Chapter Text
It’s been an awful day.
It started out fine. Izuku woke up five minutes before his alarm, which always seems like a good omen, except he was halfway through the door when he remembered that today was intern orientation day.
Once a year his company shuttles in about fifty fresh off the podium graduates for a chance at one of five actual positions with the company. Exciting, right? It’s like The Bachelor, but instead of a chance at finding true love, it’s like getting to be the shiny new tumbling marble inside a giant annual corporate raffle.
So maybe Izuku’s a little jaded, but only because Izuku experienced this cut-throat and exploitative hiring process first hand, and he’s spent the last six years helping it prosper.
At least he’s nice to them.
That’s what he tells himself every year he has to wrangle in the interns, and that’s what he told himself this morning when he bolted back into his apartment to get his special little orientation name tag and his special little orientation blazer. It’s maroon, and it makes him look like he works at a country club, but it’s part of the uniform and has been since dinosaurs roamed the earth.
It’s fine. It’s okay. The interns only made fun of him a little bit this time, and everything was under control.
And he happens to like orientation day. Everyone is so excited, and sure, they all use slang he’s never heard of before, and they all seem to think he’s not more than qualified to use a copy machine, but the interns always breathe a new fresh air of life back into him that most of his coworkers can’t.
One day, five of them will join the company for real, and then Izuku will get to look at them proudly as he offers to share his bag of peanuts with them by the watercooler.
That was the note he thought he started on. The note he really started on was dropping the company tablet on the floor and cracking the screen, knocking his coffee down the front of his pants and scalding himself in the process, flailing so hard he ripped said pants down the back, and then losing all the respect he had gained from his gaggle of interns all before 10 a.m..
Izuku tied his blazer around his waist, which did not hide the nice little mocha splotch in the crotch, but Izuku is experienced with these sorts of mishaps. He was a clumsy child, and he was an even clumsier teenager, and he has lived his entire life as the local nerd with the big comic book collection. He can handle a few jeers about his clothing.
What he could not handle was his company nemesis barging in, making a show of pointing out how even making it into the company doesn’t prove that you’re a winner (asshole), and then leaving Izuku to manage the rest of the day with a bunch of twenty somethings who no longer believed that he was capable of doing anything.
Well Izuku is a twenty something too, and he has tenacity on his side.
At 6:30 p.m. he was finally able to go home, miserable enough that he considered buying two frozen cheeseburgers at the convenience store next to the office, except when he got to the register, he realized that his wallet was nowhere to be found.
Great. Just great.
It’s not like the day could get any worse.
The following crack of thunder struck like a gong. The clouds parted, the flood waters came, and Izuku no longer had to worry about any suspicious coffee spots on his pants because the next twenty minutes of his life were destined to be spent getting drenched to the bone on his walk home.
But it was fine. It was cold, but Izuku can handle cold. Izuku can handle rain. Izuku can handle cold rain. He just braced himself with all the determination his little heart could muster, and he marched through it and hoped that the gods would have enough mercy to not strike him down with a bolt of lightning.
And oh sure, that didn’t happen. Izuku absolutely did not get electrocuted on his way home or anything else elemental, but he kind of wishes he did because at least he could have made sense of that.
Fast forward to where he is now. His climactic moment. The catalyst of his awful, terrible day.
Izuku has his building in sight when the strange man stumbles towards him from the nearest alleyway. Izuku doesn’t like to judge, but he’s pretty sure he’s as toasted as a slice of wheat bread, which is fine. It’s the evening, kind of, and the party doesn’t have to stop on a Wednesday, but the thing is, he seems to have a bone to pick with Izuku specifically, and Izuku coincidentally cannot hear a word he’s saying over the rain, and if he wants to mug him, that’s not really going to work out for either of them.
His intentions are unclear, but what is not unclear is the fist in Izuku’s shirt, the stench of what could pass for trout dipped in motor oil on his breath, and the foam cup in his hand aimed straight for Izuku’s face that smells like a combination of cough syrup and cat urine.
And it’s only Wednesday.
Izuku screams, and none of his self taught self defense training ever prepared him for this kind of surprise, but the good news is, he only hits him with the foam cup and not his actual fist. The bad news is, the foam cup breaks and coats Izuku’s cheek, neck, and chest in a sticky syrupy concoction he’s sure could peel the paint off of a new car.
“Bastard,” the man slurs before stumbling off, and Izuku is left frozen in place with his arms rigid at his sides, mouth agape from the shock.
What did I do?
Izuku stands there like that for a solid thirty seconds trying to process the essentials (where did I go wrong, am I alive, did that just happen to me, and what just happened to me) before pulling himself together and forcing himself forward. His building is just in sight, which means he’s almost home where it’s dry and warm and safe, and all he has to do is keep walking.
Just keep walking.
Just a few more steps, and he’ll be home, and everything will be fine.
The air conditioning from his building hits him like its own electric shock. Izuku hugs himself as he sloshes forward, eyes locked onto the elevator like it’s his one chance at salvation.
He presses the call button with a shaky finger and waits for it to clunk its way down to the ground floor. It’s going to be a slow ride up, but at least he doesn’t have to take the stairs like this.
The elevator comes, and he gets on, and before it closes, a man with an umbrella rushes to get on with him. He gives Izuku a mildly disgusted look, not like Izuku can blame him, but it makes Izuku’s lip quiver a little bit.
It’s not his fault he’s filthy. He was just trying to come home…
The man with the umbrella stops on the fourth floor, and unfortunately, Izuku lives on the ninth.
It’s fine. It’s just a little delay. He’ll be home soon.
An eternity passes, but eventually the elevator shakes to a stop for Izuku, and Izuku makes his way out into the hall. He feels like a slug dragging a mysterious wet trail behind him, but what’s worse is the smell. He has no idea what Mr. Personality was slurping down there, but it can’t be part of a daily recommended diet. Izuku wonders if he should get a tetanus shot.
He gets to his door, and he almost cries out in relief. He’s home. He made it. All he has to do is go inside, and he can strip himself down, climb into his shower, and scrub himself raw until he’s fine again.
Izuku reaches for his keys and pats at an empty pocket.
Oh no.
Izuku pats again.
Oh no.
He slaps himself on all four sides and comes up with four different perfectly empty pockets aside from the one holding his cellphone.
Izuku has no idea where his keys are.
He could have dropped them at work during the coffee cup slash shattered tablet fiasco, or he could have lost them when he was surprised by the stinky street assault, but either way, Izuku does not have his keys, and he has no way of getting inside.
He gives his door a desperate jiggle, hoping that he forgot to lock it while he was rushing out this morning, but no such luck.
He lets out a wail of despair as he thumps his forehead against his door and prays that a spare key will come falling out of the sky.
A spare key would be great, actually, but Izuku has always felt that having a key under the welcome mat or above the door frame is just a sure fire way of making sure any potential burglars have an easy way of getting inside. Izuku never considered the fact that he would one day be needing an easy way inside too.
He doesn’t even own anything worth stealing. His laptop is kind of old, and he picked up his TV on sale for less than the pair of slacks he ruined earlier today.
Lesson learned.
Getting robbed is worth the risk of having a spare key. Next time he’ll know.
Except this time is not next time, and he needs to get inside his apartment. What do people who get locked inside their apartments without their keys do?
He squeezes his eyes shut and thinks, shivering against himself as the air presses his drenched clothing to his skin.
Wait for someone to come home and let him in? Izuku lives alone so that won’t work.
Kick the door in and deal with the consequences later? Possibly.
He could pick the lock, but Izuku wasn’t a cat burglar in a previous life and he does not know how to do that.
No, he’ll just have to say goodbye to his poor apartment and all of his belongings inside and live at the office for the rest of his life.
A locksmith. People who get locked out of their apartments call locksmiths who are people who know how to get doors open without breaking them down.
Izuku reaches for his phone, and his heart surges. All he has to do is call a locksmith, and then he can go back inside. This is a solution, and he can handle anything as long as he can find a solution. That’s what his mom always taught him.
But Izuku’s phone is dead.
Izuku’s phone is dead, and he can’t call the locksmith.
This is a nightmare.
He’s about a half a second from giving up hope when his elderly neighbor comes around the corner, and he almost runs up and hugs her. She probably has a phone. Or a towel. She can help him, he knows it. Old ladies are always helpful towards people in distress.
“Excuse me,” Izuku says, teeth chattering but packed with hope and determination.
Except she does not help him. Instead, she gives him a mildly disgusted look, glances down at the puddle around his feet, and then clutches her purse as she continues on past him like Izuku’s just a stinky little wet dog.
Izuku’s eyes water in distress.
Maybe he is just a stinky little wet dog.
A stinky little wet dog who can’t go back inside because there’s no one there to let him in.
Fortunately though, it’s not like it could get much worse, and he’s already kissed his pride goodbye three times today, so Izuku decides to refuse to let his solution slip out of his fingers.
So what if one little old lady wouldn’t help him? There are other people who live here in this building. They all have phones. It’s the modern age.
All he has to do is wait for someone else to come by, and then they’ll help him, and everything will be fine.
A few minutes pass, but no one comes, and it’s not that Izuku has a problem with waiting. He’s a very patient person, actually, but he’s freezing, and that mysterious purple beverage has since dried on his neck, and it’s sticky and tugging at the peach fuzz he didn’t know was there, and waiting is just really, really unpleasant for him right now.
Izuku doesn’t have a chance to talk himself out of it before he’s knocking on his neighbor’s door.
He’s never met him before, but sometimes he can hear music coming through the wall they share, and he’s pretty sure he’s heard a male voice or two, but other than that, they’ve never run into each other.
Izuku hopes he’s nice, but more importantly, he hopes he’s home. No matter who it is or what kind of person he is, Izuku is more than ready to drop down to his knees and beg for help if he has to.
He’s cold.
The door opens, and Izuku would be nervous enough at that, but what he does not expect is to find the prettiest guy Izuku’s ever seen in his life, and considering who his best friend is, that’s some sky level praise right there.
He’s blonde, a little bit taller than Izuku, and he has some of the most beautiful ruby red eyes Izuku has ever seen, never mind the fact that they look really unhappy to see him.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
“I don’t know,” Izuku squeaks.
It’s not the question he expected, and the answer comes out too honestly, and Izuku might be just one are you okay away from bursting into tears. Luckily, he does not ask him that. Instead he looks at Izuku like he’s lost his mind, but, well, fair.
“Some drunk guy threw his drink at me, and it was raining really hard outside, and I don’t have my key, and I can’t get inside my apartment, I live in the apartment next door, by the way, I can prove it, my name is on the mailbox and everything, but I can’t get inside, and my phone’s dead, and I need to call a locksmith so I can get inside, but I can’t call a locksmith because my phone’s dead, and I just really, really wanna take a bath.”
Izuku takes a deep breath that sounds embarrassingly similar to a wheeze and braces himself to have the door slammed shut in his face, but his neighbor just looks at him like Izuku is either the most pathetic person he’s ever met or like he’s waiting for Izuku to explain himself again.
Which Izuku will absolutely do if he has to. He can do it better, just give him a second.
“Alright,” he says and steps to the side.
“Alright?” Izuku’s eyes widen.
He turns and walks back into the apartment, and Izuku catches the door before it closes. It looks like he wants him to follow him. He wants him to follow him, right? Like that’s what this is?
“Get in here,” he calls back.
“Okey dokey,” Izuku says to himself and hurries inside. He stops to take off his shoes and tries not to physically crumble into dust when the soaked hem of his trousers meets his previously unmoistened socks.
He follows him inside, keeping a safe distance because he knows he smells like the underside of a hot dumpster, and also because his neighbor is a little intimidating with his little well practiced snarl and his V shaped torso.
He gives Izuku’s nametag a squint before his face slips back into that look Izuku can’t quite put his finger on it. “Deku?”
“It’s Izuku, actually.”
“Yeah, whatever, you’re dripping all over my floor.”
Izuku looks down and gasps at the milky gray puddle growing around his feet. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, uh huh, come on,” he says and grabs Izuku by the arm. He drags Izuku through the apartment, and fighting back seems rude, but also making more of the floor wet does too, and honestly he’s really not sure what he’s supposed to do. He’s never been manhandled before, and he doesn’t know this person well enough to process that yet.
“Wait! I’m–!” Izuku starts before he flings the bathroom door open and shoves Izuku inside. Izuku yelps as he stumbles in and then again when the door slams shut behind him.
His mouth falls open in shock. Did he just kidnap him? Has he been kidnapped? He wasn’t prepared for this. Honestly he always expected more of a dark van and a blindfold situation, but this is–.
The door opens just enough for him to fling a bundle of clothes through the crack and slam it shut again. Izuku picks up the clothes and blinks. They’re pajamas. They’re clean and warm to the touch like they were just pulled out of the dryer.
“Th-thank you?”
“Hurry up. I don’t wanna have to scrub this shit up all night,” he says through the door, and Izuku blinks again. “You need me to fuckin’ bathe you?”
“No!” Izuku shouts back.
He can bathe himself just fine, but it’s not like he knew that’s what he shoved him in here.
His hand shakes as he turns on the water, thankful their showers are identically made, and he shivers as he peels off his own ruined clothes.
His white button up is stained a brownish purple, and his khakis are ripped all the way down the back, never mind the coffee crotch splotch. And he didn’t notice until now that he lost his maroon work blazer at some point.
Oh god, how many people saw my underwear?
Izuku’s body shakes as he steps into the shower, naked in the most existential of ways, and the water almost burns as it hits his sensitive, tender skin.
Why is this happening to him?
He hugs himself as he shakes with silent sobs, and he thinks he couldn’t look more pathetic right now even if he wanted to. Today is awful, and what’s worse is that someone has to mop up their apartment because of him.
Oh god, his pretty blonde neighbor hates him and thinks he’s pathetic, and all Izuku needed to do was use his phone for two minutes. He didn’t even need to come inside to use it. This wasn’t what he asked for at all.
He didn’t ask for any of this.
Izuku was always told that crying made him weaker, and now as he scrubs the stinky purple ick off of his skin, sniffles punctuating the sound of the water splashing off of him, he thinks that maybe all of those people were onto something.
Maybe Izuku is weak, and everyone was right about him.
Izuku’s lip quivers, and he grabs the shampoo bottle off of the shelf. This might not have been included with the bath order, but he’s crunchy, and he’s having a really bad time right now, and he really wants to wash the filth out of his hair.
He scrubs his neighbor’s shampoo through his stinky crusty hair, and as it perfumes the rest of the bathroom, he feels the muscles in his chest and neck start to relax, and his breathing slows. Why does this stuff smell so good? Why does he kind of feel better?
He rinses out the shampoo and exhales a heavy breath.
Okay.
He can do this.
He’s clean, he’s warm, and he doesn’t smell weird anymore.
He can face the rest of the night and whatever other kind of hell it might bring because he’s already crawled through the worst of it and let the results wash down the drain.
He’s a warrior.
Izuku glances at the shampoo bottle.
He’s shielded from dandruff with anti-itching, scalp soothing oils and botanicals warrior, and he can handle anything.
Izuku finishes his shower significantly calmer than he was when he was first shoved into the bathroom, and his neighbor hasn’t yelled through the door again, so Izuku doesn’t rush when he picks up the borrowed clothes to put on.
It’s strange… wearing a stranger's clothes. It’s strange in a way he can’t describe, and as unorthodox as the interaction was, this is kind of nice?
He pulls on the plaid pajama bottoms, worn from use and just as soft, and they hang a little low around his ankles, but they’re warm, and dry, and they’re not torn down the back or stained. Izuku smoothes his palms over the fabric down his legs and smiles. This is certainly a welcome improvement.
He grabs the t-shirt off the counter next. It’s black, and it looks like it’s for one of those cool edgy rock bands he’s never heard of, but it’s seen more love than the pajama bottoms have, and he can barely make out the font to guess what the group is, but he’s pretty sure it says Pussy Slayers.
Well that’s… fun.
He’s sure Pussy Slayers is a great band.
Izuku makes his way out of the bathroom in his Pussy Slayers shirt and his cozy pajama bottoms and goes to find his neighbor.
He meets Izuku halfway with a phone charger in hand, and Izuku exhales in relief. Alright, he can charge his phone, call the locksmith, and then he can go home and get out of this guy’s hair for good. Everything is finally coming together.
It’s the wrong kind of charger.
“What?”
“It’s, umm, we have different phones,” he says. “Sorry…”
“Oh,” he says and fishes his own out of his back pocket. “Just use mine then.”
“Really?” Izuku’s eyes widen.
“I mean, yeah, unless you wanna go buy another one.”
A crack of thunder answers before Izuku can, and he grimaces. “No, not really.”
He makes a bemused noise before unlocking and handing Izuku his phone and walking off. Izuku fumbles with it a bit, the unfamiliar interface something to get used to, and he really does not want to open something he’s not supposed to see, but after a few hopeful taps, he pulls up the number of a local locksmith.
He calls the locksmith, and the locksmith tells Izuku that he has another job before him, and that he can be there to let him in in just a little over an hour. Izuku is so relieved he could cry.
Luckily, he already got that out of his system a few minutes ago in the shower and won’t make this any weirder for his neighbor than it already is.
Izuku walks towards the kitchen to return his phone and sees him making a cup of tea. That’s nice, he’s a tea guy. Good to know.
“He said he’ll be here in an hour.”
He makes a noncommittal noise with a nod, and Izuku swallows.
Okay…
“So I guess I’ll–,” Izuku says and points towards the door, and his neighbor raises an eyebrow. “Wait out there?”
“For the whole hour,” he makes a face. “In my pajamas.”
“I guess so,” he laughs nervously. “Thanks for the, umm, pajamas, by the way.”
He squeezes out a glob of honey from one of those little bears into the tea cup, and Izuku gnaws at his lip.
“They’re soft,” Izuku tries, and he glances at him. “I mean, they’re dry. They’re really dry.”
He slides the tea towards Izuku and rolls his eyes. “Go sit down in there. Someone’s gonna call the cops if you hang out there all night.”
“Oh,” he says and picks up the cup. “Thank you.”
“Mm.”
Izuku watches him walk towards the living room in awe. He really is shaped like a triangle, and he made him tea? And he put honey in it for him? He’s so nice…
“Nerd.”
“Coming,” Izuku squeaks and goes into the living room with him.
He has a seat on the sofa and cups his mug in his palms. It’s a clean apartment, way cleaner than Izuku’s ever kept his. There are a few posters and candles around the room, and a nice little skull for the table centerpiece. Not what Izuku would have gone with personally, but what does he know about interior design?
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Izuku tries, and he only quirks an eyebrow. He. Izuku doesn’t even have a name to call him. Can’t imagine he’d be okay with my hero. He’s just going to have to do something about that. “I’m sorry, I barged into your home like this, and I don’t even know your name.”
“Katsuki,” he says.
“Katsuki,” he echoes. “I’m Izuku, by the way.”
“Yeah, you said that already.”
“Yeah, but you called me Deku, so I wasn’t sure if you remembered it.”
“That’s cause your nametag– I got your fucking name, alright.”
“Okey dokey,” Izuku takes a breath. “Well, thanks, Katsuki. For, um, not slamming the door in my face.”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow. “Did somebody else do that?”
“Well, no, this was the first apartment I knocked on, but I did get a really bad look from an old lady I tried to ask.”
“That hag that lives around the corner?”
Izuku tilts his head in consideration. “I don’t know if I would call her that, but yeah, yeah I think that’s the same person.”
He sucks his teeth and slouches back in his armchair. “I moved in here like four years ago, right, and she took one look at me and tried to have my fuckin’ lease agreement revoked.”
“Why?” Izuku’s eyes widen.
Katsuki shrugs. “Wasn’t her sort of people, I guess. Well tough shit because my money’s just as good as hers is, and I ain’t missed a rent payment yet, so here we are.”
“I didn’t realize you’ve been here this long,” Izuku admits. “I mean I’ve never seen you.“
“I’m not home much.”
“Makes sense,” he swallows.
“You bust in here one day when I’m gone though, and I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass.”
Izuku smiles sheepishly. “I think we’ve just established I don’t know how to do that.”
The corner of Katsuki’s mouth twitches, and Izuku thinks that might just qualify as making him laugh. He warms slightly at the victory, and he takes a victorious sip of his tea to celebrate.
“So you wanna tell me what the fuck happened to you, or am I supposed to try and guess from what came out of my mop bucket.”
Izuku sits up and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t blame him for being curious, so Izuku will do his best to explain. “So, once a year the company I work for hires these interns, right?”
And Izuku tells him everything that happened today from the broken tablet all the way to the moment he got sloshed in the face by the mysterious stinky foam cup, and Katsuki nods along with his brows furrowed, and the silent attention only makes Izuku ramble on more.
“Man, fuck that asshole you work with though,” Katsuki says, waving his beer bottle around. “I mean I know I can be a real motherfucker, but what the fuck is his problem.”
“I don’t know,” Izuku says angrily as he folds his legs up underneath himself. “We got in during the same internship, and we weren’t even supposed to end up in the same department, but he transferred like a week into it, and he’s been a pain in my butt ever since.”
“Bet he did that shit on purpose,” he says. “Fuckers like that are all slimy bastards. Can’t do his job without fuckin’ up yours.”
“And you know what’s worse? He failed his first internship. One of the guys in marketing said they kicked him out the first round because he couldn’t keep up with the program, and his dad had to make a call to get him in the next batch. No one ever gets into a second batch.”
“That’s probably why he got that fucking promotion over you too,” Katsuki points. “Fuckin’ had his daddy make a phone call.”
Izuku gasps. “ No! I never thought about that before, but that totally makes sense! His father is this, like, huge hedge fund big shot too.”
“There you go,” Katsuki says. “And you passed the first time, right?”
“Yeah,” Izuku nods. “I was in the top three. That’s why they have me do orientation. One of the other guys left the company to start his own company, and the other transferred to a branch outside of the country so she obviously can’t do it.”
“So you got in cause you know your shit, and he’s just a big stupid loser who probably thinks it’s yout fault he sucks ass.”
“Yeah,” Izuku nods again, and this wave of relief washes over him because he finally gets it. Izuku’s been letting this daddy’s boy push him around at work when he couldn’t have even gotten the job if his father wasn’t able to call in a favor. “Wow, yeah, you’re totally right.”
“Fuck, yeah, I am,” he says. “Sucks about your pants, though. That one’s on you.”
Izuku winces, his cheeks burning at the thought. “I should have gone home.”
“You couldn’t have gone in anyway,” he says, and Izuku‘s face twists in distress. “You never heard of keeping a spare key under the mat?”
“And give potential burglars immediate access to my apartment?” Izuku says.
Katsuki pauses. “That’s a good point.”
“See.”
“You’re still locked out, aren’t you?”
Izuku scrunches his nose and takes another sip of his tea. “Not for long…”
“Hm.”
“What?”
“Nothin’,” he says, and before Izuku can press him about it, a song starts playing loudly from Katsuki’s phone on the table. Katsuki pushes it towards Izuku, and Izuku answers.
Looks like visiting time is over.
“Thanks a lot for your help,” Izuku says as he stands up to his feet. “I’ll, umm, bring your clothes back tomorrow.”
“No rush,” he says. “Get your shit together first, I’ll live.”
“Okay,” he smiles and hands his phone back. “Well, see ya.”
It would have been nice if Katsuki mentioned he planned to stand in his doorway the entire time Izuku gets his lock replaced, but at least the sound of the drill is doing a great job of drowning out how awkward he feels for his little see ya he gave him before walking out together.
Katsuki watches the locksmith with his arms folded across his chest and the same look on his face that he gave Izuku when he was asking him for help. This could just be how his face looks all the time, but Izuku might need to spend some more time around him to find out.
His chest tightens at the thought, but he doesn’t want to think about that. It’s not like they’re going to start hanging out anytime soon. They lived next to each other for years, and this is the first time they’ve ever met.
Izuku steals a glance at him just to see if he’s still glaring from the other side of the locksmith, and when Katsuki glances back, he feels his own cheeks burn.
He really hopes he doesn’t think he was staring at him because he absolutely was not.
“Here you go,” the locksmith says and hands Izuku his new key. “You’ll need to give a copy to your landlord.”
“Okay,” Izuku nods. “Thank you.”
And then he tells Izuku how much his new lock along with the installation fees are going to cost, and Izuku gasps so hard he croaks.
“Twenty six thousand?”
“It’s after hours,” he says.
“Okay,” Izuku says, trying to remain calm. It’s fine. ¥26000 is an adult amount of money, and this is an adult purchase. Some might even call it a reasonable amount, in some circles. Izuku isn’t one of them, but he’d like to be. Maybe this could be practice.
“Cash or credit is fine.”
“Right,” he nods. “Okay, let me just get my–.”
Izuku pats his sides, and his eyes widen in horror. He doesn’t have his wallet. He lost his wallet, and he doesn’t know where it was when he lost it.
“Do you have, umm, deferred payments,” he asks awkwardly, and the locksmith’s face does suggest that he does. “Oh boy.”
“Christ,” Katsuki swears and reaches for his back pocket. He pulls out an old leather billfold and flips it open, and Izuku’s stomach sinks.
“Oh, no, please, you don’t have to–.”
“Twenty six?” Katsuki asks, ignoring him.
“After taxes.”
He makes a noncommittal noise and doesn’t look at Izuku when he hands the locksmith his card.
“Katsuki?!”
He swipes the card through the chip reader and hands the card back to him. “Sign here.”
Katsuki swipes his finger across the screen before putting his card back in his wallet like he’s just buying a snack and not spending an adult amount of money he’s not even benefiting from. Izuku feels horrible.
“I’ll pay you back, I swear,” Izuku pleads. “I’m so sorry.”
“That it?” Katsuki asks the locksmith, still ignoring Izuku like he’s not even there. Izuku’s stomach twists into a tight knot.
“That’s it,” the locksmith says. “You two have a good night.”
“Thank you,” Izuku says to him before turning back to Katsuki. “Thank you…”
“Try not to lose your keys again,” he says and gives Izuku a glance over. “Dumbass.”
Katsuki goes back into his apartment and closes the door, and Izuku covers his face in distress. This is so humiliating.
He wasn’t supposed to pay for it. He didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to do any of it. All Izuku needed was to borrow his phone, and now Izuku’s become the number one freeloader of the year.
This wasn’t how today was supposed to go at all.
Izuku opens his door with his new key and lets himself inside. He slips on his favorite bunny slippers (they were a gift from his mom) and shuffles through his apartment completely defeated. It does not help at all that as soon as he walks past his kitchen, he sees his old keys sitting on top of his wallet, right where he left them both.
Crap.
Izuku grimaces and rubs his temples. At least he doesn’t have to worry about his money being stolen or having to order a new debit card, but does the relief really outweigh all the trouble not having them with him caused? He’s not so sure.
His growling stomach answers for him. Those cheeseburgers would have been a nice way to end the night.
He puts his hand flat over his waist and sighs. All he’s had to eat today was a few pieces of fruit from the complimentary luncheon table and the tea Katsuki made for him after he shoved him into the bathroom. A man can’t live like this. Izuku can’t live like this.
He goes over to his refrigerator and grabs the first takeout container he can reach.
He wonders if Katsuki had dinner, or if Izuku showing up pushed back his plans for the night and kept him from eating. Izuku frowns to himself. He was really too nice to him.
Really, really nice to him.
Izuku’s chest tightens.
He was like a prickly, foul-mouthed, grumpy angel, and Izuku couldn’t be more grateful for him.
He looks down at the borrowed pajamas and the nice soft Pussy Slayers shirt and smiles.
Today was a good day.
He finally got to meet his neighbor.