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Shut up, Katsuki thinks, and his tongue is sandpaper. The concrete is dust against his fingers; a bead of sweat trickles down his nose.
This situation is so par for the course in Katsuki’s life he can't help but feel pissed.
I’m sorry. An apology hits the tip of his tongue, but it's not his.
An explosion bubbles underneath his palm - and Katsuki holds it back - because if he lets it go, the parking garage, or whatever’s left of it, will continue to crumble faster than it already is. He doesn't think it'll look good on his record if he gets himself and Deku killed because of his anger management problems. Shut up.
Deku shifts, despite only being a few feet away - his expression tightens, eyes narrowing. Stop doing that.
“Doing what?” Katsuki says aloud, and blinks. He hasn't been offensive enough; “Idiot.” It's all bark- he's gotten soft after what happened. The Thing. His hands are gentler with Deku, his eyes soften at the sight of him—it’s mortifying.
“You're so angry.” Deku grits his teeth - a muscle in his jaw ticks. It's obvious Katsuki’s own emotions are affecting Izuku’s—there’s a sheen of sweat under his eyes and over the bridge of his nose. Katsuki swallows. “It's hard for me to not curse at you. What did I even do?”
“Get our fuckin’ thoughts stuck in each others’ heads, that's what.” Katsuki snaps. “If you hadn't let that reporter touch you—”
Something in him curls defensively - because someone laid their hands on Deku without asking. They pulled on his wrist and wouldn't let go until Aizawa-sensei gave the lady a dirty look and she relented. Katsuki bites down a displeased growl, and his teeth clench so hard he's surprised he doesn't hear them creak .
“I couldn't have just shook her off! That would've been rude.” Deku’s right. It would've been rude. It would've been exactly what Katsuki would have done, with a little bit more restraint than he would've a few months ago. “I didn’t think she’d use her Quirk.”
That’s what you get, Katsuki thinks, and his eye twitches as Deku stares at him, eyes glinting. For letting the paparazzi walk all over you.
They fall down to a hush. Help will be coming soon - they were patrolling with Aizawa-sensei. And, of course, something had to go wrong, because that's what you get when you put Deku and Bakugou in the same pair. Their teacher knew that . Look what that got him.
It wasn't because Deku and Bakugou had argued. They've improved past that state - it was more of Deku running to save a citizen and almost getting himself killed so Bakugou had to save his dumbass before he got himself kicked six-feet under.
He was gonna kick Deku’s ass when they get out of this stupid building. And he was gonna kick that reporter’s ass. Hell, he would kick his own ass because he's an absolute machine that kicks ass.
Deku’s still staring at him, bug-eyed, like usual. He scoffs. “Stop fuckin’ staring at me.” Izuku looks down.
He's gotten used to it at this point. He'd be surprised if Deku wasn’t staring at him. It isn't as shocking anymore when Deku brings up one of his moves that he doesn't even remember telling him about at sparring practice. The freak’s just scarily observant of what he does and what he says when it happens.
He still remembers practicing the move he pulled back in the war; Cluster. He used it on Deku after Bakugou had brought him back from wherever the hell it was. A place Katsuki doesn't bother to remember. Or think about.
The scar on his stomach aches at the memory. It was worth it, anyways, Katsuki thinks to himself. Deku turns to him, away from where he was staring at his fingers fidget. I don't know what I would've done.
Kacchan? He glances up. Deku’s still there. His eyes are watery, and Bakugou’s own narrow in suspicion.
“You were feeling a lot of things,” Deku croaks weakly. “They kinda just hit me repeatedly. What were you thinking about?”
He scrubs at his eyes, and the tears are gone before they can fall. Katsuki blinks. He's not crying. Deku’s still got his gaze locked on him. Nothing.
A raised eyebrow - he flinches in the process, a weak hand raising to clamp over the gashes presumably in his gut. Katsuki considers; he didn't notice Izuku getting stabbed. It could be shrapnel, or rubble. Either way, he looks dumb with that face. Sure.
He grits his teeth. He looks Deku up and down—he knows Deku like the back of his hand, and he doesn't look good. “The hell’s up with you?”
Deku rolls his shoulder. Winces. Katsuki can feel the pain radiating off of him, stupid Quirk or not. “I dunno. I might've gotten hurt by some of the falling concrete.”
You idiot, out of habit, yet Deku isn't surprised. Why didn't you tell me?
He grunts, and scoots himself in a way that would be comical, if Deku wasn't bleeding out at the seams. He lays a hand flat over Deku’s stomach, and presses down. His eyes flick up, meeting his. “That hurt?”
“Uh-uh,” Deku shakes his head, and sniffles. “kinda stings.”
“Nothin’ fatal then,” Katsuki mutters under his breath. “you’ll live long enough to get your ass kicked by Sensei, yeah?”
“I’m not gonna die, Kacchan,” He glances down, and Bakugou’s hand moves off his stomach when he realizes it's been laying there a bit longer than it should. “unless you wanna confess all your secrets to me if you think I will, be my guest.”
He snorts, ugly. Deku’s lips perk.
Them bitching at each other makes Katsuki feel strangely warm inside. It reminds him of the time Sensei and Recovery Girl had walked into a session with All Might; right after the war, right after they had finally cleaned up Deku in the bath, a few days later they had a meeting with All Might. The old man had sat back and thought, brainstormed, while Bakugou sat on the couch with Izuku’s head in his lap.
He was sleeping. Katsuki didn't wake him up simply because he never sleeps, because it's really what happens when you take back a guy on the run and lock him in a box for hours on end. Maybe Deku felt safe with him—Bakugou doesn't have the emotional capacity to think about that at the moment.
Recovery Girl and Aizawa needed to say something to Deku, but he remembers how the hag had blinked at Deku's head, safely pillowed against the blond’s legs. Bakugou had been playing on his phone - one hand carding though Midoriya’s hair, idly.
He doesn't think about that, either.
She had blinked, and murmured to Aizawa, “I thought Midoriya and Bakugou didn't get along whatsoever.”
Toshinori and Shouta chimed together, equally quiet, “Don’t ask.”
Did that really happen? Bakugou groans. He forgot Izuku was still in his head. He can feel the panic in his voice, gentle - yet bridging on the precipice of anxiety, I slept in your—
Katsuki smacks him, but soft. He doesn't wanna risk the other getting hurt anymore than he already is. Besides - he wouldn't in the first place. Shut up. I feel sick just looking at you.
Deku rolls his eyes, and they're pressed together; his hips are pressed against his own. Shoulder to shoulder. Katsuki is sweaty, he definitely smells bad - like sawdust, or as if he just ran a marathon. His cheeks are covered in grime. Of course, he always is sweating, and Deku knows that - he’s dealt with it since they were kids. He probably doesn't care. Not like he smells like royalty either, but Katsuki’s not complaining.
I’m bored, Katsuki replies; Deku’s eyes flick to the ceiling, as if he's calling to some deity out there, or any who are listening.
We can play a game, if you want?
“Why not just fuckin’ say it, dumbass.” Katsuki sneers, but, again, it's got no bite and a lot of bark. “I’m right next to you.”
Izuku shrugs the best he can against the wall. “I’m just putting things out there, Kacchan.”
They breathe together - Katsuki fills the silence with counting their breaths like counting sheep. Deku hums, once, before he says, “Fuck the Hero Commission.”
Katsuki’s lips thin. “Fuck the Hero Commission.” Protectively, his arm comes up and lays itself on Izuku’s shoulders. Izuku’s looked up to Heroes since he was born, those words shouldn't even be in mouth. But here they are.
Hot, irritable anger hits him like a train; Deku’s fists clench. “They're supposed to be here.”
They might think we can take care of ourselves, Katsuki tacks on. I mean - we can. And we should be able to. Except you're injured and I can't lift this much fuckin’ infrastructure. Sensei was watching us, he's already told them by now.
Fuck, Deku thinks, and when the hell did he have such a mouth. Except it’s been a while, Kacchan. I think they would've found us by now.
It was a big building.
They must look like fucking idiots. Both of them sporting mercurial expressions that morph every sentence that they share - sometimes Deku’s leg jolts, and his knee knocks against Katsuki’s. Occasionally, the blond lets out an angry puff of air and Deku glances at him when he does. It's almost amusing to Deku, because if anyone in the world could angrily breathe, it would be Kacchan.
At any rate- Deku does that a lot. Staring. Not just staring as in I’m looking at you to watch your fighting techniques, but as in I’m looking at you because you're the person worth looking at. He glances at him a lot, quickly, during class. He did it after the fight at Ground Beta, during house arrest. Fast looks over the shoulder, cheeks flushing when he's caught. Only looking at Katsuki during a group conversation that Bakugou was unfortunately pulled into.
Anyway. It was nice enough of Deku to not comment on that. If memories flashed through Deku’s head — he, saving Katsuki the embarrassment, kept his damn mouth shut.
Aizawa-sensei wouldn't leave us, Deku defends. He’s coming. But - the Hero Public Safety Commission isn’t exactly doing their best.
The Stupid Fucking Hero Idiot Brigade can suck my dick. Izuku snorts, and elbows him in the shoulder - it doesn't hurt. But Katsuki knows Deku could pick him up with one hand and bash him into the harsh rocks if he wanted to; he can bench press a sixteen-wheeler and level a building. He knows he's not going to.
“Kacchan!” Deku chastises, “you shouldn't say that—”
“You just said ‘ fuck you’ to them, Izuku.”
Midoriya inhales through his nose, and hefts a shard of broken-building like he wants to chuck it at Katsuki’s face. “Kacchan’s such a pleasure to be around.”
“ Kacchan doesn't care.”
“Kacchan!”
It's refreshing to be able to bicker with Deku without having malicious intent laced in the words. That’s on his part, of course, but he was a child in a corrupt system - that's not enough to excuse himself - but he's so damn lucky Izuku’s so quick to forgive and forget. He's positive Deku feels the same way. To be able to talk normally with him.
There's a beat. Both of them stare at each other, waiting for the opposite to speak. Katsuki considers Izuku’s past statement — and faces the back wall, crossing his arms. His grenade gauntlets clank. Two, three, and Katsuki’s had enough. The drip of a broken pipe a few meters away isn't going to be filling the silence. “Never have I ever metaphorically shit my pants fanboying over All Might.”
The other blinks. He can feel the way Deku turns to glare at him, faux-annoyed, despite the fact Katsuki doesn't turn to look at him. “You were the exact same!”
He holds down a shit-eating grin, and manages to keep it bored, blank, and flicks his line of sight to face Midoriya. “You were worse.”
A huff. “Never have I ever cried at a rom-com.”
“You were bawling.”
“I’m like ninety-nine percent sure you shed one tear.”
He rolls his eyes. He didn't cry. He had yawned, and that's what happens when you yawn sometimes. “Nope. Never have I ever had a crush on Kirishima.”
Deku blinks, like a rebooting computer. Katsuki flicks his forehead. His cheeks flush - and that is interesting, because that means it's true. “Freshman year was fucked, alright? He was pretty.”
“Watch your mouth,” Katsuki mutters. Deku shakes his head for the fifty-third time that minute. “I’m a horrible influence.”
“I’m more surprised you said his name.”
“Don't get used to it. If I said Shitty Hair, you wouldn't know who it was. Mainly because half our class has shitty hair.”
Deku doesn't agree nor deny. Katsuki pulls the subject back to the question, his eyebrows pulling themselves to his hairline. “Still surprised you liked the guy.”
Katsuki’s brain is running a mile a minute. Let’s get things straight: He's sitting underneath a crumbling parking garage with Deku. Deku is bleeding, but not fatally. They're both tired and sweaty and probably half delirious. Help is coming - slowly. Hopefully. They're playing Never Have I Ever, and Deku had a crush on Kirishima.
Did he get that right?
Yeah, Deku chuckles in his ear, hit it on the nail, Kacchan.
“I liked multiple people in first year,” Deku mumbles shamefully, his cheeks strawberry all the way up to the tips of his ears. “It was weird.”
Deku’s embarrassment floods Katsuki’s veins - and damn, that's fuckin’ annoying, because he never gets embarrassed. To feel that flood up and down his bloodstream like it's his own really sets him off.
He swallows a question. Except, there's really no point in keeping things quiet, because the question will eventually make its way to Deku’s gremlin brain anyways. There's no hiding. Might as well strip his brain bare. He spits it back out, because he's too curious not to. “Did you like me?”
“Of course,” and Katsuki has to take a full second to process before he’s the restarting Windows computer. He stares at Deku like he's insane, because he is. “ -what! You're - you-”
You were really attractive, is what filters into his head. Deku can't seem to stop himself - and the curse of the Quirk rears its head. And- well, you just. You were you. Even in middle school.
You liked me in-
He fumbles with himself, tripping over his words, and Katsuki’s eyes are glued to him. He's like a juggler, wobbly and nervous. Deku grins, slightly, and the flush has moved to his collarbone. “You were really handsome, y’know, and it's just- well, it's not like I ever expected to confess.”
“I thought you liked Round Face,” Katsuki says slowly, and he's going insane, down the pit with Deku. And it's stupid and coincidental and totally not funny, more a horrible dose of irony if not anything, because that's just how they are. They go together. Despite them having their past - and them having their present, they're tied by an invisible string. “I thought—”
“Uraraka-san?” Deku blinks, and rubs the back of his neck. He can't meet Katsuki’s eyes. “She's pretty. But I would never date her.”
All of their classmates thought they would. Except Mina - who, while, did want Ochako to end up with him - also told Bakugou that she was positive Deku liked him. He never believed her, yet here he is. He owes her a homemade breakfast, lunch, and dinner. “So you..?”
“It was always you,” Deku sighs, fist on his cheek. You've been there from start to present. You're Kacchan. I can never let you go. If there's something that Deku is, it's stubborn. As stubborn as Katsuki himself. He can say with complete confidence neither of them are backing down. “but it’s not like I expect you to like me back. I thought you liked Kirishima.”
Why the fuck would I like Kirishima? He can't quite form a response, because he's too busy gawking, but Deku gets the point.
“Because you- well,” he stutters, idiot, like he's still in middle school. “you and him always hung out and still do and I thought that—”
“I’ve loved you since we were little.” Katsuki says with a straight face. “Even when you were - y’know. I was fuckin’ obsessed with you. I never exactly wanted to tell you since you always thought it was about Quirks and the rivalry and that stupid shit.”
It's too sweet. Tender. Deku’s looking at him like he's expecting something and nothing at the same time. If Katsuki had known this would turn into a heart-to-heart underneath a broken building with Deku, alone, he never would've come on the mission.
Katsuki doesn't know what to do. He's - obviously - never been in this situation before where his relationship with Deku is involved in this sort of context. It's just about got on his damn nerves for how many times in the past year he's had to have an emotionally vulnerable conversation without being able to blow something up. It's almost multiplied with the memories of watching Ochako and Deku constantly hang around each other - only to find out there was nothing like this there.
Maybe Deku’s got it mixed up, or something of the sort, because this feels like a fucked-up fever dream that's hitting a little too close to home.
You're wrong, and Katsuki bites his tongue so hard he tastes iron. Kacchan - I always thought you never loved me. You always thought I looked down on you and I could never convince you otherwise.
“I know,” Katsuki fills in for him, voice breathy, a tone Deku’s heard only once. He thinks of Sorry for everything I’ve done up until now - and Katsuki’s voice dips, falters. “you thought I was-”
Amazing. Something worth looking at- something to admire.
“I thought - think - you're amazing,” Deku whispers, and even now, he sounds mesmerized, even with Katsuki being him , and his hands being drenched in Deku’s blood, and his eyes carrying a bloodlust a hero shouldn't have. “You mean the world to me.”
Meant, his voice corrects bitterly in Izuku’s head.
Deku smiles. “Mean. Present tense.”
Deku won't stop talking, and all Bakugou wants is him to be quiet. Or continue. He doesn't know . Maybe it's because the Quirk would give him away anyway so he's saying it himself.
Katsuki’s lip wobbles, for a moment, and he bites it till the skin rips. He’s had this argument with Deku before, just after Deku had convinced him You don't need to force yourself to say Izuku, Kacchan. He now uses them interchangeably, anyway. It still catches him off-guard, but his small smile is worth it, because Katsuki’s trying. He sighs, because there's nothing to say.
He leans against the wall, and his heart is pounding. Unfiltered love slaps him straight across the face, and he is clueless to figuring out who it belongs to. Deku’s still staring at him, and his eyes glance their way down his face. Deku’s eyesight flocks back up, and Bakugou makes a hmph sound. “Stop staring at me, nerd.”
Deku blushes, and Katsuki rolls his eyes.
He snorts, smirk pulling at his lips. “Tch.” He moves himself, and sprawls further against Deku, his hair tickling the other’s neck. Might as well jump the gun and go for it; he doesn't even wanna think about how embarrassing they look. “Jesus Christ, they're taking so damn long.”
A tentative hand comes up, and scratches at Katsuki’s scalp, as if Katsuki’s gonna bite. He doesn't, obviously, and the I didn't think you were gonna bite me! in his head is unnecessary. He leans his head back, perspiration rolling down his neck. It’s so fucking hot here. “I’m about to kill myself,” he mutters, and Deku swats him.
“They’ll be here soon,” Deku says in return, panting like a dog. “hopefully. Because my stomach hurts.”
Maybe it's because you're bleeding, Katsuki picks at his nails, and he can almost see Deku’s exasperated sigh, despite looking away from him. He can certainly feel it- the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and he makes sure to mind the wound on his stomach.
The combination of both Deku's and Katsuki’s irritation at the uncomfortable temperature is toying with both of them; it's doubling the effect, and fuck.
The problem with the reporter’s Quirk is that there's nowhere to hide. He can't shove his face in the opposite direction, because what’s the point? His thoughts are heard anyways, his emotions deep through the mesh that is his mental walls. Deku makes a noise, like hohhh . Katsuki’s eyes roll for the nth time.
It’s soft, padded, while they wait for help. Time passes - they don't know how long, because they didn't carry their phones in their suits.
Eventually, parts of the rubble are lifted—and light overtakes them.
If Katsuki had to guess, he’d assume that the rest of their class doesn't know anything has changed. It's not like Deku or himself stopping treating each other differently in front of them; he makes fun of Izuku, Deku just sighs and gives him an exhausted expression.
Of course, it is a bit shifted, ever since Katsuki’s Thing he pulled in front of 2-A not so long ago, so everyone’s been a bit at a loss for a while.
Though, the people who Bakugou thinks knows about the change of atmosphere between him and Deku, are Mina and Sensei. Possibly Todoroki, but that's embarrassing at just the thought of it.
Aizawa had glanced between the two of them once they'd been pulled out of the infrastructure, after making sure they're alright - and safe. The man’s eyes narrow at the proximity at which they stand next to each other; Bakugou flexes his fingers after one of the paramedics takes off his gauntlets. “I’m not even going to ask.”
“Don’t,” the two of them say in unison. Deku smiles weakly at his teacher. “I think it'd be better if you didn't, Sensei.”
Mina just squinted at Katsuki, her elbows propped up on the desk in front of him—turned like a pretzel in someone else’s chair to stare at him. She nods her head in Deku’s direction. “So?”
She’s probably noticed how they’re more attached at the hip, how Katsuki’s softened more than he wishes around him- she's noticed the lingering looks they give each other—not like they weren't already doing so.
He rolls his crimson eyes. “So?” he mocks.
She grins, and holds up a hand for a fistbump. “I never knew this day would come. Everyone owes me so much money.”
He sighs, and fistbumps her in return. Just so she’ll leave, because he knows Ashido isn't going to walk away until he indulges. “Now leave me alone.”
Ashido dips and gives him a courtesy, just barely lifting her skirt to pull off the look. “My pleasure.”
Besides that interaction, the Quirk ended up wearing off the day they came back to school. Katsuki didn't miss the effects whatsoever- Deku seemed to agree, because he had said he didn't like feeling so much more angry than he actually was.
It was also painful to constantly feel his and Deku’s suffering. Which—neither of them really wanted to talk about at the moment.
Fast forward to later that night, and they're sitting in the common room. There's some stragglers still in the kitchen grabbing something to drink before they sleep—Ochako waves at Deku with a smile- Izuku replies in kind- a glass of water in her hand, before she walks off too.
Deku’s practically fallen asleep on the couch. Katsuki would be in his room right now, but he got caught up studying on the coffee table and by the time he lifted his head to check the time—it was pitch black outside.
“Where do you wanna go from here?” Deku mumbles, and Katsuki jolts. He broke the silence.
“I don't know. And I don't really care.” Bakugou’s practically got where he wanted to, already. Him and Deku don't need to talk about it—he certainly doesn't want to—but if Izuku needs to, he might as well when it's right in front of him. “There's no need to think about shit like this when we’ve got other things to worry about.”
Becoming a hero. Deku gets the message— we can think about it later. But for now, we can become heroes together.
Deku slumps back into the couch, as if the words were comforting, or relieving. Katsuki doesn't understand how, but Deku's always been like that. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Katsuki responds, his eyes practically glowing in the dark, and that's that.