Work Text:
Work was a drag.
Katsuki runs a hand over his face, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes as he drives back to his apartment on the other side of town. It had been a long day, which somehow turned into an even longer night, and as he glances over at the dash to check the time, he has to squint through the tired blur of his vision in order to read off the brightly lit number.
1:07 AM. Fuck. It’s so late that it’s already morning.
Katsuki thumps his head back against his car seat, letting out a long, suffering sigh as he looks back toward the road ahead of him. Streetlights zoom past him as he presses his foot deeper into the pedal, speeding up along the open road. He has half a mind to leave it there, heavy on the gas, eager to get home and fall into bed, but he gently lets off as soon as he’s pushing the limit. There aren’t many cars around, but there’s still a number of puddles that crowd the edges of the street, the tarmac still wet from an earlier rain.
It’s enough to at least be cautious, and Katsuki doesn’t really need to be speeding when he’s half out of his mind from fatigue in the first place, so instead he jams a finger into the radio and cranks the volume up to help the fog invading his brain.
Thankfully, his place isn’t too far from the agency, but it’s still not close enough that it makes the drive inconvenient. Usually, he enjoys the commute, but tonight he feels the seconds passing like days.
Maybe grabbing that extra shift hadn’t been the best idea.
Katsuki can feel the weariness creeping over him as he pulls up to a red light, trying hard to suppress a yawn as he clicks on his blinker. There are still a few intersections between where he is now and the street he usually parks his car on, and as he stares at the traffic light above him, waiting for it to go green, he forces his eyes open wider. He tries to focus on the blaring music to keep himself conscious, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to distract himself from dozing off, idly drumming along to the beat of whatever pop song is currently on. It’s not the kind of music he usually listens to, but the fact that he doesn’t know it is exactly what keeps him awake, so he doesn’t bother changing it. Instead, he lets the song play, and as the light drops green, Katsuki gets ready to zoom through the next couple of lights.
The anticipation of flopping onto his bed and decompressing into the sheets should be enough to get him home, and he’s so fucking exhausted that he doesn’t even think he’ll mind falling asleep without a shower, too used to his own sweat to be bothered by its presence still lingering on his skin.
But just as he’s about to pull away from the intersection, he spots a flash of familiar green out of the corner of his eye, in the shape of dark curls, and almost instantly Katsuki lifts his foot off the gas, head swinging around to follow the figure with his eyes as he drives by.
At first, he thinks he might just be imagining things—maybe his exhaustion is making him hallucinate—but then he lifts his eyes toward the rearview mirror, and spots the figure again, only this time it’s clearer and accompanied by a light spotting of freckles.
Katsuki’s hands are instinctively jerking toward the curb before he can fully comprehend what he’s doing, stomping on the brake as he pulls over to the side of the road to crowd the shoulder. He lets the car slowly roll to a halt, then throws it into park and digs a finger into the button for the passenger’s side window.
It rolls down just as the green-headed figure finally comes up along the side of his car, scuffed red sneakers scraping along the damp sidewalk, eyes glued to the puddles beneath his feet as he walks. His hands are full, too, one holding a plastic bag from a nearby convenience store and the other carrying a folded umbrella.
Katsuki has to bend his head so he can peer out the window, watching the figure walk a step more, squinting a little just to make sure he’s not dreaming, before finally calling out, “Nerd.”
Immediately, Izuku’s head jerks up, eyes finding Katsuki’s in an instant before he blinks rapidly with surprise. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts, despite the fact that it’s gotten significantly colder since sunset, with tall socks hiked up over his ankles. His hair is a bit of a mess, slightly disheveled and ruffled against the breeze, and a bit of darkness taints the bags underneath his eyes. Nevertheless, at the sight of Katsuki, a smile easily finds his lips, happy and wide, and Katsuki can’t help but feel a warmth hum to life in his chest, heat flooding through him as he watches Izuku slowly come to a halt on the sidewalk.
“Kacchan!” he says, glancing at the body of Katsuki’s sleek, black sports car, before his eyes dart back to his face, a questioning look finding his features as he leans down a little to look back at him, “What are you doing here?”
Katsuki chews on the inside of his cheek to keep from starting something—he’s too worn out to pick a fight anyway—before gesturing vaguely toward the end of the road. “Home. What about you?”
Izuku’s smile quickly fades into a tiny frown, eyebrows creasing slightly as he asks, “You just got off? I thought you had morning shifts this week?”
Katsuki stares at him for a second before blinking lethargically, already starting to feel his gaze go a little glassy as he realizes Izuku dodged his question in favor of asking his own. Maybe stopping for the nerd was a bad idea. He’s always so eager to stick his nose into Katsuki's business, and Katsuki is too tired to try and explain it away tonight.
He responds to both with a gravelly, “Yeah,” before his eyes dart down toward the plastic bag in Izuku’s hand, and he nods toward it, still trying to figure out why the hell he was walking around at one in the morning. “Run out of something?”
Izuku follows his gaze slowly, then lifts it up in acknowledgment.
“Oh, just beer,” he mumbles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he lowers it again, eyes avoiding Katsuki’s, “I was on my last one.”
Katsuki lifts an eyebrow, squinting at Izuku a little. His sight is still a little bleary from the drive, but now that he mentioned it, Katsuki can definitely spot a hint of pink on Izuku’s cheeks, most likely from the drinks he’s already had.
Then, his eyes dart down to the bag again, and he finds himself asking, “What kind?”
It’s late. It’s really fucking late, and Katsuki shouldn’t be asking what kind of beer the nerd got because why does he care. In fact, he should already be home by now. His place is just a few streets down. He could be in bed. He could be falling asleep.
Instead, he watches as Izuku shrugs a little, bashful. It’s cute.
“Super Dry.”
Katsuki nods, flexing his hand against the steering wheel for a moment before breathing out a quiet breath. He could still pull away from the curb. He could leave things there. Wish Izuku a goodnight. Tell him he’ll text him tomorrow.
Instead, he offers, “Need a ride?”
Izuku blinks at him again, then shakes his head and smiles, “That’s okay. I’ve got it.”
Katsuki’s sure he does. He doesn’t live that far from here, and he can very well carry his own damn beer home and drink it by himself (in front of another All Might rerun probably). Meanwhile, Katsuki could finally go home and get some much-needed rest.
But suddenly, for some reason, he doesn’t feel tired anymore.
“You’re wearing a t-shirt and fucking shorts in thirteen-degree weather,” Katsuki finally says, leveling Izuku with the best glare he can muster, “If it rains, you’ll catch a cold, so get in.”
“But that’s why I brought an umbrella,” Izuku says weakly, holding it up as if Katsuki can’t already clearly see it.
Well, at least he looked at the forecast, but Katsuki still isn’t impressed.
“Maybe you should’ve grabbed a coat too,” he deadpans.
Izuku narrows his eyes at Katsuki, frowning with displeasure, but by the time he opens his mouth to protest, Katsuki is already letting out a swear under his breath and jamming his finger into the seat belt buckle. He lets the strap retract before quickly glancing into his rearview to make sure no cars are coming and popping open the driver’s side door to step out onto the street.
“Kacchan,” he hears, an objection, but he ignores it accordingly, rounding the hood of his car before stepping up on the sidewalk and over to where Izuku is standing.
The nerd is frowning at him, muttering something inaudible under his breath, but Katsuki just ignores him, bending down by his waist and grabbing onto Izuku’s plastic bag before tugging him forward by its handles as he directs him toward the passenger's seat.
“Get in before I kick your ass,” he growls, popping open the passenger’s side door for Izuku and pulling it wide for him to get in.
Izuku’s frown deepens, and if Katsuki wasn’t sure before, now he’s convinced that the nerd has definitely had a drink or two, because he’s being way more difficult than usual.
Still, that doesn’t stop him from putting up a fight.
“Your car is colder than the street,” Izuku argues weakly, arm hanging loosely, both their hands still attached to the plastic bag that now swings in between them. “Besides, my face is warm, so I doubt I’ll catch anything— Ow, Kacchan! What the heck!”
But Katsuki only pinches his fingers together again, ready to send another flick into the nerd’s forehead if he has to, and Izuku flinches in preparation, squeezing his eyes shut and quickly slapping a hand over his bangs to shield himself from Katsuki’s inconsequential attack.
“Okay! Fine, I’ll get in!” he relents, “Just don’t flick me again!”
His voice is a slight whine and his hand is tugging at the plastic bag gently, fighting against Katsuki’s grip and leaning away from both him and the car. It looks like he's trying to slip out of Katsuki’s reach, but Katsuki can’t have that, so he carefully lowers his fingers and loosens his grip.
Izuku feels it, the weight of the alcohol swinging back toward his knees, and Katsuki watches as he cautiously squints an eye open at him.
“Hurry the hell up, then,” Katsuki mutters, glaring back at him, “I said I’d kick your ass, didn’t I?”
Izuku wrinkles his nose, glaring right back at him and snatching away the plastic bag from Katsuki's grip as he finally takes a step toward the passenger’s seat.
“Yes, but Kacchan doesn’t have to be so mean about it,” he argues, his voice an obvious pout as he finally sticks a foot into the car, starting to duck his head so he can slide into the low-riding vehicle.
Still, he’s not as short as he used to be in high school, so Katsuki carefully reaches out his hand to guide him, fingers landing on top of matted green curls and pushing down gently to make sure Izuku doesn’t slam his head into the roof, and only keeping it there long enough for him to fully settle into his seat.
Izuku looks up at him with wide eyes, watching as he retracts his hand, and Katsuki swears the flush on his cheeks grows rosier.
“Kacchan…” Izuku whispers, but Katsuki is already reaching for the belt, guiding it around Izuku’s waist and buckling him in with care.
He’s close enough now that he can smell the Super Dry fresh on Izuku’s breath, paired with the faintest hint of laundry detergent on his clothes and whatever spices he’d had on his dinner. Katsuki only allows himself to linger for a moment, however, before backing out again, head still lowered as he leans his arm against the doorframe and examines Izuku one last time.
The plastic bag now dangles between his red sneakers, with his toes pointed inward and his fingers tangled in the handles. Next to him, his umbrella leans against the edge of the seat. He’s still staring up at Katsuki, probably waiting for him to close the door, but Katsuki just stares back at him, taking in the view for a moment. He looks good sitting there, in Katsuki’s car. Strapped in. Safe.
Izuku was far from helpless, but he wasn’t exactly an all-powerful quirk-wielding badass anymore either. And even back then, Katsuki preferred to keep him within his line of sight. He still does.
“Still think I’m mean?” he finally asks, raising an eyebrow.
Izuku immediately flushes, shoulders raising defensively as his ears start to burn, and Katsuki can’t help the smirk that breaks over his face at the sight, a laugh escaping his lips as the nerd lets out a flustered wheeze.
“Yes! Absolutely I do! Kacchan—” but Katsuki is already slamming the door in his face, shaking his head as he snickers to himself and rounds the hood of the car, back toward the driver's seat.
He slips in easily, closing the door behind him before throwing the car back into drive. Then, he turns on his blinker, glancing over at Izuku one last time before he decides to pull onto the road.
Izuku has slumped back into his seat, his eyes buried in the palm of one of his hands, breathing slowly as the heat starts to recede from his cheeks. Katsuki runs a tongue over his teeth, slightly pleased with himself. Izuku was always easier to work up after a beer or two.
“You okay over there?” he finally asks as he eases back onto the street, “Still breathing?”
His hands feel more sure on the steering wheel now, and he feels ten times more awake than when he’d left the agency, but he barely notices either as he glances over at Izuku again. He has half a mind to just keep his eyes there and say fuck it to the road, but he pulls them away again just as quickly, gripping the wheel tighter as he forces his focus back to the street lights ahead of them.
“No thanks to you,” Izuku grumbles, and Katsuki hears him shift, the rustle of the plastic bag moving between his feet, “I barely sat down, and you’re already giving me whiplash.”
Katsuki lets out another laugh, grinning proudly, “Payment for the carpool.”
Izuku sits up in his seat, head turned toward Katsuki as he starts, tone offended, “I told you, I could—” before he cuts himself off with a sigh and flops back again, muttering, “You know what, nevermind.”
Katsuki glances over at him, seeing that he’s leaned his elbow up against the windowsill, his chin propped on his hand as he gazes outside. The streetlights roll across his silhouette, bathing him in fluorescents and making his hair shine bright.
If Katsuki closes his eyes, maybe he could see the lightning again.
It’s been about four months now since Izuku lost his embers, and as Katsuki lets out a sigh of his own and turns his head back toward the road, he thinks his weariness might have another cause outside of just hero work.
It’s silent for a while, other than the faint music that plays over the radio, still stuck on whatever pop station Katsuki turned it to to keep his eyes open. He still doesn’t recognize the music, but after a minute or two Izuku starts vaguely humming along to the melody. He’s a little out of tune, but Katsuki listens quietly, and after a few beats, he can’t help but move his gaze back toward where Izuku sits.
He notices a hint of a smile on Izuku’s lips, his eyes closed as he presses his forehead against the cool glass of the window, and Katsuki leans into the brake for a few seconds in favor of staring at him for just a little while longer.
Fuck, he likes him. He likes him so much.
It’s only when Izuku’s song ends and another one starts that he finally breaks the silence.
“So, what’s with the extra drinks?” he asks softly, hoping he doesn’t sound too forceful or intrusive, trying to keep the question casual enough that Izuku can shrug him off if he likes.
But Izuku answers easily, propping his chin back up on his hand again as he murmurs, “I don’t know. I just didn’t know what else to do, I guess.”
Katsuki grunts, running his fingers along the edge of the steering wheel and adjusting himself in his seat. “Not enjoying the downtime?”
“Not really,” Izuku admits quietly, lifting his head a little before glancing at the road ahead of them, smiling softly to himself as he whispers, “All I can do is watch the news.”
Katsuki focuses on him again, unable to keep from noticing the way that Izuku’s smile doesn’t quite touch his eyes, or the hints of fatigue scattered across his features, or the heaviness in his voice. There’s an echo of loss that seems to be etched into him, like he isn’t quite whole, like something integral is missing, and Katsuki can’t help but think that maybe he isn’t the only one who feels exhausted tonight.
Something squeezes in his chest, an old wound that won’t stop acting up, but he shoves the feeling back down and grips the steering wheel harder.
“You’d probably be better off throwing the flat screen out the window,” he mutters, flicking on his blinker as they turn off the main road, the street lights fading into the soft glow of apartment complexes, “That’s what I would do if I had to see IcyHot’s face plastered across my TV every day.”
Izuku laughs, soft and unreserved, but it sounds hollow in Katsuki’s ears.
“That’s not nice, Kacchan,” he reprimands quietly, falling back into his seat again, and Katsuki can just make out his green curls shifting toward him in his periphery. Then, his voice falls quieter, his words tender and full even as he whispers, “Besides, it’s you who I usually watch.”
Katsuki feels his teeth come together, biting down fiercely as the words slowly seep into his skin, forcing his eyes to remain on the road ahead of them, unsure if he looked at Izuku right now, he’d ever be able to look away again.
He knows it’s meant to be a compliment—that Izuku watches his hero work, that he still keeps his eyes on Katsuki, even after all these years—but it still doesn’t dampen the blow of his words. Knowing that Izuku is sitting on a couch in his shitty apartment day after day, drinking beer and watching Katsuki accomplish all the things he’s dreamed of since they were kids, feels more like a punch to the gut than something to be proud of. Not when they should be at each other's side, winning and saving together. Not when they should at least have that much, after everything they’ve been through.
Not when those words make Katsuki ache.
He exhales slowly, feeling Izuku’s eyes on him and wondering whether or not he can see right through him, right down to the scars on his heart and the marrow in his bones, before he finally murmurs, “I still think you should throw it out the window.”
Izuku laughs again, although this time it sounds slightly more genuine. “I can’t do that, Kacchan,” he insists.
Katsuki lets out a soft tch of disapproval. “I’ll do it for you, then. Next time I come over.”
“Kacchan, I’m not going to let you throw my flat screen out the window,” Izuku drawls flatly, “My mom bought it for me.”
“I’ll pay her back.”
Izuku’s chuckling fully now, and Katsuki has to bite back a smile of his own as he pushes gently on the brake and pulls up to the curb. The car slowly crawls to a stop and Katsuki throws it into park with ease before turning off the engine and pocketing the key.
Izuku’s giggles slowly subside as he glances out the front windshield with wide eyes, blinking a couple of times as he leans over the dash to take in the surroundings. Then, he turns to Katsuki, confusion in his voice as he asks, “Uh, Kacchan? What are we doing here?”
Katsuki ignores him for the moment, already knowing where this is headed, and instead pushes his thumb into the buckle to release his seatbelt before reaching over a hand and doing the same with Izuku’s, careful to ease his fingers along the belt as it retracts so it doesn’t snap into Izuku’s face.
“Kacchan,” Izuku repeats, and this time Katsuki can hear the tiny frown on his lips, voice soft as he states the obvious, “This is your place.”
Katsuki only hums, moving to pop open the door before sliding out of the car.
Izuku’s gaze follows after him. “I thought you were taking me home,” he says, and he has to lean across the console to look Katsuki in the eye now that he’s standing, courtesy of a low-riding car and Katsuki’s healthy height.
Katsuki lets out a staggering sigh, feeling the exhaustion begin to wash over him again. He didn’t have the energy for another argument, and it’s not as if he was being obtuse. He was the one who forced Izuku into the car, after all. But, of course, it was just like Izuku to never make anything easy.
“Kacchan—”
“I thought we could share a few drinks,” he finally interrupts, turning back to look at Izuku, seeing his wide eyes still staring up at him from the passenger's seat.
He’s got a hand in the driver’s seat now, bending forward to keep his gaze steady, the light scarring that traces up and down his skin more visible underneath the direct glow of the streetlight. Scars from a battle where Katsuki still wishes he could’ve done more.
“I could use a drink,” he finishes quietly.
Izuku’s eyes soften, his brow furrowing in concern. “I mean, I don’t mind, but—”
“Good,” Katsuki says quickly before he snaps his car door shut in Izuku’s face and begins rounding the hood of the car again.
By the time he makes it to the other side, Izuku is already popping the door open and stepping out, although Katsuki manages to get a hand on it in just enough time to pull it open for him, watching him rise out of the car with a frown on his face.
“What’s up with you?” Izuku asks, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looks Katsuki over slowly, head to toe, “Is everything… okay?”
“Izuku, if you ask me one more question, I swear I’ll explode your face,” Katsuki says warningly, his voice bordering on a growl.
Izuku raises an eyebrow, clearly unperturbed by the very real threat of violence. “Okay,” he concedes, “But you do realize I can open a car door by myself, right?”
Katsuki juts his jaw to the side, glaring back at Izuku as he picks up on the slight tease in his voice, before gritting out a sarcastic, “Well, you had so much trouble getting in, I wasn’t sure.”
Izuku lets out another chuckle, ducking his head a little as he reaches back into the car to grab his umbrella and his beer, “I’m fine, Kacchan, really. I’m only two cans in, promise.”
“Uh huh,” Katsuki says, making a grab for Izuku’s things as he draws them out of the passenger's seat, carefully taking the bag and the umbrella from his hands, “It’s still a walk-up.”
An amused look plays across Izuku’s face as he watches Katsuki take his stuff into one hand and snap the door shut behind them both with the other.
“I can climb stairs too,” he lilts airly.
“Really? Because I remember when you ate it in preschool on the cement—”
“Kacchan—”
“—split your chin open and there was blood fucking everywhere, yeah?”
Izuku’s giggling again, and Katsuki feels his familiar hand land on his shoulder as they make their way off the street and back onto the sidewalk, shoving at him playfully as they head toward the base of Katsuki’s apartment building.
“You hadn’t even tripped over your shoelaces or anything, you were wearing fucking velcro—”
“Kacchan, please. We were four!”
“Yeah, and you still managed to fuck yourself up! Had to patch you up myself and everything. And it was a fucking mess too,” Katsuki accuses, pointing a finger at Izuku threateningly as he starts up the stairs, “So you better not eat it again, you got it?”
“I got it, I got it,” Izuku relents, placing a steadying hand on the rail as he follows after him, and Katsuki watches him closely for a couple of steps to make sure he’s steady before turning to lead them the rest of the way up.
The building itself is pretty old, but it was redone a few years ago, and Katsuki got a good price for it. Even though he’s used to living in a space that’s a little bigger, it’s not terrible, and it’s close to everything he knows—his parents, Auntie, Izuku—so he settled in and made due.
He has better things to spend his money on than a fancy apartment anyway.
They climb the stairs steadily, Katsuki ahead of Izuku, turning over his shoulder now and then to make sure the nerd is still following him, but when they reach the fifth floor, Izuku pauses, glancing down the hallway to the door of Katsuki’s apartment. Katsuki stops too, his foot already balanced on the final flight of stairs, and watches as another tiny frown flashes over Izuku’s face and he looks back up to where Katsuki is standing.
“I thought it was this one,” he says, pointing down the hallway.
Katsuki just shakes his head softly. “Nah, we’re not drinking in there. C’mon, I wanna show you something.”
He keeps climbing and Izuku follows, his hand still balanced on the rail as they finally break over the top of the building.
The skyline dazzles from where they stand, city lights dancing over the rooftops in soft silvers and golds. On a clear night, you might even be able to spot a star or two, but for now, the clouds still hang over them from the earlier rain, threatening to send them into another downpour at any moment. Even so, Katsuki can’t help but let out a little sigh at the sight. After running around the city all day, seeing it up close, and trying his best to protect it, he was usually too tired to even think about pausing to enjoy the view. Pausing to enjoy anything has become such a rarity lately.
He hears Izuku’s soft footsteps behind him, followed by a quiet “Whoa,” and turns back to look at him.
Izuku’s green hair tosses gently in the breeze, red sneakers carrying him forward as he stares out over the cityscape, his eyes wide with wonder. He’s bathed in the same lights that reflect off the skyline, head turning slowly as he follows the glow with his eyes, gaze sweeping across the vast landscape to take it all in.
“I didn’t know you had a rooftop,” he murmurs softly.
He shuffles forward slightly, nearing the edge, and Katsuki feels himself take an instinctive step toward him, a warning not to get too close balanced precariously on his tongue as his hand jerks instinctively forward in case he has to catch him.
But before that can happen, Izuku’s feet abruptly halt, his face lighting up as he stretches out an arm to point, “Hey! You can see UA from here!” and Katsuki swears he feels his heart on the verge of exploding all over again.
He lets out a sigh, lowering his hand before making his way toward a low, stone island in the center of the patio, propping up Izuku’s folded umbrella along its edge and placing the beer onto the surface.
“Yeah, well,” he starts, clearing his throat a little as he pours his attention into sifting through the plastic bag to grab a couple of cans, “you’re not usually around this late, and people hang their clothes up here during the day, so...”
He cracks open the first beer with a single hand, holding the second as he carries it over to Izuku and holds it out for him to take. He does, bowing a little as he accepts it from Katsuki’s grasp, sipping at the froth gently for a moment before turning his gaze back up to the skyline. The breeze is slightly more chilly up so high and the air feels damp against Katsuki’s skin, even with a light jacket on. He looks at Izuku’s outfit again and sighs internally. Sure, Izuku has always been a little more tolerant of the cold than Katsuki is, but he should still make an effort to dress correctly for the weather.
Still, even as Kastuki feels a small drop of water hit the back of his knuckles as he cracks his own beer, lifting it to his lips, he pretends not to notice.
He takes a couple of sips to start, letting the burn of the alcohol invade his throat before knocking back the entire drink. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Izuku finally pull his gaze away from the city long enough to stare at him, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as Katsuki lets out an audible breath of satisfaction and crumples the can in his hand with a few rogue sparks.
“What’s that about?” Izuku asks, a hint of concern weighing down his words, but Katsuki is quick to brush them aside.
“Gotta catch up, right?” he says, retreating back toward Izuku’s bag of Super Dry and tossing his empty can onto the island, “How many drinks have you had again?”
“Two, but—” Izuku groans, shooting him a withering look, “Please, do not turn this into a contest like last time. I do not want to wake up with a headache like that ever again.”
“You’re just whining 'cause I kicked your ass,” Katsuki says smugly, reaching back into the bag and grabbing another can, cracking it open with ease.
“I’m surprised your liver is still functioning after that,” Izuku mutters, lips pressing back into his own can, pouting slightly even as he takes another sip, “I mean I know your metabolism is insane, but you’re just not human after knocking back twelve beers and still functioning enough to be able to walk home.”
Katsuki snickers, remembering how drunk they’d both gotten that night. Izuku had only made it to nine drinks, but Katsuki still had something to prove after ten. “Yeah, I had to drop you off at your place. You were barely standing.”
He watches as Izuku blushes, the heat doing a pretty thing to his cheeks that makes Katsuki have to smother his smile against the lip of his beer can. Somehow, his freckles stand out even more up here, in the dim glow of city lights, his features speckled lightly with stars.
“Oh god, that was so embarrassing,” Izuku admits with a sigh, sounding a little disappointed, his voice hinting at a whine, “It was the first time you came over to my new place too. I wanted it to be nice for you, but instead, it was a mess."
“Yeah, if you call stacks and stacks of All Might merch a mess,” Katsuki continues, taking a seat next to the plastic bag, fully content to sit and watch as Izuku turns more and more pink, “I think I saw some of my stuff too—”
“STOP! Stop, please,” Izuku begs, waving his hands around in the air, desperate for surrender, “If you say anything else, I’ll die of shame.”
He lets out a defeated sigh and lowers his forehead onto the rim of his beer can. His cheeks are pleasantly flushed now, though it's getting harder from moment to moment to tell whether it's because of the alcohol or because of Katsuki’s relentless teasing. Either way, Katsuki doesn’t want to look away.
“I should’ve never agreed to that stupid contest in the first place,” Izuku mumbles.
“Yeah,” Katsuki agrees with a nod, fingering his can for a second before taking a few more gulps of beer. Because, going into it, they both knew Katsuki was going to win.
Still, Izuku really tried to put his best foot forward. He kept up with Katsuki for a while, at least. He always did.
Katsuki lowers his drink again, letting out an audible breath as he swallows down the sting, “But it was still fun.”
Izuku turns, temple still balanced on his beer, head tilted sideways as he looks at Katsuki, and hair falling into his eyes as he smiles. It’s getting long again, and Katsuki wonders if it’s long enough to tuck a strand behind his ear.
“It was fun,” Izuku agrees softly, before finally pulling his head up to look over the skyline again, eyes growing distant, “I miss that.”
He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t need to. Katsuki already knows what he’s talking about; similar shifts and matching patrol routes and correlating days off, where they would hang out if they wanted. Go for a drink. Visit a festival. Take a walk through the park. Hang out at each other’s places. Have dinner together.
Now, Katsuki was always working, and Izuku was stuck at home, unemployed and living vicariously through the news.
All the work he’d done. All the scars he bore. All the saving he accomplished. All for what?
“Yeah,” he finally murmurs, taking one last swig from his can and finishing it off before placing it carefully next to the one he’d crushed. Then he leans back into his hands, and as he gazes up at the dark, black sky, he feels a raindrop hit his face, carving a path down his cheek as he whispers, “Me too.”
Izuku studies him for a second before glancing down at his can and shaking it. It doesn’t make any noise, indicating that it’s empty, so he shuffles back over to where Katsuki is sitting next to the plastic bag of alcohol, nudging it backward to take its place beside him. He places his empty can next to the others, starting a row, and pulls two more drinks out of the bag.
He holds one out to Katsuki, who grunts his appreciation, sitting up a little as he pulls on the tab and hears the crack of the can underneath his fingertips. Izuku mimics him, holding his aloft as Katsuki lifts his own drink to his lips. He has a feeling Izuku’s pacing himself, waiting for Katsuki to catch up.
That’s alright, Katsuki will do the same.
“So,” Izuku finally says, eyeing Katsuki out of the corner of his eye, lifting a prying eyebrow, “long day?”
Katsuki lowers his can and casts Izuku a look of his own. “You want to get your face exploded?”
Izuku lets out a soft laugh, then shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
Katsuki watches as he lowers his chin, tapping at his beer can absently, gazing into the aluminum. The one time the nerd doesn’t put up a fight, and it’s on Katsuki’s behalf. He sighs.
“Two four-hour patrols,” he starts, and he watches Izuku perk up, his shoulders tensing quietly, “then some of the interns were behind on paperwork, so dinner over my desk. Then an emergency call came in. I probably didn’t have to take it but I did. Some shitty gangsters holding up a drug store. Talking to the police took ages.”
Izuku nods along, no doubt cataloging the information somewhere in his nerd brain, while Katsuki feels himself go weary again just recounting the information. He doesn’t include the fact that if Izuku had been there, the work would’ve gone ten times faster, or that today wasn’t the only day he’d taken on extra shifts just for the extra cash, or that he’d barely slept in weeks because of how restless he’s been. He doesn’t talk about how not a second goes by where he doesn’t feel Izuku’s absence, where he doesn’t want him next to him again, fighting and saving alongside him. He doesn’t tell him about the rolls of money stuffed into his desk drawer downstairs and just how much, how far, how long it will take.
Katsuki doesn’t care. He’ll give up a lifetime.
“You have off tomorrow?” Izuku finally asks, lifting his (fourth, now—it might not be a contest but Katsuki is still counting) beer to his lips and taking a tiny sip.
Katsuki clicks his tongue, then shakes his head. “Nah. Two more shifts.”
Izuku’s eyes fly toward him, hand quickly lowering his beer to the space in between them as a look of shock flashes over his face. “What? Why didn’t you say that? Shouldn’t you be going to bed?”
Katsuki’s face twists as he sends Izuku another glare of warning, “You tryin’ to tell me what to do, nerd?”
Izuku shakes his head, ignoring him as he pushes on, distress starting behind his eyes, “You have another early morning tomorrow, don’t you? You should get some rest—”
Katsuki sighs loudly over Izuku’s rambling, almost yelling as he groans, “I’ll be fine,” but it falls on deaf ears as he suddenly watches Izuku stand up, dragging the bag of alcohol with him as he rises to his feet.
As he does, Katsuki feels a few more raindrops fall out of the sky, landing on his collarbone, his nose, the back of his neck. It’s starting to sprinkle. He can see it in Izuku’s hair.
“—I know how early you have to get up,” Izuku continues without pause, voice fraught with worry, “We can always do this some other time, whenever you’re free! I should be heading home anyway, and you know my place isn’t that far. I can always call a taxi if it starts pouring but I doubt it will, so you don’t have to worry—”
Katsuki can feel the rain in his own hair too, now, gently patting down his spikes. That’s too bad. He wanted the clear air to last a little longer.
“—and I’ll bring a coat next time so you won’t have to stop for me again. Anyways, it’s late, and it’s getting pretty chilly, and I don’t want to keep you, so—”
Izuku goes to reach for his umbrella but just as he grabs onto the handle and starts to turn away, Katsuki reaches for him, his hand finding Izuku’s wrist and wrapping around it securely. It fits there neatly, he realizes, his fingertips finding the divot of Izuku’s pulse point, the lines of his scars familiar to the touch, his palm big enough to swallow his wrist whole.
“Izuku,” he calls softly, reeling him in, and Izuku halts mid-step, feet shuffling against stone as he’s tugged back to Katsuki’s side, “Stop. Just… stop.”
His eyes go wide as he looks down at Katsuki, looking guilty and concerned and hopeful all at once, but there’s no need. He’s not going anywhere. Katsuki won’t let him.
“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t want to, so stop trying to run away, ya hear? It’s not happening.”
Izuku shakes his head slowly. “But, Kacchan…”
Katsuki stares up at him and watches the rain hit his face, feels it against his own. The water is cool, and as it glides off the ends of his hair, Katsuki can feel it beginning to run down his neck and soak into his collar. It will only get worse, and even though Izuku said he’d grab a taxi if he had to, Katsuki refuses to let him stand in the rain for even a second.
Instead, he lets his hand slide from Izuku’s wrist to the umbrella, prying it gently out of Izuku’s fingers before carefully unbuttoning the strap and pushing it open. It unfurls with a crinkling sound, the translucent plastic popping into shape as he stands up, and as he holds it above Izuku’s head, he murmurs, “Take this.”
Izuku blinks but does as he’s told, taking the umbrella from Katsuki’s hold and holding it above their heads. Then, Katsuki starts tugging off his jacket, letting it fall around his forearms before grabbing it by the collar and shaking it out for a moment.
Izuku’s eyebrows crease, breath hitching for a moment as he argues, “Kacchan—” but Katsuki is already swinging the jacket around his shoulders, tugging it neatly down around his collarbone where his t-shirt hangs loose; the space closest to his heart.
“You said it was chilly,” Katsuki explains gruffly, sitting back down as if nothing happened and picking up the undrunken beer that Izuku had left behind, offering it out to him again, “You finishing this?”
Izuku stares at him for a second, but it’s only that—a second—before he sighs and sits back down next to Katsuki, letting him take the handle of the umbrella from his hand and replace it with the Super Dry. The movements feel old, easy, like the trading of classwork, or dinner bowls, or chopsticks. They’d been together long enough to know how the other fought, and moved, and thought. In fact, Katsuki was pretty sure if someone asked, he could tell them how Izuku breathed.
After a few beats of silence, Katsuki finally hears a soft, “Thanks,” come from beside him, and when he turns to look at Izuku, he’s already looking back at him, something soft and wistful in his eyes as he tugs at the collar of Katsuki’s jacket, “for this. And for picking me up.”
Katsuki lets out a huff, shaking his head as he reaches back to grab another beer from the plastic bag. “You don’t hafta thank me for that,” he mutters.
“Yes, I do,” Izuku insists, his quiet voice barely audible over the crack of Katsuki’s beer, but Katsuki still catches it, and he pulls his focus back over to Izuku just as the other finishes, “I was feeling kind of lost today, but this… you… it helps.”
Katsuki scans his face for a moment, trying to get a read on him, but Izuku is only smiling to himself softly as he settles into his seat again. He takes another sip of his beer with one hand and plays with the end of Katsuki’s jacket sleeve with the other, fingers running over the seams of the loose hanging fabric for a moment before holding it like he would a hand.
Katsuki stares down at the back of his knuckles, wondering if he should just reach out and take it, trace his fingertips against the back of Izuku’s scars, hold his palm gently in his, intertwine their fingers.
But his hands are slightly full at the moment, one with the handle of the umbrella, and the other with his drink, so he quickly presses his lips against his beer and asks, “Lost?”
“Ah, yeah,” Izuku says, nodding slowly, and Katsuki can tell the alcohol is finally starting to slow him down a little, loosening his lips. “I just don’t know what to do, you know? I feel like I should be helping somehow or… or doing something more. Especially when…” he sighs softly, casting Katsuki a sideways glance, “....when I see you like this.”
At that, Katsuki feels something in his chest rapidly sink, because despite the fact that, yes, maybe things would be easier on Katsuki if he and Izuku were still working together—if he still had One For All, if he had been able to stay by Katsuki’s side—it wasn’t his fault. It had never been his fault, and Katsuki has to bite back a growl at the thought of Izuku blaming himself for Katsuki’s self-inflicted exhaustion.
He squeezes his eyes close for a second, lowering his beer as he shakes his head, “Izuku—”
“I know, Kacchan,” Izuku interjects softly, and Katsuki blinks his eyes open again, brow furrowing as he turns to look back at him. He can’t see Izuku’s eyes from this angle, his long hair falling into his face, but Katsuki can still spot the flush on his cheeks and a small, sad smile on his lips. “I know I’m not who I used to be, and I don’t regret it, but I just wish I could lift some of the load, you know? Do my part. Serve a purpose… again.”
Izuku grips the end of the jacket sleeve tighter, his knuckles going white against the fabric, and Katsuki carefully sets his beer down without taking his eyes off him, trying not to feel sick over the fact that Izuku doesn’t feel like he serves a purpose anymore. As if he even has to.
Katsuki’s eyes flicker back down to Izuku’s clenched fingers, dancing back and forth across the old scars dashed over his skin. He had endured so much pain over the years, had the fate of the entire world shoved upon his shoulders, and yet, he had never once hesitated to sacrifice everything to save it. He had never once complained.
If anyone was deserving of rest, it was Izuku.
“You’ve done enough,” Katsuki insists, his words firm, full of a weight they hardly ever spoke of, “You’ve done plenty.”
But as Izuku finally lifts his head, hair falling back to reveal his eyes, he looks as tired as Katsuki feels, lines gathered under his lashes and shoulders drooping as he whispers, “But I want to do more.”
Katsuki breathes out a quiet breath, the air punched from his lungs as he sits there, watching Izuku’s waterline start to shine with tears.
The rain continues to pour down, the rapid sound of water bouncing off the umbrella invading what little space remains between them as the wind gently rustles through their hair. Everything is cast in a dull glow, light reflecting off forming puddles and edges of slick cement and the stone of the rooftop patio, but all Katsuki really sees is the gleam of a tear falling down a freckled cheek, barely catching a glimpse of it before Izuku quickly moves to swipe it away.
His other hand still grasps the sleeve of Katsuki’s jacket, squeezing tightly, and Katsuki barely thinks about it this time. Instead, he just moves, slowly reaching out his hand.
He slides his fingers into the crevasses of crooked joints, his palm moving gently across Izuku’s knuckles, before he pushes his fingertips through the cracks in his fist, intertwining their hands together carefully. Beside him, he hears Izuku take in a sharp breath and he looks over to see his green eyes have gone wide, his pupils dilated as he stares at Katsuki.
Katsuki only stares back at him, his knee brushing against Izuku’s as he leans closer, pressing in on the space still between them, wanting it to disappear.
“We’ll figure it out,” he whispers, his eyes locked on Izuku’s, his word unwavering.
Izuku’s gaze dances between his for a moment, lashes fluttering slightly as he asks, “We?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki nods, grip growing tighter, thumb finding Izuku’s pinky and tracing over it gently, “We.”
He has half a mind to leave it there forever, his palm pressed against Izuku’s skin, their fingers linked, but after a few more seconds, silence quickly befalls them, and Katsuki realizes if he lingers for much longer, it will start to feel awkward. They don’t usually do this kind of thing, at least not often enough that it justifies how close together they’re sitting, or just how long Katsuki’s been holding Izuku’s hand.
Katsuki waits a few more seconds, then casts a sideways glance toward Izuku to see if he feels the same, and immediately notices that the flush on his cheeks has started traveling down his neck, splotching colors against his collarbone. He’s avoiding eye contact as well, his other hand gripping down on his beer can tightly, and despite the fact that Katsuki doesn’t mind the sight of Izuku turning increasingly pink, the last thing he wants is for the nerd to burn himself into a fever.
He bites back a tease, something that would probably make Izuku blush even harder, or worse, make him run away, and instead clears his throat, breaking the tense silence before giving Izuku’s knuckles one final squeeze. He pulls away slowly, and Izuku lets him go with ease, retracting his own hand back into his lap. Katsuki's eyes follow his fingers carefully to where Izuku still holds on to the sleeve of his jacket, but he relaxes a little when he sees that Izuku’s hand has slackened against it, no longer white-knuckling the fabric.
“I could, ah,” Katsuki says finally, clearing his throat again as he shifts in his seat, adjusting the umbrella in his grip and leaning it against his shoulder, “I could ask Jeanist if there’s anything at the agency.”
Izuku perks up again, color fading as he turns to cast Katsuki a skeptical look, eyes narrowing slightly. “What,” he asks, a small smile starting at the corner of his lips, “and work your PR?”
It’s silent for a split second, nothing but the sound of rain still beating down on the patio around them, before Izuku’s face suddenly breaks into a wide grin, and a giddy laugh bubbles out of his chest, and Katsuki can’t help but let out his own huff of laughter in return, shaking his head as he leans back into his free hand to listen to Izuku’s soft, stumbling giggles. He’s aware that the alcohol has gotten to him too now, a careless smile on his lips. He can feel the flush in his cheeks, his fatigue and exhaustion beginning to slide into drowsiness, but Katsuki is used to the feeling by now; a buzz in his blood and a warmth in his heart.
The laughter eventually subsides, and Katsuki watches as Izuku leans his elbows into his knees, Katsuki’s jacket following the line of his shoulders as he bends forward.
“No,” he finally answers, serious this time, head tilted thoughtfully as he casts Katsuki a sideways glance, “Thank you, but… I don’t think I could work at an agency and not be a hero. It would be awful, sitting on the sidelines like that.”
Katsuki nods, a quiet, “Right,” falling from his lips, because he knows that feeling too.
He remembers a time when he watched from the ground as his best friend fought for his life. He remembers waking up in the hospital after the fact and feeling like he’d failed to save him. He remembers training his hardest to try and keep up, to match that level of strength, to be able to fight by his side when the time came, only to lose when it mattered most.
He remembers all his strength fading, remembers not being able to fight anymore, however briefly, and he can’t imagine what Izuku is feeling, knowing that he’ll never be able to fight like that ever again.
It’s silent for a moment or two, aside from the sound of rain still falling down around them, and Katsuki finds himself tilting the umbrella more toward Izuku, trying to shield him completely from the downpour. As he does, he feels a few drops fall onto his shoulder and soak into his shirt sleeve, but he can’t bring himself to care. Instead, his thoughts lie elsewhere, thinking hard as Izuku’s earlier words still ring in his ears.
Lift some of the load. Do my part. Serve a purpose.
“Well,” he says at last, mumbling slightly, “You could always teach.”
Izuku immediately straightens in his seat, his attention shifting purposefully back toward Katsuki as a surprised, “What?” escapes his lips.
Katsuki narrows his eyes, surprised that Izuku hasn’t already thought of it himself. As if he hasn’t been following in the man’s footsteps his entire life. As if he didn’t visit his house every weekend.
“Like All Might did. After he retired.”
Izuku blinks at him incredulously for a moment, and Katsuki swears he can see his fanboy brain short-circuiting. For a nerd, he certainly has a hard time connecting the dots, especially whenever All Might is involved. It’s like his head goes out the fucking window.
“You mean… at UA?” he asks.
Katsuki lifts an eyebrow. Case in point.
“Yeah, where else?” he replies, sitting up slowly, shifting his weight from his hand back to his legs, “You should ask Aizawa about it. See if you could teach a class.”
He watches as Izuku’s eyebrows crease thoughtfully, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment as he considers. Katsuki lets him, unbothered by how late it is, or how sleepy he’s feeling, but he keeps his eyes open for now, gaze pinned carefully on Izuku’s expression as he finally turns his head back toward Katsuki.
“You really think I’d be a good teacher?” he asks, and this time Katsuki can see the quiet hope in his eyes, searching for reassurance.
Katsuki might have given it sincerely too, if it weren’t for the question, and he can’t help but let out something between a scoff and a laugh, shaking his head with exasperation.
“I think you’d be better than All Might,” he replies easily, unable to keep the sardonic tone from seeping into his words, his face failing to stay neutral as a smug smile crawls across his lips.
Now it’s Izuku’s turn to scoff before he leans back to give Katsuki a judgmental look up and down, eyebrows coming together in confusion, the expression on his face only making Katsuki smile wider.
Katsuki shakes his head again. Once a fanboy, always a fanboy.
“Excuse you! All Might was a great teacher!” Izuku claims, but Katsuki is already picking up his beer again, side-eyeing Izuku as he raises it to his lips.
“Eh, he played favorites.”
Izuku’s jaw drops open, an offended look flashing over his face as he registers the implication, before a laugh is suddenly hiccuping out of his chest, and Katsuki casts him a wide grin as they both burst into laughter again. Izuku’s hand comes up to hold onto the edge of Katsuki’s jacket collar so that it doesn’t slip off, and Katsuki chuckles into his beer, taking one last sip as he finally empties out the can.
Beside him, he hears Izuku’s laughter extend into a groan, a hand moving to drag over his face as he finally admits, “Honestly, I think I’d have a harder time trying to live up to Aizawa Sensei.”
Katsuki glances down, placing his finished beer in the tiny row they’d made for themselves as he shakes his head minutely.
“You got nothing to worry about,” he says softly, to which Izuku looks back at him again, a questioning look on his face.
Katsuki sighs, obliging him, the alcohol softening his thoughts as well as his words.
“You’d protect your students. Fight for them,” he starts, sitting up fully to look Izuku in the eye, facing him head-on as he finishes, nodding quietly, “See them for who they really are, even when they can’t see themselves.”
Izuku blinks at him for a moment. The umbrella still hangs above them, shielding them from the rain, enclosing them in a tiny circle of space, and Katsuki hopes it helps with his words, hopes he understands. Luckily, Izuku’s always understood him—better than most, at least—and Katsuki can see the moment the realization registers, his eyes going wide as he stares at Katsuki openly, searching his face without reservation, as if he’s seeing him all over again.
Then, a fond smile breaks over his features, and he tips his head knowingly at Katsuki, his eyes softening with such ease that Katsuki swears he can feel himself melting into his seat, every bone in his body going weak as his heart warms like the sun.
“Thanks, Kacchan,” Izuku finally whispers, and this time it’s happy, light.
Katsuki stares at him a second longer, then hums softly in response.
They sit like that for a while, comfortable in the silence as the rain continues to beat down. It’s late now, late enough that they should be headed their separate ways, or at least downstairs to Katsuki's apartment, but neither of them makes a move to leave. They’re content where they are, at each other’s side, rain or shine.
Even so, after a few more minutes, the downpour begins to lighten, the echo off the dome of the umbrella slowly quieting to a soft tapping sound, and as Katsuki absently watches the city lights, he can feel his blinks growing heavier. Still, he doesn’t want to go to bed. It’s quiet here, peaceful, and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel restless. Instead, he feels full, whole, and he knows that it’s because of the hero who sits at his side, who settles his disquieted soul.
His thoughts drift easily back to the money hidden in his drawer, and the recent phone calls to America, and his unspoken desire to return to the way things used to be. Fighting and training together. Winning and saving together. Just like they used to do.
Because, if—no— when Izuku becomes a hero again, Katsuki wants them to stay like this. Side by side. For the rest of their lives.
The rain has finally let up, nothing left in the clouds but a soft mist that floats through the air, and as Katsuki takes a deep breath, he finally breaks the silence.
“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask…”
But just then, a sudden weight falls onto his shoulder, and he quickly turns his head to see that Izuku has slumped against him. His eyes are closed, his cheeks colored pink, and Katsuki watches as his long bangs fall carelessly into his face. Still, his breathing comes slow and even, chest rising and falling shallowly as he presses into Katsuki’s side, and Katsuki can’t help but stare at him for a moment, his alcohol-muddled brain taking a moment to process before he smiles down at Izuku softly.
He carefully lifts a hand to push the stray strands of Izuku’s hair out of his face. He was right, it’s long enough to tuck back behind his ears, and as he guides his bangs gently to the side, he can’t help but let his fingers brush carefully over Izuku’s scattered freckles. He looks beautiful like this, relaxed and peaceful, and Katsuki swears that with every moment that passes, he can feel himself falling deeper and deeper.
It’s only when the rain has subsided completely that Katsuki finally moves again, carefully lowering the umbrella before setting it aside. Then, he gently moves his arm around Izuku’s waist, supporting his sleeping form as he slowly frees himself from where he presses against Katsuki’s side. He stirs a little, an unhappy sigh coming from his nose when Katsuki moves his shoulder out from underneath his head, but Katsuki is careful not to jostle him too much as he starts cleaning up their empty cans, shoving back into the plastic bag with his free hand.
It takes a little bit of shuffling, but eventually, Katsuki manages to gather Izuku’s things into his hands, including his umbrella, and although one of his arms is supporting Izuku’s sleeping form, he is able to free up the other one to carry him with. Ordinarily, he’d leave it all behind and come back for it later, but he’s got a feeling once he sees a bed, he won’t be able to resist the temptation of passing out on it, thoroughly exhausted.
Although, tonight, he’s pretty sure he’ll be taking the couch.
Still, he doesn’t regret a thing, knowing full well that there wasn’t a single thing in this world that he wouldn’t do for the person sleeping beside him.
From there, all it takes is one swift move for Katsuki to level Izuku into his arms, making sure his head falls neatly against his chest as he lifts him upward. He’s still wrapped up in Katsuki’s jacket, fast asleep in the circle of Katsuki’s arms, and Katsuki slowly makes his way to the staircase, he finally feels the wind shift, taking one last glance up at the sky.
Above them, a scattering of stars breaks through the clouds, and as they shine down on the two of them brightly, Katsuki makes sure to hold tighter to his own.
He doesn’t care how long it takes. He’ll bring his binary back.