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After all they’d been through, one poorly attended high-class dinner wouldn’t be enough to stop them. They’d faced more than a dozen media storms, online gossip rings, and tabloid scandals, but this was unexpected, even for this duo.
Deku sat on Kacchan's modest, black couch with a splitting headache, his phone held in a white knuckle grip. The screen was bright in the living room with blackout curtains drawn. Only slivers of blinding white light slipped through to illuminate the ceiling and cast lines along the floor and walls.
It was already into the morning and he still felt drunk. The floor felt like it wanted to greet his face and his insides shivered in disgust at the aftermath of what he’d ingested. He was by no means a lightweight, but he’d gone hard on that open bar. A mistake.
It was one thing to be faced with media backlash when they were expecting it, but to wake up to a shitshow was distressing.
He and Kacchan had been arguing over something. He couldn't even remember what, but he knew it was petty; their usual fare. Mixed with their usual nerves at large gatherings set them both up for failure.
This was all a huge mistake.
All over his feed, and all over the internet. Inescapable evidence. He’d long since muted his phone to all the phone calls and texts. God, he even had a text from his mother.
A kiss.
He kissed Kacchan.
The man kissed back.
Everyone saw. There were pictures; lots of them . They were careless.
His stomach flip-flopped and he shot to his feet in alarm.
“Don't you dare barf on my couch,” Kacchan said.
He ran to the bathroom and promptly threw his guts up. He might have even used full cowl to get there, he didn’t want to face an angry Kacchan if he threw up on his floor.
It wasn’t a good time, it was a pretty awful time, but his personal misery was enough to distract from what he’d just seen.
They’d kissed, he’d been seen going back to Kacchan’s apartment . He was still there!
Regardless of how much hadn’t happened, for all anyone knew, they’d slept together. He only knew they hadn’t because he’d woken up in a rumpled dress shirt and boxers, draped over a couch that wasn’t even big enough for him.
An undeterminable amount of time later and he was no longer hunched over the toilet. He stole some toothpaste to finger-brush his teeth and pathetically gargle with. Now he needed to face Kacchan. His stomach turned.
He returned to the kitchen and saw Kacchan had been kind enough to retrieve his phone from wherever he’d dropped it, and he’d set it to charge on the counter. Thoughtful.
The man sat on the couch, back to him, his laptop on his lap. He was scrolling through reddit with slow and deliberate attention to detail. He looked like he’d showered hours ago; his hair was dry but lacking the limp hangover look, and he was dressed in shorts and a tight black tank top. It showed off strong and tense shoulders in a way he really shouldn’t be noticing.
Was Kacchan angry? He couldn’t tell. Everything the man had said to him had been almost completely devoid of inflection.
“How long are you gonna stand there, dipshit?”
Until he discovered a 7th quirk and disappeared. But in the next thirty seconds, that didn’t happen, so Deku ran a weary hand over his face, and stepped into the living room. He sat on the coffee table across from him, studying his face for some clue to how he felt.
The cold light of the computer screen illuminated his face, casting a deep shadow onto the wall behind him. From the bags under his eyes, the man was just as tired and just as hungover. Red eyes snapped up to meet his from beyond the barrier of the laptop, and for once Kacchan didn’t talk first.
Deku swallowed. “So...what do we do?”
“Nothing,” Kacchan said. He thought he sounded a bit bitter. “They’ll all think we fucked regardless of what we say.”
“That’s up to our PR teams, isn’t it?”
Red eyes narrowed, aware of what Deku was hedging for. What do they do. Izuku and Katsuki, not Deku and Ground Zero.
“We were drunk,” Kacchan said, tone level. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
He was expecting those words, but hearing them aloud, seeing the distance on Kacchan’s face...it hurt more than he thought. What else were you hoping for, Izuku?
Deku needed to know, no matter how Kacchan thought about it. “Do you remember?” he asked.
Kacchan looked back at the screen, expression flat. “Not really. I remember dragging your heavy ass inside and dumping you on the couch.”
Rubbing his aching head, Deku thought that sounded familiar. He got up to get some water, and without asking, brought a glass back for Kacchan. It was a familiar action they’d practiced over the years, neither of them thought twice about it anymore.
Deku put the glass in Kacchan’s raised, expectant palm. He used to ask, and he no longer did. He always got a second glass for Kacchan. When had they gotten so familiar?
He sat back down on the coffee table, feeling sweaty and gross after waking up in his clothes. He sipped his water, fearful of his roiling guts, but it stayed down and gave him no excuse to leave the room.
“You’re awfully quiet, nerd.”
“So are you,” Deku shot back. This was too awkward, neither of them were going to ask who kissed who first. If Kacchan knew, he was sealing up his feelings tighter than Tartarus, the man just looked tired.
Rather than sit in awkward silence, Deku asked, “Can I borrow your shower?”
“Sure. Help yourself to something to wear, you look like a homeless salaryman.”
Deku winced. “Tsk, it’s not like I was planning on getting drunk.”
“Shower,” Kacchan ordered. His voice took an unpleasant twist. “I’ll call the agency.”
Firmly appreciating the fact Kacchan was about to face hell first, Deku stood and said sincerely. “Thank you for your sacrifice.”
Kacchan frowned in distaste for his task, and Deku left to rummage through Kacchan’s things. He found the usual staple of greys and blacks, picking out a sweatshirt and sweatpants from the bottom of the pile that seemed long forgotten.
He muttered to himself from the safety of the shower, going over what pieces of the night before he could even remember. What was the argument about? Was it the particulars of a new move? Maybe? He remembered leaving the party, Kacchan's arm around his back, holding him steady–or at least attempting to. His memory was still full of holes.
Who initiated the kiss?
His shower went by too quickly, the heat both a comfort and a detriment to his massive headache. He dried off and dressed to the sound of Kacchan shouting in the other room. Not an unfamiliar sound, but there was the usual flavor of Kacchan rage and then there was real rage. This bordered on something real.
Pulling the sweatshirt on, the fit was a bit tight due to their difference in height, but least he wouldn’t be half-naked. Being shirtless around Kacchan suddenly held all new meaning.
He snuck back down the hall in bare feet to the kitchen and tuned in mid-rant.
“-don’t give a single fuck what she said to you, you’re not publishing a single fucking word before I see it.” He paused, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. In the near dark, Kacchan was just an angry silhouette. “NO!....OF FUCKING COURSE NOT!....Yes he’s here...no...no…” Kacchan looked over, acknowledging him just to rub the bridge of his nose and shout into the phone. “My rep has always been in the toilet, I’m talking about Deku.”
It was no secret Kacchan could care less about the media, but it was kind of heartwarming that he seemed to care if his image pulled down Deku’s. Years of hero work and Deku was still shy and elusive when it came to television and interviews. The whole world might be watching when he fought, but he’d learned to adapt to the pressure. Somehow it was much more daunting to have to look back.
“I don’t care how you do it, they’re not talking to Deku.”
Deku interrupted, “Shouldn't I be the one to decide that?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Kacchan growled. He looked away, his aggression returning to the phone. “Not you. Draft a proposal and call me back.” He hung up to the sound of tinny shouting and finally turned to Deku. There was a pregnant pause. “A lot of the response has been positive.”
“Yeah?”
“Lots of speculation we’ve been dating in secret, that this was all staged.”
Deku let out a nervous chuckle. “Definitely not.” His eyes widened. “Not that I wouldn’t date you! Wait-I mean-”
“Relax, nerd, before you hurt yourself,” Kacchan drawled. He pocketed his phone and sat beside Deku, head thrown back against the cushions with a long sigh. He sank into the cushions, legs spread, hands in his pockets, and closed his eyes. “Sleep it off while you can, we’ve got a mess on our hands.”
The man was nearly touching, his knee just a hair’s breath away from his own leg. Why did he suddenly notice?
“Should...should I go home?” Deku ventured.
Eyes closed, Kacchan scowled at the suggestion. “Are you stupid? If your head hurts as much as mine I don't trust you with the stairs let alone a subway trip. Take the bed. Forgot you’re too fucking tall for the couch.”
“Uhh…” The thoughtfulness caught Deku off guard. Then again, Kacchan was practical. He wouldn’t enjoy having a hero watch his back when said hero was barely recovered from a hangover with a crick in his back. How embarrassing. “Thanks,” he finished lamely.
They traded places, and Deku might have felt awkward about sleeping in Kacchan’s bed if his body weren't so insistent he be horizontal. Kacchan’s room was just as dark as the living room, but thankfully the hero was a neat-freak and there was nothing in the way to trip over on his journey to faceplant on the duvet.
He felt like he blinked, and then Kacchan was poking him awake, jabbing a finger into his shoulder. He sucked in a breath and shot up, heart pounding. Kacchan sat on the edge of the bed, watching him with a patient, expectant look. “They sent the proposal.”
Deku blinked, heart rate smoothing out as he recalled where he was, and sat back on folded legs, headache noticeably less profound.
There was a time Kacchan might’ve woken him with a shout or an explosion, but empathy and mutual experience had Kacchan trying his hardest not to startle him awake. Thoughtful.
Sitting up with a stretch, Deku rubbed his eyes. “What’s it say?”
Kacchan handed over the phone, and Deku squinted. “I might have 6 quirks but reading fine print with a hangover isn’t one of them.”
Kacchan rolled his eyes. “Here, old man, let me dictate for you.” He snatched it back and read the email with annoyance that slowly filtered away the longer he read.
“The worst is already out there. You say you and Midoriya-kun aren’t in a relationship, but the consensus online and among the articles seems to be that you are. Rather than turn this into a one night stand scandal or a beehive of gossip, we propose you continue this “relationship” for a while, then casually “break up” once the hype dies down. The second you blow up a shrine or monument the media will move on.”
Kacchan stopped, tossing the phone onto the bedspread with restraint that screamed he'd rather throw it out the window.
“Continue…” Deku murmured, “our nonexistent relationship.”
“Is it non-existent?” Kacchan said slowly. “We train together, work together, occasionally hang out together. Would it be that different?”
Deku studied the other man again, still unsure what all this meant to him. He was talking like it was a real option for him. From where the other hero sat, he was mostly in silhouette, crisp daylight bouncing off the walls and floor to cast him in a melancholy light.
He clenched his jaw, not about to be done in like a coward. He was the successor of One for All, and he was afraid of his best friend? “Kiss me.”
Kacchan’s head whipped around so fast he physically flinched. “What?”
“I don’t remember it,” Deku said resolutely. “Kiss me.”
After a moment, Kacchan scoffed, “It’s not a fight, it’s a shitty kiss. Stop looking at me like you’re ready to throw down.”
“I’m nervous,” Deku admitted.
“It’s gonna be the best kiss of your fuckin’ life, nerd, you better be nervous,” Kacchan growled.
Oh.
The man shifted so they were facing each other, one leg folded underneath him, and he reached out for his face. His fingertips traced his jaw and slipped back into his hair, settling on the back of his head. His hand felt nice, almost too nice, and Deku realized it was one of the few gentle touches he’d had in years. Kacchan remained shockingly gentle, for how aggressive his tone had been.
He never gave it more than a passing thought, he'd never let himself think about it at all, but Kacchan was attractive. Even when the hero was screaming his head off, he just looked alive, he had a violent appeal that to anyone else was seen as a detriment. This close, he could see the beginning of wrinkles from his ever-present scowls and smiles that had so little to do with joy.
After a flicker of hesitation, Kachan leaned in, scarlet eyes slipping between his lips and his eyes as if double-checking he had permission. Kacchan was nervous too.
Kacchan suddenly surged forward, pressing their lips together. Their lips were touching. They were touching , and it wasn’t out of necessity, but want. He inhaled his shock; The man smelled like crushed grass and honey. Very nervous then.
His lips were soft, and a little wet, and then he felt his tongue, softly prodding along his lips, tentative, and nothing like the Katsuki he let the world see. Deku’s lips parted to let Kacchan in. He felt hot, but Kacchan’s tongue pressed into his mouth like molten metal. Deku was suddenly deepening the kiss, or was that Kacchan?
It was good, real good, enough to make his spine tingle.
Then they parted and they watched each other, flushed, thoughtful.
“What if…” Deku began. “It’s not fake?”
Kacchan’s expression didn’t change, but Deku saw the interest in his eyes. “That’s really what you want?”
“I think it is.." he tilted his head in question. "Is that really so shocking?”
Kacchan curled his lip in offense. “You’ve been tiptoeing around me all morning.”
Now Deku felt defensive. “None of the pictures show who kissed first.”
Kacchan’s ears turned red, it was obvious even in the dark. Deku put two and two together. Seemed the other had been scouring the internet for the same evidence he had. Kacchan wasn't usually one to pay attention to the media, it should have been glaring. Deku blamed his hangover.
Having mercy on his friend, Deku carried on, “We’re two of the top heroes, we’re both workaholic idiots-”
“Speak for yourself, I’m not an idiot.”
“-we get home late, we leave early, we co-own an agency.”
“You own it,” Kacchan grumbled.
“To cover your ass for insurance. You know I consider half of it yours,” Deku argued. “It...we...could work.”
In a rare moment of weakness, Kacchan dropped his walls, his features softening in relief. How much of a burden had his anxiety been? The man pretended he was over their past, but they both held the other’s opinion in such high regard it was damn near sacred, and that had everything to do with who they had been and who they’d become.
Kacchan slowly slapped together the defenses around his heart, swallowing. “Then let’s try.”
Deku’s brows raised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, nerd.”
That was more than Deku thought he'd get that day, it was overwhelming enough to cease all his thoughts, pivoting around that singular truth; he was with Kacchan. The man was right, they were always together, was it so frightening to push that door open?
Kacchan turned back around, both his feet lighting on the floor, and he leaned forward on his knees. Deku bribed. “If you send the email, I’ll rub your shoulders.”
Kacchan snorted. “Gay,” but he was already picking up the phone, tip tapping away. Deku set to work on his shoulders, kneading away the other man’s tension. From the grimace on his face, it hurt like hell at first, but it was a necessary evil. He didn’t bother trying to sneak a glance at the phone screen, he wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t read it. “What did you say?”
“Said we’d do the fake relationship option. Let’s see how long it takes those nerds to notice it’s real.”
Deku laughed, giving his neck an extra firm squeeze. “You sneaky bastard. You wonder why they hate you.”
“It’s pronounced respect,” Kacchan spat. “Higher, nerd, the couch killed my neck.”
Following that instruction, Deku squeezed the base of his skull, his hand snug around his neck, despite all the strength coiled there. That was interesting, he’d never considered liking his hands on Kacchan. “Well...we can share the bed now,” Deku said. “If you want.”
“I’m not gonna cuddle you,” Katsuki warned, “and I ain’t gonna hold your hand.”
“Sure, Kacchan.” Deku smiled, not having expected anything less.
The nickname earned him a look, his expression nearly unreadable. “You’re surprisingly agreeable. Should get you blackout drunk more often.”
"That's irresponsible," Deku said. "I'm still mad I can't remember my first kiss."
Red eyes widened. "Holy shit, Deku, you're 26 and you'd never been kissed?"
"Like you're any better, who was your first?"
Kacchan's ears turned red again and he admitted, " You , nerd."
"Well, I feel a little better now." Deku smiled. "At least we're even."
"I bet I kissed you ," Kacchan argued. "You're always such a pussy."
Deku realized it didn’t really matter to him who kissed who first anymore, he just needed to know the feeling was mutual. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," Deku yawned and flopped back on the bed. "Sleeping of speak."
"God, Deku, if your head isn't screwed on straight tomorrow I'm benching you." He complained, but he threw himself down on the bed beside him, kicking Deku’s legs to make room. He could swear the man was extra aggressive once he’d learned how little his punches hurt him with One for All. Kacchan could be petty, but it was honestly kind of endearing.
Deku hugged a pillow and lightly snorted. "I'll be fine, m'more worried about the stares."
"You’re as bad as Tamaki."
Deku’s voice was muffled by the pillow. "Hey! No one is as bad as Tamaki."
There was a moment of contemplative silence before Kacchan agreed. "Fair." Deku heard Kacchan shuffle in the bed and he punched a pillow, getting comfortable. Their backs were touching, but somehow even something that small felt monumental.
Deku’s voice was small, searching. "We'll talk tomorrow? Er, later?"
"Yeah, Deku, we'll talk, now shut up," Kacchan murmured. There was nothing but quiet affection in his voice, and it made Deku smile to himself. This was the most pleasant hangover he’d ever had, by leagues.
Stress later, nap with Kacchan now. They had each other’s backs, they would be fine.