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Izuku is aware that most people think he's a little bit dumb.
Or well, not dumb, exactly. No one who knows him would ever call Izuku unintelligent, not when he's tutored half the class at some point or another. But… scatterbrained, maybe. Naive. Oblivious.
And that's fine! It's honestly kind of useful, having such a harmless reputation. Villains underestimate him. Civilians trust him more easily. Not to mention all the trouble he wriggled out of back at UA, courtesy of what Ochako calls his ‘shounen protagonist vibes.’ People simply don't believe he's capable of subtlety– and Izuku counts himself lucky. A quirk as powerful as One For All could've easily made him a source of terror, so he's grateful to be seen instead as a loveable dumbass without a savvy bone in his body.
But the fact is, you don't live through almost a decade of extreme bullying (and it was extreme, Izuku understands that now) without finding some way to protect yourself. Fighting back was never an option for Izuku back then, quirkless and scrawny and outnumbered as he was, and fleeing was great in theory, but it only worked if you knew exactly when to start running.
So Izuku learned.
He learned how to read a room before even stepping through the door, how to tell at a glance whether someone is bored or irritated or angry. He learned how to predict which way the energy would shift, because mocking words wouldn't kill him, but getting jumped in a back alley might. Izuku learned to always watch the center of gravity, to track their eyes so he could anticipate where they'd aim first. To let them get a few hits in, just enough to satisfy their egos, and to never, never, let them get Izuku on the ground.
None of it came naturally to him. But it was the only way to survive Aldera.
Now, nearly eight years out of that hell, Izuku mostly applies his hard-won social instincts to gentler purposes. He's quick to make friends, and he's always the first to notice when someone needs a hug or a favor or a moment to breathe. He has some of the most impressive villain de-escalation stats in Japan. And best of all, Izuku doesn't need to be vigilant to survive anymore. When someone gives him a dirty look or a cold shoulder, Izuku can simply register the ill-will, file it away in his mind, and pretend not to notice.
It's magical.
Of course, that's not to say Izuku doesn't have his blind spots. He's got negative emotions down to a science, but he's still getting the hang of positive ones. Izuku thinks he's gotten pretty decent at clocking them, at least, and he can usually tell when a colleague enjoys working with him or a kid wants his autograph. And he knows perfectly well what it means when a stranger's eye lingers on the line of his shoulders, or traces the bob of his throat as he sips a drink at the bar.
He’s just… not always sure what to do about it.
So when he catches Kacchan staring at his arms in the agency gym one morning, Izuku finds himself at a bit of a loss.
His first thought is that Kacchan is just looking for flaws in his form. Izuku has been getting a little sloppy with his lat pulldowns lately. So he subtly straightens his spine, adjusts his grip, and takes the next few reps a little slower to let the adjustments settle in. But when he glances back up at the mirror, Kacchan is still looking at him. If anything, he's watching even more intently, his sharp eyes wide and fixed on the movement of Izuku's shoulder blades, mouth ever-so-slightly open like he's in a daze…
Oh. Huh.
Izuku can't help but preen a little. He knows that some people find him… attractive now, even if Izuku doesn't really see the appeal himself. But he never expected to get a look like that from Kacchan.
It's flattering. Izuku's bulking efforts must really be paying off.
So he finishes out his set and lets Kacchan look. Izuku knows it's purely physical, and nothing will come of it– Kacchan is way too professional to risk their working relationship over a passing flight of fancy– but that's alright. Izuku doesn't mind being a little eye candy for his hero partner.
It's the closest he'll ever get to what he actually wants from Kacchan, so. He'll take it.
***
“Sooo, Deku,” Kaminari says in the locker room later. “You notice anything interesting during that workout sesh?”
Izuku hums. “Well, I guess I figured out why my lower back has been hurting after cable machine sessions? My form was all out of wack–”
“Not that,” Kaminari groans. “C'mon man, you seriously didn't see it?”
“See what?”
“Uh, the hardcore eye-fucking you were getting all morning!”
Izuku grins easily. “Is this about my ‘secret admirer’ again?” he laughs. “Cuz I'm starting to think you just ran out of K-drama episodes.”
“Couple Scandal Season 3: Forbidden Temptation is alive and well,” Kaminari sniffs. “Which you'd know if you grew some culture– wait, don't change the subject!”
Izuku listens with half an ear to Kaminari's chatter as he changes into his hero uniform. His shift starts at noon, so he needs to hurry. He has seconds at best before Kacchan bursts in here and–
The door flies open with a bang. “Deku! Quit yapping, patrol starts in five!”
Yeah, that.
“Coming, Kacchan!” Izuku calls, securing the last strap on his boot before jogging over. Kaminari mutters something about lost causes to his back, and Izuku has to hide a grin. Yet another successful day of beating the allegations.
Kacchan gives him a suspicious squint, but wisely doesn't comment. “Keep up,” he grunts instead, pivoting on his heel and making long strides towards the elevator. “We're leavin’ out the roof exit.”
“Okay,” Izuku chirps, trailing happily in his wake. It's gonna be a good shift, he just knows it.
***
He was mistaken.
“Fuck– GET OFF THE FUCKING FIELD, MORON!” Kacchan bellows as he narrowly dodges a jet of tepid water.
“I've got this!” the rookie yells back, and Izuku ducks behind an overturned car as the guy sends another wild spray of water at the villain. It connects this time, but the villain just laughs, spreading her bark-covered arms to absorb even more of the moisture. The leaves sprouting from her hair perk up a little.
Kacchan lands next to Izuku with a heavy thud.
“This guy's gotta be a Shiketsu grad,” he grumbles, crouching down beside him. “Aizawa woulda booted his ass so fuckin’ fast…”
Izuku nods in agreement. It feels a little rude to say, but the kid's school really shouldn't have licensed him without addressing his friendly fire issue. Or his lack of battle sense. Or his inability to take commands from more senior heroes. And also, look, quirk matchups are a lot more nuanced than pokemon types, but it seems like basic common sense to avoid using water during plant-based combat.
“Water sports!” the rookie shouts as he lets off another blast, and Kacchan snorts.
“No fucking way…” he mutters. Izuku elbows him despite his own choked laughter.
“Don't be mean, Kacchan,” he giggles. “He's new!”
Kacchan grins at him. “Ya think he’s got a move called slip ‘n’ slide?”
Izuku guffaws, then slaps a hand over his mouth. But it’s too late. The villain whips her head in their direction and sends a spiraling outgrowth of branches shooting towards their hiding spot. Unfortunately for her, fire is an excellent matchup against plant types, and Kacchan reduces the entire structure to carbon with a single well-aimed blast. She scowls, then returns her attention to the easier target.
Izuku sighs. “Okay, we really gotta help him.”
“Do we?” Kacchan snarks, though he's already getting back to his feet.
They share a wordless glance, then push off in opposite directions, Izuku staying low while Kacchan takes back to the air. The villain’s eyes track Kacchan– it’s hard to avoid looking at the loudest thing on the battlefield– and it gives Izuku the perfect opening to throw out a tendril of Blackwhip. He snags her ankle and yanks, and she goes down hard on the asphalt with a scream of outrage.
“Nice one, Hero Deku!” the rookie calls out, and Izuku grimaces. He usually loves meeting fans, but there's a time and a place for that kind of thing. Honestly, maybe he should be thinking of the rookie less like a fellow pro and more like an overenthusiastic civilian onlooker–
“Deku, duck!” Kacchan screams just as Danger Sense pings. Izuku obeys instantly, and feels his hair part as a sharpened skewer of wood stabs through the space where his head was. He whirls around just in time to see a massive wall of thorny branches get blasted into scrapwood by one of Kacchan’s AP shots. But one of the stems survives the onslaught. It whips toward him, and Izuku darts to the side, but he’s not quite fast enough to avoid the long, shallow scratch it leaves on his bicep.
Okay, well, that’s that. Izuku was hoping to try talking the villain down, but he made a deal with Kacchan years ago. Kacchan won’t interfere with Izuku’s “pacifist bullshit” for as long as Izuku can remain uninjured, but the moment Izuku’s blood is spilled, he has to stop holding back.
Guess it’s time to wrap things up.
Izuku spins around and makes a Fa Jin enhanced lunge for the villain, tackling her to the ground before she can even register his approach. She panics immediately, sending out thrashing tendrils of wood, but they’re no match for Blackwhip and Izuku easily bats them aside. He flips her onto her front, tugging her arms behind her back with one hand as the other reaches for the quirk-suppressing cuffs on his belt. Then he snaps them into place on her wrists, and the branches whipping around them fall limply to the ground.
Izuku sighs and sits back. Not his cleanest takedown, but oh well–
“Hero Deku, let me help you!”
“There’s no need for–” “Don’t you fucking dare–”
Neither of them finish their sentences before the deluge crashes over him.
By the time Izuku finishes coughing up all the water he inhaled by accident, Kacchan is already screaming obscenities at the tomato-faced rookie. And honestly, Izuku is pretty ticked off too. So he pushes his waterlogged hair out of his eyes and rolls the villain into recovery position, waving over a transport tech to keep an eye on her, before getting to his feet and stalking over to them, dripping water as he goes.
“–fucking embarrassment to your agency,” Kacchan is ranting as Izuku approaches. “You spent that whole goddamn fight being a liability, and then what, you wanted to throw a little excessive force in for fuckin’ flavor?! Show off for the war hero? Cuz lemme tell ya, if you're tryna get on Deku's good side, that shit ain’t gonna fuckin’ do it!”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t see you landing any direct hits,” the rookie bites back, and Izuku watches as Kacchan’s hands start to literally steam with rage.
“I can land a direct hit just fuckin’ fine,” he growls, stepping closer, but he goes still when Izuku lays a hand on his shoulder. Izuku tugs lightly, and for a moment Kacchan resists, muscles locked in aggravated tension as he stares the rookie down. But Izuku just sweeps a soothing thumb over his nape, holding gentle pressure until the fight drains out of Kacchan's posture and he steps back with a huff.
The rookie smirks in misguided triumph.
“Hero Deku,” he simpers gratingly. “I appreciate you stepping in. Dynamight was starting to get a little out of control–”
“What’s your name, hero?” Izuku interrupts, and the rookie falters.
“Uh. Kawahara Mahiro, sir,” he says slowly, clearly astonished that he wasn’t recognized. “Code name Hydraulic.”
“Hydraulic,” Izuku echoes. He holds out a hand. “May I see your hero identification, please?”
Hydraulic stares at him. Izuku simply raises his eyebrows, waiting patiently, until the rookie reaches slowly into his side pocket and pulls out the little plastic card.
Izuku plucks it out of his fingers and glances at it. “ID number 201326,” he reads off, committing it to memory before handing the card back. “Thank you. I’ll be reporting you to the commission for a licensing audit.”
“What?!” the rookie squawks. “What the fuck? You can’t do that!”
“It’s my legal responsibility to do that,” Izuku corrects him. “Your performance today was erratic, disruptive, and quite frankly undertrained, and you have no place on a patrol route until you can fix those problems.”
Hydraulic’s face darkens with fury. “That’s pretty rich coming from the guy who works with him,” he spits, jabbing a finger at Kacchan. “You wanna talk about erratic? Take a look at your own fucking partner!”
Izuku narrows his eyes.
“Dynamight is a professional,” he says sharply. “And he would never hit a teammate with his quirk by accident, which can’t be said for you.”
Hydraulic sneers. “Who said it was a fucking accident,” he goads, hands coming up to shove at Izuku’s shoulders, and Izuku is done.
He straightens to his full, considerable height and loosens his grip on the power living under his ribcage, letting his skin light up with streaks of radiation blue. The smell of ozone saturates the air around him, and Izuku takes a single step forward, feeling the concrete crack under his feet as Hydraulic stumbles back with a hunted look in his eyes.
“I don’t think you want an assault charge on your rap sheet,” Izuku says quietly, watching with distant curiosity as the blood drains from Hydraulic’s face. “But feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.”
“N-no, you’re right,” the rookie stammers. “I’ll just– sorry–”
And he’s off.
Izuku deflates with a sigh, letting One For All flicker out. He eyes the fragmented sidewalk below him. It’s a textbook example of unnecessary property damage, so it's definitely coming out of his paycheck.
“Sorry, Kacchan, I didn’t mean to rack up more paperwork–” he says, glancing over at his partner, only to trail off.
Because Kacchan is staring at him again.
His gaze moves over Izuku like a physical touch, jumping from his drenched uniform to his water-darkened hair to the patch of exposed skin on his bicep, like he can’t decide which one requires the most attention. His pupils are visibly dilated, and his breaths come slow and deep, and the very tips of his ears are turning a bright, flustered red.
It’s adorable. But it’s also probably not intentional, so Izuku needs to snap him out of it.
“Kacchan?”
Kacchan blinks, and clears his throat. “Whuh?” he says intelligently, and Izuku almost giggles.
“You zoned out for a sec there,” he replies, and Kacchan’s face settles back into its usual state of sharp-eyed irritation. But the little blush doesn’t fade, and Izuku watches with great interest as it spreads from his ears to his cheekbones.
“I was just thinkin’ about what a fucking nuisance that guy was,” he huffs, and Izuku hums agreeably. Kacchan is correct, after all. The guy was a fucking nuisance.
Kacchan gives him a shifty little glance, then crosses his arms and looks over at the little cluster of first responders. The woman has been patched up by the EMTs, and now the techs are just getting her situated in the back of the transport van. One of the medics notices them watching and jogs over.
“Hero Dynamight, Hero Deku!” they say with a respectful little bow. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Izuku bows back. “It was no trouble,” he answers politely, and Kacchan scoffs.
“Check out his arm, would ya?” he says to the medic. “The villain got a hit in.”
“Oh, it’s just a scratch,” Izuku tries, but the medic is already poking at the wound. Kacchan has every damn EMT in the city trained to ignore Izuku’s self-assessments. Izuku scowls at him, but Kacchan just gives him a toothy grin.
“Well, it looks okay,” the medic concludes eventually, taping down a wad of gauze. “This shouldn’t need any stitches. But keep an eye out for any weird nodules, these plant quirks carry sporothrix fungus sometimes.”
“Will do,” Kacchan nods, and Izuku can’t even complain about it because the medic was, in fact, addressing Kacchan. So much for patient confidentiality.
“This is a PPC violation,” Izuku grumbles as the medic takes their leave.
“You’re a PPC violation,” Kacchan replies easily, like that’s some kind of winning argument. “And I’m literally your medical power of attorney. Now can we get the fuck outta here?”
He blasts off without waiting for an answer, so with a sigh, Izuku activates Float and follows him back to HQ.
***
Three hours later, Izuku sits back from his desk with a luxurious stretch. He twists, and his spine lets out a satisfying series of pops.
“Fucking gross,” Kacchan mutters, still hunched over his paperwork in their shared office, and Izuku rolls his eyes.
“Oh please, like you don’t crack your knuckles fifty thousand times a day.”
“I need to do that for my quirk, asshole.”
“Yeah yeah, save it for your PT,” Izuku retorts, spinning lazily in his office chair. It’s his favorite seat in the building, and one of the first things he bought when he and Kacchan first went furniture shopping for their sparkly new agency. Three years in, and the thick padded leather is still as plush as ever. “Are you done yet?”
“Does it look like I’m fucking done?” Kacchan grouses, but he sets his pen down anyway, rolling his wrist in tight circles. Izuku tracks the movement, then scans his face, taking in the tiny crease between his eyebrows, the slight tension in his jaw. Then he reaches under his desk and grabs the industrial-grade first aid kit he keeps there, hefting it into his lap and prying the lid open.
Kacchan peers over at him. “The hell you draggin’ that thing out for?”
“Your wrist is bothering you,” Izuku replies simply, digging around for the diclofenac gel.
Kacchan stares. “How the fuck could you possibly know that?”
“I pay attention, Kacchan,” Izuku says. “Your tells are pretty obvious if you know what to look for.”
Supplies secured, Izuku rolls his way over to Kacchan and sets everything down on the table. First, Izuku unscrews the lid of the Tylenol bottle and shakes a couple tablets into his hand, offering them to Kacchan who accepts them without argument, popping them into his mouth and swallowing them dry. Next, Izuku pulls Kacchan’s bad wrist into his lap and flips open the cap of the gel tube, squeezing a generous dollop at the base of Kacchan’s thumb. Then he sets the tube aside and scoops up Kacchan’s hand to start working the gel into the sensitive muscles of his palm. Kacchan hisses, but he doesn’t pull away, sitting compliantly through the initial ache until the knots begin to melt away into nothing.
“So what are they, then?” Kacchan asks after a few moments of silence.
“Hm?”
“My tells,” Kacchan clarifies. His voice is a little rough. “What are they?”
“Oh,” Izuku says thoughtfully. “Well, for hand pain specifically, you always spin your wrist around. But more generally, you carry tension in your face muscles when you're in pain. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”
“Howso?” Kacchan asks, and Izuku glances up from his task to see Kacchan watching him steadily, those stunning red eyes soft and relaxed, with that fuzzy look he gets sometimes when he and Izuku are alone somewhere. It’s one of the few Kacchan-emotions Izuku can’t quite get a read on, but he’s pretty sure it’s a good one, so he’s never cared to poke too hard at it. He doesn’t want to risk chasing it away by putting a spotlight on it.
“Well, I can tell your wrist is getting better now, because your expression is more relaxed,” Izuku tries to explain. “When you’re hurting, you clench your teeth a bit. And you get tiny little wrinkles here,” he taps between Kacchan’s eyebrows with a clean finger, “and here,” the outer edge of his eyelid, “and sometimes here,” the corner of his mouth. “And that’s how I know.”
Kacchan’s eyes don’t shift away from Izuku’s own.
“Ya lookin’ at me that closely, huh?” he asks, voice low, and Izuku has to look back down at Kacchan’s hand to avoid embarrassing himself.
“I mean, yeah,” he mutters, resuming his massage. “I’ve known you for almost twenty years. Of course I’m looking.”
He uses the heel of his hand to drag a firm pressure down the center of Kacchan’s forearm, and Kacchan’s fingers twitch a little, curling reflexively inward. Izuku winces and eases up on the pressure.
“Sorry, did I hurt you?” he asks apologetically.
“Nah,” Kacchan replies. “Feels nice. Better.”
“Good,” Izuku says, and reaches for the compression bandage. He winds it around Kacchan’s arm with efficient movements, checking the tension as he goes, until Kacchan is wrapped up securely from palm to elbow. “How’s that, too tight?”
“S’good. Thanks.”
“Course,” Izuku says, swiping the supplies off the desk to return to the first aid kit. “Maybe next time don’t spend hours writing with a pen after a battle, yeah?”
Kacchan hums a vague affirmative, rolling his shoulders and leaning back in his chair. “I’m just about done anyway,” he says. “And I’m fucking starving. Wanna come over and get takeout?”
“Sure!” Izuku agrees immediately, because time spent with Kacchan is always time well-spent. Plus, maybe he’ll earn a few more of those heated looks if he plays his cards right.
***
They order tempura from their usual spot and settle on Kacchan's comfortable couch to eat. Kacchan turns the TV on, then surrenders the remote to Izuku with a gruff “Don't pick something stupid.”
Izuku throws on a hero docuseries and makes grabby hands at Kacchan where he's surveying the drink options in the fridge. Kacchan rolls his eyes, but pulls a can of Izuku's favorite milk tea out of the door before returning to the living room.
“What a fuckin’ day,” he sighs as he flops down next to Izuku. He passes the can over, and Izuku cracks it open and takes a grateful sip. “That fight took about fifty fuckin’ times longer than it needed to.”
Izuku hums. “Yeah… but hey, that's another A-rank villain on our takedown sheet! And I'm pretty sure you didn't damage a single building!”
Kacchan smirks at him. “Yeah, all the property damage came from your ass this time, hah?”
Izuku gives him a look, but Kacchan just grins back at him.
“Don’t worry,” he chortles, “it was fuckin’ worth it. Thought that bastard was gonna shit himself.”
Izuku takes a petulant bite of his fried sweet potato. “He started it, anyway,” he mumbles.
“Don't talk with your mouth full,” Kacchan says automatically, “and I'm pretty fuckin’ sure I started it, actually. But it was real nice of ya to defend my honor, hero.”
Izuku chokes on his sweet potato, and Kacchan laughs at him, thumping his back until his airway clears.
They work their way through the rest of the food, swiping scallops off each other's plates and shouting down the egregious inaccuracies in the documentary. One of the so-called “hero historians” asserts that Edgeshot's Zenith technique is “medically impossible,” and Kacchan actually throws a shrimp tail at the screen.
“Gimme that,” he snaps, swiping for the remote in Izuku's hand. “I'm turning this stupid shit off.”
“Nooo,” Izuku laughs, pulling it out of reach. “We're almost at the Dynamight episode! Don't you wanna see what they say?”
“Fuck no,” Kacchan seethes. He launches at Izuku, who shrieks and scuttles away until his back hits the arm rest. “Why the hell would I wanna listen to some extra making shit up about me?!”
He grabs Izuku's arm and tries to yank it down, but Izuku activates half a percent of One For All and doesn't move an inch, then snickers at the outraged look Kacchan gives him.
“No fucking quirks, you shitty cheater!” Kacchan cries, crawling over Izuku to make another attempt at the remote, but Izuku just snakes his other arm around Kacchan's torso and presses him down against his chest until Kacchan wheezes.
“You're the one who gave me remote privileges,” Izuku reminds him, holding him easily in place as he fights to free himself.
“Yeah, and I also told you not to pick something stupid,” Kacchan gripes, pushing fruitlessly at Izuku's shoulders. It accomplishes nothing, and he releases a harmless crackle of micro-explosions in Izuku's face. “Yet here we fuckin’ are!”
“Too bad,” Izuku sings. “It's not my fault Kacchan has no taste.”
Kacchan groans and gives up, flopping his full weight down on Izuku's ribs. “You are so fucking embarrassing,” he mutters into Izuku's shirt.
Izuku cautiously loosens his grip, ready for a sneak attack, but Kacchan doesn't move, so Izuku decides it's probably safe to give his spiky hair a consolatory pat.
“There's nothing embarrassing about wanting to watch footage of Kacchan,” he states, but he compromises by turning the volume down a few notches.
“I guarantee you've already seen all the clips they're gonna use anyway,” Kacchan grumbles. “Fucking stalker.”
Izuku shrugs. “Yeah, probably. But I'd never complain about watching them again.”
Kacchan looks up at him then, propping his chin on Izuku's sternum.
“...You really wouldn't, huh?” he asks quietly.
Izuku gives him a rueful little smile. “I watch Kacchan all the time,” he admits, and it's true. Kacchan is the brightest light in any room, utterly impossible to look away from, and Izuku would be content to bask in his glow for the rest of his life. He knows Kacchan already knows this, since Izuku has never been able to control himself when it comes to singing Kacchan's praises, but he opens his mouth to say it again anyway. Just in case.
But he never gets the chance, because Kacchan leans in and kisses him.
Izuku doesn't freeze. He doesn't panic. This possibility was already on his radar, and now it's happening, and Izuku intends to savor every last second. So he cups Kacchan's cheek in his palm, and tilts his head just so, and makes sure it's soft and sweet and gentle. He memorizes the feeling, the taste, sears Kacchan's little hum of pleasure directly into his long-term memory. He kisses Kacchan like a lover, and for a brief, dizzying second, he allows himself to believe it means something.
And then, regretfully, he pulls away.
Kacchan’s eyes flutter open. He looks dazed and faintly awestruck, and Izuku feels a selfish little tug of pride in his chest. He did that. Even if he never gets to do it again, he did that, at least once.
“Why'd we stop?” Kacchan eventually manages, and Izuku looks at him carefully and searches for the right words.
“...Are you sure you want to do this?” he tries.
But evidently these were not the right words, because the hazy look in Kacchan's eyes vanishes like mist, replaced by something confused and more than a little irritated.
“The fuck kinda question is that?” Kacchan grits out. “I've been practically throwing myself at you all goddamn day, of course I want this! Do you want this?”
“Yes, obviously,” Izuku brushes the ridiculous question aside. “But I never thought you would want to… um, hook up with a coworker.”
He blanches a little at the look on Kacchan's face, and rushes to explain. “Not that there's any shame in that! I just. Thought you'd want to keep these things separated…?”
“...Hook up,” Kacchan echoes incredulously. He sits up, and Izuku resists the urge to pull him back down. “Is that what you think this is?”
And now Izuku is confused too, because what else could it be? “Well,” he says slowly. “I did notice the looks you were giving me today, and it's pretty clear that you think I'm, uh, physically attractive, and generally people want to hook up with people they're attracted to, so…?”
Kacchan stares at him. It's not the kind of stare Izuku was hoping to get when he came over tonight.
“Izuku,” Kacchan says flatly. “You are the smartest person I know, but you are so, so unfathomably stupid that it blows my fucking mind sometimes.”
“...What the hell, Kacchan.”
“No, no, don't give me that,” Kacchan barrels on, waving away Izuku's glare. “You'll see what I mean in a minute.”
“Is that so?” Izuku asks dryly.
“Yes, listen, I'm gonna walk you through this. Alright?”
Izuku levers himself upright and tucks his feet defensively underneath him, but he nods anyway. There's clearly some piece he's missing here, and hearing Kacchan out is the fastest way to get the whole picture.
“Alright,” Kacchan repeats, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “Alright. Fuck. I didn't think I'd have to explain this out loud, but you love this open communication shit so I guess I should've seen this coming…”
And, okay, wow. Izuku watches with open fascination. He's never heard Kacchan ramble before.
“Alright,” Kacchan says again, seeming to steel himself. Then he pins Izuku with a piercing look. “So. Talk me through your understanding of this situation.”
“Um,” Izuku says. He thought Kacchan was supposed to be the one explaining. “Well, like I said, I noticed Kacchan looking at me today at the gym and on patrol, and in retrospect I guess there are a few other moments I could fit into that pattern. And I've seen looks like that before from guys who later came up to me and asked me to take them home,” Kacchan's face twists into something very interesting at that, “so I figured Kacchan was thinking the same kind of thoughts…?”
Kacchan schools his expression and nods encouragingly. “Good,” he says. “What else?”
Izuku blinks. “Uh. I guess I assumed Kacchan would never act on it, because of all the horror stories out there about tension in the workplace after sleeping with a colleague…”
Kacchan is frowning now, but he nods anyway. “Keep going.”
“But then… Kacchan kissed me,” Izuku says, feeling his cheeks grow warm, “and I kissed back because I've always wanted to kiss Kacchan, but then I pulled away to check in because I really never expected Kacchan to be willing to risk our hero partnership just to have sex with me. I mean, Kacchan could have anyone. There are plenty of less complicated options available for him if he just needs to scratch an itch.”
Kacchan nods like he's just confirmed something. “Yeah, okay, I see where the disconnect is,” he sighs. “Lemme ask you this: what are the reasons I might wanna fuck someone, other than ‘scratching an itch’?”
Izuku feels himself go even redder at the word choice, which is absolutely not his fault, because it's completely unfair for Kacchan to sound that good when he curses.
“Well,” he ponders, “In theory, Kacchan could have ulterior motives like money or blackmail material, but I can't imagine he would ever treat someone so callously. Um, another possibility is that Kacchan feels obligated to have sex with someone to spare their feelings. And… I guess Kacchan could have his own romantic feelings for someone, and want to have sex with them as a part of that.”
Kacchan just looks at him like he's waiting for something.
(And a tiny, tiny pull in the back of Izuku's mind starts to tug him towards a certain conclusion. But he resists, because Kacchan can't possibly be implying what he seems to be implying.)
“‘Kay,” Kacchan says, once the silence has dragged on a little too long. “That's a decent list. You've already ruled out the first option, and I can tell you right now that the second one is never gonna fuckin’ happen. So where does that leave us?”
And Izuku can't help the frustrated tears that well up in his eyes, because he just doesn't understand.
“I really don't know what you're getting at, Kacchan,” he says, feeling pathetic. He's supposed to be good at picking up social cues, but this whole conversation is making him wonder if he was just fooling himself all along. “Can you please just spell it out for me?”
Kacchan looks at him for a moment. Then he softens.
“Yeah. Course I can.”
And he scoots a little closer and takes Izuku by the hand, and that fuzzy look is back in his eyes, and despite everything Izuku believes to be true, despite his long-held certainty that he is doomed to forever love Kacchan at a distance, he feels his heart start to race.
“Izuku,” Kacchan says. “I'm in love with you.”
And Izuku's mind goes completely blank.
“I've been in love with you since high school,” he distantly registers Kacchan saying, “and I wanna have sex with you because I love you and also because you're the hottest guy on Earth. And I'm pretty sure you love me too, and I'm fucking tired of waiting around for you to make a move, so if you could just confirm any of this for me, that'd be fuckin’ great–”
Izuku shoves Kacchan flat on his back and kisses him like the world is ending.
It's the furthest thing from sweet or gentle, this time, as Izuku descends on him. He licks into Kacchan like he's starving to death, drags his tongue along the roof of Kacchan's mouth, sucks Kacchan's lower lip between his teeth and bites, and Kacchan makes a sound that Izuku has never heard him make before. He has to hear it again. He needs to hear it again.
Izuku winds his calloused, crooked fingers into Kacchan's hair and pulls, forcing Kacchan's head back and exposing the long, unmarked line of his throat. He drags his mouth along the tendon there, digs his teeth into the pulse point, and Kacchan jerks beneath him, his hands coming up to fist in Izuku's shirt.
“I didn't know,” Izuku says into the thin skin of Kacchan's neck, then bites again, a new spot, and his head spins when Kacchan whines. “I didn't fucking know, Kacchan, why didn't you tell me sooner?”
“Izuku,” Kacchan gasps, and hearing his name in that tone makes Izuku feel like a wild animal but it's not an answer, so Izuku tugs Kacchan's head a little further back, relishing in the way his spine arches up into Izuku's body.
“We could've,” he sucks a deep bruise into Kacchan's collarbone as Kacchan squirms against him, “been doing this,” he licks a hot stripe up to the angle of Kacchan's jaw, “for years,” Izuku rasps, right into Kacchan's ear, and Kacchan is actually trembling now, digging his fingers into Izuku's shoulders, and Izuku wants to swallow him whole.
So he starts making his way in that direction.
He sits up and yanks his shirt off, flinging it somewhere into the depths of Kacchan's apartment. Kacchan gets with the program quickly, wrestling his own shirt off before turning his attention to Izuku's zipper.
“I gotta, can I,” he asks breathlessly, but his hands are too shaky to get a good grip, so he swats at Izuku's thigh. “Fucking help me, idiot!”
Izuku bats his hands away, but he doesn't bother finishing the job. Instead he dives back down to kiss Kacchan again, already completely addicted, pressed skin-to-skin against Kacchan's chest as he drags his hands over those broad shoulders, down Kacchan's arms, gripping him firmly by the wrists and tugging his arms up over his head.
“You're crazy if you think you're getting my pants off before I get my mouth on you,” Izuku says, and Kacchan's eyes blow wide, the darks of his pupils nearly swallowing up that gorgeous red. “Keep your hands up here, please.”
Then he lets go, and Kacchan's hands stay exactly where Izuku left them, and he's so perfect that Izuku thinks he might just keel over and die.
He kisses down Kacchan's sternum, sinks his teeth into the swell of his pecs, laves his tongue over a nipple, and Kacchan makes a breathy, shocked little noise that goes straight to Izuku's dick. Kacchan is sensitive, which is fantastic news, and Izuku will be exploring that thoroughly at a later date, but he doesn't have the patience right now, so he leaves Kacchan with a parting nibble and continues working his way down. There will be time later, because Kacchan loves him.
Kacchan loves him.
“I love you too,” Izuku groans into the smooth skin of Kacchan's abdomen, realizing he hasn't actually said it back yet. He wraps his hands around Kacchan's tiny little waist, presses his fingers into Kacchan's hipbones, and shifts him a little higher on the sofa to suck bruises along the line of his waistband. “I love you so much, Kacchan, you have no idea.”
“Think I do, actually,” Kacchan laughs breathlessly, and clearly Izuku isn't doing his job right if Kacchan still has enough brainpower to sass him, so he grabs the elastic band of Kacchan's sweatpants and yanks them down, grinning at the little squeak Kacchan lets out.
Then he gets a good look at what he's working with and has to stop and breathe for a minute.
“Kacchan really is beautiful everywhere,” he says dreamily, and Kacchan kicks him and hides his face in his hands. But that's against the rules, so Izuku grabs his arms and yanks them to the sides.
“Don't,” Izuku growls into Kacchan's cheekbone, pressing his wrists firmly into the couch cushions. “I need to see you.”
“Y-yeah, sorry, yeah,” Kacchan stutters, his hands clenching reflexively, and Izuku threads their fingers together and kisses him again. And again, for good measure.
Then he pulls back and gives Kacchan a grin he's sure must look completely deranged. He doesn't care at all. Kacchan loves him.
“I'm gonna suck your dick now, okay?” he asks, and Kacchan goes violently red, but he nods rapidly and that's good enough for Izuku. So he crawls back down Kacchan's body, dragging blunt fingernails over Kacchan's sides, and settles himself between those lean, tantalizing legs. Izuku buries his face in the smooth softness of Kacchan's inner thigh, following the corded muscle with his tongue, and Kacchan looks so overwhelmingly edible that Izuku can't help but indulge. He bites down on a generous mouthful, and Kacchan yelps, then groans deep in his chest as Izuku worries at the silky skin. Then he licks soothingly over the marks and pulls back to admire his handiwork.
“Izuku,” Kacchan pleads, shifting his hips in search of friction, so Izuku loops his arms under Kacchan's thighs and laces his fingers together over Kacchan's stomach, locking him in place. Kacchan tries to buck instinctively, then whimpers when he doesn't move an inch. “Zuku, please, please–”
“I know, Kacchan, I'm gonna make you feel good,” Izuku promises. Something in his hindbrain purrs at the desperation in Kacchan's voice, and someday, he's gonna drag things out until Kacchan is crying and begging for release. But this is their first time together, and Izuku intends to give Kacchan anything he wants, anything at all. So he locks eyes with Kacchan, opens his mouth, and swallows Kacchan's dick down to the root.
“Ah!” Kacchan cries out, jack-knifing forward, but Izuku presses him flat with a hand on his chest as he drags his head back, tracing patterns on the underside of Kacchan's cock with his tongue until he reaches the tip and dives back down again. “Fuck, oh fuck, fffgahh–”
Izuku hums with satisfaction, bobbing his head up and down as Kacchan squeezes his eyes shut, clawing at the arm rest above his head in a frantic attempt to keep his composure. His cock is a perfect weight in Izuku's mouth, thick and heavy against his soft palate, and Izuku pulls back and swirls his tongue around the head, lapping up the precome beading at the tip. Kacchan twitches against him, and Izuku smiles to himself.
“Nngh– Zuku,” Kacchan pants, his breath catching as Izuku sinks back down. Izuku hums questioningly, feeling his throat vibrate around the length, and Kacchan suddenly goes rigid, pushing urgently at Izuku as he tries to twist away. “Izuku! Wait, fuck, waitwait–”
Izuku pulls off with a wet pop. He licks his lips, chasing the taste of smokey caramel, and peers up at Kacchan with mild concern.
“You okay?” he asks, voice hoarse. Kacchan swallows dryly.
“‘M gonna fuckin’ come if you keep that up,” he rasps, eyes darting away. Cute.
Izuku smiles at him, aiming for playful but probably landing somewhere closer to besotted. “That's the idea,” he teases, and Kacchan kicks him in the shoulder.
“I fucking know that,” he hisses, flushed down to his chest, and Izuku wants to bite him again. “But I want– I wanna… ugh, will you just come up here already?!”
Izuku is more than happy to indulge him. He shimmies up Kacchan's torso, dragging the sweat-slick ridges of his abdomen over Kacchan's dick and drinking in the way his face slackens with pleasure. Then Izuku props himself up over Kacchan, holding eye contact as he leans down and presses little kisses to Kacchan's cheek, his nose, the arch of his brow, before finally coming to hover over his mouth.
“What do you want, Kacchan?” Izuku murmurs, a breath away from his lips.
“I want,” Kacchan says, craning up to steal a sweet little kiss, “to take your fucking pants off.”
He shoves Izuku off the couch, and Izuku giggles and allows it as Kacchan follows him to the floor. Kacchan's hands aren't much steadier than before, but Izuku helps with the zipper this time, shoving his jeans down as Kacchan finishes kicking off his own sweatpants. Then he hauls Izuku up and tries to herd him toward the bedroom, but he's so wobbly on his feet that Izuku just scoops him up and carries him the rest of the way, happily ignoring his squirming protests.
He tosses Kacchan down on the mattress and crawls on top of him, caging him in his arms and bending down for another deep, filthy kiss. Kacchan's hands come up to weave into Izuku's hair, and Izuku groans, feeling a bolt of heat race down his spine.
“What's next?” he asks, when he finally manages to tear himself away.
Kacchan blinks up at him, mouth hanging open until he remembers how to produce words. “I– huh?”
Izuku smirks down at him. “What's next, Kacchan? You're in charge.”
Kacchan gives him a skeptical look, which, fair. But he tries to gather his thoughts anyway. “I already said I wanna fuck you,” he says, shifting nervously, and Izuku wants to eat him alive.
“Okay,” he says, instead of doing that. “How?”
“...Huh?”
“How, Kacchan?” Izuku repeats patiently, almost glowing with pride over how much of Kacchan's verbal capacity he's managed to take offline. “Sex can mean a lot of things. Do you have a preference?”
“Uh.” Kacchan squirms a little, avoiding eye contact. “Not… really? I've never…”
Izuku feels his eyes go very, very wide.
“Kacchan,” he whispers reverently. “Are you a virgin?”
“Don't say it like that!” Kacchan snaps, but the effect is ruined by the way his entire face goes a hot, mortified red. “It's not a big deal, okay?! Just, fuckin’ forget I said anything–”
“Kacchan,” Izuku moans, rutting involuntarily against Kacchan's thigh. “That's the hottest fucking thing I've ever heard.”
“...’Course it is, pervert,” Kacchan mutters, but he can't hide the relief creeping over his features. “So I'm guessin’ you don't mind?”
“No!” Izuku exclaims. “Being Kacchan's first is, like, one of my all-time favorite fantasies. Top fifteen at least.”
Kacchan laughs. “Yeah, I shoulda known your freak ass would have a ranked list written out somewhere,” he teases, and Izuku doesn't bother defending himself, because it's true. “You better show me that shit later.”
Izuku nods eagerly, wrestling for control of himself. “Yeah,” he breathes, mind already whirling with the possibilities. “Okay, yeah. But for now, you don't have anything specific in mind?”
Kacchan's eyes flick to the side. “Uh. Well. Could we maybe… fuck, this is so embarrassing.”
Izuku can't help but press a kiss to his cheekbone. “You could never embarrass yourself in front of me,” he says sincerely, and Kacchan flushes a pretty pink.
“Shut up,” he huffs, but there's no heat in it. “Just– ugh, okay, could we save the anal stuff for later? This all worked out faster than I thought it would, so I wasn't exactly plannin’ on… y'know.”
Izuku melts. “Of course, Kacchan,” he says warmly. “We don't ever have to do that if you don't want to–”
“I do!” Kacchan blurts, then reddens. “Trust me. I really fuckin’ do. But I wanna, like. Do it right, I guess. Maybe get some practice in before jumping straight into the deep end.”
And, oh wow, that sounds like Kacchan might want to bottom. The thought alone honestly makes Izuku feel a bit dizzy. But he sets that little daydream aside for another day, because Kacchan is here right now, splayed out below him in a tangle of warm skin and bright, trusting eyes, and Izuku can think of a hundred other things he wants to try with him.
“I'll wait as long as Kacchan needs,” he says, and means it. “Is there anything else you wanna avoid for now?”
“Nah,” Kacchan says with a shy little smile. “Do your worst.”
“Wow, okay,” Izuku breathes. “Wow. Kacchan, I really really really love you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kacchan tries to brush it off, but Izuku can see the pleased wrinkle on the bridge of his nose. “So you gonna do somethin’ or what?”
Izuku lets a slow, hungry grin overtake his face.
He leans over Kacchan on his elbows, pressing his forearms into the mattress on either side of Kacchan's head so he has nowhere to look but up. Then Izuku shifts his body, bullying his way between Kacchan's thighs so they're forced to spread wide around his hips. He leans down and noses against Kacchan's jaw, nudging his head back and to the side, until Izuku has unlimited access to the arch of his neck, the delicate curve of his ear. Izuku exhales, and watches with fascination as goosebumps pebble over Kacchan's skin.
“Hi,” Izuku murmurs into his ear, and Kacchan shivers. “This okay?”
“Mmhm,” Kacchan grits out. His hands hook around the swell of Izuku's biceps, squeezing with anticipation, but Izuku just… holds him there, pinned open like a butterfly as Izuku settles his weight down a little more decisively. Enough to make Kacchan aware of his own breathing, to force him to pay attention to the hot brand of Izuku's cock against the crease of his thigh. Enough to make him feel it.
Because Izuku already knew, academically, that he was bigger than Kacchan. Kacchan stopped growing in third year, but Izuku did not, and now he's a few inches taller, a bit bulkier in the shoulders, thicker in the waist and thighs. But outside of sparring, he's never attempted to use it to his advantage before. Kacchan's sheer presence has always made up for his shorter stature, and Izuku has never tried to force Kacchan to confront the reality of his own larger, heavier build.
But like this, with Kacchan's body completely eclipsed by his own, Izuku feels huge. Powerful. He likes it, a lot. And judging by the shaky little exhale Kacchan lets out, he's pretty confident that Kacchan likes it too.
“You're so pretty, Kacchan,” he whispers, and Kacchan squirms a little. His thighs quiver, trying to squeeze shut to escape the vulnerability, but Izuku just presses himself into the cradle of Kacchan's hips and spreads him a little wider. “God, I could look at you all day.”
“Izuku, c’mon,” Kacchan gasps, hips rolling instinctively, and it's a simple thing for Izuku to adjust his position until his cock is pressed against Kacchan's. He grinds down, and Kacchan keens, his hands flying up to claw at Izuku's shoulders.
“Holy shit,” he croaks, then throws his head back against the pillows as Izuku repeats the motion. “Guh, fuck.”
Izuku leans down and captures Kacchan's mouth, swallowing his punched-out little huffs of pleasure. He shifts his weight to one arm and snakes his other hand down to wrap around their cocks, and Kacchan jolts up against his chest as Izuku begins a slow, steady pump.
“Mmngh,” he moans into Izuku's mouth. Izuku licks along the underside of his tongue and picks up the pace a bit.
He loses himself in the slick grind of his body against Kacchan's, the steadily increasing volume of Kacchan's sounds, the oxygen shared between them when they pull apart to breathe. Kacchan's shudders intensify as Izuku's hand moves faster, until they transform into a continuous full-body tremor. He twists his head to the side, and Izuku latches onto his neck as Kacchan gasps for air.
“Close,” he grits, his body starting to coil into a tightly-wound spring. “Fuck, ‘m close.”
“Yeah,” Izuku pants, tightening his grip as he feels the tension build at the base of his spine. He pulls back to look down into Kacchan's face, cataloging every detail. His garnet eyes are half-lidded and slightly crossed, jaw slack with pleasure, blond hair plastered to his forehead with nitro-scented sweat as his chest heaves with quick, ragged breaths.
He's a mess, and he's the most beautiful fucking thing Izuku has ever seen.
“Hahh, ah, ah, ohfuck–” Kacchan gasps, voice pitching higher and higher as his entire body locks up. “Fuck, Zuku, gonna– ‘m gonna–”
And then with a cracked, startled cry, Kacchan shatters apart in Izuku's hands.
He spills in thick pulses over his chest, his abdomen, writhing under Izuku's weight as Izuku pumps faster, chasing his own release. Kacchan's spine arches desperately as the orgasm drags on and on, heels scrabbling against the bed, fingernails digging so hard into Izuku's shoulders that they break skin.
“Izuku,” he wails, and the sound of his name on Kacchan's lips sends Izuku barreling over the edge after him. He lets out a guttural sound, curling over and pressing his face into Kacchan's collarbone as he drowns in wave after wave of sensation and heat and light.
An eternity passes before Izuku's vision clears.
“Fuck,” he utters, wrangling just enough energy to collapse beside Kacchan instead of on top of him. He sucks in air, lightheaded with the force of his climax, and pats around blindly until he finds Kacchan's hand. He squeezes. Kacchan squeezes back.
They catch their breath in tandem as the adrenaline fades into a hazy afterglow.
Then Kacchan starts to giggle.
“What's so funny?” Izuku asks, tipping his head to face him.
“I just can't believe we finally fucking did it,” Kacchan says, and the expression he wears when he turns towards Izuku is so giddy, so radiant with Kacchan's rarely-witnessed joy, that Izuku starts giggling too, so Kacchan tackles him and chomps on his cheek, and Izuku winds their legs together, and they don't get out of bed for a very long time.
***
“So is Kacchan my boyfriend now?” Izuku asks hours later, after their second shower, because the first shower did not result in anyone getting clean.
“Kacchan better be your goddamn boyfriend,” Kacchan grouses, wrapped around Izuku's shoulders like a very opinionated backpack. “Still can't believe you thought this was gonna be a fuckin’ one-night stand.”
“How was I supposed to know?!”
“With whatever freakshow mind-reading powers you use for everything else,” Kacchan drawls. “I swear, your dumb ass picks up on everything except what people actually want you to notice.”
Izuku bites him, because he can, and Kacchan yanks on one of his curls in retribution, then shoves a hand over Izuku's face before the situation can devolve further. “We are not going another round, we have a patrol in six hours.”
“Let's skip it,” Izuku suggests, totally serious.
“Fuck no. We ain't breaking into the top five this year if we start slacking off now.”
“But Kacchan–”
Kacchan's hand drops to his mouth, muffling his words. “Nope, go the fuck to sleep,” he says, and presses a kiss to the nape of Izuku's neck. “I'll still love you in the morning.”
And Izuku doesn't need to see the look on Kacchan's face to know that it's true.