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The night is slow.
It’s not every evening that bleeds into a night like this, minute hand sluggish and reluctant, shadows drooping and begging for company. Just a quick nap, a brief break, don’t worry if you’ll wake up.
Katsuki could taste lethargy on his tongue. The very air was thick with it.
He slumped against the apartment door, aching. He could feel exhaustion right down to his bones, overwhelming in its magnitude. His battle gear was covered in dirt and blood, some of it his own, some of it not. Izuku was in a similar state next to him — actually, no, he was worse.
“C’mon,” Katsuki rasped, voice like gravel from fatigue. He managed to unlock the door with weak hands, shoving Izuku inside before him.
Izuku mumbled something unintelligibly, grasping blindly behind him with one arm to pull Katsuki inside too, despite their bodies already stumbling in too-close together, bumping and aggravating their injuries while they were too overtired and desperate to care.
They made their way to the bathroom, somehow — Katsuki has little memory of the trek, only that it felt like hours, ages spent dragging his feet and Izuku through unrelenting sand to the brightly lit porcelain oasis at the end of the hall. They seemed to have left the bathroom light on by mistake.
They shuffled inside their main bathroom, Katsuki leaning his head against the wall for a second to collect himself, Izuku with a hip to the counter by the sink, attempting to gather the strength to lift himself onto it. Despite the perfectly good closed toilet seat right next to them, Katsuki preferred Izuku at his eye level when they did this, so he forced himself over and got his hands behind Izuku’s thighs, heaving him up and aiding Izuku’s little jump. Securely seated on the counter, Izuku lifted his head, ready for Katsuki to start their ritual.
Katsuki washed his hands thoroughly and stepped between Izuku’s legs, gently tilting his face this way and that, probing his head for bumps under the curly hair. They had done this every time they came home weary and war-beaten since their second year at UA. It was cathartic, to Katsuki; he didn’t know what it was to Izuku. Katsuki continued his search for extra injuries, dragging his hands down Izuku’s arms lightly, nudging them up to lift his shirt off to inspect his torso. Izuku let him. It had started, originally, out of mistrust: Katsuki didn’t believe Izuku would report all his injuries to the paramedics, nor figure them critical enough to elicit immediate treatment. In high school, he’d been proven right enough times to grow to have the uncontrollable need to do it, after a bad shift. But Izuku had proven his sense of self-worth plenty in the years since then, no longer one to accidentally self-harm.
So Katsuki wasn’t sure what this was, anymore, only that they both needed it like water.
Finished with his inspection, Katsuki stepped back, blinking blearily at Izuku when his hand lifted to graze his cheek, settling on Katsuki’s jaw. Izuku’s eyes were set on a bloody patch near Katsuki’s hairline, one the paramedics said resulted in only a minor concussion. All in a fucking day’s work.
The tightened lines around Izuku’s mouth relaxed minutely when Katsuki took the hand on his face in his own and pulled it away, going to the tub to fill it. Izuku slipped down off the counter behind him, letting out an unintentional whimper as the short fall triggered some sprain or another. Katsuki shut his eyes tightly, focusing on the sound of the water rushing into the plugged tub, and not the stabbing at his heart at the noise, nor the vivid memories it inspired, a cruel loop of every horrifying sound of pain Izuku had ever made.
The tub full, Katsuki helped Izuku strip and led him to sit in it, holding some of the weight off his wobbly legs. The water bloodied slowly, seeping off of Izuku like poison sucked from a wound, the boy himself visibly relaxing as the warm water hit his aching limbs.
They usually hit the showers after their shifts, but they quickly found that any water pressure was torture to their wounded forms on particularly bad nights. So they took to filling tubs, finding peace in the methodical motions, in the wait.
Katsuki was tired, too, but getting Izuku better was a priority. He didn’t think too deep into why, only knowing that it somehow made him feel more whole, to see Izuku patched up and clean. Which is exactly what he needed, following evenings like these, when he came home in pieces, fragments tumbling around in his chest. To cradle Izuku’s, just for a moment, had a way of slowly putting Katsuki back together.
Katsuki sat on the stool next to the tub, dragging the washcloth gently over Izuku’s shoulders, freckles revealing themselves again. A weight lifted from Katsuki’s chest at the sight. He brushed the almost-thought away. Izuku helped with a second washcloth, getting his torso and legs while Katsuki moved down his back. Katsuki got to his hair, rubbing shampoo in and careful of knots and clumps matted together with blood. Izuku blinked up at him, then, as Katsuki unintentionally tipped his head back with his circling fingers, and to Katsuki’s horror his eyes were glassy with tears. From pure exhaustion, Katsuki knew, but that didn’t make his heart ache any less at the sight. He used the meat of his right hand to rub any fallen tears away, careful of his fingers covered with shampoo, and looking at Izuku’s doe eyes directed up at him, so tired, so wide, he couldn’t help himself. He pressed a soft kiss to Izuku’s forehead, not thinking anything of it, just willing from his very core for the motion to bring any sort of comfort to Izuku. He doubted it would. It was only Katsuki, after all.
When Izuku was more or less clean, they switched places, letting the tub drain while they wrapped Izuku in a towel, then using the telephone shower to jet the bloodstains of the tub walls, a half-assed cleaning spray. Then they filled it again, Katsuki inside this time, a little more awake now that there was some light back in Izuku’s eyes. The warm water was heaven on his overtired muscles. Izuku dragged his trembling hands through Katsuki’s hair, in obvious pain.
“Stop that,” Katsuki said, pulling Izuku’s wrist away. He needed to warm his hands after they got wet, or the cold would trigger his aching joints. Izuku’s eyes hardened, stubborn, quick-tempered in his tired state.
“I want to help too,” he snapped, voice shaky. “Why should Kacchan be the only one who gets to… to.”
There wasn’t a name for what they were doing, at least not one either of them were willing to voice. And they both knew Izuku wasn’t being fair, that on nights Katsuki was worse off he was the one to take care of him, that they’d been through this enough times the words weren’t even jarring. On slow nights they receded to their most redundant selves.
Katsuki sighed, letting the water drain the tub and then clean water fill it, still seated. When it was full again, he reached for Izuku’s wrist again, this time to drag him closer. The towel dropped carelessly on the floor beside the tub, and now Izuku was seated in the water again, back to Katsuki’s chest, larger legs framing him. This, too, was not uncommon, though not common either. Usually reserved for their worst worse nights. Izuku’s skin was at first cool where they touched, damp enough to stick a little, quickly blossomed into almost fever-warm. Katsuki sighed again, leaning his forehead on Izuku’s shoulder blade, arms coming around him loosely. Even here, in their most sacred ritual, Katsuki would not dare trap him. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold him, to keep him here. He was terrified Izuku would get up and leave. He’s not sure he would survive it. It would be well within his rights; and yet, Katsuki wanted.
“Please,” he whispered into Izuku’s skin, bent forward as if in prayer. Reverent at the feel of Izuku’s warmth between his own. “Just let me have this.”
Izuku shuddered, and leaned back, so that Katsuki was forced to move his chin up and over his curly head. Jaw sitting on the delicate skin there. Katsuki marveled at how the simple movement, in bringing their bodies together so that they were touching in more places than not, finally settled whatever had been thrumming restless just under his skin. He could feel Izuku’s warmth leaking into him like a tangible thing, spreading from where they touched directly into his bones, until he could feel it, bone-deep — the feeling of safe, safe, safe.