Chapter Text
“How do I look?”
Smoothing down the front of his lapel, Izuku met Ochako’s eye in the mirror. She nodded warmly and tucked her chin over his shoulder.
“So handsome.”
Right, okay, well that was obviously an exaggeration. Izuku’s gaze flitted back to study himself, eyes roving over every inch of his outfit.
Huh.
He didn’t wear suits very often, but maybe he should - the way the dark charcoal jacket was tailored made his shoulders seem broader than usual, his legs somehow impossibly longer beneath fitted pants. In fact, his entire silhouette was pretty sleek in the get up, and Izuku was struggling to locate any visible defects.
“I think I kinda like it,” he murmured, and Ochako raised a brow in disbelief.
“Hang on,” she said in faux shock, unhooking herself from his shoulder and scrabbling around in her purse. Her hand came out clutching her phone, and Izuku spied a blinking red circle on the screen before she shoved it in his face. “I need you to say that again. I need to get it on record that Izuku Midoriya likes the way he looks.”
Weakly pushing the phone away, Izuku attempted to throw her a Kacchan-esque eye roll.
“I didn’t say I like the way I look,” he corrected her, trying to duck away from the line of the phone’s camera lens as she waved it around. “All I said was that I kinda like my suit!”
“Aha!” Ochako stabbed at the screen in triumph. “I got that on video. Now all I need is Mina to show me how to import it into some editing software and we’ll have you saying something complimentary about yourself in no time!”
She tucked the phone away somewhere between the folds of her pink, vintage prom dress, skirts voluminous enough to hide pockets, apparently.
“Seriously, though,” she said, coming to stand beside him so they could both take one last look at themselves. “You look great. The accessories really make it.”
It had been his mom’s idea to pair the suit with a dark green tie and pocket square, both embossed with a subtle paisley print if you looked closely enough.
“It’ll bring out your eyes, honey,” she’d said as she’d looped it around his neck and folded it into place, standing back to admire her handiwork.
Begrudgingly, Izuku was forced to agree.
“So,” Ochako continued, leaning closer to the mirror and applying powder across her nose with a puff. “What do you think? Ready to go?”
“Mmm.”
Izuku stood back, turning slightly to slide a glance across to the Bakugou household. The frame of Katsuki’s window was cracked slightly open, but the curtains were drawn, no light illuminated from within.
The sight tugged somewhere low and deep in Izuku’s gut, a flash of lonely-hearted wistfulness expanding in his chest.
He hadn’t been avoiding Kacchan for the past week or so, per se, he’d just been… okay, fine, he’d totally been avoiding Kacchan.
It was just that Izuku didn’t know what to say to him right now, couldn’t force himself to act normal when the look on Katsuki’s face at the mere mention of prom had been something akin to revulsion.
After everything, it’d come as a surprise, particularly after they’d just spent such a wholesome evening together. If anything, Katsuki'd seemed to take his mother’s Eureka Moment in stride, hadn’t appeared too phased by the idea that she’d picked up on their relationship.
And yet the thought of walking into a room with Izuku on his arm for the world to see was… what? Too much? Too far? Too gay?
“Yeah,” Izuku said, forcing out a smile and trying to hide away the sadness in his voice. “I think I’m ready. We should probably go downstairs and save Shouto and Tenya from my mom anyway.”
Reaching out a hand and gently taking Izuku’s in her own, Ochako looked up at him with a warm nod.
“We made it,” she said softly. “Senior prom, Izuku.”
Trying to find some solace in his best friend’s big, brown eyes, Izuku nodded back.
“Yeah," he repeated. "Senior prom.”
***
The school gymnasium was decked out in enough silver streamers to keep Party City in business, twinkling string lights draped over almost every viable surface. The prom committee, headed up by Mina, had done an excellent job in making the space almost unrecognisable, if only because the amount of glitter made it impossible for your eye to linger on any one spot for too long.
It did, as Kacchan had so eloquently put it, kinda look like a mirror ball had puked over everything.
“Hell yeah, baby!”
There was a delighted woop as Izuku and his friends entered through the double doors, immediately bundled by several excitable bodies.
“Guuuys! You all look so freaking suave!” Kirishima actually looked slightly tearful, practically crushing Ochako and Shouto beneath each armpit. “I can’t believe the year’s almost over!”
“We’ve still got the whole summer, dude,” Sero said in his usual laidback tone, Izuku squashed between him and Kaminari in a stiflingly warm football-player sandwich. “You always get way too emotional about these things, you need to man up.”
“It is the pinnacle of masculinity to be able to openly express your emotions!” Kirishima replied, expression going deadly serious as Shouto’s face began to turn purple from the lack of oxygen. “Mina gave me a book about it.”
“You can read now? Bro, congrats.”
Grinning, Izuku extracted himself and took a step back.
“You all look great too!” he said, fiddling with his collar to make sure his tie hadn’t gotten messed up.
It was true - the gang scrubbed up well. Kirishima was a sight to behold in a dark red velvet number and black shirt, seams visibly straining to contain his gigantic biceps and hair freshly spiked with gel for the occasion. Kaminari and Sero were both suited and booted in head-to-toe black, with the exception of the garishly bright bow tie arranged slightly askew around Denki’s neck.
Izuku squinted at the pattern. Were those… rubber ducks?
Probably best not to ask.
“You’re one to talk, Mido!” Kaminari cried, grabbing both of Izuku’s shoulders and holding him at arm's length. “Man, just look at you. Good enough to eat. I wouldn’t mind taking a bite myse-”
“Try it at your own peril, dude,” Kirishima cut in, and Ochako wiggled out of his grip to slip in next to Izuku.
“Yeah,” she added, patting at Kaminari’s arm fondly. “I think Bakugou would skin you alive if you tried.”
Turning to look up at Izuku, she tilted her head toward the far end of the room. “Wanna dance?”
There was already a small crowd gathered on the makeshift dance floor, mostly the theatre kids jiving and throwing each other around in circles. The rest of the senior class drifted in and out of groups on the outskirts, gossiping and bobbing their heads in time with the music.
It looked like it could be fun.
“Oh, erm, sure, okay!”
Ochako led the charge, gripping Izuku’s arm and weaving around various bodies that called out hellos and waved on their way past. The rest of the group followed, casual arms slung around each other’s shoulders, voices raised and exuberant.
In the centre of the floor they found Mina, looking utterly gorgeous in a slinky emerald dress that accentuated every curve.
“My babies!” she cried, flinging her arms around Izuku’s neck, pressing her ample bosom up against him until it felt like steam was about to start piping out his ears. “I’m so glad you guys are here! What do you think of everything?”
She gazed around proudly, teetering on sky-high stilettos sharp enough to cut a man, admiring her creation.
“It’s all amazing!” Izuku said. “You’ve done such a great job!”
“Totally!” Ochako agreed with enthusiasm, shuffling to one side to accommodate Todoroki, closely followed by Iida and the others.
Kirishima balled up a fist and shoved it in his mouth when he laid eyes on Mina.
“I’m the luckiest man alive,” he mumbled around his knuckles as she adopted a slow spin, giving him the three-sixty view. “Pinch me, Denks, go on.”
Giggling and punching at his shoulder, Mina turned to the group and raised a brow.
“Guys,” she said, dropping her voice low and serious. “Why the hell aren’t you all dancing?”
And with that, she plunged into a slutdrop.
Whoever was in charge of the music seemed to catch on, because the volume blasted up and Ochako screeched at the sound of Nicki Minaj.
“I love this song!” she cried, raising her arms above her head. “C’mon guys!”
Izuku was swirled up in a sudden rush of clumsy limbs and grinning faces, barely having time to register any awkwardness before several hands were grabbing him and spinning him around. Lights whirled before his eyes, jostling joy and the press of body heat on all sides.
Exhilaration pulsed through him from all the excitement in the air, enough that he could ignore the tight clench of his stomach.
He’d never liked dancing in public, but these people were his friends. His pack. He didn’t need to hold back or reduce himself down, make himself smaller so that no-one would notice him. There was no need to be anything but himself, to allow his inhibitions to slip away - to forget all the eyes on him and stop wondering if their gazes held any judgement.
Slowly, Izuku popped a hip to one side. Then the other.
“Hell yeah!”
“Get into it Izuku!”
He snaked tentative arms into the air, beaming faces rushing in and out of his field of vision, the whole crew getting down, the crowd around them growing larger.
Everyone seemed to be hyped up on some surge of shared euphoria - even Iida was letting his hair down, cycling through the classics like no tomorrow: pushing the shopping cart, screwing the light-bulb, then falling into a perfectly synchronised running man with Kirishima.
On the outskirts of the circle, Todoroki stepped neatly from side to side, swilling his cup as if it contained high-end whiskey rather than flat soda, while Mina went full on twerk mode in the centre of the floor.
“This is so fun!” Ochako shouted over the music, and she was right. It was.
But something still felt like it was missing.
Despite the vibrant atmosphere, there was a hole in Izuku’s heart, and it was in the shape of a grouchy-looking boy with spiky hair.
Even as he danced and let go of his anxieties, feeling warm and loved and free as a bird, he couldn’t escape the grey cloud that followed him around, ready to unload a downpour onto his head at any given moment.
Because as much as he loved his friends, there was no getting away from it.
He missed Kacchan.
He wanted Kacchan to be by his side, wanted them to be able to enjoy this moment - this night - together. To mark the end of their high school careers in a way they’d never forget.
But Izuku had to accept that for whatever reason, Katsuki just wasn’t ready for that.
And it really freaking sucked.
As if sensing the droop in his mood, the song ended and the music changed, bright, bubbly pop beats giving way to a slow, romantic number, the couples on the floor instantly gravitating toward each other for a closer, more intimate dance.
Izuku watched as Kirishima’s arms circled Mina’s waist, her head dropping to his shoulder with a smile. They fell into a gentle sway, much of the crowd pairing off to do the same, Izuku left melancholy and alone.
As he allowed himself to wallow in self pity, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, his head turning in Iida’s direction just in time to watch him drop to one knee, face burning a deepening shade of scarlet as he extended a hand, palm up, and offered it… to Ochako.
Huh?
She gazed down at it with a blank look on her face, a hand coming to her mouth as she glanced back up.
Iida coughed.
“Ochako Uraraka,” he said, baritone voice carrying over the music. “Will you do me the honour…”
Ochako’s eyes widened, throat bobbing in a visible swallow as she stood, frozen. Everyone around them had turned to look, waiting for Iida to finish whatever it was he was about to say.
A collective breath held.
“...of dancing with me?”
Shoulders immediately slumping, Ochako’s hand fell to her chest.
“Oh my fucking God, Tenya,” she said breathily on an exhale. She looked to be an unusual mix of both relieved and pissed, and Izuku wondered if he was going to have to spend the remainder of the evening nursing poor Iida’s wounds. Crossing her arms, she tapped a foot against the rubber floor in her heeled Mary-Janes. “I thought you were about to propose or something, oh my God, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Stuck in a freeze-frame, Iida’s eyebrows twitched in horror.
“Oh, I… I mean… if you want -”
“Yes I’ll dance with you, you big, dumb idiot!”
Ochako flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing up against him.
“It only took you like four whole years to finally ask me!”
Iida’s face softened in relief, his hands falling to Ochako’s hips as he got to his feet and pulled her into a close, steady rock.
Izuku, meanwhile, could only gawk.
“Well, it took those two long enough,” Todoroki said from where he’d stepped in next to Izuku without him noticing. He took a long sip from his cup, observing the scene before them with his usual bland expression. “I always thought it would be Uraraka who would make the first move, to be honest.”
His words took a few moments to sink in, darting across Izuku's mind before they finally stuck.
“You… knew about this?”
“Of course.” Todoroki nodded. “Iida’s been pining after her for years.”
Izuku looked from Todoroki, to their friends - Iida and Ochako now clinging onto each other with nervous hands - and back again with an open mouth. Had there been signs of this along the way? Had there been long, meaningful glances and double meanings hidden between words that he had been too caught up in his own shit to notice?
Enough so that even Todoroki had picked up on it?
Wow. Izuku was a terrible friend.
“I… I never realised… she never said anything…”
“Midoriya,” Todoroki said, turning to Izuku with a sigh. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you’re actually not very good at picking up on social cues. Don’t feel too bad about it.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
Draining his drink, Todoroki’s eye appeared to be caught by something on the other side of the room, because he turned and wandered off without another word.
Well… what? Shaking his head, Izuku looked back at Tenya and Ochako, who had graduated from shy glances to staring unabashedly into each other’s eyes.
They looked… super happy. It was sweet.
Izuku’s heart bubbled up with a sudden rush of the warm fuzzies. When he thought more deeply on it, the whole thing made sense: Iida’s straightforward confidence against Ochako’s sharp mind and kindness. They complemented each other. Suited each other down to the ground.
Izuku was happy for them.
Giving them both one last long look, he took a step back and turned on his heel.
As he worked his way out of the mass of bodies, Izuku caught sight of a morose looking figure hovering by the refreshments stand.
Mr Aizawa had never looked quite so out of place, his slouchy all-black outfit overly casual against the sparkly backdrop, his demeanour a stark contrast to the adolescent elation all around. On his approach, Izuku noted that his teacher’s lip was curled back with a hint of disgust, as if he’d just been asked to scrub out the urinals without gloves.
To be honest, he got the feeling Aizawa would’ve preferred that task over supervising a bunch of rowdy teens, given the choice.
Waving as he got closer, Izuku attempted to wipe the traces of his tangled up emotions from his face.
“Hi, Sir!”
Aizawa peered back at him, pushing a strand of straggly hair behind an ear and plucking out a foam ear plug that Izuku hadn’t spotted before.
“Midoriya,” he said with a nod. There was a pause, and he furrowed his brow before he spoke again. “Are you… having a good evening?”
“Mhm, uh huh, yeah.” Izuku looked down to the table, a scatter of cups surrounding a large punch bowl filled with a dubious pink-coloured liquid. Reaching out, he gave the mixture a stir and ladled himself out a serving. “The, um, the prom committee has been working really hard on everything - they’ve been putting up the decorations for over a week - and the music’s pretty good, although a little loud I guess, and everyone seems to be having a lot of fun, so -”
“Bakugou didn’t want to come?”
Swallowing hard and taking a swig of the tooth-achingly sweet punch, Izuku evaded Aizawa’s gaze.
“No, uh, I guess not.”
“Hmm.”
They said nothing for a few seconds, both of them casting an eye out across the gyrating crowd.
“I heard about Stanford,” Aizawa said, breaking the silence.
Izuku turned to look up at him. Aizawa’s eyes remained trained straight ahead, hands deep in the pockets of his combat pants.
“Yeah,” Izuku replied, setting down his cup and straightening. “I… sorry, I should have told you. I mean, it’s probably mostly down to you that I got in at all, so -”
“Midoriya.” Aizawa turned his head and met Izuku’s eye, tilting his chin down and fixing him with eyes that made him freeze to the spot. “It’s got nothing to do with me. It’s all because of you.”
A flood of emotion welled up in Izuku’s chest, drowning his lungs until he could barely breathe. Aizawa had always provided the quiet kind of support - lending Izuku books, talking to him after class - but had never been one to be forthcoming with praise.
“I… um…”
Oh God. Here came the tears.
Pretending to ignore them, Aizawa soldiered on.
“I’ve never known someone to work so hard for so long. To your own detriment most of the time, but it’s paid off. You’ve grown into a very impressive young man, Izuku. You should be proud of yourself.”
Serious eyes unrelenting, Aizawa’s jaw moved as if he was about to say something more but then stilled. Izuku gulped down a breath, nodding sharply, focusing on making sure his voice didn’t crack when he spoke.
“Th-thank you, Sir. For everything.”
The words could never get close to conveying all the gratitude he felt inside, but he tried to pour as much as he could into the statement nonetheless.
Another moment passed before Aizawa looked away, clearing his throat and tugging to rearrange the loops of thin, grey scarf around his neck.
“Right. Yes. Just doing my job.”
Izuku let the lie slide. They both knew that no matter what he said, Aizawa always went above and beyond for every single one of his students.
Quiet descended over them once more, Izuku taking the opportunity to quickly swipe at his eyes, overtly aware that both of their bodies had gone rigid and hunched.
Thankfully, a distraction interrupted the awkwardness in the form of a high pitched buzz of microphone feedback from the direction of the stage, the unmistakable yippy voice of the Vice Principal blasting out across the room.
“Hey, movers and groovers, hope you’re all havin’ fun out there! Just letting you know that we’ll be announcing the prom King and Queen in T-minus fifteen minutes, so I’m gonna need y’all to head to the dancefloor ASAP!”
Aizawa closed his eyes briefly and sighed.
“Well, er…” He gestured vaguely to the other side of the hall, clearly well beyond his threshold for deep and meaningful conversation. “I’d better…”
“Oh, yeah, of course!”
Izuku forced out a smile and scratched at the back of his neck, Aizawa’s hands slipping from his pockets as he turned to leave.
“Oh, Sir!” Izuku reached out to grab the leather jacket laid over the trestle table between them, whirling around and holding it out. “Don’t forget your - oh!”
With the movement, something flew out of one of the pockets and clattered to the floor, a flash of metal tumbling through Izuku’s eyeline.
Whipping around, Aizawa took a striding step toward him and stooped, retrieving the hip flask that had been carefully concealed until Izuku’s blunder.
When he looked up, it was with an expression that could almost be described as sheepish. If it wasn’t so surly.
“I, er… chaperoning isn’t really my thing,” Aizawa said gruffly, and Izuku nodded so hard it probably wasn’t healthy for his brain.
“Sure, sure, absolutely!”
Still nodding, he handed the jacket over as Aizawa stood, eyeing him with just the barest hint of apprehension, mouth fixed in a grim line.
The whole scenario was just so awkward and inappropriate that Izuku couldn’t help himself. He snorted a laugh.
“You -”
A single dark brow arched in surprise, but Izuku couldn’t stop. The very idea that this brusque man - the only teacher he knew who could tear down the most cocksure of students with one withering glare - had to swig at liquor just to get himself through an evening of teenage hijinks made Izuku wheeze uncontrollably.
“Are you laughing at me, Midoriya?”
Slapping a hand over his mouth, Izuku tried hard to collect himself.
“I - I’m sorry, Sir! I know it’s really not funny, I just -”
The tiny curl of Aizawa’s mouth betrayed his amusement as Izuku took a shuddering breath.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Izuku smiled again and tried to arrange his features into the semblance of something reassuring. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Giving him one last long look, Aizawa nodded slowly, once.
“I appreciate that,” he said flatly.
And then he turned and drifted away.
Picking his way back through the crowd, Izuku quickly located his friends thanks to the ring of classmates that had begun to cluster around Mina and Eijirou.
The couple were a shoo-in for prom King and Queen, both of them unrivalled when it came to being both cool and likeable. There was almost no point in bothering with the formal announcements at all; the two of them might as well head straight up on stage to deliver their speeches without any of the additional hoo-ha. It would certainly be quicker that way.
As he got closer, Izuku clocked Ochako on the outermost ring of the circle, a happy pink blush all over her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes.
Taking the opportunity while she was alone, Izuku approached, sliding across the last few feet on the soles of his fancy shoes and skidding to a halt in front of her.
“Hi!”
“Oh, Izuku!” She looked up at him from beneath shy lashes. “I, er… where did you go just now?”
“Just catching up with Mr Aizawa,” he replied, unable to hold back the wide smile creeping across his face. He wasn’t gonna allow her to steer away from the subject that easily. “So. You and Iida, huh?”
Digging her toe into the floor and looking down, Ochako’s rosy cheeks deepened to a crimson hue.
“I guess… uh… yeah.”
“You… want to elaborate on that at all?”
Quirking her mouth to one side, Ochako didn’t look up, just plucked at her skirts bashfully.
“There’s nothing really to elaborate on. I guess I always had a feeling that maybe he… you know… liked me, but I was never sure because he… well, you know what he’s like…”
“Yeah,” Izuku agreed, thinking of all the times Iida had coughed and oh so conveniently found something super important to do the moment dating had ever come up in conversation. “I do.”
Gently, he tugged her wrist away so that she’d stop fidgeting with her dress and finally look up at him.
“And for the record, I’m super happy for you guys.”
A slow heartbeat passed as they looked at each other, the years of friendship and laughter an easy glow between them.
“Thank you.”
Ochako’s own smile grew across her face, the sweet grin Izuku knew so well, her nose all crinkled up and cheeks shining.
“Hey,” she added, eyes widening, struck by an idea. “This means we can go on double dates!”
Izuku felt his smile falter.
“I would love to, but I’m not sure I can see Kacchan agreeing to that.”
“I don’t know.” She eyed him carefully. “If there’s anyone who could convince him, it’s you. I think he’d do almost anything to make you happy.”
A pang of something bittersweet tightened around Izuku’s chest, tugging at his lungs and squeezing.
“Hmm,” he hummed, looking down. “Almost anything.”
Ochako didn’t reply to that, just tilted her head to one side in sympathy and reached out to squeeze his arm.
More of their classmates had begun to shuffle in around them, the crowd swarming into a single mass for the one big event of the evening. There was an electricity to the air, a raucous chatter of giggles and whispering, faces turning, flushed and hot, toward the stage.
There was no point in spoiling the mood with moping.
So Izuku drew himself together, forced his face back into a smile and held himself tall.
“Anyway,” he said, patting down the front of his jacket and smoothing down his hair. “I think they’re about to make the announcements, we should probably pay attention to -”
He was interrupted by a sudden loud clang of double doors from behind them, all heads turning in unison toward the far end of the gymnasium.
A broad figure paused in the doorway, chin tipping back to survey the crowd for a second before stepping forward.
Izuku’s heart stopped cold, lurched, then began a steady hammer against his ribcage.
Kacchan.
Katsuki’s strides ate up the distance between them in record speed, head turning this way and that, eyes searching across the crowd. The entire room had spun in his direction, a steady buzz of whispers rolling over and around and above them, giggles and gasps and confusion upon lips at the dramatic entrance.
“Izuku,” Ochako whisper-yelled from beside him, nudging him with an elbow. “He’s looking for you.”
And sure enough, with one more sweep of roving gaze, determined eyes met Izuku’s through the sea of bodies and locked. The tightness of Katsuki’s jaw softened, his steps slowing to a stop.
A moment pulsed between them - one heart to another across the crowded room.
Then, he picked up speed again, changing trajectory so that he was headed in Izuku’s direction, the crowd parting around him as he burned a pathway straight across the dancefloor.
He looked devastatingly handsome. Even more so than usual in a black suit jacket and matching pants, crisp white shirt slightly open at the collar and no tie in sight. The bright lights made his hair glint golden where it fell across his brow, his jawline carved as if from a sculptor’s hands.
As he drew closer, Katsuki slipped a hand into the pocket of his pants, sliding something out and holding it in his palm for the final few steps. When they finally stood toe to toe, Izuku almost trembling as they held each other’s gaze, Katsuki unfolded the crumpled piece of paper in his hands and held it up at chest height.
There were several lines of handwritten scrawl, some of which had been scribbled through or crossed out with a pen.
Sorry
Go to the shitty dance thing with me
FUCK
Stupid Deku
Sorry
Any residual mournfulness that Izuku had in his system, any sad sense of longing and bitter disappointment bled away, replaced by the bubbling up of joyous laughter.
Because there was no doubt about it: the boy in front of him was flawed, imperfect. Said and did the wrong things at times, was grouchy and stubborn, and sometimes hard work.
But through it all, he was Kacchan. And Izuku loved every part of him.
The people all around looked on in confusion, a hushed lull holding them in suspense.
“You’re late,” Izuku said, cheeks hurting from smiling so hard.
Katsuki rolled his eyes but flashed one of those rare, soul consuming grins that showed all of his teeth.
“Yeah, well,” he said. “I didn’t have a tux, did I? Had to rope in a favour from my mom.”
Stepping forward, he crumpled up the note and shoved it back in his pocket, close enough that his body heat warmed the space between them.
“I fuckin’ hate these things,” he said, voice gruff and stilted. “Rather gouge out my own eyes than spend a night with these losers -”
There was a muffled ‘hey!’ from somewhere in the crowd, but Katsuki ignored it. Instead, he reached out, smoothing a thumb down the length of Izuku’s lapel, examining the fabric, eyes following as he traced right down to the button.
“But I know that you like this kinda shit and…” He looked up, met Izuku’s eye. “I guess it ain’t so bad if you’re here.”
“Kacchan -”
Izuku’s chest swelled with so much love and affection it felt like it could pop and disperse into a thousand shimmering fragments in the air. He scrambled for more words.
“I thought that you… thought that you didn’t want…”
Pale eyebrows drew together.
“Don’t start thinking, Deku. You’ll give yourself a headache.”
Izuku choked out a wet laugh.
“Mmm. Maybe that’s true.”
Slowly, he reached out for Katsuki’s hand, the breath catching in his chest when Katsuki didn’t pull away.
Their gazes held, Izuku’s voice coming out as a whisper when he finally spoke again.
“Thank you.”
Frown disappearing into another flash of teeth, Katsuki gripped the hem of Izuku’s jacket on both sides and tugged him forward until they were nose to nose.
“I can think of a much better way for you to show me your gratitude.”
"Oh?" Izuku replied, feigning ignorance. "What's that?"
With another toothy smile and one more tug, the final inch of distance between them closed and their lips met - soft, sweet - a kiss of hope and promise and apology.
A collective intake of breath from around them dissolved into a chorus of aw’s and ah’s, Izuku doing his best to block them out as he wound arms around Katsuki’s neck and threaded fingers into his hair.
He let himself melt into the kiss, let his mind go blank to everything but the brush of hot skin against his own, the feel of steadying hands that slipped inside his jacket and found his waist.
Their lips clung together, even as they pulled apart, reluctant to be separated.
When they finally drew fully back to stare at each other, a slow, solitary clap began from somewhere at the back of the crowd, echoing up to the ceiling until it was picked up by the rest of their classmates, rousing applause building, accompanied by several wolf whistles.
Where once Izuku would’ve been embarrassed by the attention, now he could only laugh, trying to bite it back as Katsuki rounded on all of them with a glare.
“You idiots got nothing better to do than get up in our business?” he hollered, pulling Izuku into his side, clamping a protective arm around his shoulders. “Go back to your own sad little lives, watch some fucking porn or something, it’ll help you get off quicker.”
Ah, well. Some things never changed.
With the barked warning, most of the people in their immediate vicinity backed away, allowing space for the usual suspects to congregate around them instead.
“Guys,” Mina squeaked, hauling Eijirou behind her. Her eyes were a little damp, charcoal smudges of mascara beneath her lash line. “That was so freaking beautiful, you two are so cute! Whoever would’ve guessed that Katsuki Bakugou had a heart under all those layers of muscle fibre, huh?”
Katsuki turned away from her with a tsk but didn’t release his hold from around Izuku’s shoulders.
“You arrived just in time,” Ochako said, looking up at them both warmly. “They’re about to announce the prom King and Queen.”
“Lucky me,” Katsuki muttered under his breath as the Vice Principal, Mr Yamada, stepped up onto the stage.
Another round of microphone feedback squealed out across the room and Izuku felt Katsuki physically wince at the sound.
“Alright folks,” Mr Yamada boomed, the mic totally redundant and unnecessary given the volume of his voice. “It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The votes have been cast and counted, and it’s time for me to announce your very own U.A. prom King and Queen.”
A hush fell, voices trailing off into whispers, Yamada retrieving an envelope from the inside of his jacket with a flourish.
He cleared his throat theatrically.
“Ahem, alrighty then.”
Izuku flicked a glance to Mina and Eijirou, their arms slung casually around each other’s waists, skin all a-twinkle from the string lights overhead.
“First up, your prom Queen, as voted for by all you dudes and dudettes, is…” Yamada paused, eyebrows raised, sweeping a glance across the crowd before grabbing the microphone and bellowing: “Mina Ashidoooo!”
The crowd broke into applause, Mina slapping one hand to her chest in faux surprise, the other frantically fanning at her face.
“Oh my God, you guys!”
She clasped graciously at the hands of those around her before setting her sights on the stage and sashaying forward with purpose, strutting up the steps and dropping into a perfect curtsy to accept her crown. Looking out with bright eyes, she surveyed the loyal subjects before her.
“Jesus Christ, she’s gonna be even more fuckin’ unbearable now,” Katsuki muttered, letting out a low oof when Izuku elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a warning glare. “The fuck was that for? I’m just saying.”
Stepping up to the microphone, a million dollar smile tacked firmly in place, Mina launched into a gushing speech fit for the Academy Awards.
“I’d like to start out by thanking every single one of you for voting for me, I wouldn’t be here without y’all and I love you so much…”
Katsuki tsked again but this time Izuku didn’t chastise him for it, just stifled a laugh and let himself settle into the moment like he was coming home after a long, tiring day.
“...and I also want to thank our wonderful drama teacher, Ms Kayama, for always believing in me and showing me my true potential… and obviously my moms, for being the best parents out there and encouraging me to follow my dreams, I love you guys, and…”
As he stood and listened, Izuku felt overwhelmed by the feeling of love all around them, the air diffused with so much warmth that his skin seemed to soak it right up until he was steeped in its essence.
“...and I’d like to thank my cat, Mr Snuggles, for always being there for me, even in the darkest of times, and most of all I’d like to thank my amazing boyfriend… Eiji, I couldn’t do it without you baby, you’re the Bonnie to my Clyde, the Jay to my Beyoncé, the Bert to my Ernie -”
Izuku looked over to Eijirou again, who was gazing up at the stage with a look of pure adoration.
“O-kay!” Mr Yamada interrupted, wrestling the microphone from Mina’s grip and ushering her to the side of the stage. “Amazing, what a speech. Your prom Queen everybody!”
There was a scattering of applause, Mina swooping into a low bow and blowing exaggerated kisses left and right.
“And now,” Mr Yamada continued, blonde quiff jiggling slightly with all the enthusiasm, “to finish up this shindig, we’ll move on to your prom King.”
Izuku sighed happily, cuddling closer into Katsuki’s side, wondering if he’d be able to coerce him into a dance once the party started up again.
“It’s my pleasure to announce that your prom King is…”
It would have to be the right song or Kacchan would never agree to it. He was always saying that most modern music was complete and utter trash, but maybe if Izuku slipped the DJ a few dollars to play some Rage Against the Machine, he might just be convinced -
“...Izuku Midoriya!”
- although even then it wouldn’t be a guarantee, because Kacchan really hated dancing and -
Hang on. What?
The steady chug of Izuku’s stream of consciousness slowly ground to a halt. Everyone had turned to look at him, all eyes arrowed on him for the second time in a single evening.
“Did he just say…?”
“Yep,” Katsuki said, popping the p. “I think you just became prom King, Deku.”
What the -
“Mr Midoriya?” Vice Principal Yamada stood with brows raised, his weird little moustache twitching slightly. “Are ya gonna leave me hanging up here, or what?”
Izuku’s skin tingled, his thoughts suddenly obscured by a haze of fog. Slowly, he turned to the side, looked up at Kacchan.
“Go on, doofus,” Katsuki murmured, jerking his head toward the stage. “They’re all waiting on you.”
“Um… er…”
Katsuki made a shooing gesture with his hands, Izuku still looking up at him blankly, eyes flicking between Kacchan and Mr Yamada before he finally nodded dumbly and drifted off through the crowd as if wafted there without his control.
He glanced from side to side, gulping and finding his tongue thick in his mouth as he met the small set of stairs and climbed, tripping up the last step and stumbling onto the stage.
Blindingly bright lights forced his eyes into a squint as he made it to the microphone and looked out, expectant faces looking up at him, the thrum of blood thundering in his ears. He jumped when he felt something being placed on his head, reaching up to feel cheap plastic slotted down over his ears.
“It's just your crown,” Mr Yamada murmured at his shoulder so that only Izuku could hear. “Well done, kid.”
Throat dry and brain totally scrambled, Izuku managed a tiny “oh” of acknowledgment.
With a cough, he stepped up to the mic.
“I… um…” He twitched when his voice reverberated out across the room, echoing back at him louder than anticipated. “I, uh, I wasn’t expecting this… I… um… thank you.”
Shit. What else was he supposed to say?
All at once, his thoughts tumbled into action from all directions, words whirling across his mind in a flurry, none of them catching long enough to form a coherent sentence. Looking down at the crowd, his eyes flickered across his classmates, taking in shining eyes, smiling faces…
Each one of them he knew by name, could recall a moment shared, even if it was just in passing through the hallways or chatting idly in the lunch line. Each one of them had a specific place in his memory, their own special entry in the log of his lifetime, no matter how big or small.
And yet… he’d always assumed it wasn’t reciprocated. Assumed that he phased in and out of these people’s lives without them noticing, that he held no real importance in the grand scheme of things and was destined to fade into obscurity the moment he was out of sight…
“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Mr Yamada said close to his ear, warm and kind. “If you just wanna head off stage, that’s totally cool -”
“No, no, I, uh, I want to,” Izuku said, shaking his head and shaking the trance off with it. “I’d like to say something more.”
Taking a deep breath, he waited for the fizz of his thoughts to ease, waited until he could distil it all down into the right words.
“I guess it’s pretty obvious that I didn’t think I’d be the one up here tonight, so I, er… I haven’t prepared anything in particular," he began, clearing his throat, palms clammy. "But I… I think the main thing I wanna say is that I truly believe that every single one of you, every single one of us, is really… really special. I’ll… I know I'll never forget any of you, and I also know that we all have so much to give to the world, so much potential.”
The room had fallen into silence, no chatter or noise as Izuku spoke. Pinprick string lights flickered when he blinked, drifting fireflies winking across his hazy vision.
“And I… I think growing up in a small town can be hard in many ways,” he continued, failing to keep the waver from his voice but powering on nonetheless. “For a lot of us, at least. I know that I spent a lot of my time during high school feeling trapped, feeling like I was just… waiting for something more. Waiting for the future to arrive. Maybe some of you can relate to that.”
He paused, bit his lip, swallowed.
“But I think… what I’ve realised - after way too long - is that if you’re always waiting for the future… it can mean that you stop noticing everything that’s right in front of you. All the good things that you have in the here and now.”
His eyes roamed over the crowd until he found Ochako, her brown eyes as big and round as they could get. Izuku held her gaze for a few seconds before shifting to Todoroki, to Iida, to Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero.
“So I guess what I’m trying to say,” Izuku went on, exchanging a tiny nod with each of them, fingers trembling as he gripped the microphone more tightly, “is that I think we all have bright futures. We all have so much to offer to the world, so much in store for us…”
Finally, with a swallow, he slid his attention to Katsuki.
“And I’m looking forward to that, I really am…” He looked into those fiery eyes, held the blazing eye contact and let the rest of the room fade away, let the world slow. “I'm looking forward to whatever the future holds. But for now… I think I’ll settle for tonight.”
They remained like that for a few seconds, wordless, meaning understood all the same.
Then, Izuku coughed, remembering where he was.
“I, uh, I just think we should all try to make the most of things!” he spluttered, releasing his grip on the microphone and standing back. “So, um… have a good night everyone! And thank you again!”
The surge that met him when he half tumbled down the steps and back onto the floor was electric, cheers and whistles in his ears, hands and hugs enveloping him on all sides.
“What did I tell ya, man,” Kirishima said loudly, hands planted on Katsuki’s shoulders and head ducked toward his ear. “Midoriya really is the nicest kid in school.”
Katsuki shrugged him off.
“Yeah,” he said gruffly, mouth all twisted up. “He’s okay, I guess.”
Hooking a finger down the back of Izuku’s collar, Katsuki pulled him away from excitable clutches, swift hands spinning him until they were face to face. Voice low, one arm hooked around Izuku’s neck, he grunted:
“So. We gonna dance then, or what?”
A smile spread over Izuku’s face, blissfully happy.
“Yeah,” he said simply, winding their fingers together and looking up at the boy-next-door. “Let’s dance.”
A cacophony of woops and cheers swallowed any more conversation as the music struck up again, a frenzy of arms and rowdy babble all around. The whole crowd pulsed, a single mass that rose and fell and rode the wave together, all of them forming something bigger than they could ever be alone.
And in that moment, with the sound of his friends’ laughter in his ears, arms twisting into the air and Katsuki's hands at his waist, Izuku didn’t stop to think of anything else. Didn’t stop to think about the summer stretching ahead of them, or the rest of their lives that would follow on afterward - didn’t stop to think of all the good and the bad, all the highs and the lows and the heartaches that the future could hold.
No. Because in that moment, the here and now was enough.