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Chapter Text

Numb. That’s what Katsuki felt as he sat in his car, parked outside his apartment, resolutely staring at the steering wheel and ignoring the weight of Eijirou’s staring. Neither of them made any move to get out of the car, and Katsuki had some shitty song playing on loop in his car that he forgot to change after dropping Izuku off. Eijirou broke the silence on the fourth loop through. 

“You know, bro, I know you guys will always have that crazy, like, E.T. bond or whatever, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t be friends with Midobro, but you can’t keep carrying the relationship on your own.”

Katsuki bit out a bitter laugh, glaring even harder at the steering wheel in front of him. “Kinda serves me right, doesn’t it? After I made him carry our friendship for so long?”

Eijirou put a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder and jostled it around until Katsuki finally relented, turning his head toward his friend. Eijirou’s eyes, usually tinged with mirth, were deadly serious.

“No, Kats. No one’s denying that you were a total ass when you were a kid, but come on. You died for the guy. You spent eight years eating instant ramen so cheap you wouldn’t feed it to a stray cat so you could give him his dream back. You make him lunch and you always agree to give guest lectures even when it means you’ll have to pick up an extra weekend shift. You don’t deserve to have all that love thrown back in your face.”

Katsuki bristled at that last one, but Eijirou pushed on. “Kats, you can’t keep putting your life on pause waiting for Midoriya to come around. Hire some sidekicks. Go to a PR event without blowing up any cameras. Take someone out to dinner now that you have disposable income that isn’t going straight to Mei’s workshop.”

Katsuki scowled. “I don’t need to go on a fucking date with some extra—”

“Actually, that’s exactly what you need.” Eijirou grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye that Katsuki only saw when something extremely stupid was about to happen. “You need to get out there, discover your identity outside of Midoriya.”

Ok, ouch. He had a life, he just didn’t have time for nosy extras who wanted to “get to know him better” or whatever the fuck. Why would he when he could just hang out with Izuku, who already knew everything about him?

Alright fine, Katsuki could maybe see how this had become a bit of a problem. Sue him, the nerd had been in his life for, well, his whole life. Who knew that behind all that Kacchan sugoi and Kacchan’s amazing, Izuku didn’t actually give a flying fuck about him? How do you just pick yourself up and walk away from that, like you haven’t sustained critical damage?

Eijirou saw the question in Katsuki’s eyes and shook his shoulder again. “Dude, in the first few months I knew you, you jumped at villains before the teachers, took down a gazillion giant robots at the entrance exam, and told the actual scariest guy in the world to throw himself into traffic. You told an entire stadium that you were gonna win the Sports Festival first year, and then you did.”

Katsuki’s eyes traitorously stung a little at Eijirou’s sincerity, but he cracked a small smirk. “What, so you’re gonna fix my hero career and my nonexistent love life all at once?” 

“Kats, you’ve been doing everything plus ultra for your entire life. No way are we going to let you start half-assing things now.”

Katsuki frowned. “Hold on, who the fuck is we?”

Eijirou’s grin turned sharp, already typing out an alarmingly long text message to an unknown number of people. “Come on, bro, do you even need to ask?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. No, he really didn’t.

*************

Three days later, Katsuki stood outside of Eijirou and Mina’s apartment. It had taken a while to coordinate everyone’s free time, but not as long as it once had, now that Katsuki didn’t need to collect shifts like a dragon hoarding its gold. 

Katsuki raised his hand to knock and hesitated. He was basically walking into an intervention. By walking into this house, Katsuki was admitting that he had a problem. An Izuku problem. And that he needed to fix it. Something in Katsuki’s chest ached at the admission that his love for Izuku was hurting him, and only part of it came from nursing his bruised ego after Izuku’s rejection.

Caring for Izuku had been his singular drive for years, and when he finally asked something of the nerd, palms upturned for the first time since asking for forgiveness all those years ago, Izuku shot him down without a second thought. Like considering Katsuki as a partner in any sense of the word had never even crossed his mind. 

Katsuki had let his identity as a hero intertwine inextricably with Izuku, and now that the two had been forcibly, yet nonchalantly, ripped apart, Katsuki was left to close the wound on his own. He’d had his heart literally sewn back together on a battlefield. He’d rehabilitated his arm from square zero. But this was a wound where Katsuki couldn’t staunch the bleeding alone. How’s that for some fuckin’ emotional growth, Hound Dog?

Gritting his teeth, Katsuki knocked on the door.

The door swung open to reveal a mass of pink, who quickly threw herself at Katsuki. “Blasty, you made it!” Mina exclaimed. Katsuki patted her back awkwardly in greeting and looked around the living room. 

As he suspected, the Bakusquad was all present and accounted for. Mina was still hanging off of him, Eijirou stood in the entryway to the kitchen, Denki and Sero were sprawled on the couch, and even Jirou sat cross legged on a chair. But something was out of place. Katsuki scanned over the room again, cataloguing all of his friends one by one until—

“Half-and-half, what the hell are you doing here?”

Sure enough, Todoroki sat on the floor by the coffee table, absentmindedly freezing and melting the water in his glass. He looked up with a blank expression. “I believe Izuku is being an idiot.”

Katsuki blinked. “What?”

“Izuku is being an idiot,” Todoroki repeated, “and he does not want my help. I was told that you are open to not being an idiot, and I wish to help.”

Katsuki’s eyes slid over to Eijirou, who nodded encouragingly. He sighed. Old age had really mellowed him out. “Fine, what’s this grand plan?”

Denki sat up to answer. “Well, we have two goals. Fix your tanking chart ranking,” to which Katsuki took a half-hearted swipe at his head, “and help you get over Midoriya.”

Jirou spoke up. “Which is where Todoroki and I come in. There’s a hero gala coming up, and you’re going, Bakugou.”

Katsuki scowled, but didn’t put up an argument. He knew going into this that he’d have to do more hero-ey shit to at least get back in the top 10, and it had been a while since he last went to one of these events. Shockingly, the hero known for yelling at civilians didn’t get a ton of social invites, and even when he did, he only went if Izuku was also going. So they could go together. As friends. Not hero partners. Or partners. Speaking of which, this plan only solved one of his problems. 

Sensing Katsuki’s impending question, Jirou followed up with, “And Momo will be taking you as her date. She was supposed to go with Todoroki, but he has graciously stepped aside to offer you the opportunity.”

Todoroki nodded along. “In truth, I have had my share of galas for the time being. I feel like I’ve been eating nothing but miniature food on skewers since I entered the top 5.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “No offense to Ponytail, but she’s not exactly…my type.” If he was into women, he’d be evolutionarily obligated to be into Yaoyorozu, but he just didn’t swing that way.

“Trust me, you’re not hers either,” Jirou said, waving her hand. “Did you think we were going to send you on a real date with some poor son of a bitch with no training whatsoever?”

“Hey, I’m a fucking delight!”

Jirou rolled her eyes. “Sure. Point is, you need to learn how to interact with someone pleasantly in a one on one social setting, and Yaoyorozu needs someone on her arm so she can enjoy the free mini crab cakes without someone hitting on her every five seconds. She’ll pick you up in her giant limo, you’ll put in a public appearance, you won’t cause a scene, and she’ll drop you back off here so we can debrief.”

Katsuki grunted in assent. How hard could it be? It wasn’t even a real date. If anything, he was doing Ponytail a favor. No expectations, no pressure. Swallowing past the massive lump in his throat, Katsuki nodded. “Alright, I’ll go to the fucking hero party.”

The squad cheered, and Katsuki spared a moment to allow a brief light of hope to shine through. He had people in his corner who wanted to help him through this. Looking at Jirou’s satisfied smirk, Katsuki recalled being grouped with her in a training exercise their first year. And if I’m in trouble, you’ll have my back too. Yeah. He could do this.

Chapter Text

He could not fucking do this.

Katsuki stared out upon the sea of heroes and high rollers in stuffy suits, convinced they were all looking at him like he didn’t belong. He hadn’t even had his own invitation. Yaoyorozu noticed his pinched expression and squeezed his elbow, her arm looped through his. Katsuki took a deep breath and focused on getting his nervous sweating under control. Nothing says social faux paus like blowing up yourself and your date the minute you cross the threshold. 

In fairness, the people staring probably weren’t even staring at him. Yaoyorozu was a vision, dressed in a long gown the same dark maroon as her hero costume, with a haltered top and beaded loops giving the illusion of sleeves. Bakugou’s parents had custom designed the dress, along with Katsuki’s matching suit, so if nothing else, they were probably the two best-dressed people at this shindig.

Yaoyorozu lightly tugged on Katsuki’s arm, shooting him a calming smile that somehow managed not to be patronizing. Katsuki tried to smile back, but the best he could offer was a tight grimace. 

“Let’s take a lap,” she suggested. Katsuki nodded and began their walk around the ballroom. It really was a stunning event. Fuck if he remembered the actual reason for the occasion, but whoever put this together really broke the bank. 

A short woman dressed in all black —event staff, probably— approached them with a tray of the famed mini crab cakes. “Care to take one?” She asked politely. 

“Thanks,” Katsuki said gruffly, grabbing one with his free hand. 

“Actually, if you don’t mind,” Yaoyorozu began, unwinding her arm from Katsuki’s to grab the entire tray, “thank you so much.”

The woman stood dumbfounded for a second, but to her credit, recovered quickly. “Of course, Creati,” she said, clearly having remembered what fueled Yaoyorozu’s quirk. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Katsuki snorted as Yaoyorozu dug into her tray. “Very smooth, Ponytail.”

She shot him a glare somewhere between her fourth and fifth crab cake. “While you were busy shouting at every old lady trying to take your picture, I had to create a whole new set of tires for an 18 wheeler. This is just my appetizer.”

Katsuki would’ve threatened to blow up most people who made a comment like that to his face, but Yaoyorozu had been tasked with looking after his sorry ass along with Glasses since day one. He supposed he owed her a couple jabs here and there for the trouble. They kept walking around the party, Yaoyorozu greeting every guest in turn and Katsuki nodding stiffly.

Once Yaoyorozu finished off her plate, she set it down gingerly on one of the high top tables and turned to Katsuki. “Care to dance?”

No, he really didn’t. But the whole point of this outing was to get used to settings like this and show people that he wasn’t some feral goblin 24/7. So he nodded and took Yaoyorozu’s hand, reaching into the depths of his memory for the dance lessons Mina had given him before her and Eijirou’s wedding. 

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” Yaoyorozu remarked as they glided across the dance floor. 

“Well, when you spend most of your time fighting in free fall, you learn to get good at spatial awareness,” he said. “Plus, Mina gave all her groomsmen dance lessons,” he admitted, shooting Yaoyorozu his first genuine smile of the night.

”Ah yes, how could I forget the big reception entrance dance number!” Katsuki twirled Yaoyorozu around another couple as she laughed at the memory. “Poor Midoriya looked stiff as a board on the edge of the group; he was a little slow on the uptake at the School Festival too.”

Yaoyorozu shifted her eyes back over to Katsuki, her gaze discerning but not sharp. “From what I hear, Midoriya has been slow on a lot of uptakes as of late.”

Katsuki scowled. He knew this was going to come up sooner or later, but he was hoping it would be later. He opened his mouth to retort with something that didn’t sound pathetic, but before he could, a familiar woman with orange hair tapped on Yaoyorozu’s shoulder.

She turned, looking vaguely annoyed, before breaking out into a warm smile. “Kendo!” Yaoyorozu let go of Katsuki and gave her friend a brief hug. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight!”

Kendo chuckled, pointing to a guy dressed in a navy suit standing a little awkwardly off to the side. The guy looked vaguely familiar, but Katsuki couldn’t quite place him. Definitely not a hero. “I’m only in town for a couple days so I wasn’t sure if I could make it, but you know actors, they just love the spotlight.” She turned to Katsuki. “Dynamight, this is my husband Haruto. Why don’t you two get us something to drink while we catch up?”

”Don’t tell me what to do,” Katsuki grumbled, even as he moved to do exactly that. Haruto ran to catch up. “Honor to meet you, Dynamight,” he said, sticking out a hand to shake. Katsuki took a deep breath internally and plastered what he hoped was a pleasant expression on his face. “Thanks, nice to meet you too,” he replied simply.

They reached the bar, where Katsuki ordered two of the signature cocktails for the night for Yaoyorozu, and a seltzer for himself. No need risking a scene by stumbling drunk into some old billionaire and tanking his rank into the 20s. 

Haruto ordered for himself and took a seat next to Katsuki at the bar while they waited. “That was an impressive save today,” he said conversationally.

Katsuki grimaced a little, because that’s not what the news said. “Thanks,” he said again. “It was trickier than I’d hoped, but it all worked out.” It was the nicest way he could frame ‘I had to evacuate a bunch of civilians from a burning building who refused to cooperate or stay still because they were trying to take selfies the whole time.’

Haruto grabbed his drink from the bartender. He must have caught Katsuki’s expression, because he tipped his drink to Katsuki in support. “That’s very diplomatic, coming from you,” he said with a hint of a smile. “It can’t have been easy dealing with, how did you put it? ‘A bunch of self-obsessed reality TV wannabees.’”

Katsuki felt his temper flare a little. “What kind of idiot tries to record on a selfie stick while hanging onto a guy’s neck in midair? That old hag nearly stuck me through the fucking neck,” he said before his brain could snatch the words from his throat in time.

Fucking fantastic. Now this guy was really gonna think he’s an asshole. But to Katsuki’s surprise, Haruto laughed, nodding profusely. “I can only imagine. I get stressed if someone takes a picture of me at the grocery store, even though the only thing on the line is my dignity.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow at that, briefly confused, but then remembered Kendo said something about her husband being an actor or some shit. The bartender set his drinks down and he picked up his seltzer, nodding his thanks.

“Yeah well,” Katsuki grumbled, letting his guard down a fraction of an inch, “got any pointers? Apparently pro heroes can’t go around yelling at civilians, no matter how much they fuckin’ deserve it.”

Haruto hummed contemplatively, taking a sip of his drink and swirling it around. “You know what,” he said, pointing a finger at Katsuki, “fuck ‘em.”

Katsuki nearly spit out his drink. “Fucking what?”

Haruto slammed his drink down on the bar. “Fuck ‘em! You’re a heavy hitter. You get thrown into the field in the highest stress situations, and it’s hard enough for you to concentrate on rescue when you have to actively focus on not blowing up anything vital in an already unstable environment. People should be grateful you’re there to pull them out, not looking to kickstart their 15 minutes of fame.”

Katsuki was stunned. “You got all that from watching the news?”

Haruto shrugged, suddenly very interested in a piece of lint on his suit. “I may occasionally browse some hero forums when shoots go long.” He glanced beseechingly at Katsuki. “Please don’t tell my wife, she says it’s stupid to get involved in hero fan culture when you’re already married to one, but come on, you guys are so cool!”

Katsuki grinned, clapping Haruto on the back. “Your secret’s safe with me.” He set his seltzer back down on the bar and picked up the two cocktails for Kendo and Yaoyorozu, handing one to Haruto. “Now let’s get our dates their drinks.”

Haruto took the drink and smiled back at Katsuki. “I thank you for your silence. And between you and me,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially, “the press will be more forgiving if you take a lot of pictures with kids. Especially the ones in hero merch. You snap a photo with some adoring kid holding a limited edition Dynamight lunchbox, and you buy yourself at least two outbursts for the next week.”

“I only sold those lunchboxes for a couple months,” Katsuki laughed. “You really are a hero fanboy.”

Haruto bowed his head in agreement. “In fairness, I pay closer attention to the heroes from your year at UA for obvious reasons,” he said, smiling at Kendo from across the room. “When you love someone, you wanna know more about their world.”

Katsuki’s thoughts were pulled to Izuku, the most hero fanboy of them all, his encyclopedic knowledge of damn near every hero in history and how he put it to use to regale his class with constant stories and tangents. He tried to show up at Izuku’s lectures as often as possible, to the point where Kota once sarcastically asked him if he’d enrolled himself back at UA because he didn’t learn enough the first time. 

He shook his head. Not the time to get pulled into a mental pity party. 

He and Haruto made their way back to their dates, where the four of them made casual small talk as the night wore on. Finally, Yaoyorozu stifled a yawn, and she glanced at Katsuki, jerking her head toward the entrance to the hall. “Ready to head back?”

Katsuki nodded, his social battery dangerously low. He nodded a goodbye to Kendo and her husband before following Yaoyorozu to her limo. 

After they’d clambered into the car, she turned to him. “Thank you for coming out with me tonight,” she said. “As I’m sure you know, it’s difficult to come to these events alone.”

Katsuki huffed in agreement, desperately hoping she didn’t resurrect their earlier conversation. 

“He really does appreciate you,” Yaoyorozu said, dashing his hopes immediately. “He’s probably just scared to open up a box of dreams he thought was shut to him forever. But it doesn’t mean he’s not being a bit of a blockhead.”

“Language, Ponytail,” Katsuki warned jokingly. 

“I’m serious, Bakugou,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Izuku has every right to work through whatever he’s got going on, but you have just as much right to move on with your life while he does. You’re not betraying him by decentering him, you’re just doing what’s best for you.”

She smiled faintly. “Part of loving someone is making them a priority. My girlfriend is in the U.S. helping a new agency get their support gear up and running, and though I miss her terribly, I know this will be huge for her career, so I’m ok with going to a few events alone. Except tonight of course,” she added. “You made Izuku a priority for so long, you forgot what it was like to be someone else’s.”

Katsuki frowned. “I used to be Izuku’s priority. I think.”

Yaoyorozu put a hand on his shoulder. “Now let us make you ours. We all care about you, Bakugou. You rallied us all to help with Izuku’s suit. Now it’s time for us to rally again to take care of our resident Blasty.”

Something in Katsuki’s chest warmed a little at that. “Thank you,” he said uncharacteristically softly. He cleared his throat, at his limit for sincerity that night. “Now let’s go tell the extras how I didn’t blow up one fucking guest at that party, not even the annoying ones.”

*********

The next day, Katsuki stopped by UA. Sue him, he’d already agreed to give the guest lecture before Izuku threw his heart in a blender. 

He ran into Glasses on his way there, who must have been wrapping up his patrol. “Bakugou!” He greeted, “Congratulations on your successful outing at yesterday’s gala!”

What the hell? How had word already reached the general class? “Did Ponytail mention something?” Katsuki asked. 

“Not at all!” Iida explained. “It’s all over the news!”

What the hell? “What do you mean, on the fucking news? All I did was show up to a party!” Katsuki exclaimed. 

Iida fished his phone out of the concealed pocket of his hero costume and brought up a video of this morning’s news. Some morning talk show host was interviewing— son of a bitch, was that Haruto?

Sure enough, Kendo’s husband sat in a chair next to a host, with a graphic of Katsuki in his hero costume superimposed over his shoulder. The video’s caption read, “Star of Japan’s biggest medical drama speaks out on Dynamight controversies.” Shit, Katsuki hadn’t known this guy was actually a big deal. How famous were medical dramas these days, anyway?

“So, I hear you attended quite the gala last night? Meet any fun heroes?” The host asked. Katsuki’s brain briefly blue screened, but focused back in to hear Haruto’s answer. 

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Haruto said, beaming. “I talked to the hero Dynamight for most of the night, and not only is his humor as sharp as his punches, but you can tell just by talking to him that no one does more to ensure the safety of Japan, which I can say because my wife is currently patrolling overseas in a hero exchange program,” he joked.

The host pressed on. “Dynamight has quite the reputation for being, shall we say, abrasive. Do you think that kind of attitude is appropriate for a hero?”

Haruto snorted. “The guy is a walking bomb, and you want him to be cute and cuddly all the time? Civilians are rarely so difficult when interacting with heroes as they are with Dynamight, and I’m not pointing any fingers, but if I needed saving, I’d do what the hero said no questions asked. I can’t blame them, he probably has one of the flashiest quirks on the streets right now, but if you really want a picture, I’d maybe wait until I was back on the ground to ask for one.” 

The host blinked, clearly thrown off her game, but recovered quickly. “So you’re throwing your support behind Dynamight?”

Haruto looked confused. “Shouldn’t we all? His arrest numbers are through the roof, and even if he’s not the most outwardly affectionate guy around, he still shows up for his friends when they need him. Heck, last night he was at this gala because Hero Shouto had to unexpectedly drop from the guest list, and Dynamight was gracious enough to take his place so that Creati didn’t have to attend alone.”

Katsuki looked up from the video at Iida, dumbfounded. Iida nodded enthusiastically. “I am quite impressed that you got such glowing reviews from a highly respected member of the public! You must have made quite the impression!”

Katsuki nodded faintly as well. “I guess I did.”

Katsuki bid Iida farewell and continued on his way to UA, feeling a familiar mixture of anticipation and dread at the prospect of seeing Izuku again. He knocked on the doorframe on his way into Izuku’s classroom. “What’s up, nerd? How are the delinquents doing?” That sounded normal, right? He was going for the least amount of pathetic possible. 

Izuku stood up stiffly. “Dynamight, thank you for joining us. If you don’t mind, I’ll be attending to a matter while you give your lecture. I trust that you’ll keep the class in line.”

“Yeah, sure, is there something wrong? I could always help with—”

But Izuku had already scurried out into the hall, leaving Katsuki standing confusedly in front of Izuku’s class. 

Kota grinned at him sharply. “Sounds like someone’s in the dog house.”

“I’m not afraid to give you detention, brat,” Katsuki snapped. 

Katsuki gave the lecture, and a damn good one too, but Izuku never returned to the classroom. Where the fuck had he gone? Surely if there was really an emergency, Aizawa would have roped Katsuki into it too by now, or at least looped him in. Was Izuku uncomfortable with Katsuki now that he’d been all gross and sappy in front of the nerd and gotten shot down? Maybe Izuku was hoping that Katsuki would’ve taken the hint and fucked off. Katsuki felt the sweat building in his palms and he quickly wiped them against his suit. 

“Alright, get to lunch!” He barked at the class. Kota raised his hand sporting a shit eating grin. “But Dynamight, we have twenty more minutes until lunch?” If looks could kill, that brat would be six feet under. “I won’t tell Izuku if you won’t,” he said. The students looked at each other, briefly considering if this was some Aizawa-style logical deception, before deciding the risk was worth it and bolting from the classroom. 

Katsuki huffed and followed them out into the hallway, making a beeline for the teachers’ lounge. Sure enough, Izuku sat at one of the staff lunch tables, furiously scrolling on his phone and very much not attending to an urgent matter. 

“Alright nerd, what the fuck is your problem?” Izuku jumped straight out of his chair, and Katsuki would’ve found it funny if he wasn’t so annoyed. 

Izuku’s eyes widened briefly, but quickly settled back into a sullen expression. “Nothing, not all of us are in a chipper mood from being out all night.”

Alright, what the fuck? “You’re mad that I went to a hero gala? You’re the one telling me I need to be friendlier to the public!”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you were real friendly.”

Katsuki bristled. Actually yeah, he had been trying to be friendly! “I was, asshole! I let Ponytail introduce me to like thirty people, I didn’t even yell at any of them, and I danced for at least two songs, which, if you’ll remember, was not my strong suit at Mina’s wedding. I was a perfectly serviceable date!”

Izuku’s brow furrowed, confusion clouding some of the irritation. “You went with Yaoyorozu?” 

Now Katsuki was confused. “Yes? She said her girlfriend is some support specialist doing a stint in the states, so when Icyhot couldn’t take her, I got called in as backup.” Not technically a lie. Todoroki couldn’t take her because he was trying to help Katsuki dig himself out of an eight year hole of despair, but those were technicalities, really. 

“So you weren’t going with Dr. Nakamura?”

Had Katsuki been dropped into an alternate reality? “Who the hell is Dr. Nakamura?”

Izuku thrust his phone into Katsuki’s face. “That’s his character on his show!”

Katsuki stared cross-eyed at the screen until the words on it swam into focus. It wasn’t the interview Iida had shown him; this was some seedy tabloid site with a picture of Katsuki and Haruto splashed across the cover. It was the moment Haruto told him to take pictures with kids to get the press off his back, the two of them smiling conspiratorially as they walked back to their dates. Coincidentally, Haruto’s wedding ring was obscured by Kendo’s drink, which he held in his left hand. The headline read “Dynamight’s Pulse Looks Elevated After Chatting Up Dr. Nakamura”

The article continued, “The Dr. of Love praises embattled Hero Dynamight on live television after a long conversation at a gala the night before. Is this the start of something more?”

Oh, son of a—“Haruto? No I’m not going out with him, the fuck?” Maybe with Kendo overseas, the press thought they could slip in a few scandals without getting their asses handed to them. 

“You’re already on a first name basis with him!” Izuku shot back. “Why would you be on a first name basis with one of the biggest actors in Japan?”

God, Katsuki really needed to get out more if he was this out of the loop on pop culture. “Because,” he said exasperatedly, “Kendo, his wife, only introduced him with his first name, and I didn’t even know who the guy was until Iida told me he mentioned me in his interview. Which, clearly you didn’t watch.”

Izuku looked at him like he’d grown an extra head. “How did you not recognize that you were speaking to a man so famous that he has his own line of hot sauce, just because his character mentioned liking it once?”

“I haven’t watched a lot of TV lately, I’ve been pretty fucking busy, if you hadn’t realized.” Katsuki winced a little at the unintentional guilt trip, but it was the truth. 

Izuku’s eyes remained narrowed a little, but the overall temperature in the room had lowered a few degrees. “So you’re not going out with the head of surgery at the largest hospital in Tokyo?”

“First of all, he’s not actually a doctor, and second, I’m definitely not going out with the guy, seeing as how his wife’s giant fist isn’t currently flattening me into the floorboards.” What the fuck was Izuku’s problem?

That seemed to get through to Izuku, who flushed a little with the realization of how unreasonable he sounded. “No, of course, I’d never accuse Kacchan of— it’s just that from the angle, and the interview, it just—”

“Relax, nerd. I’m not home wrecking with some fake doctor. I was just doing Ponytail a favor, and she and Kendo sent the two of us off to get them drinks while they caught up.”

Izuku looked relieved, though he quickly tried to school expression back into something neutral. “I didn’t know you took Yaoyorozu.”

Katsuki scoffed a laugh. “Is that why you were giving me the cold shoulder today? You thought I was trying to cause some scandal?”

Izuku looked a little uncomfortable, something unreadable in his expression as he averted his gaze. “It’s just, I didn’t know you took Yaoyorozu,” he repeated. “You never go to these events, usually I’m the one dragging you out to them.”

Katsuki distantly felt some of his earlier irritation flare back to life. Well, who’s fault was it that he wasn’t going to galas with Izuku? Not Katsuki’s! If Izuku wanted to go to these glorified dress up parties so bad, he could fucking take Uraraka. He’d made it quite clear where his priorities lay.

“Well, I need to start getting out more and shit,” Katsuki replied. “Now that I’ve got my new solo agency and all, gotta prove to the public that I can lead it, or whatever,” he added, bordering on unkind. Back before he’d gotten his stupid hopes crushed, Katsuki had hoped that Izuku could cover the more public facing duties of the agency when they opened it together. The nerd was a natural with the smiles and the small talk. So sue Katsuki for being a little prickly about the prospect of handling it himself.

Izuku nodded, looking sheepish. “Of course, I should’ve thought of — well, I’m glad you’re making a good impression,” he said, echoing Iida’s words from earlier. 

“Thanks,” Katsuki said shortly, feeling a little suffocated by the conversation. “I let your brats out for lunch early, but if Kota rats me out, tell him he has to face me in his practical final.”

Izuku laughed, all animosity long since vanished. “I’ll pass along the message, Kacchan.” He fiddled with his phone a little before continuing. “Actually, if you wanted to hang out for a bit, do you want to grab some ramen after class? We haven’t gotten food in a while.”

Katsuki almost said yes on instinct, desperate for the crumb of attention Izuku extended him, but then he remembered why he was in this mess in the first place. “I’ve gotta get back to my shift,” he deflected.

Izuku looked a little deflated, but nodded. “I should get back to grading exams, anyway,” he said. 

Katsuki turned to the door, suddenly privy to the awkward atmosphere in the room. “Bye, Kacchan!” Izuku called out.

“Bye, nerd,” he said gruffly, quickly stepping out of the lounge. 

Katsuki speed walked back to his agency on autopilot, barely registering when a small voice called out his name. 

Belatedly, he whipped his head toward the sound.

“Dynamight!” A small girl called from the sidewalk up ahead. “Could you take a picture with me?”

Katsuki heard Haruto’s words in the back of his head and nodded. “If it’s alright with your mom.”

The girl’s mother took her phone out obligingly. “Thank you Dynamight, my daughter got her tonsils out last week,” she explained as she opened the camera app. “She’s been down about her sore throat the whole time, we even got her one of your gauntlet plushies to cheer her up.”

Katsuki glanced down at the girl, who sure enough held up a grenade shaped pillow in her right hand. And his merch team said they wouldn’t sell. “My tonsils were being bad, so I told them to die!” She exclaimed, lowering her voice in an imitation of Katsuki’s signature line. 

Katsuki chuckled and unfastened his right gauntlet, letting it drop onto the grass. He put a hand on the kid’s head and lifted up his left gauntlet to match the girl’s pose. “That’s the spirit.” 

The girl’s mom snapped a few photos and thanked Katsuki profusely. “You’ve been a lifesaver,” she said. A what? He has? “My daughter found a video clip of you and your friends giving an interview back in your UA days and they teased you for going to sleep so early. Since then she’s been going to sleep at 8:30 sharp, and I get some quality time for the first time in years.”

She laughed good naturedly. “I’ll even forgive all the swearing if you give an interview saying you eat your vegetables and do all your math homework,” she joked. 

Katsuki cracked a smile. “I’ll think about it,” he said, waving goodbye. 

Once out of earshot, he fished his phone out of his pocket. His finger hovered over Izuku’s contact, but he took a deep breath and pressed on Eijirou’s number instead. “Hey, Ei,” he said. “You won’t believe the kid I just ran into…”

Chapter Text

Katsuki strolled down the sidewalk, telling Eijirou about the girl. “And then she told her tonsils to die.”

A tinny laugh sounded from the other line. “ Are you serious ?”

Katsuki nodded furiously for emphasis, even though he knew Eijirou couldn’t see him. “Swear to god, Ei, and then get this: the mom told me I was a good influence !”

Eijirou let out a contemplative hum. “ Now that I think about it, you really were the goody two-shoes of our class. ”

Katsuki snorted. “Not the class prez?”

“ Hell no, he was right with us on your rescue mission in first year! And you know, I always felt like something weird went down in Hozu during our internships… ”

“If I’m such a great influence, tell it to the people who put me on the Top Ten Heroes Who Look Like Villains list every goddamn year,” Katsuki interrupted.

“ Bro, that’s just because they only ever see you shouting ‘Die!’ at people! ” Eijirou insisted. “ Think about it, man! We all call you an old man and Grandpa Bakugou because we see you go to bed at 8:30 and cook dinners with balanced nutrition and lecture Denki about forgetting to hydrate, but the public only sees you show up, yell at people, and dip. You’re like a shouty Batman. ”

Katsuki thought of shouting “Die!” into the phone just to prove Eijirou’s point, but resisted. “It’s not my fault you idiots don’t know what food groups are,” he grumbled. 

“ Speaking of which, ” Eijirou added slyly. “ The biweekly Bakusquad dinner is coming up, and I can’t help but notice that you haven’t hosted in a few months. Or shown up,” he said, extremely unsubtly. "It's kind of weird to call it a Bakuquad dinner without the Bakuuuu."

Katsuki glared into the receiver. “I don’t remember offering to cook for you band of idiots.”

“ Aw c’mon man, please? Yaoyorozu said you mentioned a new recipe at the gala, and like you said, we’re hopeless when it comes to cooking.”

“Fine,” Katsuki relented. “But I’m not rounding everybody up, and you’re all helping with dishes.”

“Bakubro, you’re the best,” said Eijirou. “ I’ll tell everybody to get to your place at five on Sunday.”

Katsuki kept grumbling for show, but allowed himself a small smile. Maybe he did need to spend more time with his idiots. 

*****************

A few days later saw Katsuki running around his apartment at 4:45, putting together the final touches on his dinner. His friends had, on average, the palette of a bunch of middle schoolers, but that wasn’t gonna stop Katsuki from giving his all. 

He stared at the dishes on the table, pausing before deciding, fuck it, he’ll make some cold soba. No one had mentioned if Todoroki was included in bakusquad dinner, but he might as well be prepared. 

At five on the dot, Katsuki heard a knock on his door. He couldn’t even bring himself to be surprised when he opened the door to reveal Todoroki. 

Todoroki nodded at Katsuki before politely stepping inside. “Where is everyone else?”

Katsuki shrugged. “Mina has some thing about being fashionably late to everything.”

Todoroki frowned. “But Aizawa always taught us that punctuality was very important to being a hero.”

“Well, take it up with the lazy idiots. You can sit anywhere, or whatever.”

Todoroki nodded again and made his way to the couch. 

“Bakugou,” he called. “Is this cold soba for me?”

“It’s for everyone, don’t fucking hog it all!” Katsuki called from the kitchen. Eh, whatever. Todoroki was gonna be the only one who ate it anyway. 

By half past five, most of the squad had trickled in. They all chatted about work, Hanta’s horrendous love life (better him than Katsuki), and the upcoming sports festival. 

“Kats, you should try and get first dibs on the winner this year,” Mina said as everyone finally gathered to sit at the table. “I’m sure Midoriya would hype you up big time to anyone who wanted to do an internship with you.”

Katsuki snorted, a little bitterly. “He didn’t even want to work at my agency, why would he get someone else to go?”

Eijirou piped up. “Nah man, Midobro wants to see you do your best. He’s got his own stuff going on, but he would totally do you a solid if he thought one of his students would like it there!”

“It’s not like I’m looking for interns anyway,” Katsuki hedged, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Besides, I don’t even really see him much anymore now that I don’t stop to bring him lunch.”

Denki raised his hand like he was answering a math question. “Hey, if you’re not making Midoriya those bentos every day anymore, does that mean there’s an opening for Chef Bakugou?”

Katsuki glared at him. “Fuck off, you idiots get enough of my cooking anyway.” But not trying to be too harsh, he added, “If you were sick I might take some pity on you. Might.”

Denki nodded, apparently satisfied with that compromise. He took out his phone and snapped a photo. 

“Oi,” Katsuki barked. “Who’re you sending that too?”

Denki cocked his head, tapping away at the screen. “Just posting it on my feed. Not every day you get a spread like this, my fans have to know I’m being fed like a king here.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes as Mina and Eijirou took out their phones too. “What, is everyone suddenly a food blogger now?”

Suddenly Mina gasped. “I have such a great idea!” She squealed. “Eijirou was telling me about the little girl you talked to on the phone, Kats, and it got me thinking. The people need to see Grandpa Bakugou!”

Katsuki bristled on instinct. “They what?”

Eijirou chimed in. “She means everyone needs to see the goody two-shoes version of Bakugou! We all know you’re secretly a softie, but no one else knows that!”

Because I’m not , Katsuki wanted to say. But that wasn’t quite true, was it? He’d softened over the years, for his teachers, for his friends, but mostly for Izuku. Well, maybe now Katsuki needed to do it for himself. 

At the lack of initial explosion, Denki joined in. “Yeah man, you totally deserve credit for the awesome meals you make! You’ve been feeding us since UA.”

Katsuki hesitated, mulling over his friends’ words. “Fine,” he said finally. Denki and Mina began cheering. “But,” he interrupted, “only one photo with me in it gets posted tonight.”

Denki nodded furiously. “No yeah dude, we can totally work with that!” 

Everyone got to work posting Katsuki’s dinner from different angles, except Todoroki who begged off by leaving early, citing a growing headache.

After a little while, Katsuki glanced at the clock and figured it was late enough to bring out dessert. He’d never been as good at baking as Sato, but the precision of it calmed Katsuki down. He got up and returned with a tray of cupcakes; Katsuki had learned to pipe frosting as an exercise back when he was still trying to rehabilitate his right arm after the war, and of course, Katsuki had decided he had to master it. 

His friends oohed and ahhed at the display, and Katsuki let a small smile creep onto his face. He did make a damn good cupcake. 

Denki, sensing an opportunity, snapped a photo of Katsuki standing with the cupcakes. “Perfect!” He exclaimed. 

Katsuki narrowed his eyes. “Perfect for what, Pikachu?”

Denki turned his phone toward Katsuki. He looked surprisingly domestic, a small smile adorning his face and hands full of cupcakes that he held out to the camera, like he was asking for approval. His shirt had a few flour stains on it, and the lack of a scowl made Katsuki look younger, almost.

It made Katsuki feel a little vulnerable, and his mind flashed to that horrible moment in his car, to the last time he had been vulnerable. Katsuki pushed away the memory. This wasn’t like that. Katsuki’s friends were trying to support him. But still…

“I know the rankings have a lot to do with popularity these days, but I don’t know if I wanna move up because my nicer friends are making me look good,” he grumbled. 

Eijirou, sensing Katsuki’s tone, put a hand on his shoulder. “Bro, it’s not like we’re lying to them. We didn’t shove the cupcakes in your hands or pose some takeout on your table. You did this all for us, because you’re a good friend, and you deserve to have people know and appreciate you for that.”

The back of Katsuki’s eyes burned a little; probably got some flour in them, Katsuki thought. Definitely not anything else. He cleared his throat. “Ok,” he said, voice cracking only a little. “Thanks.”

The rest of the evening passed smoothly. Eventually, they all broke out the video games, and after Katsuki was crowned king of Mario Kart, over the strong objections of Denki and Hanta, the squad started filing out. 

The next morning, Katsuki was doing paperwork at his desk and definitely not scrolling through his social media feed. He had a lot of new followers, and a lot of people tagging him in the comments of his friends’ posts, asking him where he learned to cook or how we went about choosing his culinary tools and equipment to make everything come out so perfectly. 

Other members of Class A joined in below the squad’s posts, reminiscing on Katsuki teaching everyone how to properly chop vegetables at UA or scolding them for skipping meals.

Katsuki told himself he wasn’t looking for any interactions from Izuku, but his eyes were still immediately drawn to the only comment from Izuku. Under Denki’s photo of Katsuki holding the cupcakes, which had by far the most likes of all the Katsuki Dinner posts, Izuku had commented: “Kacchan sugoi!” 

Katsuki’s heart constricted a little reading that; maybe if he’d done things a little differently, or if he knew what was going on in Izuku’s head, he could’ve been at that dinner, instead of this awkward, tension-filled half silence. 

Katsuki sighed, moving to put his phone down, but an incoming text from Todoroki stopped him.

Bakugou , read the text, are we friends?

Katsuki sighed. What do you want, IcyHot?

The typing bubble remained for a few minutes before Todoroki finally sent a reply. I am feeling unwell today, and I was wondering if you could make me some food.

So that headache from dinner yesterday was just the start. Fuck, Katsuki should deep clean his apartment. Why not ask one of your other friends? Or your sister? Katsuki replied. He winced, hoping Todoroki didn’t pounce on the fact that Katsuki had just indirectly admitted to being his friend.

Todoroki, again, took a few minutes to reply. Didn’t want to worry Fuyumi , he typed. And my other friends will not make me cold soba.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but in fairness, none of Todoroki’s friends could cook. Uraraka and Izuku probably kept half the takeout businesses in Japan afloat by themselves, and Katsuki didn’t blame Todoroki for not wanting Iida militantly checking his temperature every five minutes and forcing vitamins and tea down his throat.

Sighing, Katsuki decided to take pity on Todoroki. He showered and changed at his agency, then picked up some groceries from the closest store and headed over to Todoroki’s apartment. The bastard had a penthouse suite, probably just to fuck with his old man, but after fifteen minutes of arguing with the doorman, Katsuki felt like the joke was on him. 

“I’m sorry sir, but Mr. Todoroki has not indicated that he is expecting visitors today, I’m afraid I cannot let you upstairs.” A little Izuku voice in the back of Katsuki’s head said that this guy was just doing his job, but after spending so much mental energy being nice to the public these days, Katsuki was fresh out of spare patience.

“He probably hasn’t said anything because he’s taking a goddamn nap,” Katsuki griped. He made a conscious effort not to let off any stray sparks, but the doorman still looked at him warily.

“Be that as it may, Dynamight sir, I cannot let you up without confirmation from the resident.”

Katsuki felt his eye twitch. “Fine, have it your fuckin’ way,” he shrugged. He stepped outside the building and bit the straps of his grocery bag. Mock saluting the doorman, Katsuki blasted himself upwards until he reached Todoroki’s balcony. Sure enough, IcyHot sat in a lump on his couch, neck bent awkwardly as he slept in a blanket cocoon. 

Katsuki took exactly one moment to take out his phone and snap a picture for blackmail use later, then tapped impatiently on the sliding glass door. Todoroki’s head popped out of the blanket pile and stared uncomprehendingly at Katsuki. 

“Hey Half-and-Half, unlock your fucking door!” Katsuki griped.

Todoroki waved one hand but didn’t get up. “It’s open already,” he said.

Sure enough, the door slid right open. “Shouldn’t a pro hero know enough basic safety to lock their doors?”

Todoroki snorted, then grimaced, like the action had reignited a headache. “I live more than thirty floors off the ground. If anybody wants to enter through my balcony, they’re either my friend, or a villain who I doubt would be deterred by a locked door.”

Katsuki opened his mouth to argue, but that was…actually a fair point.

Katsuki walked over to the couch and put his hand on Todoroki’s forehead. In true IcyHot fashion, he was both freezing and burning up. Katsuki suppressed a wince at the feeling of sweat on Todoroki’s forehead and opted to wipe his hand on the blankets. 

“Come on, IcyHot,” he said, holding out a hand, “You’re gonna have some killer back pain if you stay on the couch like that. Go to your room and I’ll make you some food.”

Todoroki stared up at Katsuki, his eyes slowly focusing as he reached out a (super sweaty) hand to grasp Katsuki’s. “You’re a good friend,” he mumbled, pulling himself up. 

Todoroki, of course, stood up too fast and swayed on his feet for a few seconds, his other hand seeking purchase via a death grip on Katsuki’s shirt.

“Oi, watch it, are you trying to knock yourself out?” Katsuki steadied Todoroki until he let go of Katsuki’s shirt, leaving a singed hole behind.

Todoroki made an apologetic sound in the back of his throat. “Sorry, I get a little overheated when I’m running a fever,” he said, as if that wasn’t super fucking obvious, “You can just take one of my shirts.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Just get to your fucking bed without burning the house down.”

Katsuki put the groceries on the counter and followed Todoroki as he waddled to his room, still wrapped in his blanket. Todoroki face planted unceremoniously onto his bed. “Shirts are in the top drawer,” he mumbled directly into his pillow.

Katsuki refrained from turning the lights on—who said he couldn’t be fucking considerate—and grabbed the first shirt he made contact with, quickly swapping it with his singed one. 

Katsuki wandered back out into the kitchen while Todoroki slept(?), slapping together a basic soup and putting a plate of cold soba in the fridge for IcyHot to eat later when he didn’t look like death warmed over. Literally.

Katsuki put the soup on a tray and carried it into Todoroki’s room. Todoroki had managed to burrow himself into another blanket burrito and honestly, he was kinda giving Aizawa a run for his money. “Hey IcyHot,” he whisper-shouted, “fucking eat something before you fall over again.” 

Todoroki poked his head out from somewhere in the middle of the blanket pile and blinked blearily before focusing on the soup. “Oh, thank you Bakugou.”

Katsuki walked toward the bed, carefully balancing the tray. “Yeah yeah, I’m the greatest, I already fucking knew—”

Katsuki stopped dead at the sound of a camera click and a quick, blinding flash in the dark room. “Half-and-half, what the fuck are you doing?”

Todoroki lowered his phone. “At dinner. Mina was saying that you need to build your foodie brand to appear more approachable to the public.”

Katsuki almost facepalmed, but caught himself before flipping the soup onto Todoroki’s lap. “This isn’t even really food, it’s just fuckin’ soup. Anyone could make it. Delete that picture.” Oh God, Katsuki hadn’t even brushed his hair after his shower at the agency. He didn’t think he’d get sniped by the Todoroki paparazzi. 

Todoroki cocked his head to the side, or maybe he was just too tired to sit up straight. “But you made it for me at the expense of your own time. Taking care of your friends is generally considered ‘relatable content,’ is it not?”

Katsuki opened his mouth to retort, but Todoroki continued, “And besides, I already posted the photo.”

Katsuki whipped out his phone and sure enough, the notifications were pouring in already. Probably because Todoroki had a bazillion followers. “How the hell did you even post it so fast?”

Todoroki shrugged. “Fuyumi says I spend too much time on the piano tiles game.”

Katuski squinted at the post. It was really a terrible photo. Katsuki’s hair was frizzy, he had a trademark scowl locked on his face, and he was—oh Christ, he was wearing one of Todoroki’s “Ice Prince” merch shirts. Todoroki had captioned the post “My hero” with an explosion emoji. Fuckin’ gross.

Katsuki scowled even harder. “Why the fuck do you keep your own merch in your wardrobe?”

Todoroki shrugged again. “They’re good sleep shirts.”

Katsuki set the tray down on Todoroki’s nightstand and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Well, just eat your fuckin’ soup.” He turned around to grab Todoroki some water, but quickly spun around and grabbed Todoroki’s phone, turning it off and putting it on the nightstand next to the tray. 

“And that’s enough posting from you for one day,” Katsuki declared as Todoroki reached for his soup. “I’m gonna get you some water, and a Tylenol, and you’re gonna get some more sleep. There’s cold soba in the fridge for when you’re feeling up to it.”

Todoroki hummed appreciatively. “Thank you, Bakugou,” he repeated. “I knew we were friends.”

Katsuki bit back a denial out of sheer habit. The poor guy was sick, Katsuki could cut him a break just this once. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I better not hear that you got sick from overdoing your shifts.”

Todoroki snorted. “Yes, because you’re the epitome of work life balance.”

Fuckin’ ouch. But at least he was feeling well enough to crack jokes. “You know what, IcyHot, maybe I’ll just quit the whole hero thing and become a pro chef, and cook for rich assholes wasting their dad’s money on giant ass apartments.”

Todoroki nodded thoughtfully. “Private chefs do make a handsome sum of money with the right clients.” He wrinkled his nose. “But it is possible that your attitude would scare off potential clients. I might be your only customer. My own private chef,” Todoroki grinned from his blanket cocoon.

“Oi,” Katsuki complained. “I’m a fucking delight!”

Todoroki rolled his eyes before pressing a hand to the side of his head. Katsuki snorted and turned to grab the water and Tylenol from the kitchen. Yeah, serves him fucking right. Was it really such a funny punchline to think that people would find Katsuki fun to be around? Whatever. 

Katsuki returned to see Todoroki with his eyes closed, already lightly snoring. He hesitated for a second, weighing Todoroki’s need to rest versus staying hydrated, and eventually hydrated won. He shook Todoroki’s shoulder gently (well, Katsuki’s version of gently). “Hey Todoroki, drink some water before you dry up like a fish in the sun while you sleep.”

Todoroki stirred grumpily. “Shouto,” he said petulantly. 

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

Todoroki cracked one eyelid open. “You call all of your friends by their first names. And you didn’t deny we were friends today. Twice. And I got my own plate at bakusquad dinner. So that means we have to be friends.”

And because Katsuki was in a very benevolent mood today, and was maybe just a tiny bit grateful to have people who still stuck around and wanted to be his friend these days, Katsuki just nodded. “Fuckin’—fine. Shouto. Drink your fucking water.”

Satisfied, Todoroki picked up his glass. “Oh, Katsuki, one more thing.”

Katsuki sighed. “I’m not making you any more food.”

Todoroki shook his head. “No, not that. I was wondering,” he paused briefly, hesitating a little guiltily, “could you. Not tell Izuku or my friends that I was sick.”

Katsuki frowned. “Don’t you want them checking in on you eventually?” 

Todoroki continued shaking his head. “I don’t want them to lecture me about overworking myself. It’s just been an adjustment since the rankings, everyone wants the number two hero on the scene for every little thing,” Katsuki was very proud of himself for only being a little bitter about that, “and I just got a little overwhelmed,” he finished. 

Katsuki squinted at Todoroki. “They’d still want to know.”

Todoroki narrowed his eyes too. “Just like Kirishima would want to know about all those times you slept in one of the spare conference rooms at my agency because your building was still under construction and you took too many back to back shifts in a row?” 

Fuck. Two minutes into this friendship and Todoroki was already resorting to blackmail? Katuski had trained him well. “Fine,” he relented, “But if you’re not any better by tomorrow call Glasses and have him drag your ass to the doctor.”

Todoroki nodded, truce achieved, and Katsuki walked back out into the kitchen. Well, now that he was here, might as well make some dinner in Todoroki’s fancy ass kitchen. Really, pans like these were wasted on someone who barely remembered to eat food. 

Katsuki made himself some fried rice, nothing too fancy, and waited out on Todoroki’s couch to make sure the idiot didn’t do anything hospital-worthy in the next twenty minutes. He reclined against the couch while scrolling through his phone. His follower boost from the squad dinner was nothing compared to the interaction he was getting from all of Todoroki’s rabid followers. 

A small part of Katsuki wanted to lash out at the notion that he was gaining popularity off the backs of his more well-liked friends, but he tamped it down. Kirishima was right, it’s not like they were making him out to be someone he’s not; they were just showing a side the public generally didn’t get to see. 

But still…Katsuki gritted his teeth as he looked at Todoroki’s post. It was an objectively terrible photo, but the fans seemed to love Katsuki wearing another hero’s merch. Like some fuckin’ crossover event. 

Katsuki put his phone down and tilted his head to listen for any distressed Todoroki sounds, but apart from some light snoring, the apartment was quiet. Katsuki tried to get off the couch, he really did, but it was so comfortable. So much more comfortable than Katsuki’s crappy bargain bin mattress. Add it to the list of things to get once he built his savings back up…

Katsuki snapped his eyes open. He blinked slowly, a suspicious lack of back pain tipping him off to the fact that he was still on Todoroki’s couch. Katsuki actually did get up off the couch this time and peered out to the balcony; it was pitch black out. 

He checked his phone and groaned. Three in the morning? Well, he might as well go home and get some shut eye with the time he had left. Katsuki walked in the direction of the front door, then remembered his less than pleasant interaction with the doorman on his way in. There was probably some other guy there by now, but Katsuki didn’t put it past the dude to tip off the next shift to keep an eye out for a wayward Dynamight. 

So, balcony it is. Katsuki hopped off Todoroki’s balcony and landed on the sidewalk as softly as possible, careful not to make too much noise so he didn’t wake up IcyHot’s whole building. 

Once Katsuki made it home, he crashed on his lumpy ass bed with his outside clothes still on. Fuck it, he had to wash these sheets soon anyway. 

Katsuki’s alarm went off at eight; his late alarm, because he only had an afternoon shift. He squinted at his phone and was hit by walls of text so big he could barely even see his Lock Screen (a picture of him and Izuku at graduation; Christ, he needed to change that). 

As Katsuki scrolled through his notifications, realization dawned on him: the press had struck again. 

He scrubbed a hand over his face as he opened a text from Eijirou. Might as well ease into it. Bro, did you set yourself up on a date without us?👀

The fuck? Katsuki tapped on Eijirou’s contact and waited impatiently for the call to connect. 

“Kats, you dirty dog!”

Distantly, Katsuki wondered if he was having a heart attack. “Ei, you’re gonna tell me what the fuck is going on right the fuck now.”

“I should be asking you the same thing, bro! Over at Todoroki’s place all hours of the night.” Katsuki could hear the eyebrow raise from the other end of the line. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Katsuki pulled the phone away from his ear and clicked on a post notification at random; sure enough, some insomniac reporter caught Katsuki flying off Todoroki’s balcony in the middle of the fucking night. He read the headline, Dynamight’s Flight of Fancy With His New Fling? and felt the beginnings of a headache pulse behind his right eye. 

He saw a tag from Todoroki’s account and clicked on it, hoping it was a quick clarification to clear up all the rumors. Instead, it was a picture of the cold soba Katsuki had left Todoroki with the caption “even better leftover” and Katsuki’s username tagged. Katsuki checked the time stamp: three hours ago. And his account had been radio silent ever since. The idiot was probably asleep again, completely unaware of the shit storm he was causing in the gossip rags. 

Katsuki slammed the phone back to his ear. And walked into his living room to pace out in the open. “— so we all just want to say, we support you no matter what.”  

“Eijirou, I’m not dating Todoroki.”

A pause. “ Are you sure?”

“Am I fucking—of course I’m sure, I think I’d fucking know!”

“ So like, do you just hang out in Todoroki’s shirt in the middle of the night all the time?”

“No, obviously I fucking don’t! He was sick, didn’t want a lecture about it from the sunshine and rainbows crew—don’t tell Izuku or Uraraka he was sick by the way, I’ll have to kill you—so he called me over. His quirk was all fucked up and he burned a hole through my shirt, so I threw on the first thing I found and made sure he didn’t die, then left when I was mostly sure he wasn’t gonna die of moron-induced dehydration.” Katsuki was breathing hard, small pops emitting from the hand not holding his phone. 

“ Well when you put it like that—”

“Not the time, shitty hair.”

“ Fine, fine! I believe you. Where’s Todoroki in all this? He sorta just dipped after that last post.”

Katsuki exhaled carefully. Calm. He was calm. “The idiot’s probably sleeping off the last of his cold.” Katsuki pressed a hand to his forehead, checking to make sure he wasn’t running a fever and hadn’t just hallucinated this whole godforsaken morning. “Does no one have anything better to do with their lives?”

“Dude, it’s fine. Just have your publicist handle it.”

“I don’t have a fucking publicist.”

“ Yaoyorozu, I mean have Yaoyorozu handle it.”

That was…actually not a terrible idea. Katsuki looked at the clock on his oven. “She doesn’t end her shift for another couple hours, I’ll shoot her a text.”

“Good, that gives you some time.”

Katsuki frowned. “Time for what?

Eijirou hesitated. Katsuki felt a sinking feeling in his gut. “ Have you seen Midobro’s account lately?”

What the fuck? “No? What’s he got to do with anything?”

Eijirou sighed, the sound crackling over the phone. “ Just take a look. Listen, I’ve gotta run, but call Yaoyorozu! You know she’s great at this stuff.”

“Wait, Ei, the fuck do you mean look at Izuku’s page? What does he—” click. Fuckin’ fantastic.

Katsuki considered just going back to sleep, but he knew it would be pointless. By now, his heart was jackhammering in his ribs. Painfully slowly, Katsuki clicked on Izuku’s account and scrolled to his most recent post.

Posts.

What.

Izuku generally didn’t use his social media much, occasionally posting a family photo or congratulating one of their former classmates. He still had a sizable following, World’s Greatest Hero and all, but he hadn’t posted anything for at least a couple months. 

But now Izuku’s feed was covered in…pictures of food? Katsuki tapped on a photo and was met with a familiar-looking bento, with the rice shaped into little rabbits. It was one of the bentos he had made Izuku for lunch, since the nerd seemed hellbent on forgetting to eat at all most days. 

Katsuki scrolled down to the caption and nearly choked on air: Just reminiscing on some of @gemgdynamight’s greatest hits! 

Oh, fuck. Katsuki clicked on another post, this time of a fresh plate of katsudon, once again, courtesy of Katsuki. Isn’t it just so great when your best friend makes you your favorite food?

Another. A bowl of ramen, still steaming. So blessed to have SO MANY great dishes from @gemgdynamight to share from over the years. Guess that's what happens when you've known someone for so long! 

Christ, and it just kept going. Katsuki didn’t even know that Izuku had this many photos of his food. Some of these looked like they had been taken back at UA! But why the hell was he going on a walk down memory lane now?

Was Izuku…mad that Katsuki didn’t make him lunch anymore? That had to be it. Unless. Did Izuku have a problem with Katsuki spending time with Todoroki? No. There’s no way Izuku fell for some stupid tabloid nonsense twice. 

That’s it, Katsuki was going back to bed.

Chapter Text

Hours later, Katsuki scrolled through his tags and notifications while walking down his patrol route. Not strictly encouraged behavior, but his phone had been blowing up nonstop since his friends decided to make him a foodie influencer, Todoroki added fuel to the fire, and Deku blew the whole thing up with the force of one of Katsuki’s howitzer blasts.

He could barely make it down the street anyway, not without being accosted by every idiot with a camera within a 50 mile radius. The bullshit with Haruto had finally died down after Kendo threatened to personally flatten the cars of anyone who published more gossip about her husband, and Katsuki was glad to walk down the streets relatively unnoticed again. 

Katsuki was doing his best to avoid any reporters; Yaoyorozu had told him to let her handle the official statements and stall the press until she got a hold of Shouto, which Katsuki was more than happy to do. So far he’d managed to weasel his way out of commenting on anything by turning to the nearest kid and offering to sign something. Not like the press could get pissed that he prioritized talking to kids, but one reporter did ask Katsuki mid-signing of a notebook if he was getting along with children these days because he and Shouto were thinking of adopting, and Katsuki accidentally melted the kid’s pen. 

He stopped for a late lunch, or more accurately, blasted away from several morons with cameras and happened to literally run into Hanta, who invited Katsuki to grab some coffee with him, Denki, and Mina. 

Katsuki poked at his incredibly unappetizing muffin as Denki, Mina, and Hanta made small talk around him. There was something off about it. They all kept looking at each other, giving each other half second darting looks and then glancing toward Katsuki before quickly looking away. Like they were all in a silent competition to see who would broach the topic first. 

Katsuki sat and waited for the inevitable. Finally, after a particularly intense glare and what Katsuki suspected was a kick to the shins from Mina, Denki looked at Katsuki and opened his mouth. 

Great, here we go—

“Did you know Hero Field Day is coming up next week?”

That’s. Not what he’d been expecting.

His confusion must have shown because Denki repeated the question, to which Katsuki nodded.

Ah yes, the pre-rankings Hero Field Day, where heroes volunteered to participate in random competitive activities to raise money for charities of their choice. The local schools even let kids out for the day to watch from the stands and they always cheered like crazy; though Katsuki couldn’t tell if they were excited to watch heroes or just happy to have a day off from school. The whole thing culminated in some fancy dinner so that reporters could ask the heroes about their day and what they thought about their upcoming ranking. It was obviously meant to be a last chance event for heroes to boost their likability, and Katsuki had never been before; he always took advantage of the schedule gaps created by the festival to score some extra shifts.

Katsuki knew where his friends were going with this: he should clearly make the effort of putting in an appearance this year. But there was one problem: Field Day required heroes to participate in teams of two. Egg toss, two-legged race, the whole works. Most pro heroes in a professional partnership went as a duo for branding and shit, but most solo heroes took their spouses, hero or not. Eijirou and Mina had been placing in the top three for the last five years running.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “So which one of you am I taking this time?” Maybe this was another Yaoyorozu gala situation, and Eijirou had a last minute mission but Mina wanted to keep her winning streak alive. 

Denki flashed Katsuki what he probably thought was a winning grin. “No no, Bakubro, we think you’re ready for the big leagues now! You’re going on a real date.”

Katsuki’s heart dropped somewhere into his spleen. A real fuckin’ date? Already? 

“We told him you can play nice with others! Don’t let us down,” Mina added.

Katsuki cleared his throat, trying in vain to dislodge a bit of muffin that had gone down the wrong pipe. “Is now really the best time?” He rasped. 

Mina put a hand on Katsuki’s arm. “Eijirou explained on the way to work this morning. We had already been trying to set this up before Todoroki broke the internet, and we assured your potential suitor that the gossip mill was simply at it again with their unfounded theories.”

Hanta chimed in unhelpfully. “But that was a crazy response from Midoriya, huh? If I didn’t know better I’d say he was—”

Mina aimed another kick, this time at Hanta, and he yelped before taking the hint and shutting the fuck up. Katsuki didn’t need to hear everyone’s personal theories as to why Izuku had a stick up his ass about Katsuki’s (non) dating life this time.

“Who the hell did you get to agree to this, anyway?” Katsuki asked. At least at Field Day it’d be somewhere with a structured schedule, no time for awkward small talk and shit. 

Denki grinned. “So you might remember him from the Sports Festival in first year…”

************************

Katsuki texted Yaoyorozu on his way out of lunch. He tried not to sound like he was desperately begging for help, even though that’s exactly what he was doing. 

Thankfully, no major outlets had commented on Izuku’s…whatever that was. Nothing super juicy about Hero Deku flipping out over not having exclusive jurisdiction over Katsuki’s cooking skills anymore, especially when he and Uraraka had just gone out for coffee a couple days ago. Not that Katsuki had been looking for the story. 

Katsuki took a calming breath, inhaled a little too sharply, and ended up coughing up a lung. What a fucking metaphor. He tried again. Everything was going to be fine. Yaoyorozu would know what to do, everything would blow over, and all Katsuki had to do was not run into—

“Kacchan!” 

Just his luck.

Katsuki turned to see Izuku sprinting toward him, decked out in the suit Katsuki had spent a third of his life putting together. He looked over each component out of habit, cataloguing any wear and tear he might need to bring up to Hatsume before realizing that he’d been staring. 

Thankfully, Izuku didn’t seem to notice. “I saw Todoroki’s post!” He exclaimed, voice cheery but a more than a little forced. “I didn’t know your cold soba was in such high demand.” Izuku’s mouth twitched slightly, like he was ordering it to stay smiling against a sudden muscle rebellion. “I haven’t heard from Todoroki all morning, but do either of you have something to tell me?” 

Katsuki narrowed his eyes at the nerd. Yeah, Izuku had seen the picture alright. And posted like thirty-seven of his own. “Shouto was sick,” he answered mildly, the first name sounding weird even to himself. But IcyHot wanted in on the bakusquad (eugh), and fuck if Katsuki was in a position to turn down someone who wanted to be his friend these days. He smiled to himself a little, remembering his days in first year vehemently denying that he and Shouto were friends. Maybe change wasn’t always so bad.

Izuku’s smile dropped another fraction of an inch. “Since when do you call Todoroki by his first name?” 

Again with this shit? What was Izuku, the fucking first name police? Katsuki studied Izuku’s face before answering. Eyes slightly narrowed, biting the inside of his lip to try and keep a worried expression at bay; surely, Izuku didn’t think—

Katsuki shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “Since he asked me to.” Katsuki didn’t know what Izuku was getting so bent out of shape about. So Izuku fell for another press-induced scandal. So what? Was he worried Katsuki was going to corrupt Shouto with his jackassery? Still pissed about the lack of free food? “I call you by your first name,” he said defensively.

Izuku’s expression dropped into a full frown. Shit. Wrong thing to say. For some fucking reason. Alright, time to come clean.  

“It’s just,” Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose, “he came to dinner with the idiots the other day and,” Katsuki let out a long-suffering sigh, “he wanted to feel like part of the ‘bakusquad.’ I make my friends food when they’re sick, and I brought him food, so in IcyHot’s mind, that makes him part of the friend group. Not my problem your nerd squad is so fucking formal.” Shouto had told him not to tell Izuku he’d been sick, but Katsuki wasn’t about to risk pissing off Izuku even more. Shouto could tell Kirishima about Katsuki’s conference room naps after all, for all he cared. 

Izuku’s expression immediately cleared a little. “You did make Kaminari his favorite fried rice for a week when he had the flu that one time,” he mused. “Is that why you were there so long? Was Todoroki really that sick?” 

Katsuki wasn’t about to admit to falling asleep on Todoroki’s couch because it was ten times comfier than the crappy mattress Katsuki had bought on his “save for the Deku suit” budget, so he silently apologized for throwing Todoroki under the bus and nodded in agreement. “Yep, the fucker dehydrated himself til he could barely stand. Quirk was all wonky too, burned through my fucking shirt when I tried to wake him up.”

“Oh!” Izuku exclaimed suddenly, like he’d just had a revelation. The tips of his ears were a little red and he looked almost—embarrassed? Why? Maybe he felt bad that he hadn’t noticed Shouto was coming down with something. Or maybe embarrassed that he had the media literacy of a fucking five year old. Listening to the fucking gossip rags. “So that’s why—I mean, you’re a really good friend, Kacchan.”

“Yeah, a good friend, ” Katsuki emphasized. “Don’t you know not to believe everything you fucking read?” Katsuki braced for another interrogation—Izuku seemed to be chock full of them these days—but seemingly mollified, Izuku let Katsuki off the hook. “I really should get better at cooking,” Izuku murmured, almost to himself. “I can’t even remember to bring lunch most days.”

Katsuki snorted. “No shit, Sherlock, who do you think brought you lunch every day?” Because that had been Katsuki’s job. His self-imposed duty: can’t let the nerd go hungry. But he was turning over a new leaf. Izuku was a grown ass man; he could figure out his own meals. He could post pity throwback pics of Katsuki’s cooking until the cows came home, but Chef Bakugou’s kitchen was closed to teary-eyed nerds. 

Izuku’s mouth dropped open, like he hadn’t expected Katsuki to be so direct about it. “It’s just been a while, and I guess—I just…”

His eyes widened as he trailed off, but Katsuki knew what he was going to say. I just got used to Kacchan bringing me lunch. Couldn’t even say it out loud, huh? Because then it would be acknowledging the distance Katsuki put between them directly, and then Izuku would have to confront the fact that he’d fucked Katsuki over, chosen Uraraka over him—chosen teaching over their once-shared dream—head on. 

The silence hung between them uncomfortably, neither quite willing to step more than a toe in the no man’s land that was Katsuki’s distance and Izuku’s bizarre outbursts. Izuku coughed awkwardly before suddenly brightening. Fuck, did his eyes always sparkle like that when he got excited? Katsuki mentally slapped himself. No. Not the time to lose focus.

“If Kacchan has been making an effort to go to more hero events, you probably know about Field Day coming up, right?”

Katsuki inclined his head. “Yeah, ‘s next week.”

“I know you never go to these things, but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go with me? Maybe not the Field Day, I know Kacchan hates missing work, but maybe the party after?”

Ah, fuck. Katsuki cleared his throat awkwardly. “No, actually,” he bit out. Izuku froze. “I’m going with Kosei Tsuburaba.” Izuku stared at him blankly. “From school,” Katsuki prompted.

Izuku blinked himself out of his stupor. “No yeah, I remember, from Class B. I just kinda thought you. Wouldn’t? You exclusively referred to him as one of the Class B extras, even by third year.”

So you did notice? That I didn’t treat everyone the same? That I treated you like you were special, and it still didn’t mean anything worth a damn to you? Katsuki bit back something uncharitable, feeling the barbs of his unsaid words tickle his throat on the way down.

“People change,” he said finally. “Can’t keep showing up to these events with you forever, right?” Katsuki tries for a smirk, does his best to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but based on Izuku’s frown, he’s not sure he succeeded.

Honestly, Katsuki’s not sure what the issue is. Izuku clearly hadn’t wanted their public images tied to each other, or he wouldn’t have shot down at the speed of light, and even Katsuki’s not stubborn enough to show up to these multi-hour events by himself, so ipso facto: he needed a date. 

“Of course,” Izuku said, a little strained. “Just—why Tsuburaba?”

Katsuki shrugged, feigning a casual air again. “I’m not big on all that small talk shit, so I figured doing some games together would be a low stakes way to get to know him.” He dodged the question a little, but fuck if he was about to admit to being set up by Denki fucking Kaminari.

Izuku’s frown deepened. “Get to know him? As in, like, a new addition to your agency? Wouldn’t you haven covered that in the interview?”

Katsuki winced. Izuku was really gonna make him spell it out. He cleared his throat again, stalling for time. “No, not like an agency thing. Like,” he ground the words out, “like a date thing. I guess.” God, could a villain just come and kill him now? Again?

Izuku seemed, for once, speechless. He refused to meet Katsuki’s eyes, but his wrinkled nose and furrowed brow betrayed some amount of horror at the revelation. Katsuki felt oddly stung. Did he really seem that undateable? He could kinda see how Izuku would be pissed to be the last to find out if Katsuki and Shouto had become a thing (ew), even if his reaction seemed a little over the top. Friendships, loyalty, all that jazz. Maybe Izuku really was still salty that Katsuki had stopped cooking for him. But what’s so wrong with Katsuki that he couldn’t go on a date with some fucking extra?

“Oh. I see.” Izuku’s voice sounded flat, a note of irritation creeping in that reminded Katsuki of their shouting match about Katsuki’s not-date at the gala. Katsuki was confused. Unless Denki and co. had managed to royally fuck up, Tsuburaba wasn’t married, and he wasn’t one of Izuku’s best fucking friends. It was a perfectly respectable outing. They were going to a charity event! So what was Izuku’s fucking problem? Suddenly Katsuki couldn’t step out of his fucking home without Izuku questioning his whereabouts. Katsuki already had one overbearing mother, he definitely didn’t need Izuku breathing down his goddamn neck. It wasn’t Katsuki’s job to be at Izuku’s beck and call anymore, and Izuku was just gonna have to get used to it. Besides—

Katsuki tamped down a wave of anger, though in this moment it felt a little like bailing water with a pasta strainer. “Shouldn’t you just take Roun—Uraraka, anyway?” 

Izuku snorted. “Obviously not, when—” Izuku abruptly cut himself off, shaking his head rapidly. “I mean—she just—she has other stuff to do. That weekend. Out of town.”

Katsuki cringed, feeling like more of an ass than usual. Uraraka probably had some top secret mission keeping her occupied—hence Izuku’s continued panicked spluttering—and here was Katsuki, denying his friend a shoulder to lean on while his girlfriend was out of town. 

Katsuki opened his mouth, half-ready to call off his date with what’s his name, but paused. A voice that sounded annoyingly like Eijirou’s rattled around in his mind. You’ve gotta start putting yourself first, man. Katsuki didn’t need to resign himself to being Izuku’s pity friend date for all eternity, wishing like a loser for Uraraka to get sent out on an assignment so he could pretend Izuku wanted to go out with him. 

“Sorry, but I can’t ditch my date,” he said gruffly. “I’m enough of an asshole already, probably shouldn’t start a first date by rescheduling, right?” 

Izuku frowned again. “Don’t say that, Kacchan. I’m sure–” he cleared his throat, a little painfully, “I’m sure you’ll have a great time. Really. You’re both super competitive, you’ll have so much fun!” The cheer sounded forced again, but without the traces of anger Katsuki had heard just moments ago.

Was Izuku fucking with him? He had to be fucking with him. One minute he was damn near railing against Katsuki at the very idea of him going on a date, and the next he was practically pushing Katsuki down the aisle. He must have been pissed that Katsuki couldn’t be Izuku’s backup date, then realized he sounded like an ass and changed his tune. He felt another faint pang in his chest at the idea of leaving Izuku high and dry without a Field Day partner, but he held firm.

“Thanks nerd,” he said, giving Izuku a mock salute. “I’m gonna call Ponytail and see what kind of magic she can work to fix Shouto’s monumental fuck up.”

Izuku nodded, a little too vigorously for what Katsuki’s sentence warranted, and bid him goodbye. 

Katsuki took a minute to find Yaoyorozu’s number while walking, then clicked call. “Oh Bakugou, excellent! I was just about to call.” Yaoyorozu’s voice, all professionalism, blasted from his phone’s tiny speakers. 

Katsuki winced and pulled the phone away from his ear a little before turning the volume down. “Any updates from Sleeping Not-Beauty?”

Yaoyorozu sighed, sounding about as exasperated as Katsuki felt. “Yes, I got a hold of him about an hour ago. He’s feeling much better, by the way.”

“He can send a thank you card in the mail,” Katsuki bit out. But really, life-ruining posting aside, Katsuki was glad Shouto was doing better. If he was still sick, Katsuki would feel bad about killing him the next time he saw him. 

Yaoyorozu forged ahead. “He is quite confused as to how his post gave the impression that you were dating, but nevertheless he was somewhat amused at the reaction from the public and our friends.”

“Glad one of us is fuckin’ amused,” Katsuki groused. Maybe Katsuki should start a rumor that Shouto was dating Monoma, just so he could see how it feels. 

“ I have prepared statements for the two of you,” Yaoyorozu interrupted his thoughts. “I drafted Todoroki’s with his publicist, but since you don’t have one, you’re just going to have to make do with what I came up with.”

Katsuki felt his phone buzz, presumably with the file of his statement. “Thanks,” he said.

Yaoyorozu laughed. “You can thank me by making me one of those dishes from Midoriya’s temper tantrum.”

Katsuki sighed in mock exasperation. “Only fair, I guess. Consider this your invitation for the next idiot squad dinner.” 

Katsuki hung up and gave his statement from Yaoyorozu a once over. 

It has come to my attention that there have been rumors in the media circulating concerning the nature of my relationship with Hero Shouto. I would like to clarify that Hero Shouto and I are friends, but are not and have never been involved romantically. I would appreciate if the press stopped poking into my private life; as a hero, I am dedicated to protecting the safety of all the people of Japan, but that does not entitle the public to the details of my private life. If and when I decide to disclose the existence of a partner to the public, I will do so. That being said, I hope everyone will tune into Hero Field Day next week, where I will be competing with Kosei Tsuburaba and giving a full interview at the charity event afterwards. 

Katsuki wrinkled his nose. He hated PR statements. They always sounded canned and dispassionate, everything that Katsuki was not. But it was safe, and Katsuki needed to play it safe right now. As much as he would like to snap and explode some camera lenses for good measure, he needed to think about this in the long run. 

Katsuki sent another thank you to Yaoyorozu, took a screenshot of the statement, and created a new post, the first on his account in a while. In fact, he hadn’t posted since—

Since Izuku had first gotten the suit. Katsuki stared at his last post, a selfie Izuku had taken with Katsuki’s phone of the two of them on Izuku’s first patrol back. He looked at his own eyes in the photo, happy and carefree, secure in the confidence that in just a few short weeks, Izuku would be his hero partner. Katsuki looked until his screen timed out, and suddenly he saw his eyes staring back at him again. Shit, he looked tired. 

Katsuki turned his phone back on and hovered over the post button on his statement. Sure, he needed to be safe, but—

He heard Haruto’s voice echo in the back of his mind. Fuck ‘em! The guy is a walking bomb, you want him to be cute and cuddly all the time?

Impulsively, Katsuki captioned his statement: And just to fucking clarify, I see anyone with a camera approach me between now and Field Day while I’m on duty, they’ll be getting an explosion to the lens. 

Fuck ‘em.

Chapter Text

Field Day came too quickly. Not that Katsuki was nervous, and fuck you for suggesting it, but he wasn’t sure what to expect. Izuku had been totally right, he barely remembered Tsuburaba from school, other than some vague recollection that he had an air-related quirk.

He showed up at the stadium in his hero costume and his good suit in hand, as requested. He guessed that the heroes were expected to go straight to the charity gala after the activities were over. 

A volunteer in a bright red shirt ran over to him, clipboard in hand. “Mr. Dynamight, thank you so much for joining us today!” She said, excitedly but a little frazzled. “I can take your suit for you if you want, the heroes have been gathering over by the egg toss grounds.”

Katsuki grunted a thanks, sure and meandered over to the small group of heroes. So far, Katsuki spotted Denk and Jirou, Eijirou and Mina, and a few extras he didn’t bother cataloging in his brain, and…Tsuburaba, talking to his friends. 

Eijirou and Mina made a big show out of noticing Katsuki’s presence. “Blasty, you’re here!” Mina exclaimed. “We were just talking about you!”

Tsuburaba turned around, extending a hand. “All good things,” he reassured. 

Katsuki shook his hand and chuckled. “They’re just being nice because I gave them my cupcake recipe. Don’t be fooled, they’re coming for blood in this competition.”

Tsuburaba laughed. “I’m not worried. As I remember, you’re plenty competitive for the both of us.”

A memory surfaced in Katsuki’s mind, of Tsuburaba at the sports festival, holding Katsuki’s attacks back briefly with his air shields. So he was a fighter. Katsuki could work with this. 

Katsuki made small talk with Tsuburaba and his friends when suddenly he heard a familiar voice.

“Kacchan!” Izuku ran up to him, Iida trailing behind. 

“Hey,” Katsuki said mildly, still wary of Izuku’s…whatever he had going on.

Izuku turned to Tsuburaba. “Hi, I’m Izuku Midoriya, I was in Class A? I heard you’re competing with Kacchan!”

Tsuburaba raised an eyebrow in Katsuki’s direction, and Katsuki could only shrug. “How could I forget the famous Hero Deku?” He laughed. “And yes, I’m competing with Bakugou today. I only hope I can keep up.”

Izuku laughed too, but it held an edge to it, one that Katsuki couldn’t decipher. Hm. He must have asked Iida to be his backup once Uraraka and Katsuki both said no.  

Katsuki stepped back from the conversation and watched as kids filled the stands. Once the last few stragglers had been sat, a volunteer with a megaphone stood on a stage at the front of the field.

“Thank you all for coming out here today! We have a day full of fun planned, so let’s get started! The first event will be a tug of war. The winning team will compete in the remaining activities in their established pairs, while the losing team will be eliminated!”

Katsuki looked around, only to see a team already assembled around him. Mina, Eijirou, Denki, Jirou, Iida, and Izuku all looked to him for instructions, while Tsuburaba stood at his side looking on expectantly. 

This reminded him a little of the first sports festival. Remind me what your quirks are again. And also your names. Christ, he’d been a prick. 

“Alright,” Katsuki called out to his group. “Anchor is in the back, Eijirou that’s you. Mina, you go next. You’re not the strongest puller, but if you accidentally acid through the rope, at least we’ll only lose the back. Iida, you’re next. I need you to dig in your heels as much as you can. Denki and Jirou, you go in the middle. Izuku, you stand behind Tsuburaba. And I’ll go in the front.”

Tsuburaba raised his hand. “Why are you going in the front?” 

Katsuki grinned sharply. “Intimidation factor.”

His team stared at him for a few seconds. Katsuki clapped his hands. “Today, people!”

Everyone hurried to their spots. Tsuburaba stood right behind Katsuki and whispered in his ear. “Wow, you really know how to rally the troops. This reminds me of—ow!”

“Sorry, my foot must have slipped.” Katsuki turned around to see Izuku smiling sweetly at Tsuburaba, who was rubbing the back of his calf. “Won’t happen again!”

“Hey nerd, if you can’t pull your weight I’m not afraid to switch you with Denki,” he warned. 

“Don’t worry, Kacchan!” Izuku chirped. “I won’t let you down.”

And to his credit, he didn’t. Katsuki’s team performed like a well oiled machine, and they didn’t even let up an inch when Mina accidentally eroded her section of rope. Those other extras never stood a chance. 

Next was a scavenger hunt, where they let the heroes out into the nearby woods while the kids in the stands had lunch. The top three teams moved on to the last event, and even though Katsuki was pretty confident in his chances against Eijirou, Mina, Denki, and Jirou, he didn’t want to risk getting eliminated. 

He ushered Tsuburaba from location to location, at a brisk but not breakneck pace. They talked about their jobs, their families, the most annoying parts about being a hero and the most rewarding. Tsuburaba was, surprisingly, not a total idiot. It eas almost…nice.

“I saw you opened your own agency,” Tsuburaba said. “Got any interns yet? I’m sure you’d have your pick of any of the UA kids.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Haven’t really thought about it.” A lie. “Been waiting to work out some administrative stuff first.” Not a total lie. 

Tsuburaba hesitated, then said, “And by administrative stuff, you don’t happen to mean waiting for Midoriya to join you at the agency, do you?”

Katsuki averted his gaze. “Word gets around fast, huh?”

Tsuburaba shrugged. “It was kind of a surprise to everybody.” He cocked his head. “But that still doesn’t explain why you haven’t taken on any interns or sidekicks yet. Even without Midoriya, you have enough star power to attract some top talent.”

Katsuki bent down to retrieve the next scavenger hunt item, and to keep avoiding eye contact. “People really like Izuku,” he said to the ground. “I guess I didn’t feel like I was ready to take on that kind of responsibility without him watching my back. I mean, I’m fifteen in the rankings because I yell and break shit. Who wants to be mentored by that?”

Katsuki felt something bounce off the back of his head. He straightened and whirled around, only to see Tsuburaba heft another pebble. “What the fuck?”

“That’s for being an idiot,” Tsubaraba said. “Bakugou, think about what you just said. You’re a natural leader.”

Katsuki wrinkled his nose. “That’s not what the press says.” They always praised his team up work with Deku, but mostly stuck to comparing property damage when he worked with anyone else. He thought briefly about an email sitting in his inbox, untouched since it was sent two days ago, from Kota. I placed in the stupid sports festival, it read. Are you gonna let me work at your agency or not?

Tsuburaba clicked his tongue. “Screw the press! Just now, in that tug of war, everyone on our team turned to you. Not Kirishima, not Iida, not even Midoriya. You.”

“And,” he continued, before Katsuki could retort, “this isn’t the first time that’s happened. Remember back in first year, when we had that group training? You took charge immediately. Total victory.”

Total victory. Katsuki hadn’t felt like that in a long while. Not since…he didn’t even know when. 

“Fine,” Katsuki snapped. He took a deep breath and softened his tone. “Maybe I do need to get on with the whole agency part of my agency. But not a word of this to Izuku, you hear?”

Tsuburaba mimed locking his lips as he reached up into a tree and drew out a rolled up piece of paper. “My lips are sealed. Now let’s get back to the stadium, this was the last item!”

The two raced back to the stadium, finding Izuku and Iida already back and Izuku talking animatedly. 

“…no I don’t know for sure, but what does that have to do with anything! It’s not like he said—Kacchan!” Izuku startled when he saw him. “You made it back! Guess now we just wait to see who’s in third place.”

Third place ended up being Denki and Jirou. “Aw maaaaan,” Mina cried, “Our podium streak is gone!” She turned to Katsuki and pouted. “You and Tsuburaba are too good of a team, I don’t know why we asked you to come this year.”

Tsuburaba laughed, while behind him, Izuku looked like he had just bitten into a lemon. He must have been annoyed that Mina hadn’t acknowledged his teamwork with Iida, considering they were actually in the lead. 

Katsuki shushed them all. “Listen up for the last event!” Ok, so he was getting a little competitive about it. Sue him, he’s a pro hero.

“The final event will be the egg toss! You MAY use your quirks, but NOT to interfere with the tossing of others’ eggs!”

This one passed mostly uneventfully. Katsuki was more agile than most heroes, and he had no trouble catching the eggs Tsuburaba lobbed at him, no quirk required. For his part, Tsuburaba had apparently mastered a form of air prison where he could catch an object and encase it in ‘soft air.’ Eventually, it came down to two teams: Izuku’s and Katsuki’s. Denki and Jirou were a close third, but eventually Denki threw an egg especially wide and it ended up splattering all over Katsuki, who was too focused on his own egg to dodge. 

Disgusting. He could still feel the yolk running under his hero costume. He felt egg white touch his shoulder blades and motioned to Tsuburaba to pause before throwing the egg. That’s it. He couldn’t take it anymore. Katsuki zipped down the back of his costume to his waist and shouted to one of the volunteers. “Anybody have a goddamn towel? Pikachu’s trying to make me into a fucking omelet over here.”

The volunteer ran over with a rag, trying and failing to stifle her laughter as the kids roared in the stands. “Here you go, Dynamight. And please try to remember not to swear in front of the children.”

“Easy for you to say, you don’t have shell drying in your hair,” Katsuki groused. He toweled off the worst of it and gave a thumbs up to Tsuburaba, who dutifully tossed the egg. It went a little higher that Katsuki anticipated, and he hastily blasted into the air to catch it; nothing crazy, just a few feet off the ground. He caught it and landed in a crouch, distantly hearing kids cheering his name from the stands. He looked up and even saw a few of them with little plushie versions of his gauntlets, a piece of merch Katsuki had been reluctant about but Mina insisted would be a hit. 

Katsuki grinned and stood back up to full height, raising the egg above his head. “Piece of cake!” He gloated. 

He heard a little “eep” sound from next to him, and he glanced over to see Izuku way closer than he thought. Katsuki must have traveled a bit jumping for that egg. And then next to Tsuburaba, he heard Iida shout, “Midoriya! Midoriya! Watch out!” 

Iida had thrown his egg, but Izuku made no move to catch it. He was staring at Katsuki, breathing a little strangled. Maybe running around with Iida on that scavenger hunt had worn Izuku out, his face was even a little red. At the last second, Izuku snapped his head up to look at his egg, but it was too late. It went sailing over Izuku’s head and splattered on the ground just behind him, Izuku tumbling backward in his last ditch effort to catch it. 

Katsuki laughed along with the children and walked over to Izuku, extending a hand to help him up. “Got a little tired there, nerd?”

Izuku stared up at Katsuki, then at his hand. A breeze passed through and Katsuki suddenly felt self-conscious, shirtless and covered in dried egg. He considered just taking his hand back, but Tsuburaba called out, “Bakugou, that was awesome!” and Izuku forcefully grabbed Katsuki’s hand, yanking himself up so hard that he bumped into Katsuki’s chest.

Izuku jumped away like Denki had shocked him and laughed awkwardly. “Guess I should’ve been paying more attention, huh?”

Tsuburaba jogged up to where the two were standing and clapped Katsuki on the shoulder. “I’ll say,” he said, fixing Izuku with an odd look. “You must’ve been distracted.”

Izuku’s cheeks flared red and he shrugged. “Guess so! It’s always hard to stay focused with so many kids watching, you know? They’re such a rambunctious audience.”

Tsuburaba raised an eyebrow, looking almost skeptical. “Right,” he said slowly. He turned to Katsuki. “Ready to claim our prize?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes but couldn’t completely fight off a smile. “Idiot, it’s not our prize. It’s for the kids, or whatever.”

Tsuburaba grinned back. “Like winning wasn’t your real prize.”

They all headed to the stadium locker rooms to shower and change, Katsuki griping about the egg in his hair the whole way.

Once they filed back out, the volunteers herded the heroes into a shuttle and deposited them at the entrance to an upscale hotel. Alright. First the interviews, then mingling. Easy. 

As the winners of Field Day, Katsuki and Tsuburaba got the brunt of the interview questions. 

“To which charity will you be donating your prize?”

Katsuki turned to Tsuburaba. They hadn’t talked about it beforehand, but Katsuki did have one in mind. Tsuburaba inclined his head. “All yours, Dynamight.”

Katsuki cleared his throat. “We will be donating our prize money to the Kids Without Quirks foundation.” He felt Izuku’s stare boring a hole into his skull. “No kid deserves to be treated differently because of something they can’t help. We hope that this contribution can make a difference in providing more counselors and specialists in schools and areas that need it.”

Katsuki was met with stunned silence. Clearly, no one had expected something so sincere out of a brash and foul-mouthed hero like him. 

Finally, one reporter–either especially brave or especially stupid–raised her hand. “So, Dynamight, I hear you’re quite the cook these days.” And the tension leaked out of the room like a balloon. Katsuki considered sending her a thank you card.

“Yes, I’ve always loved cooking,” Katsuki answered. “And I got better at it after the war when my right arm was fu–messed up. I taught myself how to do everything with my left hand, so now I’m twice as fast.”

Another reporter’s hand shot up. “This is a question for all of Dynamight’s friends,” he began. “What do you make of all the positive attention on Dynamight as of late? Have you seen any changes in his attitude that suggest he’s turning over a new leaf?”

Eijirou spoke up first. “Dynamight has always been committed to being the best hero he can be. It’s only recently, however, that he’s let the public see a little of what kind of a friend he is to all of us. So we don’t really see this as Dynamight turning over a new leaf, because he’s always been the glue of our group.”

Another reporter hopped on the Katsuki questioning train. “What of the nicknames you’ve all assigned him? I believe I’ve seen ‘Grandpa Bakugou’ mentioned more than once.”

Denki laughed. “That’s because Bakubro is a grumpy mother hen. Did you know, back at UA, he wouldn’t let me hold a real knife until I could tell him all the rules of kitchen safety from memory?”

“And he always tried to get us to go to sleep before nine,” Mina chimed in.

“Don’t forget the stretches before workouts,” Izuku added, having seemingly shaken off his earlier shock. “Kacchan never let me start a run without properly stretching, and he always carried extra water.”

Katsuki interrupted before someone could say that he tucked them all into bed and told them to have sweet fuckin’ dreams. “Maybe we could stick to some hero-centric questions?”

But the first reporter from before wasn’t done. “You,” she said, addressing Tsuburaba, “Rumor has it that you’re attending as Dynamight’s date. Care to comment on the recent press your boyfriend has been getting?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki saw Iida grab Izuku’s arm, but he couldn’t quite see what that was all about. Izuku had probably tipped his chair back too far, or something. 

Tsuburaba put on a convincing smile. “Dynamight and I are still getting to know each other. We’re not in a place where we feel comfortable putting a label on anything, but I am sure that Dynamight is not concerned about any rumors from the gossip mill, and neither am I. If there’s something important I need to know concerning the nature of our relationship, I’m sure I’ll hear it from him first.”

Katsuki reached under the table and squeezed Tsuburaba’s hand in appreciation. That was a perfect answer. Unashamed to be associated with Katsuki, but stopping short of confirming anything more than a first date. 

“One more question for Dynamight,” a reporter shouted. Katsuki felt his eye twitch, but managed a subdued nod. “You seemed disappointed at the last rankings,” he said. Oh, now isn’t this just fucking great. “What do you expect from the next rankings ceremony? What are your goals?”

Katsuki just barely squashed his instinct to tell the reporter to mind his fucking business. “I hope to continue being the best hero I can be to the people of Japan,” he said. “My stats speak for themselves on the streets, but I’ve recently been learning that there’s more to being a hero than numbers. I’m going to do my best to be a leader, for myself and for everyone who looks up to me. And that’s all I’m saying, so beat it,” he added. He said leader, not pushover.

Reluctantly, the reporters dissipated, and Katsuki grabbed Tsuburaba’s hand and made a beeline for the food. “You were great,” he told Tsuburaba as he piled mini quiches onto his plate. 

Tsuburaba smirked. “Well, it’s easy when—”

“Hi, Tsuburaba!” Izuku interrupted. “Iida had a question for you about how fast he’d have to kick your air prison to break out. Mind humoring him?”

Tsuburaba shot Katsuki a glance, but Katsuki just shrugged. Nerds were gonna nerd. Tsuburaba sighed and walked in the direction of Iida.

Katsuki and Izuku stood in an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two. Neither wanted to be the first one to say anything, and Katsuki was scrambling for a safe topic to bring up. Finally, Izuku said "Kacchan, I've been meaning to ask-" at the same time Katsuki started with "So how's-"

Izuku laughed, a little awkwardly. "You go first."

Katsuki cleared his throat. Mature. He could do this. “So how’s Uraraka’s mission going? Or is everything top secret?” There, and it didn't even sound like he wanted to cry.

Izuku looked puzzled. “Uraraka isn’t on a mission. You haven’t seen her latest post?”

Katsuki bit back a reply along the lines of ‘ no Izuku, I’ve been avoiding social media because of the shitstorm you helped create’ and settled for a very diplomatic, “Haven’t gotten the chance yet.”

Izuku pulled out his phone and turned it around so Katsuki could see the screen. On it was a picture of Uraraka and another woman…kissing? Katsuki blinked hard. 

“Izuku, why is your girlfriend kissing someone else?”

Izuku yelped and fumbled his phone. “She’s not my girlfriend. She was never my girlfriend! She just didn’t want me telling everybody she was visiting her girlfriend because they hadn’t had the talk about how to approach going public. But clearly they figured it out, so I’m off the hook!”

Now it was Katsuki’s turn to be confused as fuck. “Izuku, all of Japan has been convinced the two of you are dating. You won a cutest couple poll in that teen magazine last week!”

Izuku looked slightly panicked. “I had no idea! I try not to read the news about myself, especially since my hero debut.”

Tsuburaba, who Katsuki had actually forgotten was there entirely, snorted. Guess he was back. And with Iida too! The more the fucking merrier. “Yeah, because you spend all your time scouring for news about Bakugou, right?”

Katsuki shot him a look as Izuku shook his head in earnest. “I like to keep up to date on all of my classmates’ careers!”

Tsuburaba took a step forward. Katsuki put a hand out to stop him, but he swatted it away. “Like your nine million posts about Bakugou’s cooking because he dared to make Todoroki a bowl of noodles?”

Katsuki sucked in a breath. He and Izuku had made an unspoken agreement not to talk about whatever that was, but clearly Tsuburaba hadn’t gotten the memo. 

Izuku stumbled back a step, eyes widened like a deer in headlights. “No! I mean, I just—I only meant that—”

Katsuki put a hand on Tsuburaba’s shoulder. “C’mon, don’t fucking interrogate the nerd. Let it go.”

But Tsuburaba wasn’t done. “I think you owe it to Bakugou to explain why you’re sabotaging him at every turn.”

Izuku paled and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, he squeaked out, “I’m sorry, I have to go,” and ran out of the venue.

“Izuku, wait!” Iida called, but Izuku was already gone.

Iida turned to Katsuki. “I’m going to try and get a hold of him.”

Katsuki faintly nodded and watched Iida follow Izuku out the door. Then he clamped a hand on Tsuburaba’s arm and dragged him out into the courtyard. “Alright, what the fuck was that about?”

Tsuburaba at least had the good sense to look a little sheepish. “He spent the whole day following you around like a lost puppy. It just gets a little grating when some other guy is obsessed with your date.”

Tsuburaba gave Katsuki a sidelong glance. “Even if I know that obsession goes both ways.”

Katsuki felt the accusation like a punch to the stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tsuburaba laughed humorlessly. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Everyone can see it! I’ve heard from Class A on how you worked yourself into the ground for his suit. I’ve shown up to chaperone UA exercises a couple times, and every time I’m there you are too, waiting to give Izuku his lunch like some housewife.”

Katsuki’s temper flared. “Fine, maybe I have a fucking problem! I’m trying to do something about it, fuck you very much!”

He took a deep breath and counted to ten before continuing. He couldn’t afford to burn any holes in this suit, his mother would never let him hear the end of it. “I’m sorry if I’ve seemed unfocused today. But that doesn’t give you the right to go after Izuku. None of this is his problem, and it isn’t right to project your issue with my unresolved stuff onto him.”

Tsuburaba threw up his hands. “God, Katsuki, you don’t even see it! Izuku doesn’t like to share! He’s the nicest guy on the planet, but he’s been trying to bite my head off all night because what, I dare to be your date?”

Katsuki snorted. “Well newsflash, asshole, but you’re fucking wrong. Know how I know? I already tried. I asked him to be my hero partner, to stand by my side, and he said no. I told him he should treat the special people in his life like they’re special, and his first instinct was to get the fuck out of my car. So clearly, it ain’t me. And at the time, I thought it was because he was dating Uraraka, but apparently not! I didn’t even lose to anybody, he just wasn’t fucking interested. In any of it.”

Tsuburaba frowned, but Katsuki kept going.

“And I know, he can be a little much,” Katsuki admitted. “I was his first friend, ever, and ever since he lost his quirk, I’ve been there for him. Always. There were times,” Katsuki’s voice cracked a little, “there were times, when we were younger, when all I did was hurt him; where I made him think that I didn’t give him the time of day because he was fucking quirkless, when really it was because I couldn’t get my head out of my own ass.”

Tsuburaba took a step forward, palm upturned like a peace offering. “You can’t beat yourself up for the rest of your life about it, though,” he said, echoing Eijirou’s words from that day in the car. 

Katsuki ran a hand through his hair. “I know, and like I said, I’ve been fucking trying. I stopped running to UA every chance I get, I stopped making him food every fucking day, I’m even trying to go on a couple fucking dates,” he smiled ruefully. “I guess I’m just—worried, that I freaked him out by pulling back. So I’m letting him freak out or whatever the fuck, and when he’s done adjusting, and I’m done, I don’t know, healing or whatever, we can pick up our friendship from where we left off. But it’s just. A little awkward now.”

Tsuburaba looked unconvinced, but he hadn’t been in that car. Finally, he nodded. “To tell you the truth, Bakugou, I had a great day,” he confessed. “I just think you’re not seeing the full picture with Midoriya.” He smiled at Katsuki a little wistfully. “Call me if you ever do, though. And think about what I said, about taking an intern. You’re inspiring. Use it to help the next generation. God knows they need it.”

Katsuki nodded tightly and bid Tsuburaba a good night. 

The event had a car service set up for departing heroes, but Katsuki opted to walk home.

He thought about what Tsuburaba had said. He knew Tsuburaba was wrong about Izuku; the nerd had always been a little territorial with his friends, especially Katsuki. Katsuki shivered, remembering the night he was kidnapped and Izuku chasing after him. “Give him back to me!”

So yeah, maybe Izuku was handling Katsuki’s forced distance a little poorly. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d shot Katsuki down. Katsuki knew he was special to Izuku, but all of Izuku’s friends were special to him. 

Katsuki looked at his phone, the email from Kota still sitting in his inbox. Tsuburaba had been wrong about Izuku, but he was right about Katsuki. He couldn’t keep putting off taking on interns, and sidekicks, waiting for the ghost of Izuku to stop haunting the walls. 

Katsuki stopped, face to face with the doors of his agency. How far had he walked? Katsuki stared up at the doors, then to his phone, and resolutely pushed his way inside. He logged onto his computer and responded to Kota: You’re on, brat. Tell your sensei you start three weeks from Monday. Eight o’clock, sharp. Be ready to spar.”

Katsuki sent the email and sat back in his chair. First steps were always the hardest. But they were necessary. Slowly, he stood up and made his way to the other corner desk, empty and gathering dust. On it sat an engraved name card: Izuku Midoriya. 

He’d been so sure Izuku would say yes, they’d all been so sure. But it was time to face the facts. Katsuki picked up the name card and held it over the trash can, but he just couldn’t do it. Instead, he tucked it into the back of the desk’s bottom drawer. Baby steps. 

Katsuki stared at the empty desk and allowed one rebellious tear to roll down his cheek, but quickly straightened and walked out of his agency with his head held high. He owned a whole fucking hero agency, and it was time he started acting like it. 

Chapter Text

Izuku stumbled into his apartment and slammed the door, like he could stop the memories of the night from crossing the threshold with him if he moved fast enough. He tore off his bow tie and landed face first on his couch. Maybe if he didn’t move, the cushions could suffocate him. 

Izuku had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. Actually, maybe that wasn’t true. His first time activating Blackwhip had been pretty mortifying. He’d just been so angry that Monoma had insulted Kacchan and oh my God, had Izuku been like this the whole time?

Izuku thought back to the start of the day, when Iida had turned to Izuku on the drive there and asked him if everything was alright between him and Kacchan. Izuku had laughed it off, because what else was he supposed to do? Admit that it was killing him that Kacchan had disentangled himself from Izuku’s life? That Izuku still felt a gnawing guilt for turning down Kacchan’s offer, even though Izuku knew Kacchan was probably just asking him out of obligation? Or worse, admit to the formless, nameless emotion bubbling within him whenever he saw Kacchan’s face plastered across a newspaper with some guy?

No. Better to keep forging ahead with the path he’d chosen. He had no one to blame but himself. 

Except.

Tsuburaba just got on Izuku’s last nerve. And the worst part was, Izuku didn’t even have a good reason. He was perfectly pleasant, he seemed to be treating Kacchan well, and he had a cool quirk that Izuku definitely wanted to interrogate him about some more some time.

But there was just something about him. Something about the way he talked, moved his hands, or got Kacchan to smile at—nope. Still not unpacking that.

Iida had tried to knock some sense into him at the end of the night, too, after Izuku had run from Tsuburaba’s (incredibly accurate) accusations. 

“Midoriya! I don’t know what quarrel you have with Tsuburaba, but your behavior throughout the day was unbecoming of a hero! I suggest you examine why you are feeling this way before you do serious reputational damage to your hero career!”

Izuku briefly thought of calling Uraraka, but she was still on her extended leave before settling in Tokyo for a permanent position near her girlfriend, and Izuku didn’t want to interrupt her happiness with his own problems. 

Izuku buried his head deeper in the cushions when he heard his phone go off. Was it Kacchan, looking to rip him a new one for being so terrible to his date for no reason? Or Iida, ready to scold Izuku some more?

But when Izuku finally emerged from his burrowed hole in the couch, he realized it was just a text. From Kota? Curious, Izuku opened it. It was a screenshot of an email chain between Kota and Kacchan. 

Izuku bolted upright as he read it. Kota had an internship! He was so relieved. Ever since the war, UA had made a lot of alterations to their internship and work study programs. Now, internships lasted much longer, more akin to a work study, but intern involvement in active cases or patrols was to be kept to an absolute minimum. The transition period had been rough, and Izuku still struggled sometimes to place all his students in an internship they would like. 

Kota had been a particularly difficult case. He only wanted to work with Kacchan, despite making it pretty far in the sports festival, and nothing anyone said about the Dynamight agency refusing all interns and sidekicks could change his mind. 

Izuku didn’t know what had made Kacchan change his mind, but he was grateful. What could possibly have made the difference between three days ago and today? All he did was…go to Field Day with Tsuburaba. 

Izuku’s buoyed mood dropped like a stone, but with a herculean effort, he shoved his strange animosity for Kacchan’s date aside.

He typed out a long apology to Kacchan for being such a jerk at Field Day, and Katsuki liked the message and sent back a don’t worry about it, nerd. 

But that didn’t fix anything. Not really.

They still barely texted, never called. Kacchan never stopped by school anymore, and though he didn’t act any different when Izuku ran into him in person, he felt like he’d been relegated to, well, an extra in Kacchan’s life. 

But though Izuku was firmly sitting on the lid of the box that was examining why that bothered him so much, he knew enough to recognize that Kacchan wanted him to stay at arm's length. And for once, Izuku listened. Izuku hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on Kacchan, and Kacchan clearly needed that time for other things now. Besides, Izuku needed to give himself time to get his head on straight. It wasn’t like him to lash out at people like that, and never with Kacchan.

Maybe Izuku was just projecting some of the stress he felt being back as a hero onto Kacchan because he had helped most with the suit. Izuku could feel Kacchan’s eyes snagging on different parts of his suit whenever he wore it on patrol, clinically assessing whether everything was working as it should. Izuku knew that Kacchan felt bad that Izuku had given up One for All, worse than the others. He thought it was his fault, to an extent; that if he’d fought better, Izuku wouldn’t have had to resort to such an irreversible solution.

Izuku had told him that was complete bullshit, on several occasions, but Izuku could still feel the weight of it sometimes. Deep down, maybe that’s what Izuku was worried about. That the suit was part of Kacchan’s seemingly eternal penance; that Kacchan had only asked Izuku to come to his agency because he was still trying to prove to Izuku that he wasn’t the horrible kid he once was; that he was worried that he’d made a mistake giving this suit to Izuku, and could finally reach absolution by saving him one last time.

Izuku knew Kacchan would probably blow up his face if he said any of this to him, but it was the only thing that made sense for Izuku. What could a hero as great as Kacchan need a part-time, newly returned, quirkless hero for? No, Kacchan had done enough. His debt was paid. Izuku knew Kacchan was upset about his most recent ranking, and he certainly didn’t need Izuku dragging him down into the 20s on top of everything else.

And that still hadn’t changed. Whatever was going on with Izuku’s tempestuous (traitorous) feelings didn’t matter, because Kacchan was busy. Going on dates. Which Izuku didn’t have any problem with, because it was none of his business and he should be happy that his best friend is happy. Izuku needed to get over this assumption that he had a monopoly on Kacchan’s time. Where was that even coming from? Izuku understood right away (with some perfunctory grumbling) that Ochako wouldn’t be available for their coffee hang outs as often once she and her girlfriend started dating. So why was Izuku being such an asshole about it to Kacchan? Wow, some best friend he was.

That decided it. Izuku was going to stop being a psycho best friend, accept Kacchan’s implicit request for distance, and not scratch below the surface of his feelings on this whole thing even a little bit. Eventually three weeks came to pass, and Kota went off to start his internship at Kacchan’s agency. A week in, Izuku ran into Kacchan and Kota on patrol, but Kacchan only avoided him more afterwards.

A couple of weeks after that, he saw that Kacchan was scheduled to appear on TV, but he resolutely did not watch it (but he did record it).

Izuku was just doing the mature thing.

Right?

*******************

Katsuki ought to send an apology card to his parents.

Growing up, Katsuki’s mother had often said something along the lines of “I hope one day you have to raise a brat just like you!” But Katuski had never paid her any mind. After all, he was awesome, so any kid like him would be awesome too.

And then he met Kota. The kid had made a great impression on Katsuki back at training camp their first year; yelling at Mineta and kicking Izuku in the nuts was a combo Katsuki simply had to applaud. But now the kid had grown up into a pretty capable student. He’d placed well at the sports festival, and Izuku had told him privately that Kota’s knowledge of battle strategy was remarkable for a kid his age. Figures, him being a legacy hero and all, but still damn impressive.

And now he was Katsuki’s problem. Even though Katsuki hadn’t contacted Tsuburaba since their frosty parting, Katsuki had taken his words to heart. If he was going to be serious about this whole moving on thing, he needed to move on with his career too, and step one to building an agency was getting more people. Katsuki had been pushing papers around a little on a permanent sidekick hire, but he wasn’t quite ready to make that leap. But interns were easier. They wouldn’t be here forever, so it was almost like a sidekick trial run. He could do that.

So, Kota was here now. And he was a holy terror.

He was rude, abrasive, smart as a whip but not afraid to take matters into his own hands over Katsuki’s strenuous objections to prove it. In short, he was teenage Katsuki with a water quirk and less of a mean streak.

Speaking of which…

“Hey, old man!” There he was, eight o’clock on the dot. “I got us some coffee on the way here. I got yours black, because I know your old person teeth get cavities easily with sugar.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he said gruffly, reaching out for the coffee.

Kota snatched Katsuki’s cup back at the last second. “Not so fast, chief. I think my good deed is worthy of a field trip today…say, a patrol?”

This fucking kid. “You know I’m not allowed to take you on any of the high activity patrol routes, right?” Yeah, no more going off to take down the Hero Killer at all hours of the night for the interns. Wonder why Hawks put a stop to that.

Kota put the coffee cup down on the desk. “Why do you think I’m here on a weekend? I’ll take a patrol route through a fucking petting zoo at this point, you’ve had me on desk duty for a whole week!”

Katsuki winced. Ok, maybe he’d been a little hesitant to have an intern out in the wild. But what could possibly go wrong?

Two hours later, Katsuki was facing down an ant the size of a school bus, blasting at its legs as Kota kept a giant bee grounded by shooting water at its wings. “You know, when I said I would take a trip to the petting zoo, these weren’t the animals I had in mind!”

Some villain had decided to take a weekend joyride and left the downtown area in absolute chaos. The guy had a giantification quirk, but it appeared to only work on bugs; super gross, and incredibly inconvenient. Katsuki had taken him down quickly, but the damage was already done. Shouto had been deployed to freeze some of the more rambunctious flying insects, leaving Katsuki and a handful of other heroes to deal with the remaining creepy crawlies. Damn, if only Koda wasn’t on vacation.

Katsuki did feel a little bad; it’s not like these bugs meant to be causing such a shit show. So he was trying not to blast them with anything lethal in an effort to time out the quirk; most reports only clocked the giant bugs for about five or so minutes before they began shrinking back down.

Unfortunately, five minutes was seeming like a pretty long fucking time right about now.

“Incoming!” Shit. Kota’s bee was making a break for it, headed straight for an apartment building, and a giant worm had just started inching toward Katsuki way faster than any worm should be able to. Think fast. If he could just—

“Duck, Kota!” In a blur of green, Deku crashed onto the scene, kicking the giant bee as he swung down from a lamppost and giving it a gauntlet-powered punch to send it crashing to the ground. 

“Kota!” Katsuki shouted. “Douse the wings while it’s out cold!”

While Kota got to work immobilizing the bee, Katsuki and Izuku made short work of the remaining bugs. Katsuki finally managed to tip an ant onto its back (it would be able to roll back over again once it was normal sized) and shouted to Izuku as he hurtled himself away from the 

Without even looking, Izuku reached out a hand and caught Katsuki as he rocketed past. Katsuki used his momentum to launch Izuku, who bobbed and weaved through the air with the help of his suit until he had effectively tied the worm into a knot. 

With the immediate danger neutralized, Katsuki watched on with pride as Izuku moved in the suit like it was a second skin. Kota walked over, his arms crossed. “Close your mouth, I can see you drooling from here.”

“Shut up,” Katsuki said reflexively. Yeah, nice one Katsuki. Real clever.

“That was some good work, kid,” he added. “Remember though, when you’re shooting both arms at full blast, to keep the power of the blasts even. You’re right-hand dominant, so sometimes, when you’re going full water gun with both hands, the kick back on your left side knocks you slightly off balance. A giant ass bug isn’t gonna take advantage of that, but some other villain might.”

Kota, to his credit, took the criticism in stride. “The unevenness is probably why I’m having trouble getting airborne, too. Can I work on it in the gym when we get back?”

Katsuki grinned. “You fuckin’ better.”

Finished with the worm, Izuku meandered back on over to Katsuki and Kota. “Hey, Kota!” He greeted. “How’s the internship coming along?”

Kota shrugged. “The old man is keeping up with me alright, I guess.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes. “I’m twenty-fucking-five, you little—”

“Hello,” Shouto interrupted, surprising all three of them. “I believe the bugs are shrinking.”

Sure enough, the creepy crawlies were all turning back to their original sizes, and not a moment too soon.

Katsuki nodded. “Looks like our work here is done, then. Come on, kid,” he called to Kota.

“Kacchan, wait—” Izuku started.

“Oh, Katsuki,” interrupted Shouto. “I almost forgot.” Forgot what? Katsuki wondered.

Shouto reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a card. “I do not know if you and Tsuburaba are exclusive yet, but there is a sidekick at my agency who saw your field day performance and would like to inquire about a date. I told him I would pass along his number.”

Katsuki took the card from Shouto. “Thanks,” he said, not bothering to mention that he and Tsuburaba had effectively been over since field day, thanks to—wait, where was Izuku?

The man in question, who had been right next to Katsuki, now stood a few feet away, face stormy. Great, this again. Fuck it, he didn’t have to take this right now. He pocketed the card and turned to Shouto. “Thanks, I’ll look into it,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get Kota back to the agency before he runs into any actual trouble.” He gave Izuku an overly curt goodbye and practically dragged Kota away.

They walked back to the agency in silence, but Kota quickly broke it once they got through the doors. “Soooo, wanna tell me what that was about?”

Katsuki sat on his desk and scrubbed a hand over his face. “What I want is for you to get your ass to the gym and work on your balance at a maximum force water blast, but I have a feeling you’re gonna keep talking anyway.”

“Because the way I see it,” Kota said, undeterred, “is that you are trying to get over your crush on Sensei. What I don’t know is why.”

Katsuki snorted. “What is this, feelings hour? Get back to work.”

Kota held up a hand. “Answer me, and I will not leave that gym until my balance is so perfect, I can bounce off three walls before coming back down.”

This was going to be a long fucking month. “Fine!” Katsuki snapped. “I asked Izuku to open a hero agency with me. I kinda sorta indirectly told him I was in love with him. He wasn’t interested. On either front. Now go do your fucking training.” 

Kota stared at him, dumbstruck. “You what? And he what?” Poor kid was too shocked for sarcasm. Katsuki knew the feeling. “But you’re practically married.”

Yeah, well, Katsuki had thought so too. “Guess he didn’t see it that way,” he grumbled. “If you tell him, I’ll make sure your first hero mission is to the Arctic. And I can make that happen, too. I know a guy.” Surely Hawks owed him a favor or two.

Kota hesitated for a moment, deep in thought, but eventually nodded. A deal was a deal, after all, and he’d gotten his answer. “For what it’s worth, I think Sensei is being stupid,” he offered, slapping Katsuki on the back. 

Katsuki nodded. Seemed to be the common opinion these days. Speaking of…he reached into his pocket to pull out the card Shouto had given him, but it was empty. Huh. He must have dropped it on the walk back. Ah, well. 

The next week passed mostly uneventfully. True to his word, Kota had completely fixed the imbalance in his quirk within a day or two, and the third day, he was mobile enough in the air that he could hit the moving targets Katsuki threw at him.

“The hardest part is spatial awareness,” Katsuki called up to Kota as he spun out into a rafter, spraying water everywhere. “When Izuku was first mastering float, he had a problem with attacking while staying stable in the air. You have it even harder because like me, you don’t have anything keeping you up other than your quirk, so you have to strike fast and keep the rhythm of your propulsion unbroken for as long as possible.”

Kota scoffed at him, hanging from a rafter. “That’s another 500 yen in the Izuku jar, Katsuki.” Katsuki flipped him off. Damn kid was getting too informal with him, acting like he was already a sidekick instead of an intern. Ah, who was Katsuki kidding. The kid was basically his part-time sidekick. Katsuki had always been an only child, but he imagined that having a little brother would be a little like this, at least as far as the wise-cracking, eye rolling, and come-back-here-you-little-shit-so-I-can-wring-your-neck moments went.

Katsuki had been a little apprehensive about taking on a student with a water quirk, since he was kind of the polar opposite, but it was actually kind of perfect. Both of their quirks relied on explosive power—for Katsuki, literally—and propulsion, and Katsuki’s was exactly the type of quirk Kota would likely get sent out to neutralize once he became a real hero. 

At the midway point of Kota’s second week, Katsuki took him on another patrol. This time, they caught an arsonist in the act, and before Katsuki could even shout orders, Kota had doused the house and taken off after the villain. Kota wasn’t quite quick enough to catch the guy himself, but he herded him straight toward a waiting Katsuki, who took the villain down with one quick AP shot.

Arson always attracted a lot of reporters, and sure enough, several cameras and microphones lined the police barricade. “Dynamight!” One reporter called out. “Is this your new intern?”

“Yes,” Katsuki answered. “This is Kota. He’s a UA student, he has a very powerful water quirk, and I wouldn’t get on his bad side if I were you.”

“Dynamight!” Another reporter shouted. “What made you finally decide to take an intern?”

“No comment,” answered Katsuki. See, he could be diplomatic.

Maybe he spoke too soon. “Hero Dynamight!” Called a third reporter. “Did you think it was very responsible of you to send an intern after a real villain? Shouldn’t you have gone in first?”

Katsuki opened his mouth to retort, but Kota beat him to it. “Are you stupid?” He asked. “You’re asking the guy who explodes things if he should have gone into a burning building before the guy who can shoot water from his hands? While you’re at it, give the guy who’s drowning a drink of water. He sent me in because he knows I’m the best, and he wouldn’t take me to a scene I couldn’t handle.”

Katsuki blinked, a little stunned that Kota stuck up for him so fast. “What the kid said,” he replied. “I took Kota as an intern because he’s proven that he’s at UA to work hard and become the best hero, and he’s made tremendous progress. I had no doubt that he was in control of the situation at all times today.” He raised an eyebrow. “Any other questions?”

“I’ve got one!” A woman cried as she tried to step around the police barricade. “Would you want to get dinner some—AH!” Whatever the lady was going to say got lost as she slipped in a puddle that Katsuki could’ve sworn hadn’t been there a few minutes ago.

“Well, if that’s it, we should really get going,” Katsuki said. “Thank you all for your time.”

“That was awesome!” Kota pumped his fist on their walk back to the agency.

Katsuki ruffled his hair. “That was a great job,” he agreed. “But remember, you can’t always be an ass to reporters. I am, and look where it got me.”

Kota shrugged. “You seemed pretty nice to them today.”

Huh. He really had been. “Well, thanks for taking some of the heat. Or whatever.”

Kota shook his head. “Nah, not whatever. You’re my boss, so it’s my job to stick up for you like that. The better you look, the better I look working for you.”

Katsuki laughed. “When you put it that way, maybe I should’ve hired an intern a while ago.”

Since interns had a cap on their active hours, Kota spent a lot of his time either in the gym perfecting techniques, or learning how to file different types of hero paperwork. Glamorous stuff. Surprisingly enough, though, Kota was more than happy to sort through the mail. Katsuki had been getting more and more fan mail as his popularity climbed, and Kota sorted letters into three categories: important [need to respond], kids [need to respond], and crazy [do not respond]. Kota shredded anything in the crazy pile, and Katsuki was grateful for not having to read any crazy stalker letters.

One day, at the end of Kota’s second week, Katsuki returned from a quick meeting with Hawks to find a letter on his desk in the “important” pile. Rare. “What’s this about?” He asked Kota.

Kota swiveled around in his seat. He’d taken to sitting at the desk Katsuki originally designated for Izuku, which happened to have a chair with great lumbar support; almost like it was made for someone with joint problems. “Looks like Dr. Nakamura wishes to pay his respects.”

Doctor Nakamura…Haruto’s character on that TV show? “Haruto? What’s he got to say?”

Kota gestured toward the letter and Katsuki opened it. “Hello Dynamight,” it started. “I don’t have your email address, so I’m sending you a letter the old fashioned way. I couldn’t help but notice that parents all over Japan have been talking about your positive life habits, and how much they want their kids to have a hero who will tell them to eat their vegetables and brush their teeth without sounding condescending. And then after your friends’ comments about you teaching them to cook on field day, it hit me. I have a friend who hosts a cooking show, and once a month they have a special ‘for kids’ segment where a celebrity comes in and walks kids through how to make an easy dish. I was hoping that you’d be available next week to make something and speak a little about how important it is to build good habits and such. You’ve been such a big hit with the kids lately, my friend has been dying to have you on. My email is attached; let me know if you want me to set it up!”

Katsuki looked up from the letter. “I have to make a call.”

Katsuki called Eijirou, who, in Red Riot fashion, picked up on the first ring. Katsuki told him about Haruto’s letter. “ Dude, you totally have to do this!” Eijirou exclaimed. “It’s the perfect opportunity for you to do some good while also helping your image.”

Katsuki made a noncommittal sound. “Is it really the best idea to put me on live TV for an uninterrupted hour?”

“Pshhhhh,” Eijirou responded eloquently. “You’re a big boy now, Bakubro, you can handle some cooking on the air. Besides, the only trouble you get into these days is when people ask you questions to piss you off on purpose, and it sounds like this host is totally stoked to have you on! He’ll probably lob you some easy softballs and leave most of the airtime for your PSAs.”

“Besides,” Eijirou continued, “I think the public is starting to come around on your whole vibe. I don’t know if you saw, but the clip of Kota roasting that reporter has gone super viral and all the comments are on your side. A few of them even called Kota a ‘mini Dynamight’ and meant it as a compliment!”

Katsuki was oddly touched, actually. That people were referring to him as someone worthy of aspiration. Pretty fucking cool.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” said Katsuki. “I bet Kota will have fun eating all the free food on set, too.”

“Yes, Kats!” Eijirou cheered. “And hey, I’ve seen the show, and for what it’s worth, the host is totally up your alley. Maybe see where it goes?”

One week later, Katsuki and Kota arrived at the studio. The doorman at the building looked like he was about to ask Katsuki a question, but Kota slammed the door on him before he could get a word out. Well, they were in a rush.

Once they got to the right floor, they were greeted immediately by the host. “Hello and good day to the both of you! I am Akio Noda, the host of our great show, and we’re so happy to have you guest star, Dynamight!”

Katsuki could see what Eijirou had been yammering about. Noda, like any TV host, was easy on the eyes. He was no Izuku, but he had a charming smile, well-defined features, and an easy confidence that came with years spent in front of cameras. No comment on the massive amounts of hair gel.

Several production assistants showed Katsuki to his spot on set and ushered Kota to a seat off to the side. 

Noda gave Katsuki’s outfit a once over and nodded his approval. “We had wardrobe pick up some backup options, but we knew you were probably going to dress to impress.

Katsuki nodded, letting the tiniest bit of satisfaction seep into his expression. He always thought it was stupid that heroes appeared on talk shows and cooking contests in their full uniforms, so he took matters into his own hands. Well, his mother’s, anyway.

After field day, Katsuki had asked his parents if they could whip up a few more pieces for him on short notice. The first was a new suit for the upcoming hero rankings in a few months. The thought of what his new ranking might be made Katsuki’s stomach churn, but he was at least determined to be well dressed enough that all the paparazzi photos of him looked damn good. With all the drama Katsuki had been in these past few months, they were surely going to go in for a ton of reaction shots, good or bad.

Katsuki’s second ask was some casual attire. Like hell was he showing up to cook food in a fucking suit. He sauntered onto set in custom black joggers, just tailored enough to seem chic rather than lazy, and a burnt orange athletic shirt with a black X across the front, in an inverse of his actual hero suit.

Noda gestured to the kitchen counter free floating in the middle of the set and Katsuki took his place on the host’s left. “So as you’ve been briefed, we air all our episodes live,” Noda began. “We do operate on a five second delay, so if you drop some infamous Dynamight language, it isn’t the end of the world, but try not to give the censors too much to work with, alright?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes but nodded.

“And before we start, I just want you to double check that our production assistants gathered all the ingredients you need for today.”

Katsuki scanned the room and nodded again. He told Nado’s team he wanted to make something easy for him, so second nature that he could talk and think while making it and not miss a step. He zoned out as Nado and the production crew mic’d him up and did some final sound and camera checks. In fact, Katsuki only snapped back to reality when someone offset started the countdown.

“Hello everybody, and welcome back to our show!” Nado said to the camera. “As you all know, we like to spend one show per week talking directly to our younger viewers, and I search Japan far and wide for someone who is, as my niece would say, hip with the kids.” Noda leans into the secondhand embarrassment with a knowing wink, prompting a snort out of Katsuki and an eye roll from Kota. 

“And according to all of you, Pro Hero Dynamight has been quite the inspiration to the kids lately! So, Dynamight, what are you teaching us how to make today?”

Katsuki took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and looked straight into the camera. “Today, I’ll be teaching all you brats how to make katsudon.”

And from there, it all clicked into place. Katsuki had done this thousands of times, making Katsudon for Izuku while keeping up with his inane ramblings. He could do this in his sleep.

As Katsuki prepped his workspace, Nado started with a few softball questions. “So, Dynamight, when did you first learn to cook?”

“The ha–my mom started teaching me the basics when my quirk came in. She said learning to follow a recipe and be careful around a hot stove or oven would teach me to be responsible with a quirk as dangerous as mine.” Katsuki let off a few harmless sparks for effect.

Nado nodded enthusiastically. “And were you good at it right away?”

“Of course, I’m the best at everything!” Katsuki said, earning a chuckle from Nado and a face palm from Kota. “I did have a little trouble with cutting onions at first, though,” he admitted, gesturing to the onions he was cutting. “Cutting them made me cry, which made me want to wipe my face before my mom could see, which only made everything worse.” Even as he spoke, he gingerly dabbed at the corners of his eyes with his wrist.

Nado made a sympathetic sound. “Not much of a crier as a kid, then? Was Dynamight always this tough?”

Katsuki inclined his head. “For the most part,” he said. “But sometimes I wasn’t being tough, I was just hiding what I felt. I had a friend growing up, and his emotions were always so big, you could tell what he was thinking just by looking at him. I thought it was stupid at the time, because who wants to be known as the crybaby kid, ya know? But once I got older I realized he was being brave, in his own way. Owning your feelings and figuring them out before taking them out on others is hard, but it’s worth it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki caught Kota miming putting a bill in an imaginary Izuku jar. Katsuki flipped him off under the table.

Nado looked touched, but Katsuki couldn’t tell if it was for the show or if he was just a sappy kind of guy. “And this friend of yours, he wouldn’t happen to be someone we know, would he?” 

Katsuki smiled faintly, in spite of himself. “Green hair, lots of freckles, answers to Hero Deku or just nerd? You might have seen him around.”

Nado gestured to the side, where Katsuki assumed the graphics department was pulling up a picture of Izuku. “And Izuku took his followers on a trip down memory lane a few weeks ago, isn’t that right?”

Katsuki cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I’ve made him some stuff here and there over the years.”

“And have you taught him any of your impressive cooking skills?” Nado asked.

Katsuki snorted. “Fu–heck, no. Hero Deku might be a genius nerd, but he’s an absolute horror in a kitchen. And that’s not just coming from me,” he insisted. “Our whole class in high school banned him from the stove until halfway through third year.”

Nado looked intrigued. “Any moments in particular stand out?”

Katsuki spent the rest of his prep time recounting some of Izuku’s greatest hits—literally—in the kitchen over the years, from burns to flooding to one minor incident with projectile blueberries.

Nado then let Katsuki explain the recipe for a few minutes, but spoke up again as Katsuki began preparing the cutlets. “Speaking of sage wisdom, you were top of your class in middle school and constantly scrapping for the number one spot in academics at UA. What made you so determined to do your best in school?”

Katsuki considered the question before answering. “Villains are usually stupid,” he said finally. “But sometimes they’re not. Or sometimes, you need to be smart to think yourself out of shi–bad situations with no easy solutions, like an earthquake. I knew that to be the best hero, I couldn’t just explode everyone. Then I wouldn’t be saving anyone. So I needed to be smart to be the best.”

Nado waved his hand in a “go on” motion. “And what tips do you have for any future heroes out there today?”

“Go to bed early,” Katsuki said gruffly. He could only assume that the graphics department was whipping up a list next to his head as he spoke. “Tired heroes are no good to anybody. Eat your vegetables,” he added, “and a real breakfast, because all those crappy sugary cereals have no nutritional value.” Katsuki tapped his chin, thinking. “And brush your teeth for the full two minutes. None of that thirty second brushing crap, germs are the ultimate villains and they go for the gums first.”

Nado and Katsuki kept going back and forth as Katsuki fried the cutlets and plated them on the pre-prepared rice, stopping to explain the steps along the way. Nado asked Katsuki questions about hero work, about his favorite subjects in school, and fished for information about any upcoming Dynamight merch drops.

“You’ll have to find out with everyone else,” Katsuki said slyly before leaning toward the camera conspiratorially. “But I heard from someone, and you didn’t hear this from me, that the Dynamight store is going to restock on plushie gauntlets sometime soon, with my original grenade-style and my updated look.”

Kota immediately perked up from his spot off set. Fuckin’ fanboy at heart.

“I’m sure everyone at home knows how to keep a secret,” Nado stage whispered. “And we can’t thank you enough for coming on the show today, Dynamight,” he said at full volume. “Let’s give him a round of applause!”

Someone shouted cut and Katsuki finally let himself relax. “Give it to me straight,” he asked Nado. “Was that a total shit show?”

Nado laughed and put a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. “Not at all, Dynamight,” he said. “Nothing burned down and there’s edible food on the counter. This is what we call a total victory in show biz.” He turned his attention to Kota next. “Hey, we’ve got sandwiches coming in for the crew down the hallway. Why don’t you grab something?” Kota, teenage boy that he was, immediately jumped at the chance for free food.

As Kota walked off, Nado reached for a bite of Katsuki’s dish. “Wow, this is actually great,” he said.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “I said I was the fucking best, didn’t I?”

Nado chuckled. “That you did.” He hesitated, but kept going. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to grab a meal off camera, sometime? Maybe at the new restaurant across from the diner?”

Katsuki blinked, a little surprised but not disinterested. That place was pretty fancy, if he remembered correctly. “Sure, why not?”

Before Nado could respond, Kota wandered back to the set with a massive sandwich. “What’d I miss?”

Noda smiled at Katsuki. “Nothing much, just making some dinner plans for next week.”

Kota choked a little on his sandwich. Must have been a big bite. “What?”

Katsuki shrugged. “Eh, just dinner at that place across the street from the diner.”

Kota set his lunch down on the counter. “Excuse me,” he said, uncharacteristically politely. “I have a couple of phone calls I just remembered I needed to make. I’ll be right back.”

Noda laughed and shook his head. “At the risk of sounding like my father, the kids these days and their darn phones.”

One of the production assistants hurried over to them. “Dynamight, I think you’ll be pleased to know that the initial reception to the episode is overwhelmingly positive. You’ve even started a hashtag trend!”

Katsuki didn’t speak internet. “I’m sorry?”

The production assistant showed him her phone. “It means you’re relatable! People have been posting their own stories about their worst kitchen moments with ‘#listentodynamight. If these numbers hold, you’ll be an overnight sensation!”

Noda smiled charmingly. “He’s certainly sensational.”

Katsuki cringed a little internally at the overkill, but appreciated the compliment. Katsuki. A sensation! 

Now all he needed to do was find Kota and head home. Where on earth had he scampered off to this time?

*****************

A week or so after Katsuki’s TV appearance (not that Izuku was counting), Izuku sat at his desk at lunch, fiddling with one of the gloves of his suit, when Kota knocked at his door. 

“Come in!” Izuku said, as if Kota wasn’t already halfway across the room by the time he said it. Kota slammed something down on Izuku’s desk. It was a name card, and a fancy one at that. And it had…Izuku’s name on it?

Izuku looked up at Kota, puzzled. “Where did you get this? Is it a gift from Nezu? I know that rat likes to spend money like it’s going out of style, but I’m pretty sure everyone here knows my name.”

Kota took a deep breath. “Permission to speak candidly, sensei?”

Izuku blinked, bewildered. “Of course, Kota. You can always feel safe to share anything with me.”

Kota gestured at the name card. “I stole it from the Dynamight agency.”

Izuku’s brain screeched to a halt. “You what? From where? Why—this—there?” Ok great, not like words needed to be ordered in sentences to make sense. 

But it seemed like Kota had understood just fine. “I was messing around in the office and found this in the back of a desk drawer. Like, all the way in the back. Like he was trying to hide it.”

Izuku reached out a hand to touch it, but drew back like it was molten steel. “Why would Kacchan have this?”

Kota slammed his hands down on Izuku’s desk. “Because he’s trying to get over you!”

Get over him? Izuku was beyond lost. “Kota, what on earth are you talking about?”

“He planned that whole agency with you in mind!” Kota shouted. “Do you know that you’re like, thirty percent of all the thoughts that run through his brain? And that’s when he’s trying not to think about you! I only found that stupid name plate because I was curious about the desk; he must have meant for it to be yours because it’s tricked out with all this joint support crap and a box of your favorite kind of pens.” Kota paused and looked to the ceiling, like he was asking the gods above for patience. “You turning down his offer nearly killed him,” he said slowly, “and he’s spent the last few months piecing himself back together because he thinks the person closest to him in the world doesn’t feel the same way.”

That’s ridiculous. It couldn’t— He wouldn’t— Katsuki Bakugou did not take things lying down. If the agency had really meant that much to him, he wouldn’t have just let Izuku beg off with some stupid excuse about teaching. “You’ve got it all wrong, Kota,” Izuku said. “I’m sure Kacchan was disappointed, but if he really wanted me at his agency, he would’ve just called me an idiot and told me to report to my desk by the end of the week anyway. Kacchan doesn’t fear rejection, rejection fears him. And he’s certainly not scared of me.”

Kota’s eyebrows shot up past his hairline as he buried his head in his hands. “Oh my God, you still think this is just about the agency.”

Izuku’s eyebrows knitted together, confused. “What else could this possibly be about?”

Kota shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t believe he had to spell it out. “Sensei, Katsuki was scared. He didn’t just want you to work at his agency. He wanted to be with you. Like, hero partners and life partners, white picket fence two and half kids, cover of Hero Couples weekly, wanted to be with you.”

Izuku involuntarily slammed the hand holding the glove down onto his desk, accidentally shooting faux Blackwhip into the hallway. Distantly, Izuku heard a ringing in his ears. Surely, he hadn’t heard that right. Be with him, as in…? Izuku’s eyes darted traitorously to the name plate, but he folded his arms petulantly. What did Kota know? He was smart, and perceptive as heck, but he was still just a high schooler. This wasn’t any of Izuku’s concern anyway. Besides, Izuku thought sourly, Katsuki certainly had someone to help him now. 

Kota saw Izuku’s incredulity and snorted. “You don’t even believe me! Well, fine,” he said, drawing himself up to his full height. “Then some information about our dear Dynamight won’t bother you at all.” Dread pooled in Izuku’s stomach.

Kota looked Izuku straight in the eye. “Katsuki went on another date three days ago.”

Izuku knocked his coffee over with the hand still holding the damn glove and frantically began dabbing at the soaked papers as his heart jackhammered in his chest. “He what? He’s not still with Tsuburaba? Or that guy Todoroki set him up with?”

Kota looked at Izuku like he’d lost his marbles, which, frankly, he had. “No? He and Tsuburaba left separately from the charity event that you ran out of, and they haven’t been seen together since. And he never even met the guy Todoroki foisted on him. Tsuburaba hasn’t stopped by the agency at all, either, by the way.” But his bewilderment quickly bled into satisfaction. “So, it is of interest to you who Dynamight is stepping out with?”

Izuku protested weakly. He and Kacchan had always been best friends, even when they weren’t. Of course Izuku wanted to know who Kacchan had in his life. That’s what…best friends…were for?

Kota shook his head, like he was disappointed in Izuku. “Sensei, you can’t look me in the eye and tell me you honestly believe you’re just concerned for Katsuki’s well being as a friend, and if you keep trying, I will call Detective Tsukauchi down to your office right now and get him to clock your lying ass straight away.”

Izuku set down the glove and placed both hands on his desk, steadying himself. His head was spinning so badly he didn’t even think to scold Kota for swearing at a teacher. Kacchan had clearly rubbed off on the kid. 

Kacchan. Izuku took a deep breath and cracked the lid on the box he’d adamantly kept closed for longer than he cared to admit. Kacchan was his best friend. His closest person. His shoulder to cry on, his support in his lowest moments, he was—

He was everything. Katsuki Bakugou meant everything to Izuku. In his mind, Izuku stepped up to the wall he’d carefully constructed around his feelings for Kacchan, and reached out to touch it, only to find that it tore away like tissue paper. Memories and images flashed through Izuku’s mind that he had squared away for years; moments where their eyes met for just a little too long, where Kacchan’s eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun, where Kacchan accompanied Izuku to hero events on his rare night out and Izuku could pretend, just for a moment, that they were really there together.

“Oh my God,” Izuku said to himself. “I’m in love with Kacchan.”

Kota grinned. “Now we’re getting somewhere!”

Either everyone is special to you, or no one is.

That had been Kacchan making a move. Kacchan, who had always been bluntly honest, was so cryptic in this one thing. And Izuku, blind as he was, had stumbled right past it on his one-track mind, convinced Kacchan was just getting tired of him slacking off with his new suit and telling him to treat this gift from Class A with more importance. That he should stop hanging in that liminal space between teacher and hero and commit fully to his revived hero career with his friends.

And then the reality of the situation slammed back into Izuku. “But he’s still dating?”

Kota put his hands on his hips, apparently unphased by Izuku’s total 180 in the last forty seconds. “Despite my best efforts, yes, Katsuki went on a date with the host from that TV show he went on. But I’m pretty sure there won’t be a second.”

Izuku was lost again. “Your best efforts?”

Kota sighed heavily. “Because I’m constantly flanked by two idiots who wouldn’t know love if it smacked them in the face, I have taken it upon myself to scare off every potential suitor for Katsuki to give you time to get your shit together. I pickpocketed the card Shouto gave him after the bug incident—you’re welcome, by the way—and I managed to get rid of most others, too. It was hard work, you know, Dynamight has really shot up the popularity charts lately. The host got one over on me because he struck while I was taking my lunch, but I totally fixed it.”

Izuku almost didn’t want to ask. “Fixed it how?”

Kota grinned evilly. “I burst the sprinklers at the restaurant.”

Izuku shoved aside the unhelpful image of Kacchan drenched in a white dress shirt—Jesus Christ, had he been ignoring stuff like this the whole time—and crossed his arms at Kota.

“Now Kota,” he said, tone disapproving but his small smile giving him away, “As your teacher, I cannot condone unauthorized quirk use.”

Kota’s grin didn’t drop an inch. “Not my fault, Sensei,” he said. “I had the flu, and I was just picking up some soup from my favorite five star restaurant. I had no idea my sudden sneeze would make all the sprinklers go off—I guess my internship with Dynamight has really strengthened the raw power of my quirk.”

Izuku handed him a tissue. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re feeling better,” he said straight-faced. “I trust that you have it under control now, though?”

Kota nodded profusely. “Absolutely. Of course, I felt extra bad that Dynamight’s date had so much hair gel on his head that it melted in the sprinklers and pooled on the floor so that he slipped in it and knocked some spaghetti onto his own head. Just terrible.”

Izuku almost laughed, but then a thought struck him that made him shrink in on himself a little. “Still, Kacchan must be disappointed in me for how little I use the suit, and how rusty I am. He probably thinks I’m an out of shape part-timer, even if he does—” Izuku couldn’t bring himself to speak the words.

Kota stared at him incredulously. “Are you kidding? I saw you one-two punch a giant bee and get a gargantuan worm to tie itself into a knot. If you’re out of shape, half the heroes out there might as well be professional couch potatoes.”

Izuku considered Kota’s words. He knew that his arrest rates were high, even if his raw numbers were still low. He thought fast and minimized damage, to himself and others. So what was Izuku so down about? Why was he so convinced that there was this insurmountable gap between himself and Kacchan, even after Kacchan had dedicated years of his life to pulling Izuku across that divide? If Izuku was being honest with himself, Kacchan had never said anything to indicate that he thought Izuku’s performance was subpar; what Izuku saw as a pity offer might have been Kacchan genuinely trusting part of his hero career in Izuku’s hands. 

The judgment had never come from Kacchan. It came from himself. He had been too scared to open himself back up to the dreams he thought he’d locked away for good, and he was too scared to see everything that he and Kacchan did for each other as anything but friendship.

That day in Kacchan’s car. If you don't finally start thinking a little more highly of yourself, you won’t be able to notice the things you could have. 

He’d been so lost in his own insecurities that he hadn’t seen Kacchan’s offer for what it truly was. He needed to do something about it now! No, wait. Izuku needed to make some changes before he was ready to make things right with Kacchan. He needed to be able to tell Kacchan he was in, 100%, and mean it wholeheartedly. And what did Izuku do when he wanted to catch up to Kacchan?

He trained.

Izuku nodded and stood up from his desk. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Kota,” he said. “I trust that you’ll keep what you’ve learned to yourself?”

Kota nodded, eyes narrowed. “My internship is over anyway, but I’m serious, I can’t take the two of you doing whatever this is forever. My silence is dependent on one thing: do you have a plan?”

Izuku took a piece of paper out from the top drawer of his desk, walked into the hallway, and motioned after Kota. “Follow me.”

The two of them came to a stop outside Aizawa’s office. Izuku knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a tired voice answered.

Izuku strode into the small office and placed the sheet of paper on Aizawa’s desk. “Sir,” Izuku said, “I would like to put in a formal notice that at the end of this semester, I will be reducing my class load to take on hero duties full time.”

“YES!” Kota shouted from behind Izuku.

Aizawa poked his head out from his sleeping bag and gave Izuku a rare smile. “About time, Midoriya,” he said. “Thank you for giving me enough notice to shift around faculty schedules, I was worried you were going to spring this on me on the last day of the term.”

Izuku grinned. “Better late than never, Sensei.”

He turned and walked out of the office, Kota still trailing behind him.

“Now what?” Kota asked.

Izuku pulled out his phone and looked at his calendar. Two months until the next Pro Hero Rankings. As much as Kacchan had been avoiding him lately, he’d have to see him at the banquet for the rankings.

He turned to Kota. “Now, we train.” Izuku thought back to his UA days, where he mastered Blackwhip and float by playing catch-a-Kacchan. Well, it was making a comeback. Izuku was going to catch himself a Kacchan.

Chapter Text

Katsuki stood outside the banquet hall and stared up at the banner over the main entrance. The hero rankings had finally arrived. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

As he walked, Katsuki pulled at the hem of his suit jacket just to give his hands something to do, even though he really didn’t need to. The hag had really outdone herself. Katsuki’s suit was pitch black, from pants to shirt, and trimmed with just enough red to catch the eye but not so much that it looked tacky. The fabric winding up his arms had the barest amount of green laced into the sleeves; for his gauntlets, his mother had said, even if the color looked a little off to Katsuki. 

He craned his neck to look for the rest of his friends, just as his phone buzzed. Sorry bro, running late. We took Hanta’s electric car and Denki accidentally shorted it out.

Katsuki groaned. Just his fucking luck. In true Katsuki fashion, he hadn’t bothered looking at the seating chart on the way in, so he was forced to scour the banquet hall until he found his name. Katsuki knew Hawks had a team of people tasked with setting the seating arrangements; couples and hero partners were usually placed together, but so far Katsuku had been lucky enough to be placed with his friends every year.

And speaking of placements, there was Katsuki’s name. From this angle, he couldn’t make out any of the surrounding seating assignments, but the table was in a good spot. Close to the door in case of emergency, and not so close to the stage that Katsuki would be at any of the tables cut to for standard reaction shots throughout the night. Just because Katsuki was dressed to impress didn’t mean he wanted to tempt fate. This was good. Hawks ran a tight ship, Katsuki thought fondly as he made a beeline for his seat. 

Katsuki had almost made it to his table when he collided with another hero making a dash for his seat. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even look where—Kacchan?”

Never mind, that overgrown chicken was fucking dead. 

Katsuki picked up his seating card and looked to his left; sure enough, he was met with the words Izuku Midoriya spiraled in calligraphy at the adjacent place setting.

Dimly, Katsuki registered that Izuku was still talking. He spun around to tell the nerd to calm down and shut the fuck up, but the words died in his throat. 

Izuku looked—well, he looked like—like he was Katsuki’s.

His suit was clearly a Bakugou custom fit, which alone was enough to make Katsuki raise an eyebrow. The old hag thought Izuku walked on water, so of course she’d make him something in a heartbeat, but Izuku had always insisted he didn’t need any new suits. For years, he’d stuck to the black suits he wore for work, or even his old pinstripe monstrosity in a pinch.

But tonight—well, Katsuki’s parents weren’t hot shit in the fashion world for nothing. 

Izuku’s suit was trimmed with green; an exact inversion of Katsuki’s suit. The shade of green brought out Izuku’s eyes, and his hair, which looked for once like Izuku had styled it instead of running his hands through it repeatedly the entire car ride here. Katsuki squinted and saw hints of red along the edges of Izuku’s sleeves, almost like—

With a start, Katsuki looked down at himself. That’s why the green seemed off. It wasn’t meant to imitate his fucking gauntlets; it was the color of Izuku’s eyes. Which meant—sure enough, the red in Izuku’s suit matched the red of Katsuki’s gaze as he tried to unlock a second quirk awakening and burn a hole through Izuku’s sleeve through sheer force of will. 

They were matching, but so subtly that you’d never guess it if they weren’t standing directly next to each other. Which—back to the issue at hand—they were. Because they were sitting next to each other. 

Couples and heroes were usually placed together. Oh, someone come and kill Katsuki now. Forget adding insult to injury—Katsuki was starting to feel like he was the butt of some cosmic joke.  

Katsuki mentally filed a note to interrogate his mother about this later and turned back to Izuku, still rambling about God knows what. 

“Oi, nerd!” Katsuki interrupted. “‘S fine, let’s just. Sit down.”

Izuku shut his mouth, opened it again, then thought better of it and snapped it shut once more before taking his seat. Other heroes were starting to take their seats, but they probably had a while until the food came around, much less start the rankings. 

That had always bothered Katsuki, ever since they made the rankings into more of a sit-down affair after the war. Why give all the heroes with knots in their stomachs all that food before calling them up to the stage? Of course, that hadn’t been a problem for Katsuki for the past few years, since only the top 10 got called up. 

Katsuki felt anxiety roil unfamiliarly in his gut—is this what Izuku felt like all the time— and took a surgical interest in buttering a dinner roll. He’d been doing well, he really had. His merch sales had quadrupled after his TV appearance, and even though his date with the host had pretty much been a disaster, at least it hadn’t worked out for completely normal, non-Izuku related reasons. And when it did crash and burn (or got flooded, was more like), Katsuki sat and ate ice cream with his friend and murdered them at Mario Kart, like a normal break up.

He was 90 percent certain that Kota was going to come back as a sidekick—he’d even let the kid pick out the new office pens—and when people stopped Katsuki on the street, they usually didn’t even yell at him anymore. In fact, he got invited to three schools to talk about his discipline and habits, including one tear-jerking visit to a school program at a local hospital to talk about how he rehabilited his arm after the war. 

All this to say, Katsuki was prepared to be polite but detached when he saw Izuku tonight. But that damn suit had completely thrown him off his rhythm. It was almost like a peek into a parallel universe, one where Katsuki and Izuku arrived at events together and weren’t ashamed to be openly associated as two halves of a whole. Katsuki wondered if Izuku was ashamed now—surely he couldn’t have known that the old hag would meddle like this. Maybe Izuku was already looking for someone to trade seats with so no one thought to ask if they were supposed to be matching like that. 

Or maybe it was the fucking crowd, the sword of Damocles hanging over his head—almost literally, as the screens all around them dutifully display the countdown to the announcement of the top 10. Forty minutes to go. Fuck. At least Izuku didn’t have anything to be nervous about. The part-timers didn’t even get an overall rank, though they were still eligible for superlative polls.

Halfway through buttering—or more like dismembering, rather—his bread, Katsuki felt a gentle tug on his sleeve. He looked up, only to be met with those big, round eyes he’d been trying to run away from for months. Izuku wasn’t this year’s winner of “Most Likely to Stop a Villain Attack by Asking Nicely” for nothing. 

“Kacchan, are you doing alright?”

Katsuki jumped halfway out of his seat, surely a ringing endorsement of his mental state at present, and choked out an “I’m fine.”

Izuku looked skeptical, but before Katsuki could school himself back into something resembling indifference, Izuku tapped a passing waiter on the shoulder. “Could I get a ginger ale over here?” He asked nicely. The waiter nodded and scurried off.  

Izuku knew him too well. The ginger ale served a dual purpose. For one, it had a little bite, which Katsuki liked in a drink, and two, it settled Katsuki’s stomach when he was nervous. It didn’t happen very often, because Katsuki was the fucking best, but growing up if Katsuki was feeling particularly stressed about a test or worried about getting called on in class, he would bite his nails absentmidedly, and the nitroglycerin always ended up giving him a stomach ache. God, this hadn’t happened to Katsuki since—

Since that day. Katsuki chewing lightly on his thumb nail as he drove Izuku and Eijirou around, waiting for the right time to muster the nerve to say something. The memory deflates something in Katsuki, and he grumbles out a half-hearted “thanks,” and turns away from prying eyes. 

But Izuku isn’t letting him off the hook that easily. Light taps on Katsuki’s wrist drag his gaze back up to wide green eyes, and lower Katsuki’s hand from where he’d been biting his nail. Fucking mind reader. 

Katsuki braced himself for an onslaught of concerned rambling, but instead Izuku leaned forward in his chair and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You owe me a new limited edition All-Might watch.”

The statement is so out of left field that Katsuki momentarily forgets he’s supposed to be having a mental breakdown. “Fucking what?”

“My All Might watch!” Izuku exclaimed. “The manufacturers explicitly state on their website that all Silver Age limited edition watches are all-terrain, but I still managed to waterlog it during final exams because someone forgot to mention that he taught my most troublesome pupil how to fly.”

Katsuki cracked a grin and leaned forward to mirror Izuku. “Pretty cool, right? Kid’s got guts.”

Izuku punched him in the shoulder, his accusing expression slipping into a small grin. “Kid’s got an ego the size of the sun, you mean.” He sighed over dramatically. “And a conniving streak too, which I can’t even blame on you. He told me you’d taught him some new moves, but he held out on telling me about his propulsion technique until the day of his final exam.”

Katsuki laughed, the carefree sound piercing the wall of panic he’d shut himself behind since the night started. “Gave you a scare, teach?”

Izuku nodded furiously. “Aizawa and I had designed his exam to test his mobility, because he had these great long-range attacks but no way to get there fast. And I’ve always been good at the flipping and jumping—not as good as you, but who is—so I agreed to be his opponent in the final.”

Izuku shakes his head, like he’s remembering the sensation of knocking water out of his ears. “His objective was to grab a baton out of my hands; not knock it out, but physically yank it from me. I sped off up the nearest building in Ground Beta, thinking I had a few seconds until he tried to follow, and then BAM!” Izuku threw up his hands for emphasis. 

“There he is, thirty feet up! I out-maneuvered him for a bit, but his patterns were way more unpredictable in the air, so it was only a matter of time until he got his hands on the baton. I made a grab for it at the last second, but caught a close-range water blast to the wrist for my trouble.” Izuku shook out his wrist, now watch-less. “So anyway, you owe me a new watch.”

Katsuki snorted and knocked his knee against Izuku’s good-naturedly. “I don’t owe you shit. It’s your own fucking fault for wearing All Might merch to a UA final exam. Besides, you don’t need an All Might watch. Just call the guy up and ask him what time it is.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because that’s practical, Kacchan.” He tapped his fingers on the table as his eyes got a faraway look that usually meant a rant was coming on. “But there’s got to be some sort of market for ultra-waterproof accessories, at least for people with water-based quirks. That has to exist, right? Do you think there are quirks to help with durability in water, or are the designs just built to withstand that much strain?”

Katsuki watched in mild amusement as Izuku kept rambling about the practical applications of quirk-proof accessories, and then deep exasperation as Izuku reached into a hidden pocket in the inside of his suit jacket to pull out a mini notebook.

Katsuki grabbed it as Izuku squawked in protest. “What, is this one for emergencies? You know, people think I’m being mean when I call you nerd, but all it is, is fucking factual.”

“Hey!” Izuku whined half-heartedly. “That’s…alright fine, I see how that looks. Now where’s my pen?” Izuku patted down his pockets. “Shoot, I must have dropped it somewhere.”

Katsuki fished a spare pen out of his pocket, having had to sign some paperwork literally on his way out of the agency. “Here, take this one before your nerd brain explodes.”

Izuku took the pen. “Thanks, Kacchan!” He peered at it a little closer. “Hey, this is my favorite brand!”

“Alright, enough yapping, more writing,” Katsuki said hastily, thrusting the notebook back in Izuku’s face. 

Katsuki lost track of time as Izuku sketched out ideas and Katsuki added his own thoughts, the two of them leaning into each other’s space over the tiny notebook. Years of working with Hatsume on Izuku’s suit had made Katsuki a little more than adept at basic design, and, well, he’d always spoken fluent Izuku. Relief flooded Katsuki’s veins, like an epi shot opening someone’s airways after an allergic reaction.

He’d thought for a while there that he’d never get to have moments like this again, where being with Izuku felt as easy as breathing. Warning signs flashed in Katsuki’s vision not to get himself in too deep again, not after all the effort Katsuki had made in pulling himself out of those depths, but Katsuki pushed those thoughts away with the defensiveness of someone breaking their diet because it’s their birthday. Of all fucking days, he deserved a little respite today.

Eventually, Izuku gestured animatedly about some idea for a quirk-enhanced top hat and knocked over his water. “Oh no!” He exclaimed, dabbing at his suit jacket. “Well, better me than you,” he said to Katsuki. “At least I won’t be on stage tonight.”

Some of Katsuki’s anxiety from earlier came creeping back in as he thought well, there’s no guarantee I’ll be on that stage either, now is there , until all his thoughts were promptly sent into the stratosphere. 

Izuku had taken off his jacket and draped it on the back of his chair, leaving him with his button down. His very tight button down. His very tight button down that clung to him where the water had drenched it. 

Izuku had always been kinda built, even in his teaching-only days; he kinda had to be if he wanted to keep up with the holy terrors he taught. But he obviously hadn’t been training as much as he had as a UA student, and for all his power, he’d still been a little bit of a weedy kid back then.

But this Izuku was built like a god , with planes of muscle that had been hidden by the suit jacket that Katsuki was currently contemplating exploding before Izuku could put it back on. Katsuki stared longer than was generally socially acceptable, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Finally, Izuku cleared his throat lightly, and Katsuki whipped his eyes up, face flushing red enough to match his suit. 

Katsuki reached for an explanation, but his brain wouldn’t load properly. He could only watch as Izuku’s expression shifted, noticing Katsuki’s blatant staring, and braced himself for a—smile? If Katsuki didn’t know any better, he would think Izuku looked pleased with himself, but the nerd was probably just trying to smooth over any awkwardness. That Katsuki was causing. With his staring. 

Right! Katsuki mentally slapped himself and wrenched his eyes back to the table, reaching for his own drink. “So, Izuku,” he began, “You didn’t mention what our dear old Sensei had to say about you losing a final exam match in what I assume had to be record time.”

Izuku covered his face in embarrassment. “Oh God, don’t even,” he groaned. “Aizawa had this whole lecture on how I needed to plan for every logical possibility so I could ensure a challenge for our students. I think if he was allowed to fail me he would’ve.”

Katsuki fought a grin and lost. “Ah, it’s fine. You can come up with something better next year, scare the crap out of those kids.”

Izuku laughed but got a strange, unreadable look in his eye. “Actually, Kacchan, I was going to tell you something about—”

“GOOD EVENING, EVERYBODY!” Present Mic’s voice rang out across the banquet hall. 

Izuku snapped his mouth shut and pouted (endearingly), leaving Katsuki to wonder what he was going to say. But his thoughts didn’t stray too far, as the gravity of the moment slammed back into Katsuki at full force. 

A lot had happened for Katsuki since the last rankings. He’d gained a lot, lost a lot, and learned a lot. He knew that. His friends knew that. But what about Japan?

Katsuki silently willed his hands not to spark as Present Mic rattled off his usual pleasantries. He compulsively wiped his hands on his napkin until he felt the skin go a little raw, then felt a gentle tug at his fingertips. He looked up to see Izuku gently press a damp napkin—probably the one he’d just used to try and dry his suit jacket—into Katsuki’s hands. Katsuki’s heart stuttered as Izuku gave him an encouraging smile, his hands lingering just a moment longer than most would say is strictly necessary. 

His thoughts raced as Present Mic worked the crowd. He’d heard that Wash was planning on retiring soon—probably to become a laundromat in old age or some shit. Mt. Lady was as popular as ever, but had taken some time off after an injury to consult on a biopic she was producing about Midnight. Best Jeanist and Mirko were still kicking, and so was fuckin’ Arbor Day, which left—

Izuku briefly tapped Katsuki’s knee to knock him out of his own nerd-style spiral, which got him to stop thinking about the rankings, but also had the side effect of shorting out the rest of Katsuki’s thoughts as well.

And then Present Mic shouted, “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, folks! As always, we will call up your top 10 heroes one by one and ask them to come up on stage, and after we’ve congratulated them, these screens here will show the ranked heroes from eleven to one hundred! So without further ado…NUMBER TEN!”

A hush fell over the audience as Present Mic reveled in the suspense. “Red Riot!”

Eijirou popped up from his seat—guess they all made it after all—flanked by Mina, Denki, and Hanta, who collectively pushed him toward the stage. He passed by Katsuki’s table briefly, and Katsuki took the opportunity to give his friend a rare hug. “Proud of you,” he said to Eijirou. “Always knew you could do it.”

“Kats,” Eijirou said, teary eyed. “That means more than you know, bro.”

Present Mic cooed along with the audience as Eijirou took his place on stage. With a hero as well-liked as Red Riot, it was no surprise that every face in the crowd was cheering. All except one: Monoma, who looked beyond pissed at having seemingly dropped to eleventh. Katsuki smothered a smug grin; Class A had set aside their differences with Monoma after the war, but he and Eijirou had always remained a little frosty, which from a guy as nice as Eijirou might as well have been a kick in the balls. 

Present Mic waited for everyone to calm down before moving on. “Number nine!” He called. “Shoji!” And back to normal programming it was.

Eighth, seventh, and sixth (Mount Lady, Best Jeanist, and Kamui Woods) ticked by, and Katsuki fought to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t want some nosy camera picking up his devastation, but the writing was on the wall; if his name hadn’t been called by now, it wasn’t going to be. 

Fifth place, Mirko, only seemed to further confirm his suspicion. Katsuki clapped dutifully and studiously ignored the weight of Izuku’s eyes on him. 

“Now, everyone’s gonna want to listen up for this one!” Present Mic shouted, deviating from his straightforward delivery thus far. “This is really going to bring the house down tonight! NUMBER FOUR!” He paused dramatically. A room full of some of the loudest people alive, and you could hear a pin drop.

“DYNAMIGHT!”

Katsuki’s head whipped up in shock, Izuku’s napkin fluttering to the ground as he hauled himself to his feet on autopilot. Distantly, he heard his friends cheering for him and surrounding tables erupting into excited chatter, but it was like he was hearing everything from underwater. 

Until he felt two hands on his shoulders, and the world came rushing back into focus. “Kacchan!” Izuku’s voice sounded in his ear as he pulled Katsuki in for a hug. “No one deserves this more than you. I’m so proud of you, you have no idea.”

Katsuki blinked back the sting of a few tears and brought his arms up to embrace Izuku back. After a few long seconds, Izuku pulled away to look at Katsuki, tears already streaming down his face.

“Crybaby,” Katsuki whispered, wiping gently at Izuku’s face. 

Izuku looked at him dazedly, and Katsuki could’ve sworn that Izuku had glanced down at his lips. Katsuki knew he should be walking to the stage, but he remained rooted to the spot as neither he nor Izuku made any move to pull the other out of their orbit. Katsuki leaned toward Izuku to say thank you, his gaze traitorously flickering between Izuku’s wide eyes and his lips, and Izuku, unbelievably, appeared to be doing the same.

Katsuki thought about pulling away, turning his head, doing anything to avoid this agonizingly slow collision course, but he couldn’t if he tried. Katsuki felt Izuku’s hands shift on his back to rest somewhere closer to his hips as his face grew closer, his breath ghosting over Katsuki’s just before—

“Alright, Dynamight, we’ve got a broadcast schedule to stick to!” A thousand hands pushed Katsuki on stage impatiently, breaking the spell. Izuku’s hands, still on Katsuki’s hips, pushed Katsuki in the direction of the stage, green eyes not quite meeting his own. 

Katsuki stumbled his way onto stage, past Eijirou who gave him a high five and a raised eyebrow, and he took his place next to Mirko as his brain rewound the last thirty seconds. 

Had Katsuki imagined the whole thing? He tried replaying the scene in his mind and looked for moments to prove that Izuku had contributed to that—that almost kiss, but everything blurred when he thought about it too hard. Had Izuku really been leaning in toward Katsuki, or had he just been trying to say some more encouraging nerd shit and had to get close to be heard over the din of the crowd? Were Izuku’s hands on his hips to pull him closer, or push him more firmly toward the stage?

“…And that’s your top ten, folks! Give them all a hand!!” Present Mic’s voice startled Katsuki back to reality. He quickly glanced to his right and saw Nejire, Shouto (motherfucker better watch his back), and Lemillion, as expected. Katsuki allowed himself a moment to bask in the applause; he’d done it. He was back where he was at his debut all those years ago, but this time it felt more real. This wasn’t a rank he’d been given as thanks for dying out in some dirt; he’d put in the time, and the effort, and he’d earned his way into the good graces of Japan. He sent another grin toward Eijirou, who sent him an enthusiastic thumbs up. Imagine that.

He felt a hand clap on his shoulder—hard—and saw Mirko grinning like someone had told her she had free reign to punt a villain as far as she could. Katsuki grinned back, all teeth, as she raised his left arm up like a boxing champ. And even though he technically shouldn’t have moved out of order just yet, Best Jeanist came up on Katsuki’s right and clasped his shoulder tightly.

”Congratulations are in order,” he said. “I’ll be calling Edgeshot first thing after we all leave. And tell your mother she has outdone herself with your suit tonight.” 

Katsuki nodded mutely, and if anyone saw his eyes water slightly, no the fuck they didn’t.

Present Mic finally gave the top ten the go-ahead to move off the stage and Katsuki immediately tried to find Izuku in the crowd, only to be met with a swarm of reporters. Fuck, it was a goddamn stampede. 

Katsuki instinctively looked for Eijirou for support, but he and Shouto were stuck at the edges of the crowd, each with a sizable number of microphones shoved in their faces. By a rough headcount, though, Katsuki had the lion’s share of the press. No fuckin’ wonder, it wasn’t every day that a pro in the top fifty jumped eleven spots. 

“Alright, I’ll answer all your goddamn questions, but everyone’s gotta ask one at a time!” Katsuki shouted. He tried keeping the irritation out of his voice, but it was kinda his brand by now anyway, so any reporter looking to talk to him should know his deal. 

The journalists at the front all sized each other up briefly before one young woman took the plunge. “Well firstly, congratulations, Dynamight,” she began. Katsuki inclined his head in thanks. “No one jumps up the charts like that so close to the top. What do you think made the difference?”

“Not my work in the field, that’s for fuckin’ certain,” Katsuki answered. “I’ve been running circles around everyone’s arrest numbers for ages. But,” he acknowledged, “recently I’ve started taking my public-facing duties more seriously. Even with all the stupid shit you all write about me, everyone knows I get results, but it’s hard to root for someone you don’t know. And I’m not an easy person to get to know; just ask my friends,” Katsuki chuckled lightly. “It hasn’t been easy, but I’m glad my fans, and Japan, have learned a little more about me beyond my patrol numbers, and that that knowledge can strengthen the trust the public has in me in the future.”

Katsuki hoped Iida was somewhere nearby hearing Katsuki give these mature as fuck answers.

“And do you think any of your recent scandals have contributed to your rise in the ranks?”

On second thought, maybe Glasses should cover his ears. “I sure as shit hope not,” he said, glaring at the reporters. Some even had the good grace to look a little guilty. “Most of it wasn’t even fucking true, and by the way, while you’re all here I want it on record that I wouldn’t date Shouto Todoroki if he was the last man on the planet.”

Another reporter piped up. “What about Hero Deku?”

Katsuki glared at her so hard that he was honestly surprised she didn’t explode. “I’m gonna get ahead of this right now,” he said. “If any of you print any rumors about me and Hero Deku tonight, I will have your credentials revoked and your access to crime scenes so limited that you’ll have to cover a grocery theft from five city blocks over. Do I make myself clear?”

The sea of reporters nodded, no one pointing out that Katsuki hadn’t technically answered the question. “Good. Anything that isn’t about my personal life?”

“Will you be leveraging your new ranking to expand your agency?”

Katsuki nodded shortly. “I plan on gradually phasing in sidekicks, beginning with UA student Izumi Kota.” He hadn’t actually formally asked the kid yet, but Kota basically lived at the agency in his free time, even after his internship ended, and Katsuki had long since stopped shooing him away from the gym as long as he could prove he’d finished his homework. 

“Now that you’re back in the top ten, what’s your next goal?”

Katsuki felt his signature smirk overtake his face. “I’m gonna be the number one hero,” he said plainly. “I used to think that being number one was the only thing that mattered, and I didn’t want anything else to get in the way. But now I know that all that extra stuff—my friends, my fans, my agency—are gonna be what gets me there. So stay tuned, extras, because it’s going to be a total victory.”

Katsuki nodded at the crowd of reporters, clearly indicating he was done for the day, but none of them were backing off. The tenuous grip he had on the situation was dissolving as journalists, well-wishers, and fellow heroes all tried to get his attention. Katsuki looked in vain for a way out that didn’t involve exploding members of the press, but couldn’t find one. 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki saw someone parting the throng like the Red fucking Sea. The guy reached Katsuki and extended a hand. “Come with me if you want to live,” he said in heavily accented Japanese. Definitely an American.

Katsuki looked around and decided that the dude could be from fucking Mars and he wouldn’t care as long as he got them out of there. “Shitty movie reference,” he complained, but he clasped the mystery man’s hand anyway.

Suddenly, people started gravitating away from Katsuki. With a clear path, mystery man dragged Katsuki behind him, out a side door and into an unpopulated alcove. “Not used to the spotlight, huh?” He asked. 

Katsuki bristled. “Not like that. Jesus fuck, is that what Lemillion gets all the time?”

Mystery man shook his head. “Nah man, you’re the people’s princess now. Relatability is all the rage.”

Katsuki made a show of dusting himself off. “Well, thanks for the save. And you are…?”

Mystery man stood up straighter. “Of course!” He said, sticking out a hand to shake. “My hero name’s  Polarity; I’m from the states so I doubt you’ve heard of me.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “So that’s how you got everybody to move back there? You’re a walking magnet?”

Polarity grinned and nodded. “Pretty much, except it’s not metal, it’s just objects in general. I can attract or repel anything within reason, and it extends similarly to anything I’m holding.”

Izuku would probably think that’s a really cool quirk. “I have a friend who would probably love to interrogate you about that,” Katsuki said.

Polarity looked past Katsuki’s shoulder, but apparently couldn’t see much past the initial crowd in the doorway. “I’m guessing you’re talking about Hero Deku, right? He had a pretty big group of people around him too, but he looked a little less like he wanted to jump out a window, so I went to you first.”

Huh. Katsuki wondered why Izuku had so many people looking to talk to him. It had been a while since he first got the Deku suit, so Katsuki would’ve thought the novelty had worn off by now. 

“Actually, there’s another reason I came to find you,” Polarity admitted. “You know Kendo, right? She told me you were sort of classmates back at UA.”

Katsuki nodded, a little confused. “Yeah, we know each other.” 

“Well, her exchange assignment period just wrapped up,” Polarity continued, “and my agency is looking for a new hero to keep the program going.”

Katsuki blinked hard. “And you want…me?”

Polarity laughed. “Are you kidding? You’d be a megastar back in America.”

Katsuki scoffed. “Please, I can barely get the public to like me in Japan, and I live here.”

Polarity shook his head. “No, Dynamight, you don’t get it. The whole ‘fuck you and the horse you rode in on’ attitude? The people love that back home. The brashness, the cockiness; you’d have fan clubs there in a week. Probably less.”

Really? Here in Japan, the public liked a little bit of his energy, especially the younger crowd, but until literally a couple weeks ago, Katsuki hadn’t figured out how to walk the line between badass and bad news. The idea of being able to let loose a little without immediately tanking his public favorability admittedly held some appeal. 

Except for one thing. “You said Kendo’s contract was already up. How soon would I have to ship out?”

Polarity shrugged. “She didn’t leave any active cases, so you wouldn’t have to decide for about a month or so, but my boss is definitely hoping to find someone ASAP.”

A little short notice. “And how long would my contract be?” Katsuki asked. 

Polarity tilted his head from side to side. “Two, maybe three years? The agency is about to start some long term missions, but obviously we’d give you and the other exchange heroes extra time off to see home.

Katsuki considered it. He really did. But he had his own agency to think about. Sure, he didn’t have a lot to manage right now, but he was just starting to build and expand. Could he really put those plans on hold? And what about Kota?

“Would I be able to bring any staff?” He asked. 

Polarity smiled. “You mean the water kid? We can’t bring him on while he’s a student, but I’m sure boss man could be persuaded to add him on once he’s done.”

Well, that took care of that. Really, Katsuki couldn’t find a reason to say no except—

Izuku.

Katuski knew it was stupid. Hell, he and Izuku had barely spoken in the past few months. Why was he holding out because of the nerd? He had no reason to think things would be any different going forward. 

Except. Katsuki thought over their conversation, from the start of the reception through Katsuki’s name being announced. Something about it just felt…different. Being with Izuku had felt easy in a way it hadn’t in months, like they’d finally found a way to coexist in each other’s orbit once again.

And then there was that moment. Katsuki still wasn’t sure what had really happened, but he wanted to find out. Katsuki might have been a little rusty, but he was still fluent in Izuku, and everything about Izuku tonight screamed that he was finally letting down some of those walls he’d been hiding behind since he got the suit, or hell, since he’d lost One for All. It almost felt like—like Izuku was acting like they were a team again, poring over new ideas and trading theories like they were back at UA.

Katsuki didn’t know what it all meant, but he knew he had to find out. 

“I'll think about it, but no promises,” he told Polarity. “I have some loose ends I still need to tie up here in Japan.”

Polarity bowed his head, but didn’t look too put out, like he’d expected that would be Katsuki’s response. “I thought that might be your answer. Well, how about this. You keep this,” he said, stuffing a business card in Katsuki’s hand, “and if you change your mind, you give me a call. Offer’s still open for a few weeks.”

Katsuki pocketed the card. “I‘ll think it over,” he promised. “And thanks again for pulling me out of the fucking lion’s den back there.”

Polarity laughed. “Don’t mention it. I’ll see you around, Dynamight,” he said, saluting and turning toward the exit. 

Katsuki raised his hand in farewell and made his way back to the outskirts of the main banquet hall. He craned his neck, trying to avoid making eye contact with any reporters while also looking out for green eyes and freckles. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, Katsuki busied himself with checking on the rest of the top 100 heroes, reading the screens set up around the hall as names scrolled by. 

Katsuki ticked off people he knew absentmindedly, distantly thinking that the should reach out to a few about sidekick offers, when in his peripheral vision, a name stopped him cold. He snapped his eyes to the screen, wondering if he’d just read something wrong, but—no. There it was, at number forty.

Hero Deku. 

Katsuki’s head spun. Only full time heroes got formal rankings, and Izuku was ranked, which only logically led to the conclusion that Izuku was now a full time hero. No wonder Izuku had his own mob of press; the great savior had finally returned. When had that happened, and why now? After the last rankings, Izuku had fucking turned Katsuki down because he wanted to keep teaching full time, so what had fucking changed?

Izuku had been acting like he needed to tell Katsuki something earlier. Was this what he meant? He’d been hoping to break the news to Katsuki gently that it wasn’t that Izuku didn’t want to be a hero full time; he just didn’t want to be one with Katsuki?

Katsuki looked back on the night with sour eyes. Of course Izuku had been extra nice to him. He was probably worried about hurting Katsuki’s fucking feelings and didn’t want him to think anything was wrong. Well, mission fucking accomplished, because Katsuki sure as shit didn’t see this coming. In fact, the more Katsuki thought about it, the more he could see that their almost-kiss had just been Katsuki’s own projection. Izuku had just been trying to congratulate his friend and Katsuki had gone and made it fucking weird.

Jesus. If Katsuki hadn’t embarrassed himself enough by asking Izuku to treat him like he’s special in the car that day, he’d certainly gone and (metaphorically, for now) blown everything up this time. 

Katsuki looked around the room with new resolve. Clearly, Izuku had decided to move on with his life, so maybe Katsuki needed to. For real this time.

Finally, his eyes landed on the man he’d been looking for. “Shouto,” he called out, interrupting Shouto’s attempt to blend into the wallpaper. “A word?”

Shouto nodded and followed Katsuki to a somewhat secluded corner. “Congratulations on your rank, Katsuki,” Shouto acknowledged. “We are all very proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Katsuki said, his voice a little more watery than he cared to admit. “Hey, can I run something by you?” 

Shouto nodded. 

“Cool, so I got an offer just now from an agency in America, and they want me to fill Kendo’s spot in their hero exchange program.”

Shouto’s eyes widened. “And you’re going to take the job?”

Katsuki bit his lip. “I might. They’d need me to leave in a few weeks, though.”

Shouto’s eyes bugged even further. “Have you spoken to Izuku about this?”

Katsuki bristled. “No, he clearly didn’t fucking consult me on his career choices, so why would I?”

Shouto looked like someone had just slammed a door in his face. “He didn’t tell you—but he said that—”

Katsuki sneered. “See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. If I’m the last person to fucking know about this, then I don’t see why I should talk to him at all. Besides, haven’t the lot of you been telling me I need to start thinking about myself first, anyway?”

Shouto whipped his head around, looking for something but apparently coming up empty. He made a frustrated sound. “I did, but I really think you need to—”

Katsuki cut him off. “I appreciate the sentiment, Shouto, but unless he gave you a reason why he wasn’t telling me, I don’t want to hear it.”

Shouto’s silence spoke for itself. “Right, so here’s the real reason I called you over. If I go to the states, I’ll need someone to help with my agency. I can do a lot of the administrative shit remotely, and it’s not like I have a huge staff to keep track of, so I’d only need some occasional help. Would you be willing to help me out?”

Shouto still looked somewhere between blindsided and furious—at who, Katsuki couldn’t even tell—but nodded. “We would all miss you, Katsuki, but I would be happy to help in any way.”

Katsuki gave him a small smile, if a little bittersweet. “You’re a good friend, Shouto. And congrats on number two.” Shouto looked shell shocked, like Katsuki’s sincerity had been the final straw in exploding his mind, and Katsuki turned away before Shouto’s brain started leaking out his ears. 

And with that, Katsuki dashed off to find his friends. Mina found him first and practically lifted him off the ground, while the rest of the squad crowded around them. Eijirou clearly clocked something off in Katsuki’s expression, but thankfully didn’t press it. 

“Alright, everybody!” Crowed Denki. “Two top ten heroes coming through, make way for the best of the best!” He turned to the rest of them excitedly. “Let’s take this show on the road! After-party at my house, everybody!” 

Katsuki and his friends cheered as they spilled out of the banquet hall and piled into Hanta’s car—or rather, and rental, since Denki had fried Hanta’s actual car. Katsuki went last, after calling shotgun of course, and he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of green on his way out, but he shook his head. For once, he was going to live in the moment. He was the number four hero, and he had the whole night to celebrate. 

****************

Izuku politely extracted himself from his last interview and set about trying to find Kacchan in this mess of people. He’d really been hoping to tell Kacchan about his return to full time hero work ahead of time, so he could see the excitement on his face in real time, but he supposed this would do. 

Izuku had been shocked along with everyone else when Kacchan had rocketed up to number four, and Izuku, like an idiot, had gone and tried to kiss him before he went on stage. Izuku’s ears went a little red at the memory; some timing he had, huh?

He hadn’t even gotten a sense of whether or not Kacchan even still liked him like that. Izuku hoped Kacchan wasn’t weirded out by it, and he certainly hoped it hadn’t taken away from Kacchan’s big moment. 

Izuku had lost track of Kacchan after the top ten announcements finished, and they’d both been swarmed with press. Izuku had been hoping for a low key return to full time hero work, but apparently his public approval and his part time arrest numbers were enough to put him on the top 100 scoreboard. Saving the world apparently still held some weight, he mused.

Izuku kept looking around and saw spiky blond hair heading out of the banquet hall. Izuku felt jealousy coil in his stomach when he realized that Kacchan was holding some guy’s hand—an American, no less—on his way out, but he schooled his expression before some reporter with a camera could write a headline about it. 

Izuku made small talk with Uraraka and her girlfriend as he sent occasional darting glances to where he’d last seen Kacchan. They’d been gone for a few minutes, at least. Should Izuku go look for them, or would that be completely overbearing and insane?

He thought about asking Uraraka for her opinion, but he hadn’t told anyone else about his Kacchan revelation yet. He’d told Uraraka, Todoroki, and Iida about his plans to return to full time hero work—and sworn them to secrecy—but he didn’t want to go around declaring his interest in Kacchan romantically until they had sorted everything out privately. He didn’t want his friends to go and put pressure on Kacchan if it turned out that Kacchan wasn’t interested anymore, and truth be told, he was still a little embarrassed at how long it had taken him to come to the realization. 

Plus, his friends had been overwhelmed enough by his career announcement, and they were already helping him train in anticipation of his re-debut. He didn’t want to heap anything else onto their plates until he knew for sure there was something to talk about. 

Izuku briefly distracted himself by asking Uraraka about some of her new support gear, until he felt an urgent tap on his shoulder. 

Izuku turned around. “Todoroki?” He asked with a mild amount of concern. Todoroki looked like someone had just told him he had to go to a dinner with his father. “What’s wrong?”

Todoroki frowned. “I was under the impression that when you told us of your plans to resume your full time hero career, that you’d also told Katsuki.” He raised an eyebrow. “But clearly I was mistaken.”

Izuku panicked. “Shoot, I didn’t think I would make the top 100 in my first ranking back! What did he say?”

Todoroki’s frown deepened. “He seemed upset that you had not informed him of your intentions.”

Izuku groaned. This was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid! If only he hadn’t been so distracted by their conversation beforehand—

“There’s more,” Todoroki said gravely, interrupting Izuku’s runaway train of thought.

“What is it?” Izuku asked cautiously. 

Todoroki took a deep breath. “Katsuki is planning on taking a job in the U.S. He will likely be leaving in the next month, and he will be gone for a couple years at minimum.”

Izuku’s heart dropped through his feet and into the basement. “He what?” He whispered.

Todoroki nodded. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be telling you, but he didn’t say I couldn’t, so here I am. I told him he should talk to you, but he did not seem to be open to suggestions.” It almost made too much sense. America would love Kacchan; he was absolutely perfect for it. No wonder he’d run off with the American earlier; they would probably be working together. And they were clearly friendly enough to be holding hands at the biggest hero event of the year, Izuku thought bitterly. What if Kacchan had been planning for this since Izuku turned him down, and that was why he hadn’t hired anyone new at his agency? Oh God, was Kacchan planning on bringing Kota overseas? Kota’s aunt would kill Izuku for suggesting he work with Kacchan in the first place.

Izuku felt resentment rising and squashed it down. “Well, that’s fair, I suppose,” he said, sniffling as subtly as possible. “I don’t like it, but Kacchan’s been pretty clear about wanting space recently, and he shouldn’t feel pressured to get my approval for his career choices.”

Todoroki eyed Izuku with suspicion. “Izuku, if you want him to stay, you need to tell him now. He’s hurt that you didn’t tell him about your choice to go pro full time, but I’m sure he’d listen if you told him you want him here. And you do want him here, don’t you?” He gave Izuku a meaningful look. 

Izuku stilled. “What do you know?”

Todoroki put his hands up placatingly. “I don’t know anything, just that I think you should act now or you will lose your chance.” He didn’t elaborate on what that chance was, but Izuku could see in his eyes that he at least suspected. That a chance to Izuku meant more than just the chance to be Kacchan’s coworker. 

Izuku’s feet were dragging him out the door before his brain could catch up. He ran out to the curb, only to see Kacchan step into an unknown car and speed away. His heart sank. That was it, then. Izuku couldn’t just go track him down and tell him he couldn’t leave Japan; besides being a completely psycho thing to do, Izuku wouldn’t even know where to start looking. That car could be going anywhere.

Izuku looked back at the banquet hall, suddenly dreading the prospect of going back inside. Dejectedly, he started walking back to his place. It was a far walk, but Izuku could use the time to clear his head. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking, probably looking like a kicked puppy, when he heard a voice behind him.

”Excuse me, Hero Deku, are you looking for something?” An accented voice asked. Izuku turned toward the voice and realized, with a start, that it was the American he’d seen with Kacchan. Izuku scowled briefly, before forcing his expression into something more neutral. His thoughts raced. If the American was here, then he couldn’t be with Kacchan. But then, where was Kacchan?

“Oh, no, sorry,” Izuku said belatedly. “I was just looking for someone, but I guess they left before me, so I’m heading home.”

The American nodded like he knew exactly what Izuku was talking about. “Looking for Dynamight?”

Izuku nearly jumped a foot in the air. “Do you have a mind-reading quirk?”

The American laughed. “No, it’s just that I—hey, heads up!"

Izuku looked up to see a vase falling from a balcony directly overhead. Izuku moved to duck, but the American grabbed his hand and the vase moved in mid-air, bending its path to miss Izuku.

The American dropped his hand and smiled sheepishly. “Like I was saying, not a mind reader. The name’s Polarity. I was heading back to my hotel when I saw you standing and kinda looking at nothing.”

The facts clicked in Izuku’s mind. “Like a magnet! Except with basically anything nearby. He looked at his hand. Or anything you’re touching?”

Polarity nodded. “Exactly. Helped me get your friend out of a bind earlier. You guys are too nice to the press here; in the states someone would’ve started knocking heads by now.”

The knot in Izuku’s chest loosened ever-so-slightly. So that’s why Kacchan had been holding hands with this guy; Polarity had been keeping the press away from him. Izuku retroactively felt a little guilty for being so irritated with him.

But still—“How long have you known that Kacchan was going to the U.S.?”

Polarity frowned. “He hasn’t given me a final answer yet. Do you know something I don’t?”

Izuku pressed his hands into his eyes. “No, I think I know less than everybody, actually. I don’t even know where Kacchan is.”

Polarity brightened. “Oh, that one’s easy enough. Chargebolt said he was throwing a giant party at his new apartment on his way out; isn’t he one of Dynamight’s friends?”

Izuku whipped his phone out, and sure enough, Kaminari had texted as much in the Class A group chat. He looked up at Polarity. “And he definitely hasn’t given you an answer yet?”

Polarity raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Trust me, I would know if he had. Do you know how much paperwork goes into hero exchange programs?”

But Izuku was already running toward Kaminari’s apartment. “Thanks, Polarity!” He shouted over his shoulder.

“No problem!” Polarity called back brightly, if a little confused.

Izuku looked at his phone and cringed. He’d been wandering in circles for two hours. Kacchan could have left by now, or gone to sleep, or—no. Izuku couldn’t think like that. Wherever Kacchan was, Izuku was going to find him and apologize for being so weird and forward at the banquet, and for not telling him about his comeback, and come clean. Completely. Izuku’s chest constricted a little at the thought; he’d been planning to start with the hero stuff and wait to get into the “I love you” of it all once the dust had settled, but drastic times called for drastic measures. 

Izuku picked up his pace as he thought back to the day it had all gone wrong, back in Kacchan’s car, and finally knew what Kacchan must have felt. The gnawing anxiety, the sweaty palms, the racing heart. Izuku was impressed that Kacchan hadn’t exploded his car by accident. And now it was Izuku’s turn. Really, he always knew this was how it had to be. Kacchan had put this all into motion by handing Izuku his heart on a silver platter, and Izuku should’ve known that the only way to truly fix this would be to do the same. He swallowed hard. And if Kacchan didn’t feel the same anymore, then at least they’d be even.

Izuku skidded to a stop outside an apartment building practically bursting at the seams with people and music. Good, the party was still going. Sparing a thought for how disheveled he must look and frantically patting his hair down, Izuku made his way inside.

Chapter Text

Miraculously, they all made it to Denki’s place in one piece. And it was a good thing Hanta had stepped on it on the way here, because it seemed like every hero in Japan had heard about Denki’s open invitation. Katsuki and his friends had barely had time to set up all the drinks and snacks Denki had prepped for the party before people started arriving in droves. Katsuki shrugged. Not his fuckin’ problem if Denki got his house ransacked.

He spent some time hugging the wall, like he did at most parties, punctuated with congratulations from every hero he’d ever worked with, including some who he knew for a fucking fact gossiped behind his back about his slide down the charts. Katsuki rolled his eyes at them. Fair weather fuckin’ fans.

Eventually, Eijirou came and found him arguing with Yaoyorozu about how big of a cannon she could make (theoretically) and slung an arm over his shoulders. “Man of the hour! How’s it going?”

Katsuki shoved him good-naturedly. “If anyone’s the man of the hour it’s you, knocking Monoma out of the top 10.”

Eijirou flashed a smile before schooling his face into something more mature. “It wouldn’t be manly of me to celebrate beating a fellow hero,” he said, before lowering his voice to a whisper. “But did you see his face?”

Katsuki grinned. “Hell yeah, Ei.”

Eijirou savored the memory for another moment before switching topics. “Hey, I saw Hawks sat you next to Midoriya at the reception. All good?”

Katsuki hid the scowl that threatened to creep onto his face. “It went fine,” he said evasively. “Hey, I actually had something I wanted to run by you,” he added. “I got an offer to go to the states, fill in for Kendo now that her exchange program contract is almost up. I told them I’d think about it, but I’d have to leave in like, a month or so. Thoughts?”

Eijirou whooped and punched Katsuki in the arm. “Bro, that’s awesome! Back in the top 10 for thirty seconds and you’re already getting crazy offers. You should go for it?”

Katsuki blinked. “You think so?”

Eijirou nodded enthusiastically. “Think about it. It’s the perfect fresh start, you’ve got a ready made audience for your brand, and the squad won’t have to find a hotel when we finally take that trip to New York City!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway. “And you think that’s what I should do? A fresh start?” He didn’t specify from what, but Eijirou, of course, knew what he meant.

Eijirou’s grin faded as he put a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. “Kats, I’m not gonna tell you what to do. The real question is, do you think you need a fresh start? Because we’ve got your back. We’ll dust your office while you’re gone and visit you on our vacations. Don’t worry about us.”

Katsuki scoffed, but he knew Eijirou could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “Like I’d have the time to worry about you idiots over there.” He met Eijirou’s gaze head on. “I’m gonna do it. If I hate it, I’ll cut the contract at a year. But I think it’ll be good, yeah?”

Eijirou’s smile rocketed back up to full wattage. “Hell yeah!” He pushed Katsuki toward the rest of the party. “Now you have another reason to celebrate! Go!”

Katsuki, finished with his soda, sidestepped through the crowd and to the kitchen. He sighed as he poured himself some of Denki’s patented fruit punch monstrosity, blessedly alone in the kitchen. He sniffed at his cup suspiciously before taking a sip, and immediately wrinkled his nose at the sugar overload. 

“What, are the three packs of powdered Kool-Aid not refined enough for your delicate palate?” 

Katsuki spun around to see a tall, black-haired man leaning against the doorframe, an eerily familiar cocky smirk plastered on his face. Shindo Yo. One of the extras from the licensing exam who’d been a little extra friendly with Izuku. Despite himself, he narrowed his eyes at his intruder and Shindo put up his hands in mock surrender. 

“Relax, I come in peace. Or do I need a formal invitation to join the Midoriya’s broken hearts club?”

Katsuki nearly dropped his cup as Shindo forged on, ignoring Katsuki’s obvious surprise. “I mean, I thought you two had been dating this whole time, honestly. Color me shocked when I saw you splashed on the cover of every tabloid in Japan with everyone from Dr. Nakamura to a foreign, torrid affair.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes but made no move to leave. “Yeah, an affair so torrid that I didn’t even get his name before he left the party.” Katsuki didn’t bother clarifying that the affair in question was a fucking job offer. He didn’t know if he wanted everyone and their mother shouting it from the rooftops that Dynamight might be leaving the country before he was ready to field all the questions about it. 

“Ouch,” Shindo said completely unsympathetically, filling a cup of punch for himself. “So,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially, “what happened? Did the golden boy do something to tick you off more than usual, or did your arm just get tired from carrying that torch for so long?”

Katsuki glared at his punch as the words rolled out before he could stop them. “He rejected an offer to join my agency because he liked teaching too much to be a pro full time, and then ditched me to hang out with his girlfriend—who I guess is actually a lesbian but whatever—after I gave him a whole speech about treating the important people in your life like they’re important.” Katsuki stared even harder at the concoction, considered knocking it back, but poured it down the sink instead. “And then he decided to become a pro full time anyway,” he finished, gesturing wildly with his empty cup. “Because fuck me, I guess.”

“Ouch,” Shindo repeated, this time with an actual wince. “If it helps, he shot me down, too.”

Katsuki tried to control the tic in his eye, still facing the sink. “When the hell did you ask him out?”

Shindo downed his punch in one go before shooting Katsuki a rueful grin. “Heard through the grapevine that your squad was looking to set you up with someone. Realized you and Midoriya weren’t an item, so I asked him to that gala where you ran off with the American.” Katsuki didn’t bother to correct him. “Guess what he said.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “He told you he couldn’t stay out late because he had to grade exams or some shit?”

“Partial credit for Bakugou,” Shindo said, eyes flashing. “He said he had to write a lesson plan, and he said he’d been planning on going with you, but you wanted to go alone to build your solo brand, so he never bothered buying anything to wear. Funny that he ended up going anyway, and even funnier that he ended up seated next to you.” Shindo hip checked Katsuki, close enough now for Katsuki to smell whatever cologne he’d doused himself in. “How is it that even when you strike out with Midoriya, you still manage to cock block me along the way?”

Katsuki sighed again and settled against the counter, not actively touching Shindo but not making any effort to put distance between them either. “Welcome to the broken fuckin’ hearts club, then. Admission is free. Apparently he’s busy with his new hero career anyway, so I guess we’re all shit out of luck.” Katsuki eyed Shindo curiously. “Why are you so interested, anyway? You hardly know the guy.”

Shindo leaned imperceptibly into Katsuki’s space, their shoulders just barely brushing. “You’d know better than anybody, wouldn’t you? He’s just—the best.” Shindo paused, the  started speaking again haltingly, his earlier bravado gone.

“He saved me, you know. Not that that makes me special, he saved the whole freaking world, but during the war, when he was out there as a vigilante, I was trying to evacuate some stubborn civilians when Muscular showed up. I got my ass kicked pretty badly, totally thought I was toast. And then Midoriya arrived. He took the guy down in a single punch and literally carried me bridal style back to my hero partner.” His words hung in the air, too solemn for the atmosphere. Now that he wasn’t plastering a smug fucking look on his face, Katsuki could see some earnestness shine through in Shindo’s eyes. Actually, in a certain light he looked almost like—

Katsuki scoffed to cut the tension. “Fuckin’ damsel in distress.” Besides, Katsuki had him beat there, too, he thought, irrationally competitively. Shindo thought getting carried around by Izuku was impressive romantic fodder? How about Izuku unlocking the final secret of his quirk because he goes apeshit after seeing your body? Katsuki shook his head. Alright, time to rein in the psycho. 

He turned back to Shindo, who was staring at Katsuki contemplatively. “In a weird way, Bakugou, you made me think I might have a chance. He clearly adored you, and hey, I’m kind of an asshole too. Maybe a little too cocky for my own good. I thought maybe he had a type.” Shindo gave him a sidelong glance. “Turns out the type was just you.”

Katsuki smiled bitterly. “And in the end, it wasn’t even me.”

Shindo hummed in agreement, but his eyes remained focused on Katsuki with a level of intensity that hadn’t been there a minute prior. “Yeah, I guess so. Shame.”

They now stood shoulder to shoulder. They let the conversation drop, each silently sizing the other up. Maybe bonding over your shared failed attempts at wooing the actual love of your life wasn’t a super solid foundation, but Katsuki wasn’t looking to build anything. Hell, he probably wasn’t even going to be in the country three weeks from now. Shindo knew where he was coming from, and, Katsuki admitted to himself rather uncomfortably, he looked a little like Izuku. Maybe he could just…

For a split second, Katsuki didn’t move away as Shindo leaned further into Katsuki’s space. Then green eyes flashed in his mind, and he took a decisive step back, lightly grabbing Shindo’s arms. “I can’t,” he confessed lowly, looking up to see disappointment, acceptance, and resignation in Shindo’s eyes, in equal measure.

Shindo huffed a light laugh. “Guess the elephant in the room is just too big to ignore, huh?” Katsuki opened his mouth to reply when heard a small commotion from outside their little bubble that Katsuki had just popped.

“Midobro, what a surprise!” Denki called out from somewhere in the living room. Izuku was here. Like Katsuki had fucking summoned him. 

He had to go. Katsuki stared at the empty doorway and took a step forward, only for slender fingers to catch his wrist. He looked back at Shindo. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

Katsuki pulled his hand back. “How can I not?”

Shindo sighed and leaned against the counter, mirroring Katsuki from only a few minutes ago. “You don’t have to keep chasing after him. He keeps stringing you along with mixed signals, pushing you away but keeping you on too tight a leash for you to ever give up. Everyone saw his temper tantrum online after Todoroki’s sick day, and he looked like he was about to kidnap you at the rankings rather than let you leave that table, but he still turned you down . Without an explanation. All the jealous peacocking in the world can’t fix the fact that he’s been taking you for granted, and hasn’t acknowledged it. Are you sure you want to keep putting yourself through that?”

And even with all the dates, the parties, and the validation of getting his career back on track, Katsuki already knew his answer. He’d been trying the distance, the branching out, the trying new things. He knew that he was a good hero, and a good person, someone worthy of love. But deep down, Katsuki knew that new wasn’t what he wanted, not when it came to this one thing. Katsuki didn’t know what would happen once he walked out of this room, but he couldn’t let that look on Izuku’s face be his last memory of him before leaving (fleeing) the country. If this was how their story ended, Katsuki was going to give it a proper fucking ending.

He looked back at Shindo solemnly. “If he doesn’t want me at his side, I’ll be at his heels for the rest of our lives.”

And wasn’t that the honest to God truth? Katsuki had been trying so hard lately to choose himself, but really, chasing down Izuku one final time would be the most selfish thing Katsuki had done throughout this whole ordeal. 

Shindo raised his empty cup in a mock salute. “And that’s why we call it the broken hearts club.” 

Katsuki dashed through the doorway, nearly colliding with Yaoyorozu two steps in.

“Hey, Bakugou, what’s the matter?” Yaoyorozu said, giving Katsuki a concerned look. Christ, Katsuki probably looked like he’d just been hit by a bus if that was her first reaction. “Are you looking for—”

Suddenly, Uraraka cut in, putting both hands on Katsuki’s shoulders and looking him dead in the eye. “What are you about to do?”

Katsuki eyed her warily. “I need to talk to him.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. 

Uraraka’s piercing stare didn’t let up. “And when you say talk to him, you mean talk to him, right? Where you both present coherent thoughts and hear each other out instead of throwing around passive aggressive declarations and storming off?”

Katsuki held her gaze. “I’m serious,” he said. “And give me some fuckin’ credit, I’m not the one who’s been passive aggressive here. I haven’t even been aggressive-assgressive. For once.” Uraraka cocked her head, and he sighed. “Alright fine, yes, I won’t leave until we both say what we have to say.” 

Uraraka bowed her head and stepped back. “He went up to the roof to grab some extra chairs from the patio. Knowing him, he’s trying to figure out how to carry them all down in one trip. Now go shoo,“ she said, waving Katsuki off. “And if it goes to shit, don’t tell him I sent you.”

Katsuki spared her and Yaoyorozu a nod before running off, weaving his way through the crowd until he reached the balcony. Thankfully, there weren’t any extras standing out on it at the moment, which gave Katsuki plenty of room to take a running leap and blast himself up to the rooftop. 

It was a pretty nice patio, all things considered. Katsuki scanned the rooftop until his eyes landed on a figure in black trying, with limited success, to carry twelve folding chairs at once.

Katsuki approached quietly, which he knew was stupidity considering he’d just exploded his way onto the roof, but he felt like he was approaching an alley cat. Scared to scare it, not knowing if it would be worse if it ran away or scratched him. 

He stopped a few feet short of the struggling idiot. “You know, if you just took two trips, you could be done by now.”

Izuku shot up like a rocket at the sound of Katsuki’s voice. “Kacchan!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been looking all over for you! I’m not sure it’s something you want to hear, anymore, anyway, but—”

“I’m going to the U.S. Soon.” Katsuki blurted out. There. now it was all out in the open. Maybe now they could hopefully, finally, be fucking honest with each other, armed with the knowledge that they could lick their wounds on separate continents.

The effect on Izuku was instantaneous. The light in his eyes, so bright moments ago, went dull with hurt. “But you can’t—Polarity said you hadn’t made a final decision.”

Katsuki reeled back, confused and annoyed. “Well, I have made a fucking decision.” About twenty minutes ago, but Izuku didn’t need to know that. “And who told you anyway?”

Izuku took a step forward, his expression holding firm but the telltale Midoriya sniffles giving him away. “So that’s it?” he demanded, completely ignoring Katsuki’s question. “You’re just leaving me—leaving all of us, behind?”

Katsuki growled and took a step forward of his own, close enough that he could see the tear tracks on Izuku’s face in the moonlight. And they said Katsuki was the stubborn one. “No, we’re not fucking doing this. I am supposed to be pissed at you right now. Wait your fucking turn.”

Katsuki would laugh at him if all he wasn’t using all his energy not to fuckin’ scream. Pain, pity, anger, and disbelief spread through him like wildfire, all warring to be the first out of Katsuki’s mouth. How on earth did Izuku know about Polarity’s offer? Why was he taking it so hard? And most importantly—“ I’m leaving you behind?” Katsuki let out a small, hysterical laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Izuku frowned and shifted his feet, but Katsuki plowed on. “It wasn’t enough for you to turn me down the first time; it couldn’t even be for a real fucking reason?” Katsuki’s voice cracked on the last word and he reeled in his anger, cooling it from boiling rage to a simmering hurt. He had promised Uraraka he would at least try. “For someone who said he loved teaching too much to join my agency, you sure dropped it pretty quickly.”

He dropped his gaze to Izuku’s shoes, his nerve faltering at last. “If it was me you didn’t want to work with, you could’ve just fuckin’ said so.” Katsuki was drifting into dangerous territory. He didn’t want Izuku poking too hard into why Katsuki was so torn up about this, but at the moment, he didn’t care. This was all about not be his problem anymore. 

Katsuki looked up to see Izuku frozen, his indignant expression melting into guilt. Good. At least the nerd still had one working brain cell. “Oh God, Kacchan, I didn’t mean it like—”

“No, I think you did,” Katsuki retorted. “I mean, fuck, Izuku, I couldn’t keep doing it forever, you know? Pretending like I didn’t miss you on the field like a missing limb, practically becoming an adjunct teacher at UA with how often I followed you around?”

“And once you shot me down; what did you want to happen? What was your game plan for your big comeback? You just wanted me to brush past the fact that you lied to me? I don’t know who told you about my plans to take Kendo’s place in our hero exchange program, but did you ever stop to think that maybe I was doing this because of you? Because it was too hard for me to stay?” Katsuki punctuated each sentence with a step forward, until he was practically toe to toe with Izuku.

Katsuki knew he was baiting him like the asshole he was, and tipping his hand dangerously far, but he wanted something real from Izuku. An honest to God answer for what Izuku’s major malfunction was, because if Katsuki was really about to ship himself across an ocean to escape whatever twisted game he’d been playing and losing against himself, he wanted to at least know why. 

“Do you even know how hard I tried to make it work, restructure my life without you at the fucking center of it, before realizing it was never going to happen as long as there was even a chance I could see your dumb face?”

Katsuki waited for Izuku’s response calling Katuski a fucking maniac. Hell, he could think of a dozen off the top of his head. Katsuki was too smothering, he didn’t know how to run an agency properly, Izuku decided after twenty-whatever years that he really did just hate Katsuki’s guts after all, anything—

“Then why were you going out with half of Japan!”

Katsuki gaped openly at the panic in Izuku’s expression, the nerd’s freckles disappearing in the redness overtaking his entire face as he took a step back, practically tripping over the couch when he realized he had nowhere to go. 

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said that.” The words rushed out of Izuku like a tidal wave. “You must think I’m out of my mind, and here you are asking me these completely valid questions and I’m taking this seriously I swear, just forget that I even—”

“I stopped.”

Izuku snapped his mouth shut again, his hands falling to his side. “What?”

“I haven’t been out with anyone since the TV host, and we didn’t even get through dinner,” Katsuki said, voice barely above a whisper. “I tried, and for a second, with a few of them, I thought that maybe—but I couldn’t. All these fuckin’ dates I’ve been on, even the ones that weren’t total shit, it was never right. I was never right.”

“Why?” Izuku asked, even though Katsuki was supposed to be the one asking the questions here. 

Katuski tried to force out an answer, but nothing materialized. His own body was at an impasse, his heart unwilling to lie, but his mouth too stubborn to let anything approximating the truth come out. He could only stare at Izuku helplessly, desperately trying to dim whatever secrets he knew shone through his eyes. 

Katsuki was afraid of what Izuku would find; the nerd could always read him like a book. Katsuki closed his eyes to hide from it all, waiting for yelling or ranting or even a solid punch to the face. He felt a hand land on his upper arm and braced for impact, only to be met with the insistent pressure of lips on his own.

Katsuki took a few seconds to register the kiss–the kiss, oh my God, he was kissing Izuku. His nerves danced with lightning where they touched, the press of his lips on Izuku’s self-assured and familiar, like they’d done this a million times before. Katsuki pushed his luck and tilted his head, hurriedly deepening the kiss before the spell was broken. He half-expected Izuku to pull away, but instead he gave as good as he got, hands moving from the back of Katsuki’s arms into his hair. Then Izuku bit his bottom lip, hard, and Katsuki had to pull back before he accidentally combusted and took half the rooftop with him.

Katsuki broke off with a gasp, only for Izuku to chase his lips into a second kiss, this one less searing but just as intense. Katsuki melted into it, savoring every moment because he never thought he’d get this far, especially since Izuku had never—wait a minute.

Katuski shoved Izuku away bodily, putting a few feet between them for good measure. “Explain, asshole,” he growled, hoping some of the red in his cheeks could be mistaken for anger. “You don’t get to waltz in here after all the shit you’ve pulled and—and do that. What gives you the fuckin’ nerve?”

Izuku, for once in his goddamn life, didn’t say anything. He stood frozen in shock, from the kiss or Katsuki’s outburst, Katsuki couldn’t tell. Like clockwork, tear tracks started up again on Izuku’s face. Jesus, it was a miracle Izuku hadn’t worn treads into his cheeks from sheer water erosion.

Slowly, Izuku opened his mouth, wetting his lips with his tongue. Katsuki followed the movement with painful self-awareness, but kept his stony silence. The nerd would break sooner or later.

Sure enough, something behind Izuku’s eyes stirred, and his eyes snapped from their faraway gaze to lock onto Katsuki’s.

“I thought I was too late.”

Some of the pain from earlier returned to Izuku’s teary face, and Katuski resisted the urge to do something stupid and sappy like kiss the crease between his eyebrows until it smoothed back out. 

“For the last few months I’ve been training with Todoroki and Iida, and sometimes Uraraka, trying to get back in shape to get back to hero work full time. I’m sorry for keeping it from you, I really am.” Izuku looked at Katsuki beseechingly, but Katsuki stood firm.

“Didn’t want me to put two and two together, huh?” Izuku paled, but Katsuki barreled on, doing what he did best. Poking at the wound to see if it had really stopped bleeding. “Didn’t want to tell me it was just me you didn’t wanna work with?” Now they were back on topic.

Izuku’s apprehensive expression flitted to confusion, then realization, then unbridled panic. “No, Kacchan, I told you, I didn’t mean it like that! I should’ve seen how it would—but I just wasn’t ready to face you yet.” Izuku reached out to Katsuki again, asking for grace when he knew Katsuki was in short supply. 

Katsuki bristled, but allowed Izuku to rest a hand on his arm. “Face me? 

“The why ,” Izuku insisted. “Kacchan, I—this isn’t how I wanted to do it. This was supposed to be something happy, or at least I hoped it would be, but of course I didn’t think it through, and I didn’t think I’d debut anywhere near the top 100, so I thought I had more time, but—” Izuku stopped and took a deep breath, once again locking his gaze on Katsuki’s. 

“I was training so I would be good enough to be your hero partner.”

Katuski felt the universe drop out from under him, and he actually looked down to check that the building hadn’t started spontaneously crumbling beneath his feet. He looked back up at Izuku, who had shot out his other hand to steady Katuski by his elbows. 

“ What? ” Katuski rasped. 

Izuku reached up to cup Katsuki’s face, the two of them mere inches apart. “When you first asked me to join your agency, I thought you were doing it out of pity, or even worse, that you were pissed that I was doing such a lousy job of being a hero and wanted to take it upon yourself to keep trying to fix me.” Katuski opened his mouth to retort, because that was absolute bullshit , but Izuku silenced him with a quick peck. Asshole.

“And then Kota did his internship with you, and he found a name card with my name on it buried at the back of his desk. He also yelled at me a bunch,” Izuku admitted, and despite everything, Katsuki grinned. Kid was a meddler, but a damn good one.

Izuku stole another kiss. “And I realized I wanted this,” he said, gesturing between them. “I wanted you . But clearly I had some issues to work through.”

Katuski snorted. Clearly.

“That day,” Izuku continued, “that was you doing both, right? You asked me about the agency outright, but your speech after, that was about us, wasn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. 

Katsuki swallowed anxiously, despite himself. “Fuckin—yeah, yeah it was.”

Izuku sucked in a breath, even though he’d literally spent the last few minutes with Katsuki’s tongue down his throat. “Sorry. It’s just—there was still a chance I was wrong, and Kota was wrong, but to hear you say it—anyway. Right. I knew I wanted to make things right, but you were out going on dates, and having fun, and I didn’t know if you still—” Izuku froze, letting his words hang in the air as Katsuki supplied his own endings— liked you, loved you, used half my brain to forget you then the other half to bring you back— “felt like that, so I wanted to start with the hero side of things first. So I handed Aizawa my notice, and I started training.”

Which brought them back to—“And you didn’t care to share that with the class?” Katuski growled, taking a step back again. 

Izuku’s eyes started watering, and he took a subconscious half-step back from Katsuki. 

Oh God, Katsuki groaned internally. He knew that look. Izuku was about to spout some self-defeating, self-sacrificing bullshit. 

And sure enough, Izuku looked up at Katsuki with those big green doe eyes and said, “I was going to! I swear! I just—I wanted to be sure I could do it. Six years is a long time, and I didn’t want to come to you with anything less than what you deserve. And you deserve the best. I was going to give it a couple of months, do some night patrols with Aizawa to get used to the workload again and stay under the radar, and then I was going to tell you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Katsuki grumbled, but there was no heat behind it.

“I am,” Izuku agreed. “I almost told you at the ranking ceremony, even though I said I was going to wait, because sitting there and talking with you—I had missed it so much. I couldn’t imagine leaving the building and going back to whatever we’ve been doing for the last few months. Which I know is mostly my fault,” he said, putting up a hand before Katsuki could retort.

“And I’m sorry. For all of it. For being an idiot, and a coward, and so far in denial that one of my own students had to point it out to me. I didn’t look at things from your perspective, and once Todoroki told me you were leaving Japan, I thought that was it, and I’d just missed my final chance. Lord knows you gave me too many,” Izuku laughed self-deprecatingly. “And then I ran into Polarity on my walk home, and he told me you hadn’t given him a final decision. So I ran over here. Fast as I could.”

Katsuki’s heart jumped traitorously in his chest after so many months of being beaten into submission. Izuku had come here for him?

Then Izuku looked up at Katsuki with baleful eyes and the jump turned into a free fall. What frenzy had the nerd whipped himself into on the way here? “I came in guns blazing, ready to beg you not to go in front of half the heroes in Japan, but on my way in, Kirishima and Ashido were talking about how great the U.S. would be for you, and how well you’ve been doing lately.” Izuku looked away, seeming ashamed. “I want to stand by your side more than anything, but what if—what if you’re better off without me there?”

Oh for the love of—Katsuki grabbed Izuku by the shoulders and shook him, hoping a stray neuron would finally dislodge and start firing in that nerd head of his. “Oi, you didn’t make me a worse hero! You can’t take the blame for everything, you fucking martyr.”

Izuku blinked through his endless tears. “But you’ve been so great, training Kota, connecting with the public, vaulting in the ranks, getting an offer in the U.S.” Izuku sniffled. “Because for once you weren’t worrying about me. And I just thought—maybe I was what was holding you back.”

Katsuki exhaled hard. “I’m not gonna pretend that I wasn’t hurt when you turned me down, and it definitely gave me a kick in the ass, but if I’m being honest, I was using your return as a crutch, thinking it was gonna solve all my fucking problems. I’m a kick-ass hero, and I always fucking have been, but the people side of it just never came easily to me. And I know that’s what all those shitty PR classes at UA were for, but let’s be honest, all Mount Lady did in those classes was hit on Shouto.” Katsuki knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t stop. He had to get this message through Izuku’s thick skull.

“For so many years, my only goal was getting you back in the game, and after a while it just became my answer to everything. Fuck the public, Izuku’ll fix it because people love him. Fuck the agency, Izuku’s better with the notes and organization crap anyway. Fuck sidekicks, none of them can work with me the way Izuku can. I froze my career all on my fucking own because I just assumed that I could just hit unpause when you came back.” Katsuki scoffed lightly. “It was fucking stupid, but I just— fuck, I just wanted you to be ok, for us to be ok, I thought that just having you back would fix it. All of it. And that wasn’t fair of me either.” 

Izuku shoved his curls under Katsuki’s nose and buried his face in Katsuki’s chest, arms snaking to wrap around his waist like a koala. “Can I fix it now?” Izuku mumbled into Katsuki’s chest. “I’m sorry I took so long, Kacchan. I just had to fix me first.”

Katsuki sighed, carding a hand through Izuku’s curls. “We both had some fixing to do.” He hesitated, pulling back to look Izuku in the eyes. “Do you mean it?”

Izuku’s eyes widened. “I mean, they probably won’t want me in America, they only need one hero for the exchange program, but I can help Todoroki run the agency on the administrative side while you’re gone! I can even train Kota until he’s ready to go with you, I’ve been doing it this long already.”

Katsuki grinned, sharp enough to cut glass. “And leave you and IcyHot to accidentally implode the place? I don’t think so.”

Izuku gaped at Katsuki as his words set in. “But you said—” 

“I know,” Katsuki rushed to say. “Before you got here, I talked to Ei, and he said it would be good for me. A fresh start. So I decided to go.” Katsuki reached out to Izuku, his thumb sliding down Izuku’s cheek. “But I think there’s a different kind of fresh start I want more.”

Izuku let out a punched-out sob. “You’d stay? For me?”

Katsuki smiled, bordering on a smirk. “I was only leaving in the first place because I thought your dumb ass didn’t want me. But if you’re offering,” he held out his hand to Izuku. “What do you say, Deku?”

Izuku’s hand shot out like lightning to grasp Katsuki’s. “I love you,” he blurted. His eyes bugged again. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t an answer! But I do, by the way. Love you. Thought you should know. But I’d also like to be hero partners, to answer your—”

Katsuki yanked Izuku to his chest and pulled him into another kiss. “I love you too, dumbass.”

They stayed there until the bite of the night breeze made Katsuki involuntarily shiver. “Come on Kacchan, let’s go back downstairs,” Izuku nudged. “We’ve already been up here for so long, they’re probably drawing straws to see who should come check on us.”

Katuski and Izuku made their way back down to Denki’s apartment—the normal way, because Izuku didn’t want to risk ruining the suit he got from the hag. “You know she’ll just make you another one, nerd,” Katsuki complained. “You’ve already been her favorite son our whole lives.” 

“Well I’m not trying to be her favorite son anymore, Kacchan, I’m trying to be her favorite son-in-law , so I have to make a good impression!” Izuku retorted. He processed the words a second later. “I mean, I—”

“Son-in-law, huh?” Katsuki teased. “Good thing I’m in the top 10 again, I’ll need the salary boost for a ring.”

Izuku hid his red face behind his hands. “Can we just go back downstairs?”

Katsuki laughed and held the door open for Izuku, kissing his cheek on his way past.

They clambered back to Denki’s apartment, stopping just once (maybe twice) to steal a kiss along the way. 

“After you,” Katsuki said, holding the door open for Izuku.

“Why Kacchan, who knew you were such a gentleman?” Izuku smiled.

Katsuki laughed. “Don’t get fuckin’ used to it, nerd, you’re doing all your onboarding paperwork yourself.”

Izuku gasped in mock indignation. “The horror!” He said, before suddenly looking shy. “Does this mean you’ll make my lunch again?”

Katsuki tried for annoyed, but softened into fondness. “Of course, Izuku. And you can post them all on your feed like a fucking psycho if you want, too,” he added.

Izuku turned beet red and shuffled into the apartment, muttering some pitiful defenses under his breath. 

Just then, Denki and Mina spotted him and bounded over. “Kats!” Mina shouted, apparently missing Izuku’s presence as he blended into the crowd by the door. “We heard the good news! You’re gonna kick ass in the U.S., blasty.”

Denki nodded enthusiastically. “And we’ll give you a proper send-off and everything, but we thought we should start now! So we’re gonna make a quick run for some party supplies. Do you want your balloons to be red, white, and blue, or just black, like your soul?”

Katsuki caught Eijirou’s eye over Mina’s shoulder, and he raised an eyebrow. Katsuki grinned.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you fuckers can’t get rid of me that easily,” he said. He saw Eijirou’s eyes widen.

Denki looked confused. “You’re not leaving? What changed your mind?”

Katsuki opened his mouth to gloat, but Izuku, reappearing at his side in a flash, beat him to it.

He wrapped an arm around Katsuki’s waist, pulling him in protectively. “Sorry to disappoint, Kaminari, but Kacchan will have to stay here and oversee a new partnership,” he said, punctuating his declaration with a kiss to Katsuki’s temple. “It’ll be very time consuming, I’m afraid.”

Denki and Mina stood frozen, eyes shifting rapidly between Katsuki and Izuku, but Eijirou did no such thing. “Finally!” he exclaimed, barrelling into them both. “Yaomomo!” he called out to Yaoyorozu, “Can you make us a banner, a giant one? We’ve got a new agency partnership to celebrate!”

That broke the spell of silence on the rest of the room, and Katsuki and Izuku found themselves swarmed with even more well-wishers than before. Katsuki pulled Izuku in close. “I was just going to tell them I had too much work to finish in Japan,” he said in Izuku’s ear. “But you didn’t want to waste a second, huh?”

Izuku blushed, his eyes sparkling as they locked on Katsuki. “No more wasting time, Kacchan,” he said, leaning in for a kiss as their friends cheered and jeered in the background.

Katsuki smiled into the kiss. “You do realize some fucker with a drone is probably going to have pictures of us making out on the front cover by tomorrow, right?”

Izuku pulled back with a sharp grin Katsuki had only ever seen on, well, himself. “Good, so we won’t have to pay for an ad in the paper. See? I’m saving us money already.”

Katsuki chuckled. “I’m bringing you on to be the level head, but you’re coming out swinging already. What am I going to do with you?”

Izuku pulled Katsuki back, their foreheads touching. “No take-backs, Kacchan.”

Katsuki laughed breathily across soft lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

*****************************

Daily Japan News: Newly Minted No. 4 Hero GEMG Dynamight Debuts a New Partner; In More Ways Than One!

Dynamight, who just last week saw a meteoric rise to the Number 4 position on the charts, broke his typical silence with the media and gave us some insight into his love life after a daring rescue in a hostage situation almost gone wrong! After all the injured victims had been taken care of by paramedics, an intrepid reporter asked the explosive hero if he was aware of the rumors circulating of him being spotted on a roof in a rather compromising position with a dark-haired mystery man. The reporters held their breath, ready for a characteristic outburst, but instead Dynamight looked confused.

“That’s it?” he asked. “You couldn’t even figure out who it was? The state of journalism these days.”

The same reporter bravely stepped forward again. “Mr. Dynamight, are you confirming the rumors?”

Dynamight rolled his eyes before fixing on something in the distance. “Well now that you’re all here, I guess I do have an announcement.” 

The reporters waited with baited breath.

“I will be expanding the Dynamight Agency, henceforth to be called the Twin Stars Agency. My new partner will be helping me take on a new class of interns next year, and my first sidekick, Kota, will assist in training and general support.”

The reporters began writing in a frenzy, but one remained with her hand raised. “Excuse me, Dynamight, but when you say your new partner, do you mean your new hero partner? Or your new romantic partner?”

Dynamight only smiled. “Yes,” he said.

Just then, a figure in green swooped down from a nearby rooftop and swept Dynamight into a kiss before launching them both back toward their agency. Childhood friends reunited to form an agency, and a relationship! Heroes Deku and Dynamight have made their official joint debut.