since... y'know? How has it been treating you all these years?”

Hauling his head from where it was craned upwards, Katsuki took a suspicious leer at Izuku, eyebrow raised. “Hah? What are you getting at, Deku? Fuck are you trying to get all deep and emotional with me for?”

“Just-! We’ll be spending time together and we haven’t been in touch since we were kids… I’m curious to know how things have changed since then.” His arms flew up from where it was toying with his chopsticks, fingers spread and waving in surrender. As his voice trailed off, they fell limply to his lap. 

With an antagonizing huff, Katsuki mused the question. “I’ve loved this shit since I’ve stepped on the ice… you should know that. My old hag had never been able to pull me off the ice long enough to pursue other hobbies, like drumming and all the shit that she had planned for me. I was the goddamn best player no matter where I was. And here I am now." He summarized shortly. 

Izuku looked miffed at the name calling directed at Katsuki’s mother, mouth gapping in shock. He stuttered incoherently before Katsuki snapped his attention back to a new direction of conversation. 

“This place better be worth its shit, the way you talked about it.”

Izuku rapidly blinked and gave an unreasonably vicious nod of his head. “It will be! I promise or else -“

“So what’s up with this forced bonding ,anyway? I don’t want to be around your ass for longer than I have to, and, for your sake, I’m not exactly a peach to be around. I’ve got other shit to be doing.” Katsuki interrupted the figure skater’s tangent, feeling the start of a headache thrum behind his eyes at the gut feeling that Izuku was going to tumble out his words in another muttering stampede. He propped one elbow on the table's edge and placed his head on an enclosed fist, the other hand tapping restless fingers in rhythm with the song that hummed in the background. With half lidded eyes and a bored expression, he prompted the figure skater who seemed lost at the sudden, rapid fire changes in conversation. 

“Well if we are going to be pair skaters-“

“Not a pair skater.”

“-act as pair skaters, one of they keystones is that we need trust! I was doing some research and asking Ochako, one of our pair skaters, for some advice! I uh..." Izuku seemed lost for words for a moment. "...trust you. But, we haven't spent time together in years. I think we would both be more comfortable if we reconnected and had a better understanding of each other, especially when considering some of the heights you'll be throwing me at. It will make working together a lot easier and innate.” Izuku let out a deep breath, thankful that Katsuki had finally let him complete a sentence without interruption. 

A sigh rumbled at the base of Katsuki's throat as he considered his options, settling on turning the conversation back to the figure skater. “Really like your research, oi, shitty nerd?”

“Y-yes! It must be similar in hockey, right? The necessity of trust? It’s a team sport so you have to-"

“Yeah yeah." Katsuki waved off Izuku's attempt at another ramble. "They can barely function in the classroom, but on ice they are as good as golden; they are actually worth an ounce of my respect.” 

Izuku smiled at Katsuki's unnaturally polite attitude. “I’m hoping we can build up some trust like that! Hopefully we could become friends off-ice as well..." The latter half of his sentence was muttered out in an unbearably faint whisper, and if Katsuki heard it, he made no effort to acknowledge it. "... but anyway, if you’re ever free, we can find time to meet and go over some new exercises and all that? I’m in a single room, so it would be no bother to have you over at my dorm.”

Being briefly distracted by the sight of their waiter exiting the kitchen, hoisting their bowls on a platter, as well as weighing Izuku's proposition, he took a second to respond. He muttered his reply with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever, I’m down with it. As long as it means you get your shit figured out faster and I can go back to solely focusing on hockey.” 

Before Izuku could react, the waiter stood before them. The pair shifted their waters to allow the waiter to politely place their dishes before them. On one end, Izuku had his katsudon piled high in a black ceramic dish, the cutlet flaked in gold with green onion that tediously decorated the top, while Katsuki had his own display of steaming sichuan mapo tofu, broiled in a sauce that coated everything in a flaming red, and a side platter of white rice. 

They exchanged polite thank yous and snapped their wooden chopsticks, before plunging into their respective dishes. A familiar heat coated Katsuki's pallet, tinging his tastebuds in a chili that was only dampened by the silken feel and subdued taste of the tofu's unmarinated center as he pressed it to the roof of his mouth.

Damn. It was pretty fucking good. 

Katsuki casted a look up at the figure skater, who appeared as if he had found paradise. Izuku was light on his seat as he swayed side to side, eyes closed and an appreciative noise curling from his lips as he chewed his food. They fluttered open as he went to grab another bite of food.

“I haven’t had a lunch this good in a while!” He mumbled around the mouthful, which Katsuki found equal parts disgusting and amusing. He snorted in a choked chuckle, quickly sending daggers to Izuku who laughed at the sound. The Captain reached over the table and clicked his chopsticks at him, as if he was threatening to pluck Izuku's nose straight off of his face with the utensil.  

“Hah? Don't laugh at me, you little shit. You should hear what you sound like." He barked, before leaning back into his seat. "Why’s that, anyway? You’re an upperclassman and still scrounging on dorm food?”

“Well..." Izuku considered the question for a moment. "I don’t really have the time to cook much. I can usually spare a few minutes to run to the dining hall or at least prepare some instant ramen, but…” 

“You live off of that shit?" Katsuki interrupted with a perturbed snarl, sitting up in his seat with palms pressed solidly to the table, as if Izuku had confessed to sacrilege.  "You’re an athlete! How have you been able to maintain your physique by shoving that bullshit in your body?” 

“It‘s! It’s not that I can’t cook! I just don’t have the time or the will power to do it.” He attempted to reason with a mournful look that had his lips pulled in a pout. 

“Tch, that’s an excuse if I’ve ever heard one, Deku.” 

Despite the bickering, a sincere expression eased Izuku's frown. Katsuki should have been offended by the figure skater's relaxed posture, especially after being confronted about his poor diet, but he admittedly also felt unnaturally comfortable with the banter. He could clearly hear the warning bells blaring at the back of his head, but decided against exploring the emotion, instead pulling his palms off of the table top and reaching for another bite of food.

“You want to try some of mine?” Izuku asked, pushing his bowl against the table, unfinished ceramic bottom grinding on the wood grain. 

Katsuki eyed the dish before shrugging, nudging his own forward. 

“You’re free to take some too. But-" Katsuki emphasized the word heavily. "I’m not sure if you’ lll be able to handle it, princess.” 

The challenge had Izuku's eyes glinting in eager anticipation. 

Begrudgingly, Katsuki had to admit, much like the mapo tofu, the katsudon was well prepared. The pork was tender and the breading added the harsh crisp that the soft dish was lacking. It was well seasoned, although not as spicy as Katsuki would have preferred. 

"How is it, Kaachan?" Izuku blew steam off of the piece of tofu he had swept up, a hand held delicately under it to catch any of the stray sauce that dripped. He asked the question before plopping the piece between his lips. 

“Tastes fine. If they fuck up something as simple as Katsudon, then they shouldn’t be in business.” Katsuki set down his chopsticks and leaned back, waiting with stone cold patience for Izuku's reaction to the dish. 

And goddamn he got the reaction he was hoping for. All hell broke loose within seconds. As Izuku chewed, his face was drained of all color, and his uncertain swallow led to his cheeks suddenly flaming up in a vermilion that could be comparable to the sichuan sauce. His eyes dragged hesitantly over to the hockey player, a silent plea of help written in his void expression. And just like that, his neutral expression shattered into panicked panting, which had Katsuki keeling over in a cackle.

“Hot hot hot!” Izuku slipped his tongue out, mouth wide open as he fanned desperately at his face. The heat from his cheeks started to paint his lips and tongue, as if they were stained by red wine. He was practically hacking out his lungs in a spice-induced coughing fit. Sweat creased on his wrinkled brow and he looked desperately for an escape, until he was left gaping at the glass of water. Noting his train of thought, Katsuki slammed a hand over the lip of the glass before Izuku could grasp it, much to the disappointed whine of the figure skater. 

“Drinking water is just gonna make it worse.”

“Then what do I do!” He forced his question out like an exclamation, trying desperately to talk around his tongue, which stuck out pathetically between heat stricken lips. He squinted his eyes to hide away the tears that welled over his irises, threatening to pour over his bottom lashes and join the sweat that pooled at his collarbone. 

“Just take a bite of your rice, the starch might help. It will calm down eventually.” He offered with a shrug, enjoying the panicked show more than he should have. Izuku sent him a glare at the notion of 'eventually', which in his case, wasn't fast enough. Izuku looked around blindly for his chopsticks, bleary eyed at the overwhelming tears which inhibited his ability to see clearly. Katsuki choked on another laugh before leaning over the table to grasp at Izuku’s fallen chopsticks, which he dropped in the panic of sudden heat. He grabbed at the rice, taking pity on the figure skater whose eyes were practically sealed shut at this point, and offered it to him.

After a few more minutes of desperately eating rice, Izuku was coherent enough to form a sentence without the inhibition of his enflamed tongue peaking through his lips. 

“This is how I’m going to die, Kaachan.” He panted out, dramatically throwing the back of one hand to his forehead, while the other fanned desperately at his face. Katsuki continued to chuckle uncontrollably at the dramatics, slamming a fist to the table as he finally got to witness some of the theatric exaggeration that Izuku must have learned in his years of figure skating.   

Katsuki cleared his throat, sore from the unceremonious laughing fit that had possessed him. He took another bite of his own food between his snickers, hiding a smirk as he spited the figure skater.

The blonde offered Izuku another napkin, as his own napkin was now covered in tears and sweat, whom greedily snatched at the cloth and drowned it in the umpteenth wave of sobs. 

He continued patting at his face and force fed himself another round of rice, until he managed to finally level a squinted gaze at Katsuki. “How do you manage to eat that, Kaachan! Your poor taste buds…” He mourned wistfully. 

“This shit tastes amazing! Not my fault you can’t see how artful it is.” He blew off Izuku's accusation with a cross of his arms and a stern stare, teasing despite the rigidness in his expression. 

After excruciating minutes had passed, and Izuku's face finally retuned to its pale complexion, the pair emptied their plates and payed for their food.

Seconds away from leaving the table, Izuku thrusted his phone in Katsuki's face. The hockey player faltered back, head craned to stare at the sudden intrusion into his personal space. 

"What do you want?" He shoved the hand away, but it irritably returned to its place right in the center of his line of sight. 

"Your phone number!"

"No."

Why?" Izuku propped himself on his elbows, cupping his face as he leaned over the table to inch closer to the Captain. 

The motion opened up an invitation to a game Katsuki hadn't played in years; they  proceeded to have a staring match, eyes glazed and unblinking.

Katsuki's were half lidded in a glower of disdain, while Izuku's were parted vastly in question. A longwinded handful of seconds had to have passed, and the next thing he knew, Izuku had whistled an exhale straight into his eyes. He flinched away, rubbing a hand over his eyelids to ward off the feeling of dryness. 

"Motherfucker!" His palm ran down the length of his face, growling at the cheater before him. 

"You lost, Kaachan, fair and square." Izuku ridiculed with a knowing grin.

"Fair my fucking ass! You blew right into my eyes!" Jabbing a finger in his direction, Katsuki's nose wrinkled back until his teeth were exhibited in a feral display. 

"Do you have any proof that I did?"

"The proof is that I fucking blinked! You did that shit all the time when we were kids!"

"Don't try and make excuses for losing. Now, your number, please and thank you!" He waved his phone obnoxiously in Katsuki's face, prompting it forward until it was practically pressed into his cheek. 

Katsuki groused under his breath, cursing himself for the smile he had to hold back by engraining canines into his bottom lip. He snatched at the phone, mocking the brightly colored case which matched with the rest of Izuku's horrendously chosen color palette, and scrolled into the contacts. He threw it back onto the table once he was done, and stood up before Izuku could force him into anything else. 

"I'm leaving now. Don't follow me, I need a break from your annoying ass." He hefted his backpack onto his shoulder and stalked towards the entrance, politely saying his goodbyes to the hostess, as if he didn't curse out the figure skater for majority of their stay.

"Bye, Kaachan! See you tomorrow!" Izuku called out from where he remained seated, and Katsuki replied by closing the restaurant door behind him. 

-X-

Katsuki found himself stationed in front of his kitchen counter for the second time that day, with one question permeating his mind; who the fuck can't find time to cook their own food? And why the hell was Katsuki wasting his previous time, effort, and ingredients to feed the goddamn figure skater? Did he really pity Izuku enough to be doing this for him?

In an odd way, his actions of meal prepping reminded him too much of their childhood, before a vicious rope of anger strung him along in destroying any notion of friendship the pair held. It was at a blissful time where Izuku would bound over to Katsuki for any sort of assistance, ranging from ‘Kaachan, can you show me how to climb the monkey bars?’ to ‘Kaachan, can you help me tie my shoes?’ Izuku, at that time, would rely on Katsuki for anything.

He wasn't certain why he had the strangling and swelling need to assist him once more, even if Izuku didn't directly ask for his help.

Before the questions could marinate for long, an excited voice beckoned his attention. 

“Yo dude are you making food for us??” Kirishima, puppeted by the delicious aroma, came roaming in from the hallway. 

“No. Fuck off.” Was the prompt and grating reply. 

“Then why do you have a couple of containers out?” The goalie kicked a toe to the ground and had his hands clasped behind his back, looking curiously at the counter. 

“Only eating before I have to head out to the ice rink isn’t going to hold me over for both that shitty figure skater’s practice and our own.” His lies were halfhearted, but convincing, he would like to assume.  

“Oooh got it, Bakubro. You should leave some for us if you have extra.”

“Learn how to cook yourself, Shitty hair!” Katsuki smacked away the hand that tried to reach out for chunk of rice, which was cooling idly in a pot on the stove. 

Kirishima sulked and threw himself over the empty kitchen table, another childlike fit taking over his hulking frame as he was deprived of his spoonful of rice. 

With the silence provided by Kirishima's quiet whining at the table, Katsuki was dragged into his mind palace once again. 

Why was he doing this again? 

He washed away his previous trains of thought, dissolving them until a more reasonable explanation made its appearance behind his eyes; he refused to let nostalgia become his reasoning for preparing the meals. 

Oh yeah, of course. It would be pathetic to see UA fall out of favor as the strongest winter sports University due to a star figure skater’s own detriment, by way of awful diet. That's why Katsuki had decided to intervene. 

He pointedly ignored the fact that the figure skater managed to stay on top of the ranks with his current eating habits, rather, he focused his attention on seasoning the panko before him.  

Chapter Text

The haphazardly painted walls, coated in an off shade of beige, were a blur as Izuku stumbled through the dorm halls, determination to reach his unit being the only thread keeping him from collapsing. Izuku shut his door soundly behind him, allowing his backpack to slip off of his shoulder as he deposited it lazily by the couch with a thump. He made way to his bedroom on shuffling feet, vision tunneled to his awaiting pile of blankets. Finally, with the anticipation within him dissipating, he collapsed onto his mattress, body bouncing like a rag doll as the hinges creaked in distress. Izuku cooed into his pillow as he settled himself into the plush furs of his multiple throw blankets, colors vibrant and atrociously mismatched in shades of red, yellow, and green. 

Class had been absolutely grueling, and it didn’t help that he was expected to go to practice in half an hour. He whined pathetically into vivid red fur, soft breaths lulling his mind into a blissful nothingness. 

As quickly as he was falling into a slumber, his eyes just as rapidly snapped open. He pulled himself up from his face planted position on failing arms, eyes bulging and blinking around blindly, hand thumping around in an attempt to find wherever his sleep addled self put his backpack. 

Fuck. He had a long research paper due in a few days and he hasn’t done a lick of work for it, yet. 

Izuku pathetically slipped off the bed while still on his stomach, scrambling with blindly kicking feet into a stand. Once righted, and with the stance of a child just learning to walk and throwing his head around like a rearing horse, he desperately search for his book bag. 

He has thrown up his covers, looked under his desk, checked in his fucking closet out of all places. 

Did he even bring it back to his dorm? Did he leave it in his last class? 

His mind ran rampantly, tripping over itself as his vision could barely keep up at the rate he was craning his head at; until realization set in and embarrassment tugged at his gut. 

The couch! How could he have forgotten it already? 

He couldn’t help the guilt that coiled in his chest, making his steps fall heavier as he was weighed down with the feeling. Since when had become so negligent? He should have at least prepared a draft by now. 

Despite the knowledge of his irresponsability, Izuku couldn't quite shake the exhaustion that was starting to catch up to him, chasing madly at his coattails in an attempt to trip him over. 

Not only had Izuku indulged in more off-ice training to counteract the lack of solo ice time because of practices with Katsuki, but the past week had been undeniably emotionally charged. It didn’t help that his professors unanimously decided that they would make this semester a living hell in terms of workload. 

All that in mind, he couldn’t exactly blame himself for his stupidity and short term memory loss. 

Izuku snatched up the bag from where it lie by the worn cushions and set up his desk, throwing aside old articles and his miscellaneous doodles. He wasn’t an artist by any means, but sue him if he got bored in the middle of work and decided that was the best time to test out his skills. 

Eyeing the clock, Izuku prepared himself to type until his fingernails would give way and his cuticles would bleed. Half an hour was more than enough time to, in the least, start getting a few sources for his paper. 

And with that thought and the blinding light of his laptop blinking to life, he scoured the library databases endlessly. 

The clicking tap of a butterfly keyboard soon enraptured him in his paper, eyes glazed by the gleam of bright LED that flowed from his digital screen. He was immersed in a trance, plucking at his bottom lip with his thumb and index, and occasionally chewing at the fingernail that got caught under awaiting canine. He scrolled through dozens of articles with the hand not teetering between his teeth. 

Once a satisfactory draft was well in the works, Izuku rubbed tenderly at drowsy eyes, feeling the tug of pliant skin beneath the pads of his digits. He groaned as the hand ran down the length of his face before cradling a plump cheek in a soothing rub, propping up a heavy head as he ran a cursor across each sentence, barely processing the words he had typed just minutes prior. Giving up on his attempt of rereading the draft, the figure skater raised arms above his head, catching his elbows with opposing hands, and rolling back in his desk chair, desperate to stretch out the knots and kinks of his upper back after sitting hunched over his desk. He blinked blearily up from his work, peering through the warm light of his desk lamp, which casted a hazy curtain over the evening darkness that lie passed his window. 

It was starting to get darker during his practice time, no longer giving him the chance to bathe in the afterglow of the setting sun and enjoy its final bow before the moon took its place among a standing ovation of stars. 

A subtle warmth enveloped his mourning of the dimming skies, excitement ringing from his core to his finger tips at the prospect of another productive day on the ice. Releasing his elbows and collapsing forward from the stretch, he tapped a nail at his smiling lips, the blunt force urging him to get on his way. The figure skater flicked off his desk lamp and stood from his seat, reaching out for the phone that was thrown haphazardly on his duvet and checked the time.

Oh. Fuck.

His throat instantly dried up, tongue falling limp upon teeth that hesitated between clenching and falling limp. Hysteria was barely kept at bay as the blood pounding in his ears became deafening, the only thing his senses could perceive, until he became acutely aware of the discomfort of a cool sweat tracing the rigid planes of his back, gathering at the small dimple at his tailbone.

He was screwed. 

Staring back at him was the time 6:50.

And just underneath it, glaring back at him with silent condemnation were the choice words of ‘where the hell are you, shitty nerd?’ 

Ah yes. He should have left for the ice rink 20 minutes ago. And exactly 20 minutes ago was when he received the text. His practice was supposed to start in 10 minutes, and now he has to sprint to the athletics complex and profusely apologize to Katsuki for the hold up.

He was praying, pleading, to every god in existence that Katsuki wasn’t waiting for him outside the dorm building. 

Katsuki should have headed to the ice rink way ahead of him, right? He should have realized Izuku was late and not bothered to wait, right? He should have been annoyed at the notion of having to walk with Izuku and been way ahead of him, right? 

Oh, Izuku really hoped so. 

With the absolutely pathetic speed of an old man with arthritis and failing vision, Izuku managed to stumble a total of eight times attempting to walk a ten foot distance to his sneakers and the front door of his unit. He tried, he really did, but it seemed like the dorm carpet was rather eager to have him face plant before he could pass the threshold of his door. In a weird way, he wouldn’t mind if he had breached death’s door from the impact of his face to the floor, it seemed like a more forgiving death than whatever the Captain might do to him. 

Not only had he almost tripped, but he had to scramble for the keys that fell from sweaty palms and beneath his couch, almost forgot his phone which he had dropped back onto the bed in the midst of panicked shock, and Izuku was currently struggling with his jacket, fussing desperately as it fought him with more constricting power than an anaconda on steroids. When he finally made his way to the elevator could he exhale out a fraction of a sigh in relief, until his breath got caught in realization that he was even closer to Katsuki's wrath. 

The figure skater swallowed audibly, dread filling a shuttering ribcage as he left the confines of the elevator and reached the barrier separating him from the outdoors. He placed a hand on the main door to the dorm building, the heat from his palm clearing the fogged glass. Just passed the blur of pale ivory mist that clung to the glass door could Izuku make out the faint form of a person. Building up a false sense of confidence, coupled with the excruciating pain of a ticking clock biting at his ass and the feeling of frigid glass becoming too uncomfortable upon his skin, did he finally push open the exit.

Before him, a bulky figure stood in wait. A black bomber was stretched over arched shoulders, a beige fur draped along the collar only serving to make the man seem unbelievably wider. The fur attempted desperately to blend in with flaxen spikes, but it couldn't dream to compete with the rich shades of ashen blonde. He was leaning up against the bike rack that was stationed by the building, barely seated with a leg propped up on one of worn metal pipes. Katsuki's head was downcast, face mildly lit up by a phone clutched in one hand. The gaze abruptly turned up from the phone in the midst of Izuku's admiration. He leveled a blood curdling glare at the entrance as the figure skater scampered forward. 

Oh god. Katsuki was nice enough to actually wait for him. How unlike him. Was Katsuki actually starting to warm up to him after yesterday’s escapades? Izuku was close to shoving his own fist in his mouth, or turning tail and trying his luck with dying on his room’s carpet again. How could he be so careless? 

“Oi! Freckled fuck face! Took you damn long enough.” The snarl had Izuku stumbling, voice slicing through the crisp air and strangling the figure skater with its harsh tone.  

“I’m so sorry, Kaachan! I didn’t think you were going to wait for me!” He folded in half in profuse apology, face close enough to the sidewalk that he almost kissed the pavement, as he cooed in sorrow. 

“The hell do you mean? We are going to the same place, aren’t we? Why would I get there earlier than your ass, it’s your fucking practice.” He emphasized his words with a prod to Izuku’s chest once the figure skater released his bowed position and scurried over to the Captain's side in haste.

“You’re right, I’m sorry!” A chanting of 'please take pity on me!’ played desperately in his head, lifting his arms up to block his face from the judgmental glare. Oddly enough, no insults or fists were thrown his way, rather, he was met only with the sound of fading foot steps.

“Huh?” Izuku peaked around the barricade of his forearms to stare at the back of the retreating figure, the dark fabric of the coat starting to fade into the night.  Katsuki abruptly threw his head back as their distance only lengthened, voice loud and clear. 

“Get a move on! The hell are you waiting for? An invitation? If it’s going to get any later, I’m going to bend you over and make you kiss your coach’s feet as a fucking apology.”

“Ah! I’m coming!” Izuku yelped as he rushed after the hockey player, falling instep just behind him as they trudged through the beaten path. 

The walk was muted, aside from the fading song of crickets, faint chirps that signaled their waking from a daylong nap. Atop the tree line were a murder of perching crows, having arrived for a short trip of site-seeing the campus before their migration continued. As soon as Izuku noticed the crows, took a moment to appreciate the gleam of oil slick upon their inky feathers blending into the backdrop of the grim sky, they had abruptly decided they needed to continue their journey south. The mocking laughter of crow calls came and left with the ear deafening beat of dozens of wings, leaving the trees barren and the evening silent once more. A lone breeze caressed goose riddled skin, ruffling clothes, and carrying with it the sound of a rustling bag and creak of plastic that cut through the night and quickly drew Izuku’s attention. He searched for the source, Jadeite eyes crossing the grass coves and wilting twigs for something that might be caught in their grasp, causing the abrasive noise. His curiosity peaked tenfold when his gaze landed on a bag clutched in Katsuki’s fist. 

“Hey, Kaachan, what’s in the bag?” When the crimson glare was casted over his broad shoulder at the sudden interruption of their shared silence, Izuku pointed down hesitantly. Did Katsuki forget he had it with him? 

“Oh yeah, this shit. Here, take it.” Katsuki swung the bag over and let it fall from his fingers, causing Izuku to let out a small gasp from the impact to his chest. His gasp turned into a panicked squeak as he attempted to grasp at the bag desperately before it could fall to the ground. Once it was clutched securely in his hands, he puffed out a breath of pent up anticipation and made a show of wiping off a mock sheen of sweat, which Katsuki chose to ignore. The figure skater hesitantly glanced between the bag and the Captain, eyebrow raised, but was met with no further explanation. With that, he decided to open up the bag, peer into the content it held securely.

Before him was a container, and he glanced eagerly at the contents through the clear lid. 

He chokes on his exhale, taking in the sight of flaking brown crust resting upon a bed of rice, vegetables sprawling across the dish, coated in a thick roux and tasteful garnishes.

“Katsudon?” Izuku felt an undeniable tenderness soak him, a wide smile bared on his face as he finally tore his eyes from the container, a fine steam starting to fog the lid from the chilled air that forced its way into the bag’s opening.  

“Yeah. So you can at least have some half assed meal instead of whatever bullshit you’re shoveling in your system.”

“Thank you, Kaachan!” His was practically bursting at the seams, tears welling in his eyes at the thoughtfulness. The act was unbearably unexpected, and had Izuku’s treacherous heart pounding. Did he still care? Was this his effort of mending their stale and broken bond? He couldn’t help but muse it over, no matter how foolish the spiraling thoughts may be. 

Another steady hush bloomed between them, more comfortable than the last, the heat from a flush on Izuku’s skin warming them both as they walked in tandem. The figure skater occasionally shared his thoughts for the evening’s training session, his voice whispered and blending into the quiet; brushed along them with a hush, with the gentle tone of a zephyr parting through sloping willow branch.

Katsuki’s only replies were nods at the musings, before allowing his voice to finally breech the tranquility with a deep rumble, less grating than he usually forced his voice out to be. 

“So, what’s the deal? Why were you so late? You don’t seem like the type to be a tardy ass, especially without notice.”

“I’m usually not, I swear! I was just having a bit of trouble on my paper.” Izuku instantly attempted to defend himself, reasoning for his sloppy behavior. 

Katsuki grunted, slipping his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and postured like a delinquent, despite the following words that came out of his mouth.  “Need me to peer review it? Can’t have you flunking out while I’m wasting my time on you.”

“I have a good GPA, I promise! This course is something I’m not too interested in and I haven’t been able to set aside time for it. I don’t want to bother you with reading my papers after you’ve already donated so much of your time for me!”

“I’ve already offered, didn’t I, dumbass? I’ll come by after my evening class on Tuesday and look over it. You can also talk my fucking ear off about any new stunts you want to pull off or whatever.”

He didn’t expect Katsuki to ever consider his offer from yesterday. 

The preening Izuku exuded at the prospect was unbelievable, an extra skip in his step causing him to outpace Katsuki, who huffed in defiance. Izuku quickly righted himself and slowed his strides to walk behind the hockey player, once more. “Thank you, Kaachan!” His full eyelashes managed to reach to the heaven’s and pull the stars from their place in the oncoming dusk, embedding them into his irises, allowing them to glimmer in glee at the proposition. 

This had to be progress, right? 

Izuku couldn’t help himself from bumping right into the Captain’s shoulder, disappointment emanating from him when Katsuki didn’t budge an inch. Katsuki responded with a snort at the pathetic attempt and shook his head. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Katsuki halted abruptly in front of the ice rink door, catching Izuku off guard, who nearly slammed into the hockey player's back when he faltered over his feet. He whipped his head around from where it was several inches from connecting to the broad shoulders, trying to process how they arrived to the complex so quickly. Katsuki hauled the door open, blind to the figure skater’s confusion, and motioned him in. “Get your ass inside and get bendy fast, we’re losing sweet time.” 

-X-

Practice had been pervaded thickly in adrenaline, Izuku barely on the brink of lucidity after the treacherously exhausting two hours. 

Their partnership was slowly, but surely, falling into step. He was still too nervous to outright demand from Katsuki, as Ochako suggested, just yet, but, he believed their progress was enough for the time being. They had nailed their extremely boiled down throw loops and waltz, and were gaining more confidence in increasing the rotation. Their rapid headway had Izuku vibrating with zeal, anticipation enclosing his heart as he looked forward to next round of practices. He could taste the potential of quads just a few weeks away.

His nerves continued to fray at the ordeal of being tossed, but he had gotten better at ignoring the panicked urges. 

Izuku exited the locker room, instantly met by a steadfast gust of cold air that rushed passed him and into the room behind. The frigid ice air delivered chilled nips to sweat slicked skin, serving to soothe the warm muscles that have started to thrum in a dull ache, bestowing minute relief to limbs that begged to go limp. Blissed out at the feeling, and teetering on the edge of sleep, Izuku gazed outwards, vision hazed and obscuring the figures that piled on the ice. He snapped to attention when a familiar voice echoed from across plexiglass walls, Izuku instantly urging his shoulder to pull back to seem even a smidge more attentive and presentable. 

“Give me a few laps and we'll start on some drills!” Katsuki’s voice sliced through the grunts of his teammates, vibrato rumbling along concrete walls and beckoning Izuku from where he stood. “We gotta warm up pronto before Coach gets his cocooned ass out of his office! Let’s go, extras!”

The figure skater traversed forward, the cloth bag tenderly holding the containers of katsudon swung by his side, knocking into his knees. He sidelined the irritating bump, too distracted by the players whom circled the rink. 

On a typical day, Izuku would finish changing out of his practice clothes and depart the complex while the Zamboni was still cleaning the ice and the hockey players remained out of sight and tucked in their respective locker room. But, his exhaustion seemed to be catching up to him, as he took more time than usual to finish his post-stretch routine and redress. In all honestly, a good portion of that time might have been spent perched upon a bench, mind fluttering as he contemplated the relationship developing between Katsuki and himself.

Coming out of the lockers to this energetic scenery was a nice change of pace; there was something intimate about the practice that he never got the pleasure of viewing before. 

Shouts and collisions resonated against the metal bleachers and abrasively ground against Izuku’s eardrums. No matter how earsplitting the sound, he couldn’t pry himself away from being plastered to the rink’s border. 

He was absolutely in awe at the mad scramble taking place.

How did Katsuki manage to keep up with the long practice hours?

Sure, out of his own fruition Izuku had increased his own off-ice practice time this season, but he couldn’t imagine being In Katsuki's shoes, or rather, skates, and be confined to the ice for that many hours in succession and not be winded.

The wonder may have been evident on his face, and he’s sure his tongue was moving on its own as rambling thoughts jumbled his mind. 

“Ah. Midoriya, I don’t usually catch you on practice days. How is your training going?” 

Izuku practically jumped out of his skin, jerking his head around only to be greeted with a pair of drowsy eyes; everpresent smeared eye bags seeming even darker under the long shadows casted by his lashes and deep set brow. Despite his aloof and stern demeanor, the hockey coach was tucked in a gaudy bright yellow hoodie, pulled tight over his head and just barely allowing the ruffled tresses on his head to push passed the lipped seam.  

“Coach Aizawa!” The figure skater finally mustered, voice crowning into a high pitched staccato, before clearing his throat in a fist in a poor attempt to conceal his shock. 

Aizawa grunted in response to Izuku’s surprise. Calloused fingers breached the neck of his hoodie to tug at a thick black sweater hidden just beneath it, followed by the manipulation of a white scarf into place from where it was resting on his shoulders. Once he begrudgingly seemed pleased enough with his clothing arrangement, he stepped next to the figure skater, looking out to his team. Meanwhile, Izuku balked in wonder at the various layers of clothes Aizawa was dressed in. The array gave Izuku’s and Yagi’s own color coordination abilities (Katsuki’s words, not his. Izuku believed he had artistic vision when picking his clothes) a run for its money. 

The hockey coach was silent for a beat of time, eyes tracing the ice. Izuku glanced between the two, noticing that Aizawa seemed to be keeping a watchful gaze on the Captain, whom transitioned the team into a lax scrimmage. Aizawa finally looked back at the figure skater, prompting for an answer with a cocked eyebrow. 

The figure skater blinked in confusion, before quickly recalling what Aizawa had asked him just seconds prior. “Oh! It’s been good. Tiring, but rewarding!” 

To an outsider, exhaustion seemed to riddle Aizawa, who nodded a lazy head, but Izuku was able to notice his calculating gaze, which would speak to his quick-witted and intelligent mindset on ice. Aizawa wasn’t famed as one of the best defenseman turned into sought after coach for no reason, after all. 

“I hope Toshinori has been kicking his-“ he gestures by a jut of his chin to where Katsuki was barking out orders for a lineup change, “-ass during your practices. The problem child never tires out, but that’s what you should expect from a player like that.” Aizawa groans, as if it wasn’t his choice to recruit him, and he hunched over to lean a forearm on the lip of the ice rink wall. “I haven’t had the pleasure of coaching someone who knows how to hustle quite like him. It’s the reason I picked a Junior to be Captain.” The praise was hidden below layers of gritted tones. If Izuku wasn’t paying attention, it almost sounded like an insult in the way the words formed on Aizawa’s tongue. 

Izuku nodded along, pressing himself closer to the glass as he peered through the scratched surface and into the scurry. “I was wondering how he has been able to stay on top of everything. If I was in Kaachan’s place, I don’t think I would be able to keep up with both practices and all my other daily routines without coughing up a bit of blood on the way.” 

The hockey coach gruffly hummed along, turning to eye the figure skater with skepticism. “I hear you are a bit of a problem child yourself. Practicing more than you should and keeping Toshinori on his toes.” Izuku allowed an embarrassed flush to swallow him whole at the inquisitive and pointed comment. Aizawa patted a hand at his shoulder with a grim chuckle, lightening the mood that fell over them. “I can already feel the grey hairs coming in, I’m sure your coach isn’t fairing any better.”

The sound of skates slicing across the ice, forced panting, and the occasional slam of a body to plexiglass filled the moment of comfortable lull between the two, before Aizawa picked up the conversation once more. 

“But…Don’t give the kid too much credit, it would go to his head. He already has an ego worse than Hizashi Yamada.” Aizawa groaned as he referenced the famed sports broadcaster, more often known under his persona, Present Mic. “Bakugou’s just throwing you, anyway, you’re landing the tricks, and that’s tough shit to do. Don’t worry about him, I’ll teach him what being tired really means if he ever complains about being overwhelmed by both practices” 

Izuku gave a short, incredulous laugh, allowing a small smile fall into place as he turned his attention to where the hockey team broke from their scrimmage, pausing to watch the Captain demonstrate another drill. “I think Kaachan would be too prideful to ever admit being tired.”

Aizawa’s lips quirked gently, barely noticeable passed the thick white knit scarf he bore. It was a gentle smile, similar to that of a cooing father. “I guess you’re right. He’s a hell of a kid.” The coach finally leaned away from the glass, muttering as he gave his neck a crack, and motioned a flimsy hand to the direction of Izuku and beyond. “Enjoy watching the practice if you want, or go catch up on rest. I’m going to start practice and batter my boys a bit.” 

Izuku responded with a polite bow in farewell to Aizawa’s back, who had began walking towards the hockey benches. The figure skater turned away and slowly made his way to the exit, despite the subtle feeling urging him to take a seat by the bleachers and stay.

He left behind the sound of a whistle and Aizawa’s rough voice calling for the team’s attention.

-X-

The mindless parting from the cold rink to the glacial outdoors and straight into a steaming hot shower had his mind and body reeling, begging for peaceful slumber succumbed by thick bed sheets. Izuku stood groggily, the shower head smothering him in rainfall. He drowned in the current of water, fringing on the brink of boiling, coaxing his porcelain skin to urgently grown bundles of rose buds. The pearled suds of shampoo only heightened the contrast of his rouged complexion, heated pink. 

Izuku let out an involuntary moan when he stepped out of the shower’s embrace. He toweled off his hair, rough cloth braiding wet curls at each run against his scalp, while he listened drowsily to the echoing patter of his leaky facet against porcelain tub. The figure skater felt the breech of sweat along his collarbone at his prolonged stay in the warm bathroom, and rushed to dress himself in oversized pajamas. On his way to part the bathroom door, he could finally gasp in a breath of air that wasn’t threatening to strangle him with heavy condensation.

The figure skater simmered in the steam that continued to cloak him as he stepped further from the bathroom. The fog swaddled him tenderly, contorting over the planes of supple skin and holding in desperation, attempting to pull Izuku back into its warmth under the shower head. 

Ignoring the tempting taunt of heat, he took careful steps on sock padded feet to avoid tripping on the carpet, mind settled on the idea of finally collapsing into bed. Before he could walk far, the bag propped on the kitchen counter drew his attention. 

The katsudon!

As if on cue, his stomach let out a deep rumble, crying out at the audacious idea that Izuku would ever go to sleep without dinner.

The figure skater splayed his towel out to dry on a chair, a palm pressing into his stomach to urge its silence as he abided by its cry. He slid across tile floor to ruffle through the bag, pulling out the topmost container and popping it into the nearby microwave. Much like he did when he was a child, he rested on his knees by the counter, forearms folded over the table top to act as a chin rest, as he became hypnotized by the spinning container hidden behind gridded microwave glass. He shuttered as the chill from the tiled floor permeated his pajama pants, managing to urge him from his sleep riddled state. Izuku almost nodded off to the hum of the microwave and the odd ambiance created by the glimpse of red numbers counting down at the corner of one eye, causing a vermillion vignette to cross his field of vision. He yawned and stretched as the microwave clicked closer to zero, urging him to clamber to weak feet and fish out a spoon from the cabinet. Izuku winced as the soothing atmosphere was interrupted by the microwave beeping in completion. He subsequently pulled out the meal, saying a hushed ‘thank you’ to the open air, before digging in, ignoring the way the food was still a bit too hot to be shoveling into his mouth. He blinked around tears that formed at the heat of the food, before his tongue was suddenly enveloped in favor. The tears almost started up again as the roof of his mouth all the way to his molars were brimming in umami. 

What in the ever loving fuck did Katsuki make this out of? It tasted as if ambrosia was harvested and served to him on a silver platter. How was he ever supposed to eat anything else again? 

He could barely wait a second more as he continued to down the food, gasping for breath as he finally set aside the empty container.

Through his blissed out state, leaning back in the creaky kitchen chair and staring into the abyss of his dim ceiling, he couldn’t help but think. The lull of happiness from the warm meal brought upon a sense of nostalgia that he couldn’t understand, or rather, refused to understand.

Why did his reminiscence feel as heartbreakingly painful as the Winter parting into Spring? 

Was it the taste? He has loved Katsudon for years... was something about it similar to how his mom used to make it? 

Why did he love Katsudon so much?

Oh...yeah.

Izuku never truly had a favorite dish, not until he was but a handful of years old. It was a day where his eyes were scouring the menu of some nearby restaurant when he came across ‘katsu’, refusing to read the name in full, and exclaiming it was his favorite well before trying it.  Pitifully, he couldn’t shake that dish off of his pallet, even well after the pair’s falling out. If asked, he would swear up and down until he was brimming with tears that katsudon wasn’t his favorite dish because of Katsuki, no matter how much he was teased for it. 

And now Katsuki had made this dish for him.

Could this feeling... could it be… nostalgia for a friend he lost? A yearning taking fortress in the recesses of his mind?

He knew of his desire to skate alongside Katsuki once more, but this felt painfully different.

Was he fearful of the fact that their friendship may never be the same, even if Izuku incessantly pushed himself at Katsuki? Although he had been planning to spend as much time as he could with the Captain off and on ice? Is he allowed to hopelessly wish to break the boundary of stale years, forged by their bitter ending? Or would it too foolish to fight for a friendship he experienced during his youth? Can it ever be recreated?

No… no that’s not what it was. That couldn’t be the feeling churning in his gut. He wasn’t allowed to yearn for something like that, even if his fingers grew calloused and bloody from how hard he would try to reach for his youth. 

Katsuki had just used some spices that his mother often cooked with. There was something about the way the dish was seasoned that made him recall childhood memories… that must be it.

He pushed away the thought, trying not to sour the taste of the food with his mind. 

After several minutes spent recalling the flavor on his tongue, Izuku finally reached for his phone, pulling up Katsuki’s contact. He typed a quick message, as best as he could while he brain was still staggering in the fritz the food left him in. 

Izuku: Kaachan, the katsudon was amazing! Even better than the restaurant! :)

Now satisfied, blanketed in warmth and baring a full belly, he could pass out without restraint. 

Chapter Text

Izuku woke with a choked snore; startled and blinking away the sleepy tears that filled the corners of his eyes when a drawled out yawn escaped his lips. Tufts of verdant peaked out from a heavy duvet, shifting restlessly as Izuku pushed his way out of the mass of the blissfully suffocating covers, revealing his face to the morning light. He gazed out from where he was buried in the comforting heat, trying to gain a grasp on his surroundings with a sleep addled mind. With another yawn on the horizon, Izuku unwound himself from the ball he had managed to curl into, reaching a desperate hand out to smack at the bedside table in search for his phone. Finally, with a puff of breath in victory, he pulled the bright screen into view. He cursed himself for not lowering the brightness the night prio, instantly getting blinded and striking him out of any sleep that remained. 

Once he was able to focus, after getting rudely flash banged by the cursed device, he went through his brief morning routine of scrolling through past notifications and clicking into his messages. Izuku’s finger halted over Katsuki’s name.

He had received a reply several hours after sending out his compliments on the katsudon, presumably sometime after Katsuki had finished his own practice. Izuku wouldn’t admit to setting aside a few hours attempting to find a witty reply and keep up the text conversation. Unfortunately, his mind drew blanks, and since then, they hadn’t exchanged anymore texts over the weekend, and their brief text conversation was left unmentioned during their Monday practice, yesterday. 

He decided to tap the old conversation open. 

Awaiting him was the simple rely of; 

Katsuki: Of course it fucking is.

Izuku let his phone fall to the bed, burying his heated face into his thick sheets and allowing his pillow to suffocate the smile that washed over his face. 

God, he was hopeless. Just when he was trying to ward off thoughts of rekindling their friendship. 

Was this an issue? Becoming an overexcited, jittery mess with sweaty palms and averted eyes whenever a jeer from his old childhood friend was thrown his way? 

Izuku mumbled incoherently into his pillow as threads from dozens of trains of thought blazed behind his eyelids. He felt his eyebrows pitch in conflict and his tongue grow numb as he exerted himself. 

The issue was that Katsuki wasn’t just a bloody fisted and foul mouthed hockey player, he wasn’t the bad tempered child he faintly remembered. He was honestly quite sweet behind his gruff attitude, and it had Izuku weak in the knees. 

He seemed to care, but Izuku had to bitterly remind himself that it was probably tolerance. He didn’t think his inner child could take that thought for much longer. 

Izuku had never been so overwhelmingly conflicted; it seemed as if he was constantly second guessing his initial desires of once more becoming friends with Katsuki, but mere seconds later he couldn’t help but yearn tenfold what he had before. 

He finally relinquished himself from his mind, parting his face from where it was buried in the pillow to gasp in a breath of air. Fuck, he almost suffocated himself. Maybe his muttering was a bit of a problem, if he was distracted enough to almost choke on the pillow. 

The stupor left behind by his near asphyxiation led him to send back a quick response, attempting to ignore the diverging feelings fluttering in his gut. 

Izuku: Good morning, Kaachan! We should walk to class together :)

With the soft ding of a ‘sent’ message, Izuku finally sat up and stretched, feeling the creak in his bones and the pleasant pull of tired muscles. He whispered a half hearted song, drilled into his head after being a dedicated practice song of his for years, and he rolled out of bed, shivering at the chilled air that clung to warm skin. On unsteady feet, lacking the grace and precision he exudes on his thin figure skating blades, Izuku scrambled to ready himself for the day.  

His mouth was a mess of foaming pastel blue, scent of peppermint filling his lungs as Izuku scrubbed at his teeth. The sound of water from the running faucet and the rhythmic passing of bristles against his gums nearly lulled him back to sleep, bleary eyes snapping open only as a sudden pounding echoed at his door. It sounded like the door might get ripped from its hinges with how resoundingly loud the knocking was. 

This must be urgent! Did someone need help? Was there a fire and the alarm system was down? Did the school get into a political scheme and now the campus was targeted by international powers? 

Wait. That’s stupid. 

The figure skater shook his head, trying to detach from the dreamland imagination that sleepily haunted his waking world. 

“Coming!” He called through the garbled mess of toothpaste, head thrown towards his door in hopes of his voice permeating the pounding, before refocusing on the sink. Izuku rapidly dipped his head down in an attempt to rinse his mouth out, wincing as he almost slammed his teeth straight into the faucet. He blindly grabbed for a towel in his panic and wiped his face, turning to exit the bathroom and tripping on a loan sock that were left abandoned on the floor. He stumbled to his front door throwing an arm out to grab the door handle to regain balance. He righted himself with a gasp, pressing his other hand to the doorjamb for support as he flung the door open.

“Ye-AH!” He shrieked as he narrowly dodged the fist that was coming towards his face, presumably going in for another round of vicious knocks at the door. 

“Get ready, shitty nerd, we have to go to class.”

“Kaachan?” Izuku stared with mouth agape at the entry way, taking in the blonde who was already neatly dressed in a black v neck with machining jeans, a sleet corduroy jacket was thrown around his frame, and a single shoulder tucked under his book bag. Izuku, on the other hand, was still lounging in his worn pajamas.

“Who fucking else?” He mirrored Izuku’s pose, placing his hand on the outer door frame and leaning in to tower over the figure skater. 

The daze that Izuku was in was suddenly snapped out of him, leveling his gaze to stare at pointedly at fiery red. “It’s only 9 AM!” 

“9:15. Now get ready to go. You’re the one who asked me to meet with you, asshat.” Katsuki corrected with a feral glint to his eyes, prodding a finger at the figure skater. 

“I didn’t think you would show up so quickly! Nonetheless agree to go with me!” Izuku groaned and bumped his forehead into the dorsal of the hand that clutched at the wall. “My practices used to be early in the morning before my classes, let me enjoy the ability to finally sleep in and relax pleaaaase.” He could feel himself borderline pleading, braced stance at the door falling apart as his shoulder sunk and his hands finally relenquished the grasp at the jamb. 

“You’re awake now, aren’t you? Did you fucking text me in your sleep?” The Captain took a moment to fish his phone out of his pocket and waved it in front of the figure skater for emphasis, and promptly followed by continuing his tangent. “No need to sleep in, anyway, not after your blatant tendency to be late. You can sleep in and be late all you want in your free time, but if you’re making me waste my time to walk with you, we are going to get to class early.” 

“That was just one time!” Izuku pouted as he dragged his hand down his face, tugging at his eyes until the waterline peaked passed his eyelashes, recalling his lateness to their practice the other day. He released his face with a short, audacious, breath and abruptly shot a look up to Katsuki. “Oh! Please come inside. I don’t want you to wait out here while I get dressed.” 

With a raised eyebrow at the sudden, cordial invitation and a roll of his eyes, Katsuki slipped passed Izuku, whom had opened the door wider and offered entrance with a polite smile, despite his frazzled state. Upon his passing, and without a glance in his direction, the Captain allowed a hand to ruffle through Izuku's disheveled hair, just for a mere instant. 

“You look like a fucking mess. At least look a little more presentable.” He called over, back facing Izuku as stalked further into the unit and surveyed it. 

“I just woke up.” Izuku raised a hand to pat at his hair, locks warmed from the hellfire that blazed on Katsuki's palm. He tried to ignore the self conscious pit that formed in his gut as realization struck that his dorm wasn’t as clean as it should be for a guest to be over. Katsuki didn’t make a comment as he settled into a stool by the kitchen table. 

“Yeah whatever, go get changed.” He gave a flick of a disinterested hand without looking at the figure skater, pulling his bag off of his shoulder and letting it fall to the tiled kitchen floor. Izuku nodded quickly, shutting the front door behind him, before weaving his way to the bedroom 

“I won’t be long.” 

To which a grunt was Katsuki’s only reply. 

Izuku busied himself with readying his clothes, pulling up piles of hoodies and shirts from its place in his dresser, trying to distract himself from the hockey captain that sat waiting in his kitchen. He shifted through rainbows of color, texts of varying fonts and remarks, and despite shifting through the deepest corners of his very full closet, he wasn't completely satisfied with the arrangement of fabrics he had sprawling in front of him. 

His mulling and outfit styling session was interrupted by faint shuffling and the slam of a cabinet, causing him to almost jump out of his skin at the sudden noise. 

“Damn, you really don’t have anything in this kitchen. Fuck are you living on?” 

“Huh?” Izuku jerked his head towards his bedroom door, astonished that Katsuki's call was loud enough to sound as if he was standing right behind him. Izuku had a shirt pressed to his chest as he tried to calm his racing heart from the proximity of the voice. He shook his head as he finally processed the question. Hoping his words didn't sputter out of him as he yelled in reply, “I told you, I don’t have the time to cook much.” 

“Yeah yeah, sleeping beauty’s too busy napping to cook.” The grumbling was half hearted and barely audible enough for Izuku to pick up, but it left a gasp stuck to his throat and a blush permeating his cheeks.  

The name was absolutely dripping in sarcasm, but his heart felt like it was going to beat out through his ribs. 

Oh God, he was becoming delusional. Maybe he was spending too much time with Aoyoma. 

His mind drew into autopilot as he plucked through his clothes, deciding on a UA branded hoodie from the school store and light blue jeans. He didn't often care much about his appearance and style, so why was he bothering to care now? Izuku rapidly pushed the rest of the strewn clothes back into the dresser, roughly where they belonged. He grabbed his backpack and eyed the clock. It was only 9:30. Were they really going to get to class an hour early? The building was only a 10 minute walk from here. 

He bit his tongue, knowing it was best not to question Katsuki or else there would be hell to pay.

Izuku fussed with the length of his hoodie's drawstrings as he finally opened his bedroom door. The mere inches of the ajar entrance had coaxed the scent of sesame oil to his nostrils and upon his tongue. Abruptly wrapped in the unexpected and delicious sent had him walking on air to the kitchen. 

The figure skater strolled in a trance, eyes half lidded and droll licked lips. The click of the stove diminishing its flame refocused Izuku's attention. 

“Kaachan?” Just as he peaked around the corner, the Captain had finished loading a plate, piled high with ramen noodles that were marinated in thick in soy sause, brown sugar, and whatever else Katsuki could scour from his painfully bare kitchen cabinets. An egg, yellow yolk brimming and ready to burst, lie loyalty by a bed of crisp spam. The dish wafted the appetizing scent of garlic his way, having him tripping over his feet to take a close look. 

Did Izuku really own half of these ingredients? Maybe he should keep a better eye on what he had in his cabinets. And how the hell did Katsuki make packet ramen look heavenly?

Katsuki glanced up at the intrusion and huffed, setting the pan into the sink and shoving the plate forward on the counter top.

“Eat.” 

Izuku sputtered incoherently, hands spread out and flailing in front of him as he failed to comprehend the scene in front of him. 

“Kaachan! You didn’t have to!”

“Shut up, sit down, and eat. If you insist on sitting next to me in class, I don’t want to be distracted by your stomach growling.” He was firm in his words. He knew Izuku would promptly listen to his command, and decided to forgo Izuku's quirked brow to turn his attention to the sink, swiftly washing the pan of its residue.

Izuku gapped, but the traitorous low rumbling that sounded in his gut caused him to freeze. A knowing leer fixed itself onto the figure skater, crimson eyes narrowed in challenge when Katsuki noticed the figure skater was not yet seated and eating.

Finally Izuku gave in. He nodded stiffly, movements robotic as he sat at the table. He looked at the plate hesitantly, but the saliva soaking his tongue and threatening to well up by his uvula had him leaning over to take a bite. Upon the marinade coating his lips, Izuku’s face snapped up, fast enough that it looked like his head would break off his neck and loll atop the table. He quickly sought the pleased and snarky grin of the Captain, who had finished washing the used dish ware and was leaning on the counter with crossed arms.

“How?” Was the only word he could muster, prior to lifting another loaded bite with his chopsticks.

“Because I’m the fucking best. I already told you to never doubt that shit, Deku.” 

“I didn’t even know I had some of this.” Izuku mumbled his appreciation and wonder through mouthfuls of food, scarfing down the entirety of the plate. 

Finally, with an empty plate before him and a bright smile painting his features, Izuku led Katsuki out the door.

He felt warm despite the chill that urged its way through the fleece of his hoodie. With a content hum in his throat and pleased blush that laced his neck, the warmth emanating from the figure skater beat away the cold air that tried to taunt him. 

The walk was brief and pleasant, Izuku being undeniably well fed and Katsuki having received a year’s worth of compliments for his cooking within the span of a few minutes. The pair silently enjoyed the company as they mentally prepared for another lengthy lecture. 

-X-

Izuku blinked sleepy eyes, grieving the cup of coffee he forgot to have before class. 

A steaming cup of instant coffee had been a constant throughout his college career, always acting as a substitute breakfast. The chance to finally have a hearty meal in the morning left him exceedingly content and dozing off, barely paying heed to the professor as the keyboard underneath his own fingertips began to blur into monochrome smears. 

Izuku both cursed and was in awe of Katsuki’s ability to somehow be fairing just fine, despite his routine of early rising and his doubled practice time this semester.

With blearing vision starting to fade, Izuku felt his head tilt forward with the sudden weight of sleep. He urged up his head on a propped arm and tried desperately to pay attention. The deep droning from his professor, accompanied by the patter of tree branches to window became a lullaby of dissonance. He decided to halt his continued battle against his dropping eyelids, the figure skater settling into the soft inner lining of his hoodie, tucking a chin into the neck and puffing a breath of warm air which further lulled him into nothingness. 

He yelped when the peace of fading into a dreamless nap was disrupted by a flick to his forehead, abruptly shocking him back into the waking world. He threw a hand up to quickly cradle the aching spot, squinting up with a tired look. 

The chair tipped under him, threatening to fall backwards at the force of his sudden jerk of fear as a glowering face came into view. The deep shadow casted from light fixtures that backlit the harsh stare only made scarlet irises more vivid, more hellish. Hearing the chair legs squeak in protest from leaning back too far, Izuku threw a panicked grasp onto the desk to level himself. 

“Kaachan?” The name came out cracked and breathless.

“We finished the lecture early. Get your ass up before you start drooling all over the desk.” 

Blinking up owlishly, he allowed a hushed gasp to leave his lips in realization. He shifted to look out into the lecture hall and take into account the distant shuffling of students readying to leave. 

“Thank you for waking me up.” Embarrassment was evident on Izuku’s face, biting at a lip and a hand cupping at his nape, rubbing it with a heaved sigh.

The pair weaved out the entrance, passed the few students who lingered in the classroom, still busy packing their bags or asking the professor last minute questions. 

“You really weren’t joking about needing your beauty sleep this morning, hm?” Katsuki remarked as he pushed through a crowd of students who were lining up in front of one of the lab rooms.

“I usually have coffee in the morning. I didn’t realize the lack of caffeine would affect me so bad.” Izuku replied with a sheepish grin. He was stuck to Katsuki's back, following his lead in navigating the hordes. 

The pair emerged from the building, welcoming the cold after being uncomfortable caught between heated bodies. With silence surrounding them, noise absent of swarming students, Izuku chose this time to ramble between the topic of sleep, then jumping into a conversation on diet, and stumbling over his words when it turned into a discussion on food festivals. 

How Izuku managed to find connections between the various topics and fill the air with a constant stream of his words was a talent in and of itself. 

Their walk and one sided conversation was cut short by the sudden bustle of two bodies coming crashing into the poor, unaware figure skater. He stumbled backwards, arms windmilling in desperate attempt to grab hold of anything to save himself from meeting unfortunate demise on the concrete. Two pairs of hands struck out and instantly grasped at his backpack straps, pulling him up with a squeal and ear piercing laughter. 

“Midoriya!” 

Izuku shook his head to clear it from spinning, nonplused at the pair who stood ahead of him.

“Ochako! Denki! What are you guys doing here around this time?”

“I just got out of the library and ran into Denki.” She motioned with a thumb to the energetic blond, who nodded vigorously enough to ruffle his hair. Miraculously, the trademark lighting bolt that was dyed into his bangs lie unharmed. 

“And I was late to class because I got distracted by a fat squirrel, and now I’m skipping.” He pitched in with a dramatic lean onto Ochako, a grin taking up his face. 

“What the fuck?” The trio whipped around to survey the Captain who stared down at them, confusion and annoyance writing itself in the way his eyebrows quirked and a sneer settled in his snarl, teeth flashing in disdain. 

Izuku glanced between his two friends and Katsuki, eliciting to ignore the way the pair’s eyes widened with realization and mischief gleamed. The unsettling sweat that trickled in rivulets down the column of his jugular had to be a forewarning for what’s to come. 

“Oh! Kaachan this is-“

“I heard, I’m not deaf.” 

“Ohh Kaachan?” Denki stuck his hands in his pockets and rounded the Captain with a back leaning tilt to his head and a bounce in his stride, each step looking as if he was mocking an 70s rendition of a cowboy. 

“Don’t call me that!” Katsuki was bristling as he snapped and whipped around to face Denki, who had successfully made it 3/4th away around the hockey player. He shrieked in laughter and underlying fear, quickly scampering behind Ochako. She had her palms settled on her hips, providing enough cover for Denki to hide from Katsuki’s spitting rage, all the while peaking out a curious and teasing gaze over her shoulder. 

“You guys should join us for lunch!” She determined, brazen smile pressing rosy cheeks to meet her bottom lashes. 

“Haah?” Katsuki’s eyes grew comically wide despite the way his eyebrows furrowed further down to form a livid crease. 

Izuku’s nerves were absolutely wrecked at the scene that played out before him. This could go one of two ways; either Katsuki would absolutely pummel the two figure skaters into the ground, or the duo would somehow manage to jump him and prove more than the hockey player could handle alone. Either way, Izuku was starting to dread his own safety in this mess. 

“Let’s go you big grumpy!” 

Preliminary to Izuku coming to Katsuki’s defense and avoiding absolute catastrophe, Denki and Ochako where already grasping and shoving at him, turning him towards a direction of their choice. Katsuki was snapping his teeth and rearing like a rabid hound, but the shoving and tugging from every which way had him stumbling along. 

Absolutely flabbergasted that the latter of his guesses came true, Izuku had no choice but to follow along like a lost puppy.

After the stressful walk, filled with jeers, grunts, maniacal laughter, and Izuku ushering apologizes to any onlookers, they had finally arrived to a quaint diner. Izuku was given a moment to take in the exterior as Denki and Ochako continued to corral the apprehensive hockey player. 

It was a single floor building, sat squat on the further edges of campus, rounded by a bare and diminishing parking lot with the backdrop of thick tree lines that separated it from the highway just beyond. The building exterior was a mix of grey stucco and white vinyl sliding, aged and weathered making it turn a cream in color. Aluminum bordered the pitched, mansard roof; an attempt at mocking iconic retro diners. The restaurant was littered with glass windows, including the door which had a neon red ‘OPEN’ sign perched at the front. The bright red was mirrored in the LED sign simply stating ‘Diner’ in cursive atop the roof. A vibrant teal awning with thin, white pinstripe casted shade over the entrance and any groggy loners who stood nearby with a cigarette in hand. 

Only when successfully pushed through the door, did Katsuki ease up with his protests. The inside of the restaurant was just as visually garish, but nonetheless a perfect place to hang out with friends or grab a burger while drunk. Dark oak bench and chair frames matched the staining of the wooden floor. Light shades of teal and orange had coated the walls, accented the ceiling, and were pressed into the cushion fabrics of the wooden seats. Everything appeared to be glazed in a fine layer of grease from both the years of use and the diner’s cooking oil that seemed forever present in the air filters of the restaurant, leaving the smell of breakfast permanently permeating in the air. The designs fell in an odd middle ground between homey country and retro; the wood paneling of the floor clashed with the jukebox in the far corner and the light strips that sat snuggling behind the bar seating, flooding the surrounding area with an 80’s ambiance. Hold the Line by Toto sang out from the jukebox, the mellow voice and guitar rift only further indulging in the aesthetic of the diner. 

The unsatisfied scoff of the Captain could just be made out above the tinkering of utensils and gossip of patrons. Katsuki was forced into a booth seat next to Izuku, seated across Denki and Ochako, who already started flipping through the menus eagerly. The cushions refused to give and mould underneath them, staying perpetually and frustratingly firm in their slope.

Izuku threw a worried glance at Katsuki, nervous on his perspective of the diner when compared to the previous restaurant they went to. 

“Kaachan, is this okay?”

“Whatever, we’re already here. As long as they can grill a chicken breast, I have no problem.” Izuku watched momentarily. He shifted on the cracked leather seat and flipped through his own menu, fingertips running along the sharp laminated edge as his eye flittered along the bright images of food and obnoxiously large font. The menu was well loved, some of the words managing to fade even through the plastic lamination. 

The diner was bursting with noise, a combination of students, professors, and community members alike finding solace in the hustle and bustle. The reverberating sound of a grill and shouting chefs was muffled by laughter and the scampering of waitresses who took orders and delivered food with well practiced haste. Izuku allowed himself to be enveloped by the nostalgic chorus behind it all. 

“Alright, sugars, what can I get y’all started with today?” A sweet older woman settled herself by the table, passing out complementary waters. She fished out a notepad and plucked a pen from behind her ear, held up by the handkerchief tying back her hair, and subsequently clicked her pen. The sudden presence quickly drew the attention of the four students, who each came to a satisfying decision after closely studying their menus.

The waitress was fitted in a powder blue dated uniform which fell to her knees. Short ivory lapels matched the cuff along her sleeve and the pearly buttons that lined the top. Her apron pockets were deep, filled with recipts, pens, and crayons for any children that came with empty stomaches and short attention spans, most likely begrudgingly visiting their older sibling in college. 

With her encouraging grin, the group devolved into listing out their orders. 

“I’ll have a hamburger! And a sprite please.”

“I’ll take the chocolate chip pancakes. And a green tea, sweetened, please!”

“May I have the club sandwich?”

“Just a grilled chicken wrap.” 

She nodded along with a pleased hum, giving them a share of her blinding smile, crinkling the crows feet at the corner of aged eyes. She turned in the direction of the kitchen with a call of, “Coming right up! Sit tight!” 

Katsuki watched as the waitress walked just out of ear’s reach, before snapping a glare at the pair in front of him. 

“So, who the fuck are you guys?”

“Oh I’m-“ Denki started off, jabbing a thumb at himself as he proudly postured. 

“Not your names, dunce face. Already heard that shit back on campus.” 

“Ouch.” Denki winced at the name calling, smile warbling between laughter and crying out at the verbal abuse. 

Izuku took this chance to intervene. 

“They also figure skate for UA! Denki is another solo skater, and Ochako is a pair skater partnered with another friend of ours. Ochako and Tsu, her partner, are the first women’s same sex pair in the collegiate ring!” Izuku gestured at them in turn, trying, and effectively failing, at creating a calm among the diverse personalities. Katsuki gave a curt nod, finding Ochako’s name familiar from when Izuku mentioned it at their previous lunch. 

“Alright, so Roundface and Sparky over here...”

“Roundface? What am I, a chipmunk?” Ochako gasped, her hands palming at her cheeks to fluff up and tug at them, clearly taken aback.  

“Sparky? Am I a dog?” Denki sputtered in response. 

They pointed fingers at themselves in question, then turned and gestured at each other with a tilt of their head. Their heads seemed to spin at the animal counterparts they were unceremoniously given, until cackles bubbled in their throats. Meanwhile, Katsuki looked appalled at their sudden interruption and change of moods. 

“You’re an ass, but you’re pretty funny!” Denki unceremoniously sprawled over the table, chest pressed into the formica counter, as he batted a hand playfully at Katsuki’s, much like a cat attempting to paw at a squeamish mouse. The hockey player ripped it away, avoiding his touch as if it was the plague.

“Funny? What’s so fucking comedic about me??” 

Denki scoffed out another laugh, craning his head away from Katsuki to look between Izuku and Ochako. 

“Mina would love this guy!” Denki firmly decided as his hand continued to limply swat the air, trying to grab at the Captain who was pressed uncomfortably back into the booth cushion, laminated fabric barely giving millimeters to Katsuki’s desperate attempt to escape. 

The trio of figure skaters ignored Katsuki’s frustrations as they shared a moment of agreement. 

Ochako propped her elbow onto the table and chose to lean a cheek onto her open palm with a grin, grabbing her water cup and taking a slow sip, before tipping the glass and using it to motion the attention back to the Captain. “So you’re Katsuki Bakugou, right? The big, bad hockey captain?”

Katsuki's eyebrows climbed his forehead, an emotion akin to pride seeming to creep on his face at the supposed reputation he held, and an unexpected gruff laugh rumbling out of his chest. He successfully slapped away Denki’s hand to settle in his seat as comfortably as cracked and years-aged synthetic leather would allow. 

“Ooo he can actually smile! Look at that!”

With that comment, Katsuki snapped his mouth shut, once more, with a glower. 

“So, your relationship is primarily built on throwing him around?” 

Izuku almost spilled his water on himself, meeting the suggestive eyes Ochako threw his way, until they fell back on the Captain. The figure skater kicked himself for never hinting to his friends that this...arrangement... wasn't the kind they could joke about so freely. Should he have told them about their complicated past? 

Katsuki, the the meantime, somehow looked unbothered, or rather, unknowing of the lighthearted innuendo woven into her question, preoccupied with the arrival of their meals. 

“Yeah, I fucking guess so.” Was his brief reply. 

As plates were settled in front of the respective student, they offered their thanks to the waitress, who left them with another polite and joyous smile. 

Denki was buzzing out of his skin, physically vibrating to a point that shouldn't be humanly possible as he took in the sight of the meal. Katsuki watched on skeptically, eyes falling upon each dish as if he was only just realizing what everyone had ordered. 

"A burger? Pancakes? It's 1:00 pm." He chided in harsh and blunt criticism. 

"Who cares what time is it? If I'm craving pancakes, I'm going to get pancakes." Ochako pointed a fork at the hockey player, challenge written in her features, before twirling the utensil around her fingers and jamming it down into the mass of stacked pancakes, tearing off a piece. It almost seemed like a threat; daring Katsuki to question her and her choice of diner food. 

Katsuki groaned at the insistence in her response, and the aggressive and hungry destruction of her poor food, "Got a pair, don't ya?" 

"I don't need balls to get what I want when I want it, and talk back if I need to." She stated between bites, taking a sip of her steeped tea to make sure her voice was clear during her defense. Izuku felt like he was going to faint at the tensions. 

Until, Katsuki relented. "Not bad, round face." He exhaled through his nose, a slight nod in respect to her backbone against his harsh questioning. "I guess it's what I should expect from a diner, anyway." 

Izuku breathed out a sigh of relief at the argument successfully avoided. An underlying feeling of joy tickled at his ribcage at the vision of Katsuki getting, relatively, along with his friends. It was a warmth that seemed to promise more days spent fooling around and enjoying time together. 

Another voice drew his return into the conversation. 

"How are you guys feeling about sectionals?" Denki was talking out of the side of his mouth, chewing on a large bite of his hamburger and gesturing with it, oblivious to the ketchup that seeped out the sides and threatened to smear across the acrylic-sealed white table. 

"I almost forgot that was happening this weekend!" Izuku gapped, fingertips drawing over his mouth as if the physical barrier would halt his loss of breathe. 

"We get it, Mr. Hot-Shot Champion." Ochako practically purred her compliments, a laugh fizzling on her tongue, "You don't even need to practice for something as small as this." 

"Oh, stop." Groaning and pursing his lips pitifully, Izuku shot her a look, "We've all reached a level where this round is relatively easy for us. It doesn't excuse my forgetfulness! Practice is important!"

Denki, obviously bored by the droning regarding 'practices' importance,' quickly retook the breadth of attention. "My outfit is S. I. C. K.!" He spelled out the word with overflowing enthusiasm, body jerking as if he was being electrocuted and sparking at each emphasized letter. 

"I'm honestly surprised you know how to spell." Katsuki muttered, well learned table etiquette having him pause well before his next bite of the wrap to deliver his remark. 

"Thank you! I almost forgot the 'C', if I'm going to be completely honest." Denki preened with blithe, brushed imaginary dust off of his shoulder, practically glowing at the backhanded compliment.

"I'm excited for this round. It will be a good way to get back into the competition headspace." A gentle smile enveloped Izuku's lips, and he couldn't help but latch onto Katsuki out of the corner of his eye. He didn't fully realize his intent stare, probably brimming with an implicit emotion he couldn't personally quite place, but he was sure it unnerved Katsuki based on the questioning look that was sent his way. 

Katsuki brusquely scoffed, shifting to face Izuku head on, all the while attempting to tune out Denki and Ochako who continued to blabber between themselves. "If you want me to go, just be upfront. Don't give me that weird ass, hopefully look. I'll try my best to make the competition, or whatever." 

Blinking in reply, it took only a handful of second for Izuku to process Katsuki's words. He nodded ecstatically, despite Katsuki already turning away to throw another jeer at Denki. 

Izuku stewed in the unknown feeling, was coddled by it, allowed it to kiss racing pulses back into a soothing repetition of thump thump thump. Katsuki was going to come to his competition? He would finally get the chance to show off what years of practice and passion for ice had forged him into? He couldn't help the childish glee that had him burning brighter than the LED sign that sat dutifully by diner entrance. 

The rest of their lunch continued with a similar chaotic vibe, all the way to the point where they returned to campus and were ready to part ways. Short goodbyes were exchanged, and prior to Izuku turning towards the direction of his dorm, baritone voice called for his attention. 

“I’ll see you after my evening class.”

“Huh?” Was Izuku's incredibly intelligent reply. 

“Did you fucking forget already? I’m supposed to peer review your shit.” Katsuki reminded with a sneer at Izuku's sudden airheadedness. 

Realization dawned and Izuku bowed his head, shielding the embarrassed fluster from view. “Oh! Of course! I'll see you then! I hope you have a good class, in the meantime.”

The Captain rumbled in a breath, sending a final wave as he turned and stalked away.  

With the view of Katsuki's back becoming but a blip in the distance, sudden fear had Izuku sprinting back to his unit. 

He had to clean. 

-X-

Night had settled in the air, coaxing mourning doves to rest their throats and sleep upon brittle nettle nests, while rousing the Moon, stringing it along the sky upon its quilt of stars and ink soaked clouds. The light in Izuku's living room was pale and warm, casting a dim shadow that followed the figure skater's form as he restlessly paced the unit. 

Katsuki was going to be here soon. Why was he so nervous? 

Oh. Right.

Reading his paper would give Katsuki free rein to bombard him with insults, criticizing every lick of research and critiquing every drawled sentence. 

Izuku desperately didn't want Katsuki to think of him as stupid. This would be the first time in years that Katsuki would be able to judge any of his academic capabilities! The last time they were adding single digits and judging animal noises, and whatever the hell else they did in early grade school. 

Izuku was close to tearing off a piece of his inner cheek as he incessantly rolled it between his teeth, but the knock at the door stopped him in his tracks.  

Katsuki forced a container into Izuku's hands upon opening the dorm door, firmly stating “Here, take this shit.” 

The figure skater remained dazed at the abrupt gift, processing at a speed slower than the Captain would have liked. 

“My evening class is a pastry and desserts course, and we always have to take our shit home. I don’t want it, and if I start giving it to shitty hair or soysauce face, they’ll hound me for more each week. Take it or else I’ll throw it out.” Katsuki drumming impatiently at the jamb, awaiting Izuku's response. 

“I’ll take it!" Izuku quickly concurred, attention flickering away from the choice names Katsuki has designated for his roommates. He would be insane to turn down a free meal, especially if it was from Katsuki. "Thank you, Kaachan.” 

With that, the Captain was invited inside and urged to settle into the coach. 

“Before I start reading your shit, what’s your email?” He mumbled as he was pulling his laptop from his bag.

“What for?” Izuku questioned as he sat criss cross on the arm chair which stood dutifully by the couch, container in lap. 

“Notes.” Katsuki commented with restless irritation, tapping at his keyboard as he pulled up his files. In regard to Izuku's lost look, he continued with a curse, “You fell asleep during class, right? Take the goddamn notes or else you’ll fucking flunk.” 

Izuku sincerely doubted he would flunk out by missing an hour’s worth of notes, but he was grateful nonetheless, and murmured out his email address. 

Pressing a chilled palm to his cheeks, Izuku took the time to open up his own assignment on his laptop, as Katsuki busied himself with sending the pdfs. He hesitantly passed the device to Katsuki's awaiting palms, taking that second of transfer time to scan over the document, as if he could pick out any errors in his draft within that short timeframe and save himself the embarrassment.

Eats while Katsuki reviews to try and stall the jitters from having someone peer review in front of you 

Izuku couldn't help but feel jittery as the Captain's eyes passed through the document. The idea of having someone, especially Katsuki, peer review in front of you was utterly unnerving. To stall the oncoming shivers of anxiety, h e pried open the container and started to pluck at the fluffy puff pastry, not minding the powdered sugar that began to build a coating on his finger tips. He savored each bite, allowing it to melt in his mouth with a content hum, murmuring his appreciations, which was barely acknowledged by Katsuki as he continued to scour the draft. 

"Hm. It's actually not bad, Deku."

Izuku coughed, suddenly inhaling some of the loose sugar that sat on his next bite. Clearing his throat and trying to ease the tightness in his throat, he spared a tearful gaze at, searching for reassurance, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure why you were so worried." With a grunt, he closed the laptop and placed it on the table. He leaned back into his seat once as he continued, "You're pretty well read considering your contingency for being late." 

"I swear it was just one time, Kaachan!" 

Katsuki let out a short laugh, allowing Izuku to finish the dessert before he would spur on the conversation, hoping for the figure skater to avoid another fit of choking on powdered sugar. Once the container was set aside, Katsuki began his prompting. 

"So, you have a competition coming up? Do you have to use any of the jumps you've been practicing for?"

"Thankfully not. I've been preparing for this preliminary round well before the start of our partnership, and nothing that complex will be needed for this routine. This round is relatively low stakes, and is more or less assured for the UA skaters, with our rigorous training regimes and competitive performances." He explained with assurance.  

"Wow. Never thought you would be one to brag." Katsuki teased lightheartedly, eyebrow cocked and head leaning to rest on the shoulder of an arm that was thrown over the back of the couch.

"That's not! I didn't mean it that way! We still need to-"

"Don't worry about it, shitty nerd. It's good to be confident." He cut off the figure skater, attempting to avoid the steep chance that he would tie his own tongue with his spiel. "If you want to be the best, act like the best." 

Izuku inhaled shakily, instantly setting the words aside to store forever in his chest.

The best.  

Katsuki used to always spin speeches on his own desires to become 'Number 1', and it had inadvertently rubbed off on Izuku. To think that he was encouraging him, might even think he has the potential, to be 'Number 1', had Izuku ditsy. 

The pair continued their back and forth, Izuku picking up on the brunt of the chitchat, as per usual, and Katsuki listened with halfhearted dedication, which was more than was initially expected. They spanned simple conversation pieces, from complaining about classwork, to unruly stories from campus parties or sports competitions. 

The night chased after their conversation, settling everyone to bed, and soon, not a peep was heard out of the bounds of Izuku's unit.

Eventually Katsuki spared a glare at the analog clock that ticked lowly on the wall, giving a grunt as he heaved himself to his feet. 

"Alright, I'm gonna head out now. I'll see you tomorrow, Deku."

"Ah! Of course!" Izuku winced as he realized the time, internally apologizing for keeping Katsuki up so late. "Thank you for your help! Goodnight, Kaachan!"  

With Katsuki's absence, Izuku couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the immediate silence. Every pump of blood resonated in his eardrums, the creak of floor boards below were deafening, hell, even the sound of dust settling became eerily present. He leaned his back on the door, feeling each panel press uncomfortably into his skin as he slid down its length, forgoing the chance of splinters penetrating his back, until he was seated. His legs were curled up to his chest, aiding him in hiding a forlorn smile behind his kneecaps. 

How had he been able to be without Katsuki for so many years? 

Chapter Text

Katsuki reveled in the feeling of the ice under his skates, his sharpened blades cutting through every ridge left untouched by the Zamboni. Each bump was carved away by his footwork, a soft flurry of snow that followed at each grinding stop, he could manipulate the ice to his will. His throat bellowed heated breaths, feeling sore as steam formed from each inhale of frigid air. 

He was born for the ice, his only serving purpose.

The only difference, this time around, was the weight that was present in his palms. He had slowly become accustomed to the feel of athletic spandex under his calloused fingers, running ridges along the smooth seams, a new constant with the practices that now littered his days. Warmth emanated from the lean waist that rested between his engulfing fingers each time Katsuki would reach out and grab the figure skater for another high toss. 

“Just like that, Kaachan!” Izuku trilled in glee as he landed a salchow, the free leg that was held out behind him was straight and balanced, arms waved out delicately all the way to the finger tip. He clacked his risen skate back to the ice and gave a small spin of delight, casting a wide smile at the Captain. “Can you throw me a bit further away from you? I don’t want to risk hitting you when I spin out.”

“Yeah yeah, sure thing, twinkle toes, I know the drill.” The Captain rumbled his reply, rolling his shoulders with an amused smirk pulling at angled cheekbones.  

At the sidelines, Yagi was marveling at their dynamics, thankful that the partnership was bringing Izuku up to the heights he was expecting. 

Out of sudden elation, he clapped loudly, drawing in the pair’s attention from where he stood at the secluded hockey bench. He did it quite often, spilling his praises until their ears would bleed from the shouts of his baritone voice. 

“Young Midoriya! I’m glad to see the training regimen is working. And Young Bakugou, thank you for being such a good sport about it! Your talent on ice is incredible, and we wouldn’t be able to do all this without your help!” Yagi’s exclamation filled  the ice rink, echoing within empty corridors and against the plexiglass barriers. Izuku preened at the compliment with a short bow of his head and an equally loud ‘thank you!’ while Katsuki only scoffed and threw his glare anywhere but the figure skating coach, a flutter of satisfaction filling his chest. 

Why wouldn’t he be damned pleased? He’s wasting his time doing this, and if he gets a bit of insight on working with one of the best hockey players alive, despite his retirement, he’s gonna milk it for all its worth.

He’s his hero, retired or not, so yeah sue him if he feels his ego get bolstered at the compliment. 

“You ready for another, Kaachan?” The pitched tone summoned the Captain’s attention. 

“‘Course I am. Come at me whenever you’re ready.“ Katsuki skated back, gliding effortlessly to allow for more distance between himself and the figure skater, who wound a quick lap around the center circle. Izuku’s crossovers were near silent in the precise way they hit the ice, and his bound up and into Katsuki’s arms were just as graceful. With no hindrance to his own balance, Katsuki lifted up the skater and flung him in the direction he was skating in, hoping the momentum would push him further and appease Izuku’s request. 

They had continued their bouts of throws, slowly creeping towards more advanced motions. 

Katsuki couldn’t help the swelling of pride at the pace they were setting, sweeping up all of Yagi’s expectations. 

It wasn’t…awful.

It wasn’t awful having to help out Izuku like this. To be spending more time than necessary with him. 

Izuku hadn't berated him on his skating, reached grubby hands where they weren't wanted, didn't dare hash up help and critiques. He didn't try the stupid shit he did as a kid. 

And that was just what Katsuki needed to feel at ease. It was still a burden, sure, but he could stomach it if it meant his own desires, hard work, and talent weren't put into question by the figure skater.

Katsuki allowed himself a bit of freedom to blissfully run on that high.  

And when it all crumbled into oblivion before him, Katsuki had felt a violence stir within him, a vile sense of detest and rejection that had him digging nails into his palm. 

He had become too caught up in the figure skater's sway, grown lax in his posture as he became brimming with confidence, senses blurred by the stream of well earned compliments and overwhelming approval. They had barely even breeched an hour or so in their practice, and Izuku had urged them to advance. Smitten by a challenge, Katsuki gracefully abided.

With Izuku's next jump, the Captain was caught blindsided, as much as he hated to admit it. Before he knew it, he felt his skates get caught and slip right from underneath him. Within the split second of free fall, he was bracing for impact, managing to cradle Izuku to his chest, keeping the figure skater firm in his lap and away from coming into contact with the frosted ground. Katsuki was left dazed as Izuku was up and off of the hockey player mere seconds after the pair settled onto the ice, whipping around with worry pinching his brows together. 

Katsuki remained seated, feeling the dizzying burn of frostbite nip into his thighs, chill painfully into the bare palms that rested flat on the ground, keeping him propped upright. He blinked away his shock at the sudden predicament, mind whirling as he was slow to process Izuku’s voice and the outstretched palm that instantaneously came into view. 

“I’m sorry! I think I went at you too hard!” Izuku was quick to apologize, lips pulled into a sorrowful frown as he dipped at the waist and offered him a hand. 

What…? He fell? He fell?

And Izuku… Izuku thought it was because he couldn’t handle his jump? 

Katsuki growled as reason for the folly filled his mind. The ice had a divot. His knees weren’t bent enough. He didn’t have the right grip on Izuku. 

But God forbid Izuku thought he wasn’t strong enough, talented enough, capable enough to throw him properly. Anything but that.

Embarrassment flushed at his skin, the heat of irritation coiling in his core, as faint memories of childish palms offering a helping hand began to plague his vision, blurring the reality before him.

As quickly as his mind grew filled with raging turmoil, it suddenly quieted in a seething silence. His words dripped from his tongue with viscous acidity as he shoved away Izuku’s open palm. “‘M fine. Fuck off.” 

The Captain disregarded Izuku’s limp hand and faltering posture as he heaved himself to his feet, ignoring the flicker of mildly tamed panic behind the figure skater’s eyes.

He careened away when Izuku reached out hesitantly, wanting to help Katsuki brush off the excess snow dust that clutched onto his hoodie. The motion of skating back shot down any of the figure skater’s well wishes, the Captain taking to catering to the mess himself.  

"Let's get back to it. I don't have all day." 

And with that, they continued their practice, Izuku warily blind to the tension that sat taut on the Captain’s shoulders. 

His skates sat wrong on the ice, body too stiff for the throws that followed. 

It was all Izuku’s fault. 

If the bastard hadn’t belittled him like that, he wouldn’t be so thrown off. 

It was just a fucking slip. Izuku didn't need to look at him as if he was impaled on a metal pipe and paralyzed for life. Izuku didn't need to hold himself back out of worry. Izuku didn't need to look like advice was being held behind his lips, vibrating in anticipation against his teeth.

Katsuki was doing fine, was doing great, and Izuku needed to get over himself. 

Katsuki bit at his tongue, allowed canines to pierce and urge a flood of metallic crimson to trickle to his gums and overwhelm his senses. 

As jumps started to give way to shaky landings, Izuku had to put in extra effort to round the rotations at each faulty throw. He turned to the Captain, confusion lit in his features, as he examined Katsuki’s posture more frequently, and it made Katsuki's skin itch. 

“Hey Kaachan, are you alright? Do you need a break?” The figure skater offered hesitantly. 

“I’m fucking fine!” Katsuki was close to tearing his own hair out, or Izuku’s, as the figure skater seemed to be teetering around him with even more care as the practice proceeded.

Katsuki could stand on his two on feet! Skate just fucking fine! How dare Izuku think he needed to be cared for, needed to be guided.

“Get on with it, Deku! Don’t make me wait on you!”

“A-alright.” With glaring diffidence, they proceeded. 

The clacking of skates to ice only became more prominent at each landing, a loud clatter that deafened the previously smooth glides. Izuku had started to ease on pushing his doubles and triples, falling into an old routine of singles as conflict roused his eyebrows into a quirk. 

“I think… maybe you're holding your weight on the wrong edges? Would you mind adjusting your position? I can wait for you to do a few laps if you need to warm up again?” Izuku offered, the statements sounding more like a question.

At the choice words, Katsuki couldn’t help a bitter bile rising in his throat, the instantaneous impact of vicious hate leaving him violently recoiling. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do you have a problem with how I skate?” 

With abashed expression and fluttering hands, Izuku desperately tried to reconvene and reword his statement, thrown off by the vehemently spat inquiries. “No, never, Kaachan! Figure skating is just a bit more rigorous with our footwork and I don’t want you to strain your ankles! I thought-“

“I don’t need your advice just because you think you’re a tough shit big shot!” Katsuki rounded on the figure skater, and despite not making any contact, Izuku found himself stumbling backwards and trying to readjust his feet as the sheer energy surrounding the Captain was enough to have him cringing away. 

"I don't- I don't think that at all!" He attempted to reason. 

“Well it seems like you do! And that you have a big fucking problem!” He bit back. “You’re bossing me around as if you think you would ever be better than me.“

“What?” Izuku was taken aback by the remark, bristling at the notion that he was nothing when compared to Katsuki. How could he even say such a thing! “You- why are you comparing us?” Rage soon simmered into sorrow as he looked completely lost for words. He didn’t want this. He wanted to run away. He wanted to stay. He wanted to erase the turmoil that lie between them. He didn't know what he wanted. What was going on? 

“This is a waste of my goddamn time!" Katsuki was bristling in unresolved tension, spitting more curses at Izuku, at figure skating, at everything in between. 

“Wha- but Kaachan!” Izuku seemed unbelievably lost, panic weeping behind his irises.  “What's going on?“ Pleading fell on deaf ears, snarls too loud to hear the cries. 

“Whatever, you won’t fucking get it.” He finally relented, fists clenched as he stared down his wrinkled nose and at the faltering posture of the figure skater. 

“Then help me understand, Kaachan! We are supposed to be partner here! We are supposed to be friends!” He was attempting desperately to placate the Captain, hands winding together in front of him, bordering between the desire to claw at his cuticles or pull Katsuki into an unrelenting hug. 

“Partners? Friends?“ Katsuki let a mocking laugh resonate behind his uvula, deep in the diaphragm, echoing dully throughout the industrial building. “Just because I’m helping you out doesn’t mean shit. We never were, and never will be, friends, Deku."

The nickname was spat with an air of abhor that didn't rival their reunion just weeks ago, no, it was howled in a way that was too akin to how Katsuki would mock him when they were children. When children loved, they loved purely, and when children hated, they hated purely. They did not need any reason to blur the lines between emotions. The hate that laced his nickname within that split moment was that kind of pure crystalline vexation. 

Have they not grown out of that?

Something in Izuku trembled at the ire, weeped in despair, and his thoughts had him crumbling under the weight of the word. 

Deku.

At that, Izuku refused to utter another word to the Captain. He remained stagnant, head having been lolled downwards in the midst of Katsuki’s tangent, and refusing to display his face. As pants finally subsided and Izuku heaved his shoulders to a still, he shifted and turned towards Yagi, who sat worriedly by the bench side. “Sorry, Coach. I think I want to end early.” Despite not yet earning a response, Izuku was quick to skate to the exit in a hurried storm. 

Yagi nodded limply to Izuku’s back, calling a hesitant farewell to the two ice skaters, as he too vacated the ice rink. 

Katsuki was left with gritted teeth, cursing under his breath as he departed from the ice and stalked to the locker room. He collapsed onto the bench, allowing it to heave and creak under his unexpected weight. 

How fucking dare he. 

He had played nice. Played too nice. He bit his tongue and trudged along with his forced practices, took hours out of his schedule and allowed Izuku to tug him along on little lunch outings, graciously donated his time to help him with small study sessions. Why the hell did he even allow it to go so far? 

And to see Izuku still had the mentally of thinking he was better than Katsuki? How absurd. All his soft spoken words were nothing but taunts, spear headed critiques. His edges needed to be fixed? Sure, Katsuki could acknowledge he needed to loosen up, he was more than capable of monitoring himself, but having Izuku point it out? It made the Captain want to spill his guts. 

Throughout his turmoil, he had started to tug on his equipment, frustration only further gripping him as his compression jocks slid on with more struggling than usual, his elbow guards didn’t sit quite right, his feet pounded tiredly behind his tightly laced skates, and the velcro of every goddamn piece was a grating sound that had him growling in annoyance, quickly becoming overstimulated and adrenaline rich. 

His prolonged time simmering in brooding silence was soon interrupted by the clutter of clumsy bodies on unsteady feet as they burst through the locker room door. 

“Yo, Bakugou!” Kirishima and Testsutetsu bustled forward, arms hooked together as the two, who swore they weren’t twins nor knew each other prior to University, twirled with glee. 

“Did you finish your practice already?” Iida questioned, before turning to the waltzing pair of goalies and urged them to take a seat and abide by room regulations, fear evident of the off chance that they might knock down a row of lockers like they did their Freshmen year. 

“We tried to get here earlier to catch you and your little figure skater practicing.”  Shinsou hummed as he bordered the crowd and took a seat in the corner, exhaustion seeping from him, as per usual.

What God did Katsuki upset to be stuck with these bumbling idiots who had absolutely no capabilities on reading a room?

“Fuck off and get dressed.” The Captain’s teeth ground together, clacking irritably as he tried to silence their tangents with clawed hands rubbing at his ears.

“Whoaaa we haven’t even started and you’re in a bad mood already, Cap?” 

Katsuki’s nostrils flared as a growl breeched his throat, slamming a palm to the bench. The clap resounded throughout the locker room and a steadfast shush fell upon the team. Some teetered between throwing in another teasing remark and remaining deathly silent, before quickly deciding on the latter as Katsuki’s withering gaze peeled them apart at the seams. 

“I’ve heard enough out of all of you, extras! Put your shit on and I’ll see you in the rink.” With that, he stalked out of the room, jersey and equipment creaking and overwhelming the silence.

Once the door was shut behind him, a hushed exhale vented throughout the team.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Ojiro cocked a brow and tilted his head in the direction of the slammed door. 

“Did we do something to upset him?” Todoroki mused, normally placid expression subtly pinched in concern. He ruffled with the undershirt clutched in his hands before tugging it over his head, the white and red tuffs of hair blending into a mess. 

“All I know is he is going to 100% kick our asses on the ice and I’m going to be too sore to attend my classes tomorrow.” Sero sighed dramatically, pulling his hockey bag from its place in his locker and allowing it to land with a muted thud on the rubber matted floor. 

-X-

The weekend had strolled by without much of a fight, prolonged anger burning out the Captain and teasing him into longer gym sessions and an earlier rest at night. 

He had been grappling with residual anger for a better part of his Saturday and Sunday, fizzling to a bitter disdain as each day drew to a close and night blossomed in its wake. 

He indulged in a mind numbing amount of social media scrolling, finding any way to keep his anger at bay. If Katsuki was still seeing his therapists, he would be bitching at him like an old dog for his choice methods of distraction. 

Instagram had been the same mess of bullshit, as it always was. An overwhelming amount of party updates, a concert happening in an underground bar, some cute pet videos, whatever political mess was brewing as of most recently.

His finger paused its scrolling when an update from one of UA’s sports accounts came into view, posted yesterday. Katsuki’s eyes followed his line of sight to the caption.

Congratulations to UA’s figure skaters for all making it passed the preliminary round!

Katsuki exhaled harshly. 

The attached picture had a jumbled group, three painfully familiar faces and three unknown. 

He felt his vision drag over a well-known head of verdant hair, puffed curls falling along wide cheeks and bright smile. Izuku was dressed in billowing chiffon at the top which eventually tapered to legs painted in a stretched velvet. It transitioned from shades of white and blue steel straight into a pitch black at the waist and down to his equally dark skates. A prominent collarbone and the midline of his chest was barely hidden by a sheer panel, the thin fabric lined by silver rhinestones. A similar pattern of bedazzling was spread across the full sleeves that hung in an elegant drape.

“‘I don’t wear glitter’ my fucking ass.” Katsuki mocked in a hush. 

Incoming guilt ached at his gums and itched at his skin. 

Right… Katsuki had completely forgotten about the competition, put it aside out of favor for his brimming vexation. 

Why the hell should he feel guilty about not attending? It wasn’t his job. They weren’t friends. Izuku didn’t need to be coddled by his support. He thought he was better than him anyway. 

But he did say he would go… and Katsuki hated making promises he couldn’t keep. He hated being seen as someone untrustworthy; it took years to build up his profile as reliant Captain. 

He couldn’t help but groan at the thought, frustration clouding his glower.

It didn’t fucking matter. He shouldn’t be getting so worked up over it. Like hell he would want to watch Izuku show off, get his gold, and rub it in Katsuki’s face, stare at him with wide eyes that spoke nothing but ‘I told you so’, giving Izuku even more reason to critique how Katsuki skated. 

With that, the Captain threw his phone with a resounding clatter to his bedside table, finding the sudden will to go for a run before heading to sleep.

As he pulled a sweater over his head, he internally snarled in disdain at the idea of being within feet of Izuku during their classes this week.  

-X-

Where the fuck was he? 

Katsuki tried to keep his glare averted from the front door of the lecture hall, tried to ignore the emptiness behind him as he sat hunched in his seat.  

Why did he care why did he care why did he care why did he-

He felt his train of thought come to a grinding halt as a familiar figure shuffled through the entrance, just minutes before class was supposed to start, narrowly saved by the chronically late professor. 

Crimson irises followed his movement, taking in the way Izuku was stiff in his stride, muscles wound tight, and most importantly, his eyes never met his. He pointedly looked ahead, slipping his way into his old seat across the other side of the classroom. 

Katsuki should be relieved. He should be yelling in joy that Izuku had finally learned some boundaries. 

He should be. 

He will be.

He is.

Yeah.

He is relieved. 

The internal insistence chanting in his mind didn't stop the sinking feeling pulling his heart down to his gut, thudding uncomfortably and shortening his breath. 

-X-

It had been a week. 

A tediously long week. 

A week since Katsuki had last formally talked to Izuku. 

His ire had ultimately burned into fatigue. 

The figure skating practices for the past week had been canceled, giving Izuku time to rest off of his skates post-preliminary and presumably focus on off-ice training, not that Katsuki would know for certain. 

Izuku had never returned after migrating back to his old seat, opposite side of the classroom, from Katsuki.

The Captain's week consisted of unanswered gazes from across the lecture hall and an empty lock screen, void of messages. 

Izuku had never ignored him for this long before, not when they were children. So why now? Why did Katsuki care? He fucking hated it. He hated realizing that he might care about the lack of attention.

Katsuki should be thankful. He should appreciate the scapegoat he had received and kiss the Heavens for blessing him with a much needed break. So why did he feel so fucking shitty? Why had empty text message notifications and distant eyes have his heart aching and mind groaning? 

The constant goddamn teasing from his teammates didn’t help. The entire week, his every waking moment and unfortunate encounter on- and off- ice, even between his classes, was filled with joking chirps. 

“When can we catch your next practice?”

“Ohh are you missing your little figure skater?”

“Is he skating circles around you?”

“Have you tried on any of his little outfits, yet?”

Fuck, Katsuki wanted to bash all of their skulls together. With how empty headed they were, they would probably crumble like eggshells under his fingertips. 

And with every mounding moment, he could feel… something. This burning need that was pleading for him to give in. He didn't know what it was, but he could feel it thrumming behind his eyelids and eating away at him, begging his hands to tear apart his hair, delve into his scalp, part dura mater until he could present Izuku his brain; his thoughts and feelings on the platter that was the open palm of his hand. 

It was so guttural, and Katsuki hated every breathing minute that he felt the allodynia. 

Why did it matter so much? He hadn’t seen Izuku in years… they had only hung out for a few mere weeks. Why the hell was he craving his attention again? 

He hasn’t felt this way since… since they were kids. 

Why did Izuku mean so much to his ego?

It was Friday night when Katsuki found himself collapsed into his living room couch, no care for if Kirishima or Sero were to stumble upon him, as they were already holed up in their rooms. He hunched over his knees, forearms pressed onto his thighs. His hands were clasped tightly together, fingernails embedding themselves into the other hand’s knuckles, scratching at the skin and surely leaving it raw and red. Katsuki’s gaze was focused into the carpet, mindlessly counting each thread, hoping to soon be swallowed by the dark, or woven into the couch and never seen again. His skin ached, pulled tight against his bones and begging to rip apart and spill his innards upon the carpet until he could no longer count the threads before him.  Katsuki let out a shaky breath, feeling it rattle in his chest and come out strained through the throat, leaving his tongue dry no matter how desperately he swallowed. It wasn’t the creak of a door that got his attention, but the deep rumble of a curious voice, that had Katsuki finally pull his blind glare away from the carpet and craned it ever so slightly over his shoulder. 

“Oh, dude, what are you still doing up?” Kirishima’s question was hushed as he rounded the back of the couch. Although Katsuki’s face was finally turned away from the carpet, his eyes were distant, staring at the wall and barely taking note of Kirishima in his periphery. The lack of response had a small frown pull at his lips, and he took a moment to scour his Captain in the dim light. 

“You’re not looking too hot… are you okay? What’s going on?” The redhead weakly tried again, shuffling to the arm chair that sat across from the couch. 

Katsuki let his head drop, let it bounce on the joint that was at his neck as if he was nodding limply. He shifted in his seat, body facing the direction of his goalie, but his eyes not yet catching up, until he finally talked. “Just… thinking.” His voice sounded foreign to him; gravely, as if his throat was lined with shrapnel and torn apart. 

Kirishima desperately tried to scour his mind, attempting to find the cause for his Captain’s unanticipated change in demeanor. He shifted on his hips, giving his undivided attention, and letting his words seep out of his lips with a tender concern, oddly akin to how he might talk to a skittish puppy or sobbing child. He didn't know for certain how to navigate the predicament before him. “Was it… was it the comments we made during practice this week? Did we upset you?”

“No.” His tone was firmer than before, dazed gaze coming to a keen focus, but it started to dissolve the further he confined. “No. No, you guys can’t be blamed for the shit I’m feeling.” Katsuki’s refusal to lay blame on their childish taunting left Kirishima on edge. How big did this issue really run? His stunned musing was halted as Katsuki continued grimly under his breath. “If anything you just made me realize some things.” 

“Listen… I’m no psych major and honestly Sero might be better at this than me, but bro’s conked out. You really put us through the wringer during practice." The goalie let out a laugh at his poor attempt to crack a joke, which tapered out as Katsuki didn't bother to throw a jeer his way, leaving Kirishima even more so perturbed. "But I’m going to try my best here. So... what's going on?" It was a rather blunt question, but he was trying, he really was. 

He continued his gentle prying, offering different directions for Katsuki to lead the conversation, tried his best to meet his Captain in a middle ground. Success came in the form of unintelligible, bitter mutters, but that was enough for the goalie.

“I feel- I don’t-“ Katsuki let out a frustrated exhale, bordering on a scream. 

“We’re lucky Sero is a heavy sleeper.” He tried to lighten the mood with another round of lighthearted chuckles, but quickly clamped his lips shut and feigned the act of zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key when Katsuki passed him a depleted look, “Sorry not the time, I know.”

“I’m not good enough.” Katsuki's statement was sudden, splitting the air between them. 

Taken aback, Kirishima gapped in shock, sputtering incoherently at the dwindling in his Captain’s confidence. He had an inkling that Katsuki feared failure, tried his best even if it meant tearing the skin from his feet, but he never thought he was right, nor would Katsuki ever admit it. “You've always been good! An amazing player and Captain!” The redhead rapidly offered. 

“But I don’t feel like one. It’s so fucking pathetic. All of his unwarranted advice. All his bullshit. I don’t fucking know.” Stuttering fingers ran across untamed flaxen hair, pulling at the root at each run. 

“His?”

“Deku. The figure skater.”

Kirishima nodded along but gave himself time to pause, mulling over the Captain’s sporadic statements. “Yeah… it really does seem like you don’t know.”

Kirishima was on the fritz, acting a bit ditzy, when it came to Katsuki’s rearing emotions, uncertain on how to interpret the jumbled mess and frayed edges of a forgotten childhood that started to painfully bleed into the present. How could some unwarranted critiques affect Katsuki this much? His Captain was always one for ignoring people when he thought they were full of shit and not worth his time. 

“Why are you so against his advice?” He hesitantly questioned, “We get it all the time from Coach. And I would at least assume ...uhh... Deku... is nicer about how he puts it. I doubt he screams your ears off like Coach does.”  

“It’s not…" The search for the right words left Katsuki looking peeved, until he finally settled on the ones that pulled into the forefront of his mind. "I just fucking hate him.”

“You hate him?” 

“Yeah.”

Disbelieve crossed Kirishima’s face, an eyebrow peaking to his hairline. 

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why would you hate him?”

“I don’t need a reason to hate someone.”

“Yeah… I think you do, at least. Why else would you want to put in the effort and the turmoil of feeling hate? It’s too tiring. Being friendly is much more fun.” Kirishima waved his hands about, trying to clear the tension from the air as if it was a film of dust building in the atmosphere and encroaching on their living room.

Groaning, Katsuki decided to shake his head, the mixture of fondness and annoyance in every shift seemed to lighten the weight he bared ever so slightly. “You’re a smartass sometimes, you know that?”

“I try.” Teeth glistened in the dim light, baring gums at its fullness.  

With a heavy sigh Katsuki felt himself get pulled further into the coach, fabric attempting to cradle him close. 

“I knew him well before college.”

“Yeah? I don’t think you’ve mentioned it before?” A lour slid its way to the goalie, causing him to shrink away and offer the stage back up to his Captain, “Sorry sorry I won’t interrupt.” 

“Deku-“

“Is that seriously his name? Because I'm having a hard time believing it.” Although constructed with a joking tone, an unnaturally serious tint took over his eyes, hoping for a reasonable answer. 

Katsuki took a deep breath, attempting to ignore the way Kirishima decided to interrupt him for a second time, before continuing with a frown. “Well…no.”

“Alright, why don’t we start by using his actual name?” He gently prodded, and was met with an abiding huff. It was progress, which was a lot for Katsuki. Kirishima was surprised that he was still alive, in all honestly, he thought his Captain would chop off his head if he was ever caught feeling any emotion other than anger.

Conflict rose in Katsuki's face, cheeks sucked in and gnawed at, jaw clenched and finger pressing deep creases into the thighs. Every fiber in his being did not want to be doing this. Did not want to be having this conversation right now. 

“De- ah… Izuku," A heavy swallow permeated the room once the name left his lips, "the figure skater I’m helping?”

“Yeah? I haven’t had the chance to meet him yet but, you guys seem to have fun during practice. What about him? What made you 'hate' him?” He took a moment to emphasize the word with finger quotes, which was met with a withering glower that had him hiding his hands behind his back.

Katsuki cringed momentarily, letting the weight of his emotions pull him to rest his body on the back of the couch, relieving his shoulders from their hunched position. 

“I used to know him as a kid.” He ultimately started. 

“Is that why you guys got along so well?”

“No- I mean maybe. I mean- we didn't get along! Fuck!" Katuski couldn't help but be pulled into reminiscence over the time had has spent with Izuku thus far, arguably, they could be considered 'fun'. He could feel his expression slacken, look lost among crashing waves as his recent experiences paralleled much of the fond memories he held from his youth. He tore his mind away as he rubbed harshly into tired eye sockets. "It doesn't matter. That’s… listen. I used to be…” He paused to let out a forceful exhale, nose pulling back in a pained sneer. “I used to bully him relentlessly.” Kirishima sat silently as he waited for Katsuki to continue, taking care to notice the way his lips were parted, attempting to form the words that seemed to be taunting him behind his eyelids. “I had a lot of problems with controlling my anger as kid, didn’t help that I was praised to the high fucking heavens. It probably fucked with me a bit.” 

“Why did you bully… him? What did he do to you? I'm sure there was...something?“ Reasoning was difficult when Kirishima and Katsuki were equally as lost in regard to the Captain's emotions, but Kirishima would be damned if he didn't act like the best fucking friend ever and try his best to understand. 

“Stupid fucking reasons, probably. As much as I don't want to admit it." His hand reached behind his nape, folding the tense tissue between his digits as he tried to release his mental strain. "‘m still trying to work on that."

“And why is it bothering you now? The way you used to treat him?"

Katsuki, despite himself, remained quiet. Kirishima could do nothing but wait patiently as he allowed the conflict to roll within his Captain’s head. 

"I said some things I shouldn't have." He ultimately settled upon saying. “I can’t excuse myself because of my upbringing. He didn’t deserve the shit I put him through. Even now… even when I saw him after years I couldn’t help the building aggression.”

Although Kirishima was certain he was missing out on large gaps of Katsuki's reasoning, he didn't want to cross the tentatively drawn border and attempt to glimpse further into the emotions Katsuki always kept locked within himself and out of public view. He didn't want to risk tilting Katsuki into a further downward spiral. Putting aside his own curiosities, he tried to urge on Katsuki's own introspection. 

“Maybe it wasn’t anger? Maybe it was anxiety? Something else? I dunno if you would be that angry at him for... nothing?" 

“I don’t know. I don't fucking know. And all I want to do is get him the fuck away from me." 

Despite himself, Kirishima hesitantly continued to press forward, hoping to garner more insight to the odd situation. “Do you think you think you want to subconsciously impress him? Are you getting embarrassed because you don’t think you‘re enough to warrant his compliments? I mean, I'm sure he means a lot to you if you've known him for so long.”

Katsuki felt his voice leave him, unable to answer the prompted question. 

Kirishima hummed into the silence, and attempted to turn to a different direction, hoping it might get the Captain talking again “What do you want to do about all of this? Are you going to talk to him again?”

The silence wasn't comfortable, nor was it eery, it was just there. It was something that was unavoidable. The muted sound of hesitant breaths, of a heart pounding a lick too quick. It made them feel human. And within that silence, while no answers were spoken, gifted to a man who couldn't fully grasp his wrongdoings, there seemed to be a shift of understanding. Although still uncertain, silence gave way to palpable consideration. 

After several minutes, Kirishima spoke up once more, gently guiding with a smile too soft for his rows of sharp teeth, "Well... that's alright. It's okay to not know yet. I think you'll figure it out." 

Within steps of his bedroom door, exhaustion steeped words called to him, “Thanks… Ejirou.

Kirishima was left stunned by the sudden use of his name, and his face was taken up even more so by the wide grin, squinting his eyes until he could barely see with the vastness of his expression. “No problem, bro! Go to bed soon or else you’ll be cranky when you wake up. Sleep tight!” 

“G’ night.”

Chapter Text

Izuku sat stiffly on a kitchen stool. The chill from the ceramic permeated his worn sweatpants, a frigid burn running into his thighs, which never seemed to dissipate no matter how long he was seated. His vision was fading, a vignette teasing the edges, the longer he stared into table grain. What he was doing could hardly be considered running his gaze along the patterns of the wood, rather, his vision would jump sporadically from various swirls; glare as robotic as his posture. 

He had forgotten to breathe at some point during his dissociation. Utter silence had embraced him right to her bosom, pressing her lips to his to offer her breathe into his lungs no matter how furiously he refused. And finally, he allowed a shuttering breath to breech his clenched teeth, a tender gasp that left him bowing over the table, forearms splayed in an attempt to keep him upright. 

A week and one day.

It had been a week and one day since he had last talked to Katsuki.

It had been going so well. At least… Izuku thought it was. 

He didn’t expect the Captain to be so utterly capricious out of the blue, tearing apart any dwindling hope within Izuku with his sudden change in mood. 

Izuku had tried to wrap his head around what set Katsuki off during that practice. He racked his memory trying to figure out what was different and could erupt such a volatile reaction. 

We never were, and never will be, friends.

Why did that hurt so much? 

He knew he was being an idiot, wistfully hoping to rekindle their childhood past… but…

But it was a much more painful realization than he expected.

It shouldn’t have been this painful to have Katsuki outright reject his friendship. 

 It shouldn’t leave a searing pain that collapsed his rib cage into his lung, leave his guts coiling until he threatened to puke them up. 

Izuku had to fight desperately to hide his bereaved expression throughout the encounter. It was surreal, the ability to feel every minute detail of his body; the thudding of arteries from chest to finger tip, the pinch in his brow, the grating of molars, the rigidly of every tendon, the soreness of his skates. He could feel it all.

It was unfair.

It felt as if something dear to him was shorn off before him, leaving him deprived and gasping, and begging to hold whatever he lost once more. 

That evening was restless, and all he could do was despairingly desire it would all fix itself by morning. He knew it was foolish to think so, Katsuki had held a grudge against him for all these years; there was no way a single night could heal over whatever wound was reopened.

But he let himself stupidly wish, anyway. 

His competition on Saturday went as well as it could have.

He had concealer caked thick to his under eyes during his performance. Ururaka smeared the foundation while Mina pressed fine powders to each exhausted line that formed over night. Any pull into understanding why he looked so tired was answered with a simple “I was up late studying.” They didn’t push any further, even if their minds rolled over with the memory of how how Izuku always managed to get a restful night’s sleep before any completion, no matter how small. 

And when Izuku looked into the crowd, just seconds before he was to dawn the ice, and found no scarlet gaze meeting his, he could do nothing but pretend he wasn’t desperately searching in the first place. He plastered a smile on his face despite the disappointment that echoed in his mind and skated.

The joyous symphony he had skated to had become a lament in his mind.

This was it, right? He had lost his chance? 

Izuku wanted to retry. To pry open Katsuki’s being and find his place inside, but he didn’t know if he could bring himself to try again. 

Embarrassingly, he secluded himself from the Captain. He pulled back from practice and from his seat in the classroom. 

He didn’t know what else to do.

And now he couldn’t help but wallow in his misfortune, uncertain on where to go from here. 

Would Katsuki even agree to continue practice with him? Would Yagi have to find him a new partner? Or scrap the idea all together? He couldn’t seem to get rid of the headache that came with the rampant thoughts.  

He shouldn’t have called them friends, knew Katsuki wouldn’t feel the same. He should have held his tongue.

He could have been content with the daydreams and blissfully pretend Katsuki felt the same.

Now, knowing the truth, left him devastated and stinging 

It felt wrong to pretend anymore. 

He crossed his arms on the table before him, cushioning his head upon the small nook they created. Izuku sealed his bleary eyes shut, allowing tears to well up and moisten the sclera that had dried during his fit of staring into oblivion. 

A knock at the door had roused Izuku from his wakeful coma.

Or was he hearing things? He hoped he was, he really did not want to get up. 

He waited a moment with baited breathe, until another knock came from the door, more forceful than the last.  

Groaning silently, he stood with weak knees and trudged to the door. 

What stood before him had him blacking out while standing. 

“Yo.” The gruff voice rumbled the single syllable. 

“Huh?” Izuku felt a heat crawl upon his cheeks and a sudden tightness grip at his abdomen, clutching desperately at his gut and causing his breath to come out in choked puffs. 

Katsuki was here? Why? 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” The statement cut through the air, causing Izuku to keel, his grip on the door handle tightening until his knuckles mimicked the sickly pale color of the wall moulding. 

“No… I mean… I…” for the first time in a while, Izuku had been a total loss for words. “I didn’t… You were upset during our practice. I didn’t want to impede any further. I didn’t want you to get angrier at me.” His words were unbelievably quiet, barely a breeze passed his teeth, and he didn’t know if he wanted Katsuki to hear his pleas or not. 

His blood was roaring his his ears, the deafening thudding making it impossible to tell if Katsuki was even breathing, despite being only inches from him. Izuku swallowed thickly as he tried to reframe his focus and build up the confidence to speak more clearly. 

“You didn’t… you didn’t come.” His voice was a hesitant whisper, almost teetering on the fluctuation of a question.

“I didn’t.” Katsuki confirmed, reluctantly plucking the words from his lips, which were pressed together tentatively. 

“I... I got passed qualifiers.”

“I know.” There was no apology. But Katsuki was here and he kept up with Izuku’s latest achievement, and cruelly, Izuku allowed himself to feel a glimmer of joy at their sustained connection, despite their week of absence from each other. 

Izuku gave a jerky shake of his head, words gasped as he tried to fill the void of silence that was growing between them.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have been so emotionally forward with you and-“ 

“Here.” Katsuki interrupted, lifted a bag filled to the brim, a sudden savory scent throwing Izuku off of his tangent. 

It was a peace offering, and that could more than suffice to ease his inner turmoil. Izuku couldn’t help but smile at the notion, no matter how much his inner self begged to either slam the door in his face or pull him into a tearful hug.

“You don’t cook and shit, so I’m sure you haven’t been eating well.” He grumbled with a subtle reverence. 

“Thank you, Kaachan. I appreciate it.” Izuku took the bag from his grasp, clutching it to chest as the warmth emanating from it brought him a slight comfort, preparing him for his next line of inquiry. “Do you want to come in? I was about to get some assignments done, and you’re free to join me.” 

Katsuki’s only response was a curt nod. He remained deathly quiet as slid around Izuku through the parted door. 

-X-

Izuku tapped a pen at his textbook, shuffling uncomfortably in his position on the floor. His vision faltered on him, as he tried, and failed, to read the sentence he was on for the past few minutes, words blurring as boredom and discomfort set in. He was distracted enough for the ink in his pen to drain into the page and bleed a perfect circle into several pages beneath it. 

He gave a sigh as he shifted once more, the floor hard on his ass despite the carpeting, and the bottom of the couch offering little to no padding for his hunched back. 

He hadn’t been gettin much sleep the past few days, tension keeping his body awake. It seemed he was finally ready to give out with the weight of Katsuki’s heat finally radiating near him. 

The tension between the duo had dissolved as the minutes ticked by, falling into light hearted banter as they pushed back the memories of their week apart. 

“The fuck are you groaning about?” A voice cut through the air. “If you’re so fucking uncomfortable, move. No one asked you to sit your ass on the goddamn floor.” Katsuki croaked from where sat splayed out on the couch above him, thumbing through his own coursework. 

“I’m okay, Kaachan! I don’t want to take up too much space.” 

“Just get your ass up here, fuck if I care if you sit next to me. Taking up space on the couch is better than listening to you complain about being sore all day.” 

With a thankful sound, he found himself sinking into the couch cushions. By no means was college furniture luxurious, but in that moment he couldn’t think of a softer thing to sit upon. 

And that moment was unexpectedly short lived. 

Izuku jumped out of his skin as a round of heavy handed knocks echoed from his door, causing him to slip right off the couch and to the floor. He let out a loud “oomph” at the impact, arms sprawled back and attempting to grab at the armrest to pull himself back up. 

The pain of slamming his ass to the floor was too overwhelming to take note of Katsuki bowing over in a fit of crackling laughter. 

“Fuck.” A groan was pulled from Izuku’s  lips as rubbed at his lower back. He heaved himself up, righting himself on hobbling legs with the slopped posture of an old man. With mind clearing, along with the throbbing of his tail bone, he shot Katsuki a look that only engulfed the Captain in a another wave of mocking chuckles. The figure skater shook his head at the ridicule, puffing out his own laugh before heading towards the door with a short call of ‘coming’ before he grabbed the door handle. 

Why was he getting so many visitors all of a sudden? 

What he wasn’t expecting in the threshold was a group of… what… like ten guys bumbling and shouting in victory once the door opened. The decibels they reached from their scuffling could very well burst an eardrum. 

The Captain left his seat and stalked towards the door, and Izuku barely picked up on Katsuki’s muttered curse of ‘you have got to be shitting me’ coming from behind.

The figure skater stood in shock, uncertain on how to proceed. He wasn’t able to debate his options for long when his decision was made for him. One of the players slipping by Izuku and into his dorm, followed quickly by the rest of the gaggle. 

“Oi! Fuck heads! Don’t just barge into someone’s place without asking!” 

“Sorry, Captain!” They all chimed out in practiced harmony. 

“And Shitty Hair… what the hell is the meaning of this?” Katsuki sent a seething glare to the red haired player, who responded with a wide, sharp-toothed grin.

Captain?

 Izuku blinked back realization. He directed a steady look at each of the players, blearily attempting to recall their features and beg his mind to recognize them from any of the games he’s watched. Izuku could pick out a few familiar faces, and nodded to himself in satisfaction, allowing his voice to cut through the chatter of the team. “Oh, you’re all on the hockey team?” 

They all sent a ditzy look his way, as if just remembering they were in the confines of a stranger’s dorm. 

Izuku wasn’t necessarily short (he was average height thank you very much), possibly standing eye level with several of the players before him, but it didn’t stop the creeping feeling of being dwarfed by the burly crowd when the attention was on him. 

“Yooo dude! You’re the figure skater, right?” The red head pulled his eyes from Katsuki with a cheeky smile before shouldering his way in front of Izuku. He stretched out his arms over the shoulder of two nearby players, using them as crutches and leaning forward theatrically to get a better look at Izuku. 

“Midoriya, yeah?” A brunette chimed in. 

“How do you asshats know his name?”

“Aizawa mentioned it the first day!”

“I’m surprised you remembered it.” 

“Me too, dude!” 

They nodded along eagerly, before going down the line introducing themselves briefly; their name, major, position, and whatever fun tidbit they wanted to add. With just a few words, Izuku started to grasp a better understanding of their personalities, and damn was this a mixed bag of individuals. 

Izuku couldn’t help but become mirthful at the display of banter, tip of his tongue running against his bottom lip in a poor attempt to hide his smile. He became oblivious to how crowded his very tight dorm room had become. It was probably a safety hazard having this many people in one small unit. 

“Alright shut the fuck up.” Katsuki snapped his fingers and drew the attention back to himself, the team instantly turning to him as if they were a kindergarten class and he was their teacher. “How did you guys find this room?” 

“We tracked your phone.” Todorki pitched in, voice even, as if he had stated an ordinary occurrence. 

“You…” Katsuki paused, a hush enveloping the room as they waiting on the Captain to finish his thought. He took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed with the breadth of the inhale. “What?” He finally settled on asking, providing the chance for the bumbling group to clarify.

“We installed life360 on your phone!” Tetsu piped up. 

“Excuse me?” Katsuki’s eyes opened once more, blistering scarlet, licking a flame so undeniably torrid that it sent shivers creeping down the spines of his teammates, their teeth chattering audibly.

“Yeah. Not because we are concerned for your safety-“ A blond - Ojiro- started to reason.

“We know if anything, we should be worried for anyone who decides to attack you!” Sero rapidly supplied.

“-and it’s not if you got lost, but we needed it in the case that we would get lost!” Kirishima concluded.

Izuku could feel the atmosphere around Katsuki tense, visibly darkening as if he had become a void and dissipated any light within inches of his being. He looked to be on the brink of exhausting exasperation and murder at the undeniable breech of privacy.

“I don’t think it is accurate enough to track my room?” Izuku questioned before Katsuki could grab a lamp and smash it over his teammates’ heads. Izuku didn’t want to have to deal with university housing over property damages that weren’t his fault. Nor did he want to even attempt herding everyone here into the emergency room. How did Katsuki deal with them all? 

“It led us to the west wing of the building!” A choice few of bubbly players excitedly answered. 

“That doesn’t really…narrow anything down?” Izuku seemed even more lost, and increasingly nervous at the prolonged silence coming from Katsuki 

“We knocked on some doors and asked around.”

“On every floor?” Katsuki had finally replied. Izuku let out a silent breath of relief, thankfully in the clear and not having to worry about any murders that he might be witness to occurring in his own living room 

“Yeah. Now we’re here, and we want to-“ Sato started. 

“We have several hydroflasks full of vodka and we want to go to an arcade.” Shinsou interrupted, seemingly annoyed by how long winded the lead up to this part of the conversation had been. He tugged at his eye bags tiredly. 

“They have glow in the dark mini golf!”

“And laser tag!”

“Come with us, Captain!”

“If you guys were this determined in your classes, you would give Einstein a run for his money.”

“Unimportant, we have bigger things to worry about!” Sero paraded his hydroflasks above his head.

Izuku still seemed caught up in the situation they were proposing “Several hydroflasks?” He glanced over worriedly at Katsuki, eyebrows knitted and mouth agape. The Captain sent back his own bored expression, face slack, as if he had to deal with these ideas every second of every day.

“Thank fuck for that. Last time some of them used our practice bottles. Which were all fucking plastic, by the way. They all had to throw them out because they reeked of alcohol afterwards. Should have seen how fucking dehydrated they were during practice.” 

“Mine is a vodka cran, Sero’s with Red Bull, Todorki’s with coke, Ojiro has the screwdriver, and Tokoyami’s is straight. We got enough for everyone!” Kirishima pointed at each player as he called them by name, throwing a quick look back at Katsuki and Izuku to make sure they were paying attention. 

In turn, Tokoyami held up his massive 64 oz bottle in victory, the midnight black flask smattered in stickers ranging from repping bands to gravestone decals… and a cute sticker of a bird?

“And you should join us too, dude!” Kirishima turned to Izuku and shouted with zeal, eager expression on his face as if he had come up with the grandest of ideas for extending the invitation. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you, extras. Have fun, don’t get hit by a car. Or do.” Katsuki interrupted well before Izuku.

“Come on, Kaachan, it could be fun!” Izuku called, suddenly overwhelmingly hyped at the idea of doing something stupid and avoiding his classwork.

“Fun? I would rather be studying.” 

“That’s boring.” Todorki murmured and kicked a toe to the ground. 

“Well I’m sorry I can’t piggy back off of my daddy’s multimillion dollar hockey equipment company.” Katsuki snapped back. 

“I have not gotten a piggy back ride from my father in over a decade.” 

“You-“ Katsuki seemed at a loss for words, before exhaling sharply in brimming annoyance, muttering half heartedly. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Are you offering me a piggy back ride?” 

“So are we good to go?” Katsuki ignored Todorki’s question, instead turning towards the door. 

“Yea!”

Todorki was relatively stagnant in his position near the back of the crowd, glancing around as his voice was swallowed up by the whoops of the team, who started to filter back into the hallway, clinging desperately to the topic that had already passed. “Will Bakugou give me a piggy back ride to the arcade?” 

“I don’t think so, man. But, I’ll give you one on the way back.” Sero offered with a pitying pat to the right-wing’s back. 

-X-

The night air hung a cold chill over their shoulders, prickling their skin through their puffer jackets as the group buzzed along the promenade. Frats flanked one of their sides; the dull thud of party music, LEDS, and the sounds of chatter wrung dimly through the worn walls and windows of the party houses. 

Girls and guys tucked in skimpy clothes scattered along the puke covered lawns, swaying in drunken stupor and laughing. Heavy amounts of alcohol was to thank for their tolerance to the cold air. 

Various genres grounded out from the houses; pop hits melded oddly with the bass boosted rhythm bouncing out of a neighboring frat house. 

The crowd of skaters looked upon in chiding laughter. 

“Thankfully we are going to a much classier establishment.” Sero chucked while throwing a sympathetic look at whoever was dry heaving on the lawn. 

“We are going to an arcade, fuckwad.” Katsuki harrumphed.

“As I said, much classier.” Sero reaffirmed, with a shout of agreement from Kirishima. 

“You friends seem nice!” Izuku murmured in amusement. 

“Friends? They are just my teammates.” 

“I don’t think normal teammates would install a tracking app on your phone for their own protection. They know you look out for them! Plus an arcade drinking game?”

“I would let them get kidnapped. But knowing my luck, they would get returned without a penny of ransom. Hell, they would probably pay me to get these idiots off their hands.” 

Izuku allowed himself to laugh at Katsuki’s bitter claim. He felt a bubble of warmth coil in his chest as he turned towards the group of toddling hockey players - who already started to sip eagerly at the hydroflasks.

The crowd shuffled around as the walk progressed out of the college’s campus, with Kirishima falling into step with Izuku and Katsuki. 

“Yo! How’s your and Captain’s training been going?” Kirishima chittered as he gave a friendly fist bump to Izuku. The figure skater briefly heard Katsuki scoff behind him, but proceeded to give Kirishima a wide smile.

“It has been good! But we’ve taken a bit of a break.” He skirted around the topic, hoping his voice didn’t waver. 

Kirishima nodded eagerly. “Working with our Captain must be tough! How did you get into figure skating?”

With the opportunity to warm up to some of Katsuki’s teammates, Izuku took it, more than happy to blabber about his passions. Kirishima seemed excited to spur him, commenting along even if he didn’t seem to completely understand. The only thing that urged Izuku to trail the conversation off of himself was the incessant feeling of a gaze at his back. It felt as if someone was boring straight into his soul. He quickly turned to try and meet Katsuki’s face, but found the Captain pointedly looking anywhere but Izuku. 

-X-

The arcade buzzed with high pitched sounds of winning and loss, bright lights flashing and silhouetting the various people running between each game and booth. People tried to chatter over the songs that played overhead, immersing everyone in a high energy atmosphere. 

Instantly the group split, on eager and occasional tipsy stumbles. 

Katsuki and Izuku were left frozen at the entrance, seemingly abandoned and blinded by neon LEDS. Izuku, too overwhelmed to know where to go - and Katsuki, too reluctant to to take a step further into the theatrics. 

With much hesitation and a shove from other attendants eager to enter the arcade, the pair finally joined into the late night festivities. 

Drawn in by the sounds of joyful shrieking, they found no other than Kirishima having an atrociously fun time only possible by the sheer amounts of alcohol he had already ingested. 

Kirishima was bawling in laughter despite the wrinkle of concentration in his brow as he was storming atop a Dance Dance Revolution Floor, desperately stomping on the light up arrows in disarray. 

Katsuki let out a dry chuckle, glancing at the second Dance Dance Revolution set up nearby Kirishima’s. There, two children were fairing much better and with surprising synchronization than the red headed goalie. 

“Wow you’re so good at this. You’ll be at the top of the leaderboard in no time.” Katsuki commented with a roll of the eye. 

“Thanks bro!” He gasped out in glee. 

“I think that was sarcasm, Kirishima.” Izuku commented tentatively, throwing a look between the two hockey players. 

“If it sounds like a compliment, I’m taking it as a compliment! Especially for Bakubro! I don’t hear enough of those!” He laughs boisterously as he stumbled across the flashing arrows. 

“I’m gonna need this if the night continues like this.” Katsuki hoisted up Kirishima’s flask which sat wobbling by the dance floor and took a hefty swig, before shoving it at Izuku’s chest and urging him to do the same. 

“Fuck it, let’s get some tickets and show these asshats who’s the best. Yeah, nerd?” 

“Oh! Ok!” 

And what better game for two college students to saddle up to than a zombie shooting game?

The game blared loudly, screeching zombie sounds and dramatic music scorching the ears of anyone within five feet of the large digital screen. Neon guns sat holstered at the front, ready to be drawn to start the game. 

“How ya feel about this one, pipsqueak? Or are you scared I’m gonna wipe the floor with you?”

“What makes you think you’ll beat me?” 

“My entire livelihood is dependent on my hand-eye coordination, that should have you worried.” A sharp smirk tugged up Katsuki’s lips, a canine flashing in the arcade light. 

With a taunting jut of the hip to knock Izuku towards the game, the pair grabbed a gun and started the round.  

“Deku? That’s the name you’re gonna go with? What if at the off chance you actually score high enough to make the leader board- not like that’s gonna happen.“ Katsuki quickly teased with sarcastic lilt. 

“I couldn’t think of anything! It’s the only nickname I have! And what are you planning to use?”

“Something sick. Like Great Explosion Murder God-“ He murmured triumphantly as he quickly typed up the before clicking submit.

The game beeped out an error.

“Too many characters? Are you shitting me? We live in the 2,000s and that’s still an issue? Fine, what about King Explosion Murder.”  

A secondary error.

“Fucking hell! I can’t think of anything else. I guess… hng… fucking Kaachan it is.” He begrudgingly typed in the name and watched in horror as it was accepted. He whirled around and pointed the neon pink gun threateningly, “Don’t take it as a weird compliment or some shit! I don’t have the patience to think right now!” 

“Yes!” Izuku cheered out. “Now stop postponing!” 

A heated minute full of shouts, shoving, and a screen covered in the digital remains of zombie limbs and blood had their adrenaline running on high.  

“I definitely got more points than you! Did you see how many bonuses I got, Kaachan?” 

“In your dreams, freckles. A few extra two headed zombies isn’t going to put you in the lead.” The Captain shot back. 

With a light smile on his lips, Izuku turned to the screen as it faded to black and revealed the score board. Izuku couldn’t help but freeze as the scores appeared on the screen.

NEW HIGH SCORE 

1) DEKU - 998 

2) XXX - 850

3) XXX - 823

4) KAACHAN - 786

5) XXX - 702

With the hesitance of a field mouse he minutely turned his head, nervous on Katsuki’s response to the grand gap between their scores. 

“Fuck. Guess you’re a better shot than me.” Katsuki breathed out. “Maybe I’ll take your figure skates and you try out my hockey gear.” He joked lightly.

Izuku’s shoulders instantly collapsed on himself, glee surging in his throat. “That wouldn’t be fair! To you- I mean. I think I have a fair shot at breaking any of your scoring records.”

“You fucking wish, nerd! Let’s throw in another round, I feel like that was a fluke.” 

-X-

Izuku’s arms were full of streams of yellow tickets, smile almost as bright as their vivid color. Katsuki bemoaned behind him as they made their way to the ticket counter, piling them upon the glass. 

Their eyes trailed along the shelves of plushies, figures, and toys, blinded by the saturated colors calling their attention.

This was evening was so… nice. More than he could have ever asked for. 

“What are you gonna get?” Izuku asked, barely drawing his gaze away from the shelves. 

“Fuck am I gonna do with any of this shit? Just take my tickets.”

“What? But you won yours! I can’t just take them!” 

“I’m not going to get some bullshit prize to take up room at my place. Just combine them and get the biggest thing here. Show the other brats at this arcade who’s boss.”

Before Izuku could counter, and employee pulled by the register to greet them. 

“Hi! Any prizes you guys have your eyes on?”

“A few. Mind counting up the tickets for us? It’s one batch.” Katsuki hummed while pushing the large pile up to her. She murmured in awe and fed the long strands into a machine. 

“You have a hefty 8,200 tickets!” She whirled around the digital screen to show off their winnings. 

“Anything catch your eye Deku?” Katsuki was bent at the hip, had his elbows atop the glass counter using the leverage to bump his hip right into Izuku’s. 

“I think…” He zoned in on some of the top shelf prizes- a pogo stick, some game controllers, some LED wall mounts, a row of large plushies… and those large plushies bestows merchandise from UA. Particularly some hockey jerseys. 

“I want that plush, please.” He leveled a finger up to the top shelf. 

“Really?” Katsuki sent an unamused look his way as the attendance retrieved the bear. 

“What? It’s only fitting, right?” Izuku curled the large plush towards his chest, attempting to keep it from brushing the sticky arcade floor. 

“What should we do now?” The figure skater questioned around the mouthful of faux fur. 

“Well…” Katsuki took a gander around, unimpressed at his teammates floundering around. “I’m getting a headache from the lights, and it looks like these asshats are struggling to get anything more than five tickets per game - wanna head out for a bit?”

Izuku, although already swayed by the notion of leaving the overstimulating environment, still paused in worry, “but- but what about them? I don’t know if we should leave them alone like this!” 

“They’ll be fine. It’s not like this arcade has any other customers than college students completely off their shit.” Katsuki was well on his way out the door as he spoke, Izuku quick to try and follow him. 

-X-

They mindlessly trekked across the side walk and wandered onto empty streets, passing by closed stores and residential buildings with only dim street lights blearily guiding them. 

They seemed to always find themselves strolling threw the night together, their soft breaths melding with that of sleepy birds. Their jackets rustled, the only brazing sound that occupied the night. 

An old fence, tall and sparse, eventually crossed their path. The gates were stuck open, thickets of bramble keeping them wide and welcoming for any passerbys. 

With little thought, they continued down the seemingly forgotten path, passing eased conversation of everything and nothing at the same time.

A canopy of trees loomed overhead, the leafs casting delicate shadows from the moon’s eternal glow and down over their faces. 

“This place is beyond repair.” Katsuki tracked over roots that have started to climb upon the sidewalk.

“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it? It’s such a big park… how did it get so decrepit?” 

“New parks and attraction nearby, I guess? Shit like… wait a second. Doesn’t this place look kind of familiar - or is Kirishima’s stupidity rubbing off on me?” 

Before them stood an old play ground, the soft creak of an old swing set was audible upon the coaxing breeze. Various climbing towers were worn with age - bright paints chipping away to show its steel undercarriage. 

“Isn’t this… wait a minute.” Izuku slung his prize into one arm and pulled out his phone, scrolling through their location, a soft gasp ringing through his throat. “It’s the park we used to go to as kids!”  

“This shithole? Really? I guess we were walking long enough to end up around here.” 

“Don’t be rude! We used to build snow atop that jungle set to make a fort! Before… you know…” Izuku trailed off as he took in the old play sets. 

Katsuki clucked his tongue and paced over to the swing set, taking a heavy seat despite the groaning protest of the old hinges. “Damn. Where did the time go, yeah, freckles?”

Whispering in agreement, Izuku took a hesitant step towards the swing set, the only thing urging him to sit was Katsuki’s bark of annoyance. 

To Izuku’s surprise, despite his bluntness, the tone behind them remained rather timid. He spared a sideways glance to the captain, curiosity enrapturing him. 

The sudden need to stay with Katsuki, by his side for as long as possible, curled within Izuku’s chest once more. The questions that constantly circled his mind decided to rear their ugly head again. Even though this night has been so pleasant, even though it wasn’t his place to question where their relationship stood, he couldn’t help himself. 

Katsuki’s head was bowed, allowing it to hang limply as the sway of the swing blurred his vision of the grassy floor below. 

“You know.. Deku-fuck- I mean… eh Izuku.”

Izuku shot up straight, horrific curiosity pulling his spine taut.

“Izuku? Me Izuku?” He pointed at himself, dumbfounded.

“Is there anyone else with that name around here?” Katsuki half heartedly grumbled as Izuku took the extra step to glance around. 

“Anyway-“ He snapped his teeth in exaggeration, drawing Izuku’s eyes back to him. 

“I hadn’t been… fair to you.”

“No Kaachan it’s okay it’s-!”

“Hold on a minute, will you?”

Izuku waited with bated breath, lips pressed tight. The swooning darkness of the night held them captive as Katsuki wordlessly attempted to muster whatever thoughts ran through his head. 

“I hadn’t treated you fairly. Not when we were little dweebs, and not now. I always felt this need to be better than you. Even though you were just trying to help, I couldn’t fucking stand it.”

A shaking exhale was masked by the sound of a gushing zephyr. 

“I’m sorry.” His words crumbled in his throat, crackling under his tongue, penetrated their atmosphere like shattered glass. 

“Kaachan-“ A watery gasp curled from Izuku’s lips. His eyebrows arched in surprise, hands clutching at the frigid metal links holding up the swing to ground him in reality.  

“I’m not good at this shit. I had Shark Week of all people help me realize that, can you believe that? Makes me feel worse.” Katsuki groaned dramatically, leaning back in the swing until it almost threatened to tilt out underneath him.

Izuku had been foolish. He had been hoping to recreate their childhood friendship, and he hasn’t realized how much they had changed these past few years. They have grown multifaceted personalities and experiences that has led them down the path to meet again. Their relationship out of practice wasn’t a means to keep civil, they had formed a relationship out of choice and shared yearning. 

There will be pitfalls, of course. He should have realized! But it seemed, despite all his harsh words, Katsuki had changed and was willing to give their relationship a chance.

“You can be so… dumb!” Izuku shouted, which was followed by a quick glare from the Captain. “Sorry, Kaachan!” He quickly amended, fucking his head towards his shoulder in an attempt to hide away from his eyes.

“It’s… whatever. I guess I deserve it.” 

Izuku’s posture slackened, deep breath pushing a fog of steam around his face. He nodded limply, as if the breeze itself was able to push his head around.

“I’ve wanted nothing more than to be your friend.” He talked softly. Izuku wasn’t truly certain if he was actually speaking or if the words were still swirling in his subconscious. “Even when you pushed me away, insulted me, I knew no one else could stand next to me on the ice the way you had years ago. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to skate with you again.” 

The figure skater finally allowed himself to look at Katsuki, whose striking red irises have dimmed. “You shouldn’t be thanking me for shit, nerd.” 

“But I want to thank you!” 

“Whatever.” Katsuki hid behind his palm, trying not to drawn in the green expanses directed at him. “Practice is still the same time, yeah?”

Izuku’s eyes widened to an implosive width, glimmering in strung excitement. “Oh! Yes!” 

“Good.” 

The tumbling of feet and crack of forlorn twigs drew their attention to the overgrown path. Thick tree trunks were suddenly bodied by none other than a few of the hockey team members. 

“How the hell did you all get here?” Katsuki darted up from his seat, cursing under his breath. 

“Life360, dude!” Kirishima shouted, “I thought we already talked about this…” He murmured, leaning his forehead upon a tree and closed his eyes, deep in drunken thought. Whatever empty thoughts passed through his head didn’t last for long, as he shot upright and bounded over to where Izuku sat on the swing. 

He leaned over the figure skater ‘inconspiculously’, one hand over his mouth and the other with a thumb jerked in Katsuki’s direction as he not so quietly whispered, “This guy, man! Never listens. You deserve sooooo much better. I mean sure he’s hot but maaaan, he’s a handful.” He slurred with a vibrating guffaw as Sero stumbled over and draped himself across Kirishima’s shoulder, lightly tugging him back up. 

Izuku allowed himself to laugh at the comment, as Katsuki did nothing but bristle in irritation.  

The Captain paused as Tokoyami lit up the area with an LED imbedded black vest and matching gun. 

“Yo… did you not return the equipment for laser tag? Some kid’s gonna throw a hissy fit over not being able to play with his friends.” Katsuki raised a judgmental eyebrow.

“I thought it looked cool.” Tokoyami shrugged and gave a hefty swig from his bottle.

“We should probably start heading back?” Sero cut in. 

It seemed as if Sero was put on corralling duty after they left the arcade, and he looked beyond stressed. It seemed the alcohol was drained straight threw him when presented with the task of taking care of the team. 

“Yeah whatever… what’s half and half’s deal over there?” Katsuki nodded his head towards the team’s forward.

Todoroki stood, almost unblinking in the distance. His eyes glazed over.

“He’s on his weird tipsy phase.” Sero muttered, ruffling hand in his hair before settling them atop his hips. 

“Make sure he doesn’t drink anymore, will you?” Katsuki stressed. 

“Already cut him off. I don’t think any of us can handle him drunk right now.” Sero agreed before going to nudge Todoroki. “Alright get on, I promised you a piggy back ride on our way back.” 

Todoroki silently nodded, although his glazed eyes finally took on a sheen of excitement as he clambered atop Sero. 

“Alright let’s get a move on. Hold hands if you need to- not with me dumbass!” Katsuki yanked his arm away from a hand coming to grasp at his. “With each other, you drunk fucks!  Tie your sleeves together if you have to. I would rather not lose one of you and have to come back and find you passed out in a trash can.”

“You see! This is why we downloaded Life360!” Kirishima eagerly supplied. 

“These idiots.” The blonde dragged a hand down his face, only pausing when Izuku bumped into his shoulder. 

“I don’t know, they have a funny charm to them.” He teased lightly. “I can imagine them getting along with my friends.”

“Oh fuck I almost blissfully forgot about them. I think the world would implode if they got their hands on each other.” 

After some convincing and some jacket sleeves tied together, the group continued to pace along the night, murmured words and laughter warming the cold air. 

A sense of timid satisfaction settled upon Izuku’s chest, brimming full as he eagerly sapped the heat radiated by Katsuki’s side. 

It was okay. It was okay to hope.

Chapter Text

“A combined practice?” Katsuki questioned to the open air. 

A few weeks had steadily passed and the duo had fallen back into their training regime. Yagi looked as if he was about to pass out from relief and pent up nerves when Izuku explained their rekindling and eagerness to restart practice. 

“Yeah, it supposed to help with camaraderie because it’s such a solo focused sport! Some of the neighboring universities think it’s good practice for us as well as an amazing way to build connections. Almost like the scrimmages you play, except we aren’t directly competing - just training and exchanging tips and all that. So you don’t have to gear up to go on ice with me today.” Izuku explained eagerly, words coming out in a breathless ramble with a skip in his step. 

Katsuki nodded along to his muttering with a raised brow, hands tucked unbearably deep in his pockets in an attempt to combat a vicious Autumn chill. 

“You’re telling me this as we’re walking to the ice rink?” 

“Yeah! We always debrief before we go to the rink, don’t we?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes and curled his tongue over his teeth.  

“Think for a second, Princess! I thought you were fucking smarter than this.” He grumbled in dramatized exhaustion. 

Izuku passed him a blank stare, eyebrows curling in worry. “Did I do something wrong?” 

With a huff, the Captain sent a check aimed at  Izuku’s shoulder. “Let’s review. You are telling me, as we are on the way to your practice - a practice which I have helped you with for the past couple of months - that you will instead be practicing with other figure skaters. So I will be left to do nothing until my own practice time two hours after yours begins.” He concluded with a lasting grumble. 

The lights finally went off in Izuku’s mind and he blinked rapidly as realization struck. “Ah! Sorry Kaachan, I didn’t even realize… I got used to you walking with me.” He confined in a hush with some mumbles soon following under his breath, which Katsuki was unfortunately unable to hear.

The Captain heaved our a light sigh and offered a shrug. “It’s whatever. Not like I had shit to do, anyway. I’m used to warming up with you before my practice, so I’ll use the weight training room while you go frolic around with the other prima ballerinas.”

Izuku gave a beaming smile despite the snide concluding remark and nodded along thankfully. 

Katsuki’s shoulders jerked up stiffly when he took notice of the casted smile, quickly craning his face away from Izuku’s view and pulling a scowl across his lips. “Don’t think anything of it, freckled fuck face!”

“Okay okay Kaachan. I’m glad you can make time to join me.” The figure skater gently offered, not wanting to frustrated the hockey player any further. 

Their entrance to the rink wasn’t met with its usual silent cold, rather, it was bustling with voices. Laughter rang, and the multitude of bodies hovering around suppressed its echoes. 

“Goddamn, I don’t think I’ve seen so many colors before.” Katsuki peered upon the multicolored leotards, leggings, and hoodies of the figure skaters bustling atop the rubber mats. 

“Yeah! Some notable colleges that join our training are Shiketsu, Ketsuba, Seiai, and Isamu!” 

The pair watched the bumbling skaters, Izuku buzzing and Katsuki grumbling. 

“That’s a decent list. Any notable colleges in the prefecture that are excluded from your private little skating party?”

“Well… there is one on the top ranks we don’t have the best relationship with. VU?” 

“VU? Villayn University?” Katsuki choked out a growl. “Stupidly fitting fucking name by the way, but we absolutely hate their hockey team. They play like shit and are dirty players. Makes me fucking sick.” Katsuki dramatically wretched at the thought, fists white knuckled, before turning a side eye to Izuku. “Y’all have a problem with their figure skaters too?” 

“Mhm” Izuku knitted his fingers together nervously, “Shigaraki, one of their solo figure skaters, is always…” He seemed at a loss for words. 

“Such an asshole?” Katsuki supplied, in which Izuku laughed nervously to. “They have a worse temper than me and are fucking cheats; racking up penalties at the bat of an eye,” the Captain hissed through clenched teeth, “and when they actually try, they aren’t half bad. They are the fucking worst to be up against.” 

A deep sigh unfurled from Izuku’s lungs. “It doesn’t help that Shigaraki’s coach is someone Coach Yagi is on bad terms with.” He paused for a moment before continuing in a hush. “And this other skater, Toga? She goes through skating partners like no other. A new one each season! And she’s been eyeballing Ochako and it’s been nerve wracking for her. We have such a messy relationship with their school.” He concluded with a pathetic sound. 

Before Katsuki could aid in spitting obscenities towards their rival university, a shock of yellow hair had the Captain suddenly standing to attention.

“Oh you have got to be shitting me. What is he doing here?”

“He is a figure skater too! Did you forget already, Kaachan? Why wouldn’t he be here?” 

With a sarcastic and gritty reply on Katsuki’s tongue, a shrill call quickly interrupted him. 

“If it isn’t our star skater and beloved mister hockey Captain!” Denki scampered across the mats with a pink haired girl in tow, colliding into them and pulling them into a three way hug.

“Get off of me, you electrified rat!” Katsuki hissed, hair standing on end as if he were an arched cat. He shook off his hands and (embarrassingly) took cover behind Izuku from their prying grasp. 

That seemed to catch the attention of a few other skaters.

Izuku let out a puff of laughter, motioning to the girl who was eyeing Katsuki with amusement. “This is Mina! I don’t believe you have formally met. And this is-“

”Oh don’t you worry! I could recognize that mean mug anywhere, especially when he is one of the stars of UA. I’ve been waiting for a chance to see what you’re about.” Mina teased with a cackling laugh.  

One of the bold strangers finally took their hustling as a que to walk up to them. 

“OMG Izuku! Totes good seeing you again!” A girl with coiled fawn hair swayed over, displaying a double peace sign in greeting. Her eyes quickly drifted over to Katsuki. “And who might this be?” She gave him a once over, “You have a pretty handsome face! Maybe scratch that whole delinquent act, first, and you’ll have girls crawling!” She flipped a wrist, acrylic nails glimmering under the light. 

Katsuki’s eyebrows hiked in question at the girl’s mannerism. 

“Oh! Let me introduce the two of you!” Izuku tapped at Katsuki’s shoulder to grab his attention. “Katsuki, Camie. He’s the captain of our ice hockey team and she’s a skater at Shiketsu University.” 

Katsuki’s mouth almost gapped open at the sudden loss of his nickname, ‘Kaachan’, from Izuku’s lips upon the introduction. 

Katsuki quickly shook himself out of the stupid. He was getting way too used to that childish name.

“The Captain?” Camie pouted and tapped an acrylic nail to her chin in thought before her eyes fluttered wide. “Oh! I think one of my BFFs like totally dislikes you.”

“One of your friends?” Katsuki clarified hesitantly. 

“Yeah! Let me pull up a pic. He is totes bitter over UA beating them last season.” She tapped at her phone, long acrylics sounding off upon the screen. “Oh! Here he is! Seiji!” 

Katsuki’s eyes roved over the face of the disgruntled purple haired boy being pulled into a half hug by Camie. He drew blank for a moment, only sparking realization at the sudden memory of Seiji throwing a hissy fit over nicknames Kirishima and a few other players were yelling his way on the ice. 

Before he could comment, more people came to join the slowly forming crowd. 

“Ooo Izuku! And our favorite lunch buddy!” A familiar brunette with a bob and thick bangs bumbled over with a green haired girl. She wagged her eyebrows as she she beamed a cheeky grin at Katsuki.

Izuku seemed to tense at his side, swallowing for a moment as he sent the girl a panicked look and a shake of his head. Katsuki peered on. 

“Oh! Aaaah, Ochako…” Izuku’s voice trailed off before diverting the attention to the other girl by his side. “Tsuyu this is Katsuki.” Stuttering out the introductions, Izuku rapidly shot his hands out towards her. 

“The second half of your little figure skating duo?” The blonde commented. 

“You remembered!” Izuku and Ochako exclaimed in shock. 

“I wouldn’t have ever expected this…” Ochako hummed, “Thought you seemed like the ‘in one ear out the other’ kind of guy.”

“Mmm… Hey! The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Katsuki glared as he flicked a finger under his nose. He spared a glance around as people continued to file around to greet the UA skaters. “This is a lot of fucking people.”

“Plan to make your escape?” Izuku turned away from a hushed conversation with Ochako and Tsuyu to level him a look. 

“You bet your ass I am.” He turned tail and escaped to the weight room with Izuku’s giggle at his back acting as his goodbye. 

-X-

The weight room offered a space of silence, a needed escape from all the unfamiliar faces on the ice. It was a large room, matted with a similar material to the borders of the ice rink, and filled with weight racks, dumbbells, and various machines. Large mirrors took up wall space, and the thick walls beneath the mirrored surface was dense and muted any sound from coming in or out of the room. 

Stripped to his work out clothes and finely stretched, he proceeded to the dumbbells. 

He would never admit it to Izuku, but his max weight and reps have progressed leaps since starting training together. The function of using his muscles to toss the figure skater had built his body in a way he didn’t ever expect. 

Despite the thick walls, his breathy grunts, and the music blasting in his headphones, he could almost hear the creeping phantom sound of blades on ice, taunting him.

He sat atop the incline bench and rubbed a rag across his sweat streaked face, pulling a headphone from his ear only to be met with quiet. 

Was his body that used to skating with Izuku at this time that he’s starting to hallucinate? 

He glanced over to the wall clock, noting that his workout was rounding an hour. Although he would have pushed for another, he told himself it would tire him out too much before his practice. Katsuki convinces himself it definitely was not the constant whining in the back of his head which had him tossing a sweatshirt over his head and walking towards the door, peering into the ice rink. 

With auditory hallucinations continuing to toll in his ears, he could almost make out Izuku’s laugh through the door’s window. 

It wouldn’t hurt to watch for a few minutes… just until he had to change into his gear. 

Begrudgingly (or so he claims to be) Katsuki emerged from the confines of the weight room and traversed the matts, coming to rest at an abandoned corner of the rink where he could watch the ice in peace. 

Or so he thought. 

His few minutes of scouring the ice and watching figure skaters complete their loops and turns, a boisterous voice beckoned from behind. 

“Young Bakugou! Nice of you to support Young Midoriya on your day off!” 

Katsuki felt his posture instantly straighten, turning towards the hockey star-turned-figure skating coach. 

The towering coach settled near him, crossing his arms and resting them on the lip of the rink, getting comfortable before spurring conversation.  

“It’s a bit of a sneaky move; but for the kids, this practice is great for socialization, and for us coaches, it shows us the future competition. It helps us decide our routines and make sure our kids end up on top.” Yagi gave a laugh a firm pat to Katsuki’s back as he stared onto the glimmering ice sheet. 

Katsuki clucked his tongue, but internally fascinated over Yagi’s knack for strategy. He was Katsuki’s hockey idol for a reason.

They watched as several skaters took the ice, finding small corners to whirl through short routines before abandoning the ice to make way for another skater to take their place. It was a constant, organized rotation that lit up the rink with a fascinating display of color, shining blades and flying frost. 

A shock of teal had the Captains’, both retired and anew, glancing intently on the ice. Izuku glided careful circles around the center, eased crossover which picked up pace and led him to one of the face off circles where he swung out and leapt. 

The moment he spun in air had Katsuki’s breath caught in his throat, and the snap of a blade on ice, denoting a successful landing, had him erupting in a cheer. 

“Fuck yeah! That’s that I’m talking about!” His fist clenched and his teeth bared a feral smile in unexpected and overwhelming pride. 

Yagi clapped along excitedly, “A triple axel just like that! He’s making bounds in his progress!” 

The cheer had Izuku stuttering over his skate’s toe pick and struggling to right himself before could tumble forward. His face bloomed a bright shade of crimson and a trembling hand cupped his mouth as he spared a shock glance to where Katsuki and Yagi stood, before being distracted by a call from the bench. A plume of steam steeped through his fingers and he shook himself off before continuing the practice jumps. 

“Opening up with a move like that, especially during a practice like this, is definitely a threat.” Yagi whooped joyfully.

With a grin still curling Katsuki’s lips, he shook his head intently. 

“A threat? Nah, ‘Zuku’s too soft for that.” He replied nonchalantly. “But it’s definitely a promise. A promise for gold.”

A deep chuckle, warm as whiskey, curled from Yagi’s throat. “You’ve been good for him, Young Bakugou.”

“Hmm?” Katsuki sent a disbelieving pinch of his brow towards the coach, attempting, and failing, to stomp down any glimmer of elation at the compliment.

“You’ve been pushing him to reach new heights. He’s always been an eager learner, but there is something…/different/ when he is working with you!” Yagi flashed a wide smils, deep bags under his eyes only darkening as they creased upon his cheeks. “I’ve worked with him for years, and he’s pushed himself until he was nothing but aching bones. He overworks himself a lot. And with you, although he works just as hard, you’ve somehow made it easier for him. I don’t know the depth of your relationship, but you both have something special.” 

Katsuki chewed tenderly upon his inner cheek, unknown feelings coiling in his chest and mind blank as he allowed the words to settle upon him. 

“You’re…” He coughed into a fist to clear his throat. “You’re thanking me too much, Coach.  It’s all De-…Izuku and his inability to give up or whatever.” His posture finally slacked and his hand found itself tucked by his nape, rolling his neck to ease the tension. 

Yagi’s smile only grew, but he decided not to push the topic any further. 

Time had been passing them unexpectedly quick. Before long, skaters started to depart the ice, wiping down their blades and chatting excitedly with their peers as they headed to the locker rooms. Yagi decided to take his leave, hoping to find Izuku in the hustle. 

Katsuki found himself cemented to the floor, uncertain if he should follow Yagi’s lead and congratulate Izuku on a good practice, but shouts of greeting had him instantly reeling  from the thought.

“Captain! You’re here!” Kirishima yelped with Sero in tow, who, despite being disoriented from the goalie’s tugging, took a second to glance around in question.

“-and surrounded by a lot of figure skaters. Have they all been using you to train? Have you been keeping this a little secret from us.” Sero wagged his eyebrows suggestively, and Katsuki was milliseconds from combusting in rage at the innuendo. “Won’t little Izuku get jealous?” 

This fucking dumbass. Katsuki grit his teeth in a snarl. 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?! Shut it, Soy Sauce Face, or I’ll make sure this practice is utter hell for you.” He ground out the threat.

Sero only rolled his eyes in an attempt the veil his concern and trying to choke down dread. “They always are, Cap.” 

-X-

Chatter filled the figure skaters’ locker room, from complaints of tiring practices and classwork to gossip ringing their social circles. The zipping of athletic bags matched the tune of clanging lockers. 

A head of ochre bopped over, bumping her head against velvet green curls to catch his attention.  

“Soooo Izuku, what was up with our favorite friendly Pomeranian coming to our practice?” Ochako teased lightly as she thwacked him jokingly with a skate guard. “Also what did Mina think of him? She’s been dying to meet him after Denki tolled on about our little group diner date.”

”I barely interacted with him and I fucking love him! Best type of guy to unnerve and tease. Izuku, you gotta keep that bastard by your side!” Mina chirped up from where she packed up on the opposite side of the room. 

Izuku’s face bloomed in unspeakable shock. “I can’t force him to hang out with us just so you guys can torture him! And I forgot to tell him we were having a joint practice tonight!” He squeaked out. “He came all the way out here and had nothing to do for hours! … I feel so bad…” 

“Did you see him watching you?” Tsuyu rasped, parting from her conversation with Habuko, a childhood friend currently skating at Isamu.  

“I’m as surprised as all of you!” He buried his face in his hands, wallowing in the chill of his fingertips tempering his flaming cheeks.  

“Either way, we can definitely see that training with him has been helping out in your technique.” Tsuyu continued to croak, her index finger coming to pull at her lip curiously. 

“Showing off like that is a bold move, Midoriya.” Saiko hummed from her place seated politely on the bench, sipping tea from a thermos. She dominated the women’s figure skating ring, elegant and poised. “Think you’ll be able to widen the gap between yours and Shigaraki’s scores this season?” 

“That’s the plan.” Izuku gave a heady sigh, rubbing a knuckle into his tired eyes. 

He was equal parts nervous and excited for the upcoming competitions.

Okay… maybe a little bit more nervous than excited.

But if Katsuki would continue helping him… maybe show up to his competitions…?

Izuku shook his head feverishly. Those kinds of thoughts would only make his nerves bundle and broil over even more.

Figure skaters started to trail out of the locker room, beckoned by coaches waiting eagerly for their gossiping to come to a close.

What greeted them beyond their solitude was the sound of grunts and snapping pucks.

“What an incredibly violent sport.” Saiko tsked as she barely gave a glance into the rink, turning abruptly and taking her leave. 

Izuku payed no mind to her comment, eyes glazing over as he glanced in awe at the high speed scramble, blind to the small flock of figure skaters stepping towards the glass to watch closer. 

“Isn’t that the guy that was hanging out with Midoriya earlier today?” One of the skaters pointed, singling their attention to his scowling face as he pushed his helmet’s visor into place. 

Katsuki prodded his stick in the back of Sero’s knees with an irritated grunt. “You’ve been playing this sport for how long? Bend your fucking knees or I’m going to piss myself laughing when you fall flat on your fucking face.” 

“He’s kind of… scary.” 

As if to emphasize their budding fear, a player was jokingly checked into the boards in front of them. 

One of the figure skaters proceeded to shriek and jump in surprise. 

“C’mon! You can’t do that me!” The checked player - who Izuku recognized as Satou - shouted out as he gave chase. 

The figure skaters who had previously been watching shuffled out of the rink rapidly, nerves tying them taut. 

The shrill sound of a whistle had the players stopping their treacherous laps and standing to attention for Coach Aizawa, who stood tall atop the benches. 

“Alright huddle in everyone! I’m already going gray waiting for you guys.” Aizawa proceeded to mutter out demands, urging players to set cones and nets in place as he explained the up coming drills. 

Izuku watched, entranced, as Katsuki was urged to demonstrate. He slid with practice, a powerful fury hidden behind each step, from his sharp c cuts to slaloms. Every slice of his blades sounded slick to the air. 

Izuku’s face softened, chest purring in warmth. He hadn’t been able to watch Katsuki skate like this in so long. But maybe… he heard a game of theirs was coming up soon. /Maybe he would finally attend again./

Izuku couldn’t tear his eyes away until a prod at his side had him flinching. 

“Izuku! Let’s all go for dinner!” Mina tugged his sleeve, jerking her head to where the rest of the UA skaters - Ochako, Tsuyu, Denki and Aoyama - waited eagerly. 

He blinked for a moment, ears still ringing and gaze blurred from staring, before snapping to understanding. “Oh- oh yeah of course!”

And on their tail, and one more lasting look over Izuku’s shoulder to the chaotic rink ice, the group piled out of the doors.