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The first time Izuku knocked, there was no answer. So he knocked again. And again.
By the time Katsuki finally ripped the front door open with an exasperated shout of “FUCK OFF,” Izuku was knocking so hard his knuckles hurt.
“Kacchan!” he yelled, then stopped, for once in his life at a loss for words.
Katsuki blinked at him, his enraged expression glitching into shock, then something unreadable yet knowing, then an attempt at irritation. His sandy blonde hair was pushed back by a headband, and he wore a fitted tank top and baggy black sweatpants with a bright pink Uravity stripes down the sides, clearly not expecting anyone. “What the fucking hell, Izuku.”
Izuku just stared at him for a second, still unable to think of anything to say. He had had so much in his head on the way over, all day today, since the very second All Might gave him that mechanical briefcase and said that “Young Bakugou” had led the fundraising efforts. But now, starting Katsuki in the eyes, standing on his front step, Izuku Midoriya was entirely speechless. It was impossible. The world he was living in was impossible.
“Izuku…,” Katsuki said slowly. “What’s up?”
He knew exactly what was up. If he was truly confused, he would be a lot more aggressive right now. Instead, Katsuki seemed almost hesitant, timid – if that was a thing Katsuki Bakugou could ever be. Something about that realization gave Izuku back his ability to speak.
“I talked to All Might yesterday.”
The corners of Katsuki’s mouth twitched up into the beginnings of a smile, but Izuku saw him quickly tamp it down and play it off with a sigh. “Inside, nerd.”
Izuku followed the order and slumped into Katsuki’s incredibly comfortable couch almost before Katsuki could close the front door behind him. He had been on his feet all day at school during a practical training session with his students and had walked all the way to Katsuki’s tiny studio apartment immediately afterwards. His legs started to bounce. Katsuki hesitantly sat next to him.
“You talked to All Might,” he prompted.
“He came to school,” Izuku said. “He, uh… he told me everything. That you had been doing – you and everyone else.”
“So you got it?”
Izuku breathed an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, I got it.” And then he started to cry. Because of course he started to cry. He had never been able to be put together about a single thing in his entire life, and his favorite person in the entire world dedicating eight years of money and hard work into making his impossible dreams an impossible reality was not going to be the first. And because it didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Izuku,” Katsuki admonished, though there might have been a twinge in his voice – anxiety? Fear? Katsuki probably thought Izuku hated it.
“Thank you,” he managed, lifting his head to look Katsuki in the eye and trying his best to smile. “Thank you, Kacchan, I don’t- I don’t how to express how much this means to me.”
Katsuki’s expression brightened and it made Izuku’s heart twist painfully. “Well, shit, Izuku, how about trying the suit on? Being a fuckin’ hero again instead of crying on my couch like a baby?”
Izuku sniffled, trying to quell his tears even as he cried harder. “I want to do that. I want that.”
“Then what the fuck is the matter?” Katsuki asked. “And don’t you dare tell me you’re scared of what people will think of you, or that you can’t do it anymore because I swear to god-”
“I can’t,” Izuku interrupted. “Kacchan, I can’t be that person anymore! I don’t- the embers are gone and I’m not strong enough and there’s no way I can relearn everything and I was barely good enough last time when I had a real quirk and-” He heaved in a stuttering breath through a sob, interrupting the outpouring of emotions. “- and I’m so sorry because you wasted so much of your time and your- your money on this and it’s not-”
“Who the fuck are you?” Katsuki interrupted forcefully, staring at Izuku with that familiar ferocity. “Who the actual fuck are you?”
“What?” Izuku managed, blinking in surprise.
“I’m asking you to tell me who the fuck you are, because the Izuku I know is not like this,” Katsuki said, underscoring the point with a sharp finger jab to Izuku’s chest. “The Izuku I grew up with didn’t have a quirk, knew damn well he wouldn’t get one, and still never shut the hell up about being a hero. The Izuku I went to school with didn’t waste time moaning about what he did and didn’t deserve, he took what he was given and he did more than anyone else ever thought he could.” Katsuki paused to let out a huff of anger, running his hands through his hair and dislodging the headband. Izuku felt frozen in place.
“You’re not strong enough? Get stronger. You don’t remember the moves? Relearn them. You don’t think you were a damn good hero? Go see a goddamn shrink because what the fuck Izuku! You were the best fucking hero in the world and you did that because you were you. I thought that maybe after all this time you’d come to terms with that, but I guess the fuck not.”
Izuku stared at him, shell-shocked and unable to form a response. The tears continued to flow down his face, but the full-body sobbing had stopped to give him time to process whatever the hell it was that Katsuki had just said.
You were the best fucking hero in the world.
Izuku didn’t know Katsuki had ever felt like that. He didn’t know if he believed it himself – scratch that, he definitely didn’t – but to know that Katsuki did? Katsuki, his model of heroism since he was old enough to know what a hero was? That meant something. That made his heart ache with something he couldn’t name. It stilled the shaking of his legs, calmed his shallow breaths, soothed the twist of guilt in his gut.
And Katsuki was right. This wasn’t him. Refusing a chance to save people, refusing the hard work that so many people – people that he loved – had put into making him a hero, that wasn’t what his 16-year-old self would have ever done. He had let his sense of self lapse, let himself fall back into a supporting role, told himself that he accepted things as they were. But really, he had never stopped grieving One for All. He had never stopped grieving Tenko, his failure to save him.
His failure to save Kacchan.
But Katsuki still believed in him. His friends still believed in him. They had spent years building him a suit that he was too scared to even put on. Because they thought he could still be a hero.
He wanted to go back. He wanted that so badly it hurt. His entire body, his entire being, was aching to return to the best work he had ever known.
As he sat there, contemplating everything in a dreamlike trance, Katsuki’s expression of rage softened. His tense shoulders slumped. He pursed his lips nervously. “Shit, Izuku, I- I’m sorry if that was too harsh.” He huffed a little. “You’re just really pissing me off here.”
At that, Izuku managed to laugh. He wiped his tears on his shirtsleeves. He took a deep, shaky breath. “No need to be sorry, Kacchan. You’re… you’re right, as always.” Another deep breath. “Seems like you’ve always known me better than I do.”
Katsuki’s lips twitched into a small smile, his red eyes sparkling. “Not always, but I’ve certainly had a good streak for a while now.”
“I want to do it,” Izuku said, forcing the words out before he could stop himself. “I’m going to do it. I’ll use what you built me.”
Now Katsuki broke into a full-on grin, and Izuku’s breath caught in his throat, all his follow-up disclaimers about his fears and hesitations slipping away. There was nothing in the world that could distract him more than Katsuki’s toothy grins, all sharp and hungry and prideful, with his eyes glinting. It was so… alluring. Hypnotizing. Magnetic. “There he is.”
“Help me train?” Izuku asked without thinking. Some small part of him screamed that it was a stupid question, that he was a waste of Katsuki’s important time – but it was overwhelmed by the much louder, much more peaceful knowledge that Katsuki was going to say yes.
“Obviously,” Katsuki said.
Izuku smiled, remembering UA days full of sparring sessions with Katsuki. They were some of his best memories from that time. “You’re the only one I’d trust to get me back into fighting shape.” His smile faltered a little. “It might take me a while to figure it all out.”
Katsuki shrugged. “Took you a while to figure out One for All, why would this be any different? You’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Kacchan.”
“Just telling it how it is.”
Izuku huffed a little laugh again, then flopped back against the arm of the couch and threw his feet up on Katsuki’s lap. Katsuki made a small noise of indignation but no move to throw him off, instead draping his arms along the back of the couch and letting his head fall back. God, he was so pretty. It was downright unfair to Izuku’s poor, long-suffering heart.
“Kacchan?”
“Mm?” Kacchan hummed, his eyes closed, the response rumbling out from somewhere in the back of his throat.
“Why’d you do it?”
Katsuki cracked open an eye to look at him, leaned over, and flicked him in the chin. Hard.
“Ow!” Izuku whined, “What was that for?”
“You’re pissing me off again,” Katsuki said. “You know damn well why.
“Maybe I don’t!” Izuku rebutted. Katsuki gave him another side-eye glare. He shrank down a little, sheepish and nervous. Sure, he remembered how devastated Katsuki had been when he first started to lose One for All. He remembered the childhood dreams of a shared agency. “Maybe I just want to hear you say it,” he added meekly.
Katsuki let out a groan of frustration, running his hand over his face. “Fuck’s sake, Izuku.” He stopped talking, but Izuku still waited expectantly. “I did it because you being a hero is the only thing that makes any damn sense.”
Izuku blinked, a fresh set of tears pricking at his eyes. Happy tears, this time. “Kacchan… that’s so nice…”
That earned him a throw pillow to the face.
“Ack, Kacchan! I thought we were past this! You can be nice!” he yelped, snatching the pillow before Katsuki could reel it back to hit him again.
“Shut up, I meant it.” Katsuki glared at him, his cheeks flushed a slight red. Izuku loved how, even after so many years, Katsuki still couldn’t be complimentary without blushing. He crossed his arms with yet another huff. “Besides, I… I do better when you’re out there with me.”
“Oh? You mean when you get yourself killed?”
“That was one time,” Katsuki growled.
“Two,” Izuku corrected. He knew that number well. He spent a lot of his worst nights thinking about it.
“Oi, stop doing that,” Katsuki said, making him blink in surprise, realizing more tears had started dripping down his face without his knowledge. “We’ve been over this shit. I made my choices. I survived. I regret nothing.”
“I don’t want that to happen again,” Izuku said quietly.
“It’s not going to,” Katsuki said plainly. “I’m done dying.”
Izuku snorted. “Good. I’m done letting you.”
“Looks like that’s sorted, then,” Katsuki said with a smirk.
Izuku made himself smile. He made himself believe it. And somehow, he actually did believe it. The world was different nowadays. The job of a hero was different. And he really, truly, was not ever going to let Katsuki die on him ever again. He simply was not. And that was that.
“You do better with me out there?” he prompted, wanting Katsuki to continue the stream of validation.
With a slightly beleaguered sigh, Katsuki said, “Yes, Izuku, I do. I need someone to push my limits, don’t I? What’s the point of racing if you’re already miles ahead?”
“Competing for the rest of our lives?”
Katsuki turned pink once again and looked very much like he wanted to throw another pillow in Izuku’s face. “Yeah, whatever.”
“We can do that now,” Izuku breathed, dropping his head back, a sense of wonder washing over him. He almost added a “maybe,” but stopped himself. He would be a hero again. He had to be.
Katsuki didn’t respond, and after a while Izuku glanced over to find him watching him with a soft yet unreadably intense expression on his face. He didn’t look away when Izuku met his eyes. He smiled.
“Got any dinner plans?”
“Uh… I’ve got a hot date set up with some air fried fish sticks and the Crimson Riot documentary, if that’s what you mean.”
“Fuck’s sake, Izuku, you’re a mess. Let’s get something healthy in you for one night, huh?”
“Are you inviting me to stay for dinner?”
Katsuki shoved Izuku’s legs off and stood, propping his hands on his hips. “I really worry for your students if their teacher is this damn dense.”
Izuku laughed.
Three hours later, Izuku was full of some of the best cooking he’d had since – well, since Kacchan had last made him dinner a few weeks ago – and itching to go back home and start exploring his new equipment. Katsuki had told him all the details he knew about their designs and abilities, and they sounded amazing. He couldn’t believe it was possible. He should meet with Hatsume and have her explain it to him. Technology that could mimic quirks – that was revolutionary stuff.
He was just about to tell Katsuki goodnight and thank you again when Katsuki grabbed a sweatshirt off the back of a chair and said, “I’ll walk you home.”
“Oh!” Izuku said, surprised. “Are you sure? It’s late, I don’t want to-”
“Get a move on, Izuku,” Katsuki said, brushing past him to open the door out of the apartment.
Izuku grinned and followed, throwing on his own hoodie – a Shouto themed one he’d gotten a few years ago. “Man, I really need to call everyone else and tell them thank you.”
“Mm,” Katsuki hummed, leading the way down the stairs and out into the night air.
“We should have a class reunion,” Izuku suggested. “I miss everyone being together.”
“That makes one of us,” Katsuki said, but without much conviction. Izuku knew he loved their friends just as much as Izuku did. They’d been through too much together for that to not be true. He was wearing Uravity pants right this second, for god’s sake.
Their conversation wandered as they walked the quiet night streets back to Izuku’s apartment, mostly consisting of Izuku’s idle chatter about his students or more questions about the equipment. He heard a few more of Katsuki’s heroing stories, too – the ones he hadn’t already heard at dinner or the other times he’d seen Katsuki lately. He thought then about how often he had seen Katsuki over the past few years, which was pretty often, and how Katsuki had been hiding this from him the entire time.
“Why’d you keep it a secret?” he ended up asking as they approached his street.
“Because it’s a great fucking surprise, obviously,” Katsuki said. “And because I didn’t know how long it would take.” They stopped in front of Izuku’s building. “Wanted to make sure it was perfect, you know?”
Izuku smiled, a fluttery feeling flaring in his chest. “Alright.”
“Can I see it?” Katsuki asked suddenly. “I mean, I’ve obviously seen some of it before, but I only got some pictures of the finished product. Hatsume gave it straight to All Might.”
“Oh!” Izuku said, his mind stumbling over itself a bit at the thought of inviting Katsuki up and into his apartment at this time of night. “Of course!” He opened the door to his building and ushered Katsuki inside before making his way to the elevator. “So, you got to see it along the way?”
Katsuki shrugged as they stepped inside the elevator. “Every so often, if Hatsume had some time to show it to me. I wanted to stay involved.”
“How so?”
“I had to make sure it really matched you,” Katsuki said. “Your old quirk, your fighting style, all that shit. S’not gonna work very well if it’s not made for you.”
“Kacchan, that’s… thank you.”
“Shut up.”
The elevator stopped and opened to his floor as Izuku laughed at Katsuki’s grumpy frown and started out towards his apartment. “Well,” he said, unlocking his door, “I hope it lives up to your expectations.”
“S’not my expectations that matter here, dumbass.”
The briefcase was lying on the kitchen counter where Izuku had left it, glinting in the light. Katsuki popped it open and began gently prodding at and pulling out different pieces of equipment, inspecting them with gentle frowns, his brow furrowed. Izuku joined him, excitement reigniting in his chest as soon as he saw the gear. He grabbed his notebook off his coffee table and started scribbling a million notes about each piece of equipment, what it does, how it works. After almost an hour of exploring the different items, he and Katsuki had built up a sizable list of questions for Hatsume that Izuku couldn’t wait to get answers to, and Izuku was desperate to get to work learning how to use it all.
“Could you help me out with it tomorrow?” he asked.
“I got a late night shift, but before that, yeah,” Katsuki said. Izuku grinned.
“Thanks, Kacchan.”
“’Course.”
“For all of this,” Izuku added, feeling his emotions well up. He was going to cry again.
“Don’t fucking cry again,” Katsuki said, but he was already reaching an arm out to wrap around Izuku’s shoulders comfortingly. Izuku practically melted into the touch. He turned fully into Katsuki’s arms and buried his face in his shoulder.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“It’s how it’s supposed to be,” Katsuki said. Izuku lifted his head to give him a watery grin. He met Katsuki’s soft red eyes.
“You really are so beautiful,” he whispered, without thinking. Then he tensed in panic. Why did he say that?
Katsuki’s beautiful red eyes widened, and he flushed pink. Again. “The fuck?”
That small part of Izuku’s mind screamed at him to shut up and run away, but he didn’t listen. All he could focus on was Katsuki’s expression, the soft shock on his lips, the light in his eyes. This was his best friend. This was a man, a beautiful man, who had spent years of his life toiling away for Izuku’s sake. Who had died for him twice. This was his best friend. Kacchan.
“You love me,” he said, shocking even himself with the boldness of the statement. But he couldn’t say he didn’t know it to be true.
Katsuki flushed even more, almost to the point of being red in the face. “Shut the fuck up.”
Izuku broke into a giddy grin, snaking his arms around Katsuki’s waist and holding him tight. “You lovvveeee me.”
“So the fuck what if I do?” Katsuki snapped, turning his face as far away from Izuku as it could get without actually letting go of him.
“I love you too, just so you know,” Izuku added.
Katsuki seemed to hold him even tighter at that. “I know,” he grumbled.
Izuku glanced down at the equipment lying across his kitchen counter, a warmth blooming in his chest. “You built all of this, for me. Because you love me.”
“Oh my god, yes,” Katsuki growled. “Stop acting like a little shit about it.”
How had he not realized all this before? Had he just been so focused on his own failures that he didn’t pay attention to all the love around him? Had it just been so inconceivable to him? Or had it been that he’d grown to know Kacchan on a level deeper than words, to the point that he’d never even tried to put words to it until now?
“I’m just really happy,” he said, hugging Katsuki tight.
It was then, with the warm knowledge that the person he loved most in this world loved him right back flooding his chest, that he realized that he need only lean in about an inch in order to kiss Katsuki. So he did.
He didn’t know where he got the confidence. But it didn’t matter. Katsuki kissed him back with startling fervor, like he’d been wanting this for a very long time indeed. And then Izuku, feeling the stupidest and happiest he had ever felt in his life, realized that he had wanted it too.