Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“So, Katsuki,” said the interviewer, and Katsuki bit back the urge to correct the informality. He hated the way these people acted like he knew them, calling him Katsuki rather than Bakugou, but Aizawa had scolded him a million times for his rudeness. He kept silent as the gangly man in a terrible hat continued, “You’ve gotten a lot of praise for your debut album, Dynamight, what would you say is your favorite track off that album?”

“Great Explosion Murder God,” he answered simply.

“Really? An instrumental track?”

Katsuki disliked the way the interviewer implied there was something lesser than about an instrumental track. His song didn’t need lyrics, just cause the others wrote songs you could sing along to didn’t mean his song was shit.

“I composed it. And it’s damn good,” he huffed. 

“No, it’s definitely a good song, I guess it’s just less likely to be a fan favorite without lyrics,” said the interviewer.

“So?”

The interviewer laughed uncomfortably, fixing his hat, and said, “Just surprising. But that seems to be your image, no? Always a little unpredictable. You’re the bad boy of Ground Zero.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, and Kaminari took that as his queue to jump in. 

“Bakubro is more like the band’s curmudgeon,” he explained, “He’s grumpy, but he has a heart of gold.”

Katsuki wanted to argue that he wasn’t grumpy, but he knew Aizawa would be up his ass about fighting with a bandmate in an interview.

Instead, he simply said, “I like what I like.”

“And that’s part of your charm!” said the interviewer, “Do you think that image is what’s led to your recent rise in popularity among fans?”

“I’m popular cause I’m good,” Katsuki bit.

“Well that too, of course. But that recent video of you certainly helped. Especially with the female fans, ya know.”

Katsuki grimaced at the teasing tone of the interviewer. He was reaching the end of his fuse with this asshole.

“Ah, Bakubro isn’t really interested in that kind of attention,” said Kaminari, trying to save the fool from Katsuki’s boiling wrath that was visibly starting to spill out, “It’s all about the music for him.”

“So no groupie stories from this guy?”

“No,” Katsuki grunted.

“We’re not a groupie band,” said Kaminari.

“More the monogamous types?

“What does this have to do with the album?”

“I’m just asking questions the fans are interested in.”

“Well, they should be interested in the album.”

Katsuki laid in his bunk, skin sticky with sweat. The AC was blasting on the bus, but he had spent all morning out in the summer heat doing stupid fucking interview after stupid fucking interview, and between standing there under the beating sun as overpaid nobodies asked him borderline perverse questions and having to rangle Kaminari every time he decided to turn the interview into a one sided wrestling match, he was sweating like he had run a damn marathon. He hated interviews, usually was able to get out of them, but today he had no such luck. Only about a week into the Plus Ultra music festival, and he had accidentally turned himself into a small-time heartthrob after some fan video leaked of him coming back to his bus after a shower. So now he spent his time between sets being hauled this way and that for a media circuit he wanted no part of. 

He had come back to the bus as soon as his manager had given the go-head, hoping to cool off and decompress. His luck had continued to dwindle as he stepped on board, hearing the familiar slap of skin and desperate moans that meant Kirishima and Mina had hijacked the backroom of the bus, the one mostly used as a mobile recording studio, though every now and then it was commandeered by one of his bandmates for some much needed privacy. Katsuki had just stomped to his bunk and thrown on his pair of headphones, hoping he could turn his music up loud enough to drown out the unwelcome sounds of his bandmates’ sexual pursuits. 

It did for a while. But eventually, frustratingly, and oh so typically, the pair got louder, and Katsuki’s attempts to ignore them were null. He huffed, tearing his headphones off and drawing back the bunk curtain with an angry swipe.

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” he barked, and for a moment, the sound of ragged breaths and incessant humping stopped, only to tentatively pick back up again. Katsuki huffed, swinging his legs off the edge of his bed and dragged his feet through the bus, and back out into the summer heat. 

“Assholes,” he grunted to himself. 

He trudged along the rows of buses that lined the parking lot, all belonging to different bands playing Plus Ultra. Katsuki hadn’t bothered to meet any of the other bands playing. He had no interest in playing nice with any of the losers he knew couldn’t keep up with him, nor with any of the ones who might have actually been able to. They were competition. The rest of the band didn’t see it that way. They saw friends waiting to be made, but Katsuki just wasn’t like that.

He spotted Kaminari and Sero lounging in lawn chairs by another band’s bus, talking cheerily with the group of strangers, a girl with choppy black hair nodding along to something Sero said, a boy with wild purple locks, blushing as he and Kaminari seemed to be exchanging numbers. His bandmates' smiles were as relaxed as if they were old friends. Yeah, Katsuki wasn’t like that.

Still, when Sero caught sight of him and waved him over, he begrudgingly followed the wave of the man’s hand. 

“Bakubro!” Sero greeted from his seat, “What’s up?”

“Hey man, thought you were crashing after interviews this morning,” added Kaminari.

“Yeah well Shitty Hair and Pinky are going at it on the bus again. Can’t hear myself think. Fucking animals.”

“Can’t blame ‘em,” Kaminari shrugged. He sent a look towards the guy with purple hair, saying, “Life gets lonely on the road.”

The guy looked at Kaminari tiredly.

“It’s been a week dude, chill,” laughed Sero.

“I don’t know how you assholes can feel lonely when there’s five of us cramped together in a tiny ass fucking bus,” Katsuki complained.

“Agreed,” said Purple Hair.

“Just once, I’d like to be the only one in a fucking room,” said Katsuki.

“Well, get used to it. You won’t last the summer if you don’t get comfortable with close quarters,” said the girl, twisting her finger around her long, dangling earring.

Katsuki huffed and Sero said, “Fat chance Bakugou is ever gonna be okay with that.”

“Probably gonna scream at Aizawa until he gets the back room,” said Kaminari.

“Why shouldn’t I get the backroom?” he grumbled.

“Why should you? Not like you’re the front man.”

“Might as well be, with all the fucking press Aizawa’s making me do.”

“But you’re not likeable enough,” said Kaminari, “That’s why he always has one of us babysitting you through interviews.”

“You’re not babysitting me!”

“You’re the drummer, right?” asked Purple hair. 

Katsuki nodded.

“Better learn now, drummers don’t get shit.”

“Don’t tell me how my band works.”

“At least the girls love you,” sighed Sero, “No one notices bass.”

“Tch. Whatever. I’m not gonna be known for my looks forever. Once this summer’s over, we’ll be big names, and people will see I’m the greatest fucking drummer to ever grace their stupid ears,” Katsuki proclaimed.

“Ego,” muttered Kaminari.

“A drummer is important,” agreed the girl.

“Obviously,” said Katsuki.

“But without some media training, you’re gonna get overlooked.”

“His personality is trash,” Kaminari translated.

Everyone seemed to hum in agreement and Katsuki felt his chest burn.

“Some friends you are,” Katsuki grunted to his bandmates before turning and stalking off. He wasn’t in the mood to take their shit right now, wasn’t ever, really. So instead, he just continued to wander about the lot, hoping Kirishima and Mina would wear themselves out soon and he could go back inside to the cool AC.

Katsuki walked loops, ignoring the bustling of people around him, people getting ready for sets, moving equipment or hyping themselves up, people killing time by socializing. 

His own set wasn’t for hours, one of the last slots of the night. 

It was lucky, his manager had told them, that they had gotten a late set. Katsuki thought it was cause the organizers of the festival knew their shit, knew they were gonna kick ass, and wanted to be ahead of the curve. They were a rookie band, only one album and a few small tours under their belts, but they had a cult following and every reviewer who picked up their record or sat through a performance said they were destined for more. Of course they were, they were fucking amazing. He had known it since the first time he played with them. Yeah, his bandmates were idiots, but damn if they weren’t competent where it mattered. They weren’t lucky. They were good.

Why should Katsuki believe luck played any part in this when he could believe in Mina’s powerful voice, in Kaminari’s expert licks and Kirishima’s accompanying chords, in Sero’s driving bass. In his own ability?

Their album was called a lightning strike of genius, but to Katsuki, that just sounded like they were getting called lucky again. He hated it.

Time passed, he didn’t know how much. He was lost in the easy rhythm of his own footsteps when his gate was interrupted by a tall kid side stepping into his field of vision.

“Hey,” said the boy breathlessly, “You’re Bakugou, right? From Ground Zero?” 

Katsuki’s gaze flickered over him, his wide, shining eyes, the faint blush dusting his freckled cheeks, the baby face hidden under the untamed green curls of his hair, the nervous stance he held, as though he was somewhere he didn’t belong. He looked young, though maybe that was just his face. Still, A fan , Katsuki thought dismissively. 

“Who the hell let you in here?” Katsuki said.

“I-What?”

“I should call security on you.”

“Call security?” squawked the boy.

“This area is restricted, dumbass. No fans, no groupies.”

“I know that,” said the boy, blush creeping even further up his cheeks until they were ruddy at the suggestion that he was a groupie. 

He dug through his pocket, producing an ID. Katsuki studied it a moment. Sure enough, his face was printed on, giving him full access to the entire festival. Katsuki felt a sliver of embarrassment as he stared at the ID in front of him, but he pushed it down. The kid looked far more embarrassed, anyway. And he should have. The way he held himself, it was hardly a wonder Katsuki mistook him for a fan. He looked like he had never belonged anywhere less.

“See? I-I’m playing the festival,” he explained, “I’m in a band. Why would you assume I’m not?”

“Don’t seem like the rockstar type,” Katsuki shrugged, “What d’ya want?”

The boy looked taken aback by Katsuki’s brazen attitude, pausing before he said, “I just wanted to say hi. I really like you guys’ music, and you didn’t seem to be busy so I figured—”

“Well you figured wrong. I’m busy and I definitely don’t want to talk.”

The boy frowned, looked a bit angry even, though he darted his eyes to his feet as Katsuki leered at him. He doubted this kid would say anything.

“Sorry for bothering you,” he muttered, turning and walking away. 

Katsuki just huffed and continued walking. His mood was soured. Stupid kid, bothering him, thinking Katsuki would want to talk to him. As if. So what if he was playing the festival? Katsuki had no clue who he was, had never seen his face before in his life. Not like he was a big deal, someone Katsuki needed to ever worry about. He was just filling out the setlist, bringing a few extra asses to fill seats. Still, he thought he could talk to Katsuki. 

He had no interest in playing nice with any of the losers he knew couldn’t keep up with him. And there was no way in hell this kid was competition.

Katsuki would do whatever it took to make it, to be recognized as the greatest. All of these people around him, they weren’t friends, they were a stepping stone. Katsuki wasn’t good at ‘friends’. And he didn’t have time for them.

The bus was, thankfully, silent when he returned. Mina lounged on the couch, reading some trashy magazine while Kirishima had retired to his bunk, right above Katsuki’s. 

“Hey, bakubro!” he said cheerily as Katsuki entered the bunk area, “Sorry if we bothered you earlier, we—”

“Shut it,” Katsuki grumbled, slumping into his bunk and closing the curtain. He just wanted to cool off. Not be bothered. Still, that had never stopped Kirishima before.

His bandmate pulled the curtain open, head dangling upside down to look at Katsuki.

“We were gonna go watch some sets tonight. Support our fellow musicians and all. Wanna come?”

“No.”

“Aw, come on, man! It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t wanna watch some shitty extras play garbage with you losers.”

Kirishima frowned, and said, “Y’know, I get that being angry is, like, your thing , but sometimes the things you say are so not manly.”

“Shut up!” Katsuki shouted.

“I’m just saying. We’re your friends and we put up with it. But it doesn’t mean we like it.”

Katsuki feels his chest burn again, his lips tugging downwards. His eyes prickled and he felt a surge of anger wash over him. He turned to face the wall, back to Kirishima. “If I go, will you shut up?” he said, ignoring Kirishima’s comment.

“You won’t hear another word outta me!”

“Good.”

The crowd was packed, and Katsuki was pushed up against the barrier by a wall of unknown bodies. He felt overwhelmed with all the loose limbs flying around him, touching him. He didn’t say anything though. Just looked up at the stage.

He had never heard of this band before, hadn’t even known their name until Kirishima had told him. Claimed they were good.

Well, they were. Katsuki was impressed. No, not just impressed. He was kind of awestruck. 

They had a competence that easily outpaced many of the other acts on tour with them. A familiarity with their instruments that was made clear both in their electric composition and their energetic performance. They swung themselves around the stage with the rugged grace of professionals. Their songs were catchy, but not in a soulless billboard way. No, they were well crafted and emotionally packed. Their presence demanded attention.

And the singer. The boy from earlier, green hair and wide eyes, he looked like a rockstar. He had lost the nervous stance. Katsuki had seen his legs shake from anxiety when they spoke, but up on the stage, he looked in his element. He was commanding. He was confident. He was beautiful.

Beside him, Kaminari and Mina belted the chorus to the songs they played, learning the lyrics as they were sung. His voice was clear, melodic, soft and strong at the same time. Delicate but powerful. Sero rocked back and forth to the beat and Kirishima was cheering like a rabid fan.

Katsuki stood, motionless. Only able to take in what he was hearing, what he was seeing.

The band, Deku, they were probably as good as Ground Zero.

Shit .

When the last song wrapped up, Kirishima nudged his shoulder.

“Our set is soon, we should start getting ready,” he said.

“Thank god we’re playing the same stage as them. I do not want to get trampled walking all the way across the grounds again,” whined Kaminari.

“Wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t insisted on seeing Nighthide right before our set,” Mina teased as they all began shuffling away from the crowd, back to their bus.

“We can’t all sleep with our bandmates,” said Kaminari, “Some of us need to put in the work.”

“Nighthide?” Katsuki questioned.

“They guys we were hanging with earlier,” filled in Sero, “Kaminari’s been trying to get with their singer.”

“Yeah, where have you been all week, dude?” said Kaminari.

“Sorry I don’t give a damn who you losers want to fuck,” said Katsuki, “Got better shit to do than fangirl over some wannabes just to get in their pants.”

“They’re not wannabes,” Kaminari frowned.

“Yeah, Nighthides actually pretty good,” added Sero.

“But not as good as us!” cheered Mina.

Katsuki grinned. “Course they’re not.”

Their own set went by in a blur, just like it did every night. It was fun, sure. Katsuki loved to play, lived to play. But it was hard to recall much when you played the same songs every single night. What mattered was that they were undeniably great every time, and tonight was no different. 

Still, Katsuki couldn’t help but find his eyes washing over the crowd, hoping to find a mess of green hair watching them. He was a fan, wasn’t he? He had said he liked their music. So where was he? Katsuki wanted him to see them in their element. Sure, Deku was good. But Ground Zero was great. He wanted to prove it to the nerd. 

He couldn’t help but feel spurned when he never caught sight of the boy.

“Bakubro,” called Kirishima, lumbering over to him with two beers in hand. He handed one to Katsuki, who took it like a dying man offered his first sip of water in days.

They were gathered in a circle outside their bus, celebrating another good show, Ground Zero and a few others his bandmates had befriended in the week since they started touring. None of it interested Katsuki. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have been there at all, but Kaminari and Sero had attacked him with water guns when he tried to hole up in his bunk and gotten his whole damn bed wet, so he would at least dry off and get drunk while he was out here.

He glanced around the clumps of people gathered around the bus, still looking for that mess of green hair. He wondered if anyone in his band knew the members of Deku, if, by chance, they were here. He didn’t recognize any of them from the show, though, and he deflated into his flimsy lawn chair. It was as if the boy had disappeared from Katsuki’s grasp, like he could have had him, and then he couldn’t.

Idiot . He was a fan. Katsuki could have been nicer, if he had just known how incredible the kid was, he could have been nicer, and then he wouldn’t be feeling so… unaccomplished. Unimpressive. Un-fucking-whatever, he didn’t know. He just knew that he wished he could have left an impression on the boy the way his performance had left an impression on Katsuki. He just felt disappointed. Like a missed opportunity. 

So he drank. To deal with the disappointment, to deal with the strangers around him, to deal with the burn in his chest. He took every beer Kirishima brought him. He finished off Kaminari’s drink when he set it down nearby for a second too long. He took the shots Mina offered him. All until the night air felt too hot, till his vision felt too blurred.

Then, by some miracle, Katsuki got up and trudged off to take a piss. As he neared the door, he saw him.

Wide eyes, green hair, freckles.

He was talking with Sero and a tall man with red and white hair split down the middle of his head. He played guitar for Deku, if he remembered correctly. And there he was, leaned against the wall of the bus, smiling some genuine, goofy smile like he wasn’t a rockstar mere hours ago. Katsuki stopped in front of the group.

“Oh, hey, Bakubro,” said Sero, turning to look at him.

The other two turned as well, and the boy tensed. Katsuki eyed him, sized him up. He was tall, built, underneath his baggy T-shirt and jeans. He could take Katsuki in a fight if he wanted to. But his meekness seemed to outweigh that. He didn’t seem itching for a fight, at least. Still, he didn’t seem thrilled to see Katsuki. He supposed he hadn’t made the best first impression.

“You’re Deku,” he said. Mostly to the boy, but damn Half--and-Half was the one who responded.

“We are,” he said, “I’m Todoroki Shouto.”

“Midoriya Izuku,” mumbled the boy, looking at his drink instead of him.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” Katsuki said stiffly, adding, “You were good up there.”

“Thought I didn’t seem like the rockstar type?” Midoriya posed, a challenging glint in his eye, and maybe Katsuki was wrong thinking the boy wasn’t itching for a fight.

“You didn’t. Took you for a nerd,” said Katsuki.

Midoriya blushed, a frown wedging itself on his face, and Katsuki wished he had just said something nice instead. Still, when he tried to backtrack, his throat seemed to lock up.

“Midoriya is quite a stage presence,” said Half-and-Half, “It surprises even me sometimes, how different he is up there.”

“Oh, yeah, you guys were awesome!” Sero butt in, “Ya know, I tried to pick up guitar, but I’m just better at bass. I have a crazy appreciation for people who can play, though.”

Half-and-Half nodded, and said very seriously, “It takes a lot of practice.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, letting the two continue their conversation as he turned back to Midoriya.

“You see us play?” Katsuki asked.

“Not today. I wanted to see Suneater. But I’ve seen you guys before.”

“I’d never heard of you until today.”

“Okay,” Midoriya said, like he wasn’t sure why Katsuki would say something like that. Katsuki wasn’t sure either.

“But you guys didn’t suck. It was… good.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“I mean it,” Katsuki grumbled, wishing he had the words to turn the conversation around. He didn’t want to be pissing off Midoriya. He didn’t like not being good at things.

“It’s a pretty high compliment coming from Bakugou,” chimed Sero, before returning to talking to Half-and-Half.

“ You guys didn’t suck is a high compliment?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“I guess I’ll take it,” said Midoriya with a small, hesitant smile, and Katsuki felt his face heat up a bit.

“Damn right.”

Eventually, his need to piss outweighed his need to win his conversation with Midoriya, and so Katsuki stumbled into the bus. He felt proud as he stood over the toilet, grinning to himself a bit at a job well done. Midoriya had taken the compliment, had smiled. Midoriya had seen them play before. He knew they were good. Of course he did.  

Chapter Text

“Hello, I’m here today with—”

“Kirishima Eijiro from Ground Zero!”

“Bakugou Katsuki.”

“Awesome! Now, you guys have really been making a splash this summer, how has Plus Ultra Tour been for you guys so far?”

“Oh well, ya know the summer is just kicking off,” said Kirishima, taking the mic,“It’s been a blast so far, and I’m sure it’ll only get better! We’re just so excited for this opportunity!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes at how media trained his bandmate sounded.

“Of course! It must be surreal to play such a large-scale event for you guys. How has that been?”

“It’s surreal,” Katsuki said dryly as he was handed the mic.

There was a pause as everyone waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, Kirishima continued for him, “It’s totally cool. We’re sharing a stage with some really talented musicians, meeting some people we really look up to. All that is like a dream!”

“Do you think any collaborations will come of it? Anything fans can get excited for?”

“I hope so!” said Kirishima, “I’d love to do a song with any of the bands we’ve played with here. Right, Bakubro?”

“Could be cool.”

“Bakugou usually isn’t super into working with others, but I think seeing all of these amazing performances really just gets you in the mood to create. Even the ol’ grump is feeling it!”

The interviewer laughed. Katsuki didn’t. His chest burned again.

“Anyone you’re especially excited about?”

“How can I pick? Hmm, well, I know we’ve really been getting along with Nighthide, Real Steel, Tsukuyomi. There’s also some old hats, Sturdy, BMI. I really look up to those guys, so it’d be really awesome to do something with them.”

“And you, Katsuki?”

Suddenly, the microphone was in Katsuki’s face again. 

“Dunno,” he said.

“Not a single band that’s piqued your interest?”

Katsuki shrugged, and said, “Deku’s alright.”

“Ah I forgot about them! Bakugou’s a big fan of Deku. We all are. Great guys, great music!”

Katsuki bit his tongue to defend himself, saying he wasn’t a ‘big fan’ of Deku. Just appreciated their talent. And had been going to every one of their sets. That didn’t make him a fan. But that would come off as a diss on them, and the last thing he needed was Aizawa tearing him a new one for starting drama with another band.

“So there might be something in the works?”

“Keep your eyes on our website,” said Kirishima with a teasing smile.

When Katsuki got back to the bus after his morning interview circuit, it was empty. He breathed a sigh of relief, not in the mood to be harassed by his bandmates just then. He knew Mina and Kaminari were interviewing all afternoon, and Kirishima had been invited to perform a song with Real Steel, so they would all be out for a while. He didn’t know where Sero was, but the man had a habit of getting too high to dislodge himself from whatever comfortable nook or cranny he had dug himself into for a few hours. That gave Katsuki plenty of time to himself.

He scoured the mini fridge for something to drink, letting the cool air hit his face as he rooted through protein shakes, forgotten take out, and edibles until he found a water bottle. He unscrewed the lid and guzzled down the cold water in a single, desperate gulp, only half alleviating the dry scratch of his throat. He dug around some more, irritated as he found he had taken the last bottle. Grumbling to himself, he stood, walking to the bathroom and filling the plastic bottle in the sink before taking another, more controlled sip.

Flopping down onto the couch, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered what Midoriya was doing, if he was in his bus, if he was alone or with his band or someone else, if he was out under the hot sun being interviewed. Midoriya seemed the type to get flustered in an interview, though maybe his fans would find that endearing. Or maybe he didn’t get flustered. Maybe he was as cool and collected in front of a camera as he was on stage. Katuski was curious. Was Midoriya better at interviews than him?

He shuffled to his bunk, found his laptop and sat back on the couch. He opened his search engine and typed into the bar ‘Deku interview’, clicking on the first video that popped up.

It was from a few days ago, and Katsuki recognized the interviewer as one he had spoken to as well. An incredibly awkward girl whose questions tended towards the topic of sex more so than not. She had rubbed Katsuki all the wrong ways as she asked him questions about his favorite type of porn and not-so-subtly tried to get him to admit to sleeping with fans.

As the video loaded, he studied the thumbnail. He glossed over the interviewer, the other band members, zeroing in on Midoriya. In the grainy image, you couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, though Katsuki knew they were green, or see his freckles, and his hair looked washed out, making him hardly look like himself. He was smiling politely, though it didn’t reach his eyes the way it did when Katsuki had seen him smile. Still, uncomfortable as he seemed, there was an ever present charm to him. Katsuki wondered if that was the thing that made people consider someone ‘attractive’. Was Midoriya attractive? Was he a heartthrob? Katsuki knew nothing of the musician’s reputation.

Before the video could finish loading, he heard trudging footsteps climbing up the bus steps. He slammed his laptop shut and looked up to find Aizawa walking over to him. His eyebags were heavy as always, and Katsuki wondered if it was from the exhausting ordeal of managing Ground Zero, or simply how he looked. 

Though his appearance was rather unimpressive, borderline homeless, Aizawa had a big role in Ground Zeroes rising popularity. He may have had dead, soulless eyes, unkempt hair, and a five o’clock shadow that he never bothered to shave, but he was a legend. He had his start as the stand-in bass player in Purple Revolution, though his solo career under the pseudonym ‘EraserHead’ was what really cemented him as a musical god. He was never that popular, but if you asked any great musician who their favorite musician was, EraserHead always made the list. He had taken Ground Zero under his wing early into their careers, back when they were still playing basement shows for college kids. He saw their untapped potential, and he showed them how to refine it.

Still, Katsuki found the guy’s presence unnerving.

“Bakugou,” greeted Aizawa with his usual flat tone.

“I didn’t do anything wrong today, ask Kirishima,” said Katsuki. Usually, when they spoke, it was because Katsuki had done something that Aizawa had determined to be a “PR nightmare”, or at the very least, “a bad look”.

“I didn’t say you did.”

“The hell do you want, then?”

“You need to start posting on the website.”

“Why?” Katsuki griped. It was the other’s job to post on the website. They liked to ‘keep in touch with their fans’, making blog entries and answering questions. It wasn’t something Katsuki had ever been interested in, and that had always been accepted.

“Fans want to see more of you. It’ll boost hits on the site if you start posting.”

“So what?”

“So, that’s more exposure.”

“We can get exposure by just being good,” he complained.

“Not these days. People want to feel like they know you. Engaging with them will strengthen their bond with you, and more people will want to hear what you have to say in your music.”

“They wouldn’t know me even if I posted on the stupid website. Aren’t interviews enough?”

“It’s a persona. You can decide how honest you are, but the bottom line is, people want something from you. Interviews are one thing, but to talk directly with your fans is important,” Aizawa explained.

“What the hell would I even post?”

“I don’t care. Post your feelings, or answer questions, or just talk about what you ate today, just give people something.”

“You never did anything like this,” Katsuki pointed out.

“I was around before the internet was such a big deal for a musician’s career. And I was never that popular either. I’m okay with that, I was never trying to be. But if you want a quiet, private life as a musician, start a solo act and do it there. Don’t drag the rest of the band down cause you aren’t willing to put in the work. They all understand that their relationship with their fans is a part of the gig, and they maintain it. Be professional.”

“I’m fucking professional!” Katsuki barked.

“Then be grateful. Your music wouldn’t be half as popular without the personalities behind it, so stop sitting in the backseat and take a little of the load.”

Katsuki glared at his water bottle, taking a sip.

“Don’t pout like a child. It’s just a blog post here and there, you’ll live,” said Aizawa.

“Fine,” grunted Katsuki, “But don’t expect me to be posting some mushy shit about my feelings or how much I love our fans. I’ll post what I want.”

“Nothing that will hurt the band’s image,” warned Aizawa.

“ Fine! ”

“Great,” said his manager, monotone, “I want you to post at least once a week. It doesn’t have to be big, just prove you're alive.”

“Whatever,” said Katsuki.

With Katsuki dealt with, Aizawa turned and made his way back out the bus, leaving him to sulk.

Katsuki stared at the website, the blank blog entry glaring back at him. God, he really had no interest in this. And he didn’t have anything to say. He had scrolled through some of his bandmate’s posts, trying to get a feel for the kinds of things that were seen as worth saying by their fans. Mina seemed to like answering questions, while Kirishima and Kaminari posted life updates and behind the scenes info. Sero posted a lot of stoned ramblings that almost seemed like poetry, and Katsuki definitely did not want to write anything like that.

He tried to type out a few posts.

This is Bakugou.

Deleted. Too short. Too boring. He may not have wanted to post anything, but he’d be damned if his post was that lame.

This is Bakugou. Ask me questions.

Deleted. He didn’t want to answer questions. He knew they would all be about his dick.

I had miso soup for breakfast today.

Deleted. Who the hell would want to know that?

I hate the summer heat .

Deleted.

I hate interviews.

Deleted.

I hate this .

Deleted.

He groaned in frustration, exiting out of the page and slamming his laptop shut, shoving it off to the side of the couch. He hated that Aizawa was making him do this. He hated that it was getting the better of him . How the hell was a damn stupid blog post besting him? He could write something interesting, for fucks sake! He had interesting things to say, just… nothing he wanted to share with the whole fucking world. Not in words. That was why he made music, dammit! Couldn’t people just know him from that?

His laptop hummed, taunting him. As he scowled at the computer, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Eager for the distraction, he fished it out and flipped it open, seeing a text from Sero.

chillin at deku’s bus

cum

evry1 else is busy

Katsuki felt the last text was unnecessary. Though, maybe it wasn’t. Katsuki usually said no when he was invited out unless there was a case made for his being there. Still, he didn’t like being made aware that he was the last choice. It was insulting.

y shud i? Katsuki responded.

its fun

cum

Katsuki didn’t reply again. Instead, he simply stood up and walked out of the bus, wandering around the lot until he heard the sound of Sero’s laughter spilling from the window of a large grey nightliner. 

He hesitated at the door for a second, wondering what the hell he was doing. He didn’t socialize. He didn’t make friends with competition. And barging in, unannounced, into the space of people who were strangers at best seemed like the last thing Katsuki should want to be doing. He had never met half the band, had barely met that Half-and Half guy, and Midoriya hardly seemed to like him. Sure, by the end of the other night they were on somewhat better terms, but Katsuki doubted that meant Midoriya wanted him on his bus.

Katsuki told himself he didn’t care. Didn’t care if he pissed Midoriya, or the others, off. Didn’t care at all about them. He was just looking for something to do other than stare at the taunting screen of his computer. This was a distraction. He didn’t care.

So he pushed open the door and stomped up the steps into the coach. 

It was a similar layout to Ground Zero’s bus, with reddish brown walls, a small living and kitchen area, then a door to what was almost definitely a bathroom, and a curtain that must have led to the bunks. All the furniture was built into the walls so it wouldn’t slide as the bus drove. Sero was, as Katsuki had predicted hours ago, slumped on the leather couch, red, drooping eyes and a lazy smile plastered onto his face. Beside him, sitting much more stiffly, was the Half-and-Half bastard. Across from them, in a seat by the fold-out table, was Midoriya, laughing at something one of the others had said. 

As Katsuki shoved through the entry, the others turned to look at him.

“Bakubro!” cheered Sero, “Thought you weren’t coming!”

“Whatever. Was bored.”

“Sit down, man,” said Sero, gesturing to the empty seat across the table from Midoriya.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Katsuki grumbled, taking the seat anyway.

“You’re a very hostile person,” said Half-and-Half plainly.

“The hell? I’m not hostile!”

“Sorry,” placated Midoriya, “Todoroki can be very blunt, he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“He’s not wrong though,” muttered Sero.

Katsuki felt his face heat up, glowering at Sero. Sero gave him an apologetic smile but said nothing to correct his statement. He simply carried on, saying, “So, Bakubro, what’ve you been up to?”

“Interviews in the morning, then fuck all. Aizawa wants me to start writing blog posts for the website.”

“Bet you love that,” laughed Sero.

“Like hell I do.”

“Oh, but it’s so fun, interacting with fans,” said Midoriya, “I love hearing their feedback on my writing, or answering their questions. It’s like we have a real connection, and we can get to know each other—”
“I’ve heard the spiel,” said Katsuki, “Just don’t care for it.”

“Well, why not?”

“If people wanna know me, they can listen to my music. I’m not sharing myself with the whole world on a damn website.”

“I just think about it like shouting into the void,” said Sero.

“That’s wise. I guess I do something similar,” said Half-and-Half. Sero nodded sagely.

“I like to imagine I’m just writing to one person,” Midoriya said, “It makes it easier, pretending the only person who will see whatever I’m writing is the person I’m writing to .”

“Hmf.”

“Anyway, I’m sure you have plenty to say, Bakugou,” added Midoriya, “Just write about whatever you feel strongly about.”

“What do you write about?”

“Oh,” Midoriya blushed, “A lot of things, I guess. Music, my friends, sometimes love. Sometimes I just geek out over superheroes.”

Katsuki snickered, saying, “Nerd.”

“Hey! Superheroes are cool!”

“Not very rockstar of you.”

“It totally is,” argued Midoriya, “I got into superheroes because of All Might. When they did that hero themed music video series, I thought it was the coolest!”

“You would like All Might.”

“They're the best!” cried Midoriya.

“Hey, don’t act like you aren’t a fan,” said Sero with a chuckle, “We all know you sleep in All Might underwear.”

“Shut the fuck up, I do not!” barked Katsuki, face warming. He could practically feel the steam blowing out of his ears. Of course he liked All Might, who didn’t? They were only the most influential band ever. And he liked them a totally normal amount. His underwear had nothing to do with anything.

“I think I’m wearing a pair right now,” said Midoriya with an embarrassed laugh. He slung a finger under the waist of his jeans, pulling a bit to check. Sure enough, he had on a pair of yellow All Might themed boxers. Katsuki caught a glimpse and promptly looked away. He shifted on the uncomfortable, sticky leather of his seat.

“Wow, you two match,” said Half-and-Half in a deadpan, sending Sero into a fit of giggles.

“It wasn’t funny, moron,” said Katsuki.

“You just have no sense of humor, this guy is hilarious,” Sero wheezed through his laughter.

“ You’re just high.”

“It’s okay, Bakugou, I like that we match,” said Midoriya. 

Katsuki floundered for a moment, trying to think of a retort, an insult, something to mask the way his chest was throbbing and his stomach twisting with a nervous energy that was completely foreign to him.

“You’re too nice to him,” Sero said.

“Shut it!”

“Why can’t I be nice to him?” asked Midoriya.

“He’s an asshole.”

“But he said we didn’t suck. You told me that was a compliment from him.”

“It is,” insisted Katsuki, for some reason desperate to keep Midoriya on his side.

“Sure, but someone who wasn’t an asshole would be able to just tell you you guys are great,” argued Sero.

“That is more commonly seen as ‘polite’,” agreed Half-and-Half.

Katsuki rolled his eyes. 

“But impolite isn’t the same thing as being an asshole,” said Midoriya.

“This nerd is the only one here who gets me.”

Midoriya beamed at him. Katsuki felt his entire body thrum like a powerful bass note.

After that night's show, Ground Zero had holed up in their bus and Sero had produced a very generously packed joint from his pocket. He had flicked open the cap of his doob tube, dropping it into the palm of his hand, and asked, “Who am I blessing tonight?”

The five of them had sat with the windows on the bus down, letting the AC seep out and the warm summer’s night air in, smoke curling from their lips and the smell of skunk permeating until everything felt fuzzy.

Kaminari and Sero giggled about nothing, Kirishima gazed happily at the pair, silent but engaged, and Mina talked Katsuki’s ear off about meeting the singer of Midnight between interviews earlier that day.

“God, she was so hot,” gushed Mina, “How can a person be so hot?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Kaminari agreed.

“Isn’t she delicious?!” asked Mina.

“Wait, who are you talking about?”

“Nemuri Kayama. Who are you talking about?”

“Shinso Hitoshi?”

“Who the hell is that?” Katsuki asked.

“The guy from Nighthide, keep up,” said Mina, “He’s hot, but Kayama is way hotter.”

“Since when are you two on a first name basis?” asked Sero.

“We’re tight,” answered Mina simply.

“Kirishima,” said Kaminari, “Who’s hotter, Shinso or Nemuri?”

Kirishima giggled and shrugged.

“Good point,” grunted Katsuki.

“Well, I think that Todoroki guy from Deku is pretty hot,” said Sero.

Katsuki made a face. 

“Half-and-Half?”

“Stop calling him that.”

“He’s boring,” said Katsuki.

“You don’t understand his subtlety,” Sero said.

“Well who do you think is the hottest, Bakugou?” asked Kaminari.

“Yeah, spill!” Mina cheered.

“Fucking no one.”

“Not true!” said Sero, “He was totally making eyes at Midoriya today!”

“I was not!” Katsuki shouted and Kirishima laughed.

“Yes you wereeeee, when you saw his boxers,” teased Sero and Katsuki felt about ready to rip Sero’s mouth off his face.

“You saw him in his underwear?” asked Kaminari, “Nice.”

“I didn’t think you had that kinda game, Bakubro, consider me impressed,” said Mina.

“You’re all idiots,” Katsuki said, standing and leaving the hazy lounge area. He needed some fresh air. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle his friends’ teasing. He just didn’t have to take it. He didn’t like the way it made him feel. Especially not when he was high and words seemed a whole lot sharper than they usually were.

Katsuki hated being high, actually. Hated how it made everything feel like it was spinning around him, chaotic and uncontrollable. Unstoppable. He felt like his body was made of tripwire, ready to detonate at the wrong touch. 

Usually, he wouldn’t have smoked. But he had been thinking about that stupid blog post, wondering how he would ever get it written, and he figured if it worked for Sero, maybe it would work for him too. But he was in no shape to write now. He felt like the world was pressing in on him.

He turned the corner around the bus, wanting to be out of sight in case one of his bandmates followed him out to check on him. He didn’t want their pity. He didn’t want anything except to be alone. He crouched down on the pavement, back against the metal wall of the bus and hid his head in his knees, like his body could swallow him whole and stop the stupid fucking high feeling pulsing through his veins like blood and glitter and poison. He just wanted to be alone and feel normal again.

Like hell that would happen.

“Bakugou,” said a familiar voice, “Hi.”

He looked up, and there was Midoriya, staring down at him with his big, green eyes. Blood, glitter, poison. All rushing to heat the surface of his skin.

“Midoriya. What are you doing at my bus?”

“I was on my way to the Nighthide bus,” said Midoriya.

“Oh.”

Katsuki felt a bit disappointed that he hadn’t been on his way to see him. His band. Whatever.

“You-are you okay?” asked Midoriya, concern lacing his voice. It irritated Katsuki a bit. He didn’t need pity.

“Peachy.”

“You sure? You look upset.”

“Just high,” he grunted.

“Oh, okay,” said Midoriya, “Do you want some company?”

Katsuki didn’t say anything. He didn’t want company. But he didn’t want to say no to Midoriya. Maybe it was guilt, for being an asshole to him. Probably not. Katsuki didn’t let himself feel guilty about things. And it wasn’t like Midoriya was still upset anyway. Was he?

“Sorry,” said Katsuki as Midoriya sat beside him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not a big deal, you’re just high,” laughed Midoriya.

“No. ‘Bout the other day. Whenever we first met. I was kinda a dick.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“I thought you were some fan who snuck in, didn’t know you were…” Katsuki didn’t know what he was gonna say. A musician? Talented? Amazing?

“It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“Okay.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Or at least, Katsuki felt comfortable. He was too high to know if Midoriya felt it too. All he knew was that he felt Midoriya beside him, his skin prickling Katsuki’s with its heat, winding around his cells, and he felt himself lean a little closer into it. Until he felt Midoriya pressed against his shoulder.

Abruptly, he stood.

“You can go. I’m fine.”

“You sure? I don’t know if I should leave you alone right now.”

“I said I’m fine. Go see Nighthide or whoever the hell. I’m going to bed.”

Midoriya chuckled.

“Okay, Bakugou.”

With that, he stood as well. He cast Katsuki an indiscernible look before walking off in the direction of Nighthide’s bus, presumably. Katsuki rubbed his hand along his face and groaned. There was something about Midoriya that made him feel like an idiot for being himself around him, for being too close to him, for making him go away.

When Katsuki went back inside, Kaminari and Sero were, once again, reduced to fits of giggles as Mina filmed them. Kirishima was asleep on the couch, snoring. Katsuki brushed past them, towards his bunk.

“Bakugou!” called Mina.

He ignored her, stripping off his clothes and searching his luggage for his sleepwear.

“Bakugou!” she called again, “Where’d you go?”

“Fuck off!”

He found a familiar pair of All Might boxers, slipping them on, and collapsed into his bunk. His mind was spinning, and he wished he hadn’t told Midoriya to go. 

As he kicked his foot out to the end of the bed, he felt the smooth, cool surface of his laptop. He shuffled to pull it up to his chest, opening it. It opened to the video he hadn’t gotten around to watching earlier. The Deku interview. Katsuki fished around his shelf for his headphones, plugging them into his computer and pressing play.

The interviewer introduced the company she was with, before turning to the band.

“And who am I here with today?”

She passed the mic from person to person.

“Uraraka Ochako!”

“Iida Tenya.”

“Todoroki Shouto.”

“Asui Tsuyu.”

“Midoriya Izuku!”

“And who are you?”

“We’re Deku,” responded Midoriya.

“Awesome. This is so cool. Ya know, I’m really big fans of you guys.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” said Uraraka.

“Yeah. But enough about me, let’s get started with the questions. First up, this is your first time playing Plus Ultra, right?”

They all paused.

“Second, actually,” said Half-and-Half.

“Second, oops. Anyway, how does this tour differ from tours you’ve done just you guys?”

“Well, there’s more people,” Half-and-Half said.

“A tour like this certainly a great honor to be a part of. A regular tour, you may work with one or two other bands, but here, we’re constantly surrounded by fellow musicians putting their all into a good show. It’s admirable and inspiring to be surrounded by such dedicated talent,” said Iida. Katsuki figured he must have been a publicist's wet dream.

As it went on, Katsuki began tuning out the video. Midoriya was barely speaking. And from the looks of his beet red face and his nervous smile, Katsuki was right to think he would get flustered during interviews. Cute , he thought. He was too high to filter the thought, much less process it.

Then, as she had done with Katsuki, the interviewer began delving into more personal and perverse questions, many pointed at Midoriya.

“Do you have any groupie stories?”

“Ah? No,” Midoriya looked downright scandalized at the question.

Katsuki laughed a little at his discomfort. It was fair, it was a weird question, but it wasn’t that uncommon, so he should have been better prepared for it. But of course Midoriya wouldn’t have groupie stories. Katsuki couldn’t imagine it.

“If you had to hook up with one of your bandmates, who would you pick? Be honest.”

“I don’t-I mean-that isn’t really…”

Katsuki could practically feel the awkwardness of the interview through the screen. Honestly, it made his own interview with the girl seem like a walk in the park. Katsuki was at least able to formulate a response to her, albeit mostly in the form of cussing her out. He felt a little vindicated, knowing he wasn’t worse at interviews than Midoriya. That was why he was watching after all. To find out. And he had.

Still, he continued watching.

“Have you ever watched gay porn?”

“I… haven’t?”

“Well, do you think you’d be open to it?”

“To… gay porn?”

“It’d be hot, doncha think?”

“Uh?”

At that point, Katsuki had to shut off the video. The second hand embarrassment was worming under his skin, and in his state, worms under the skin was the last sensation he needed.

He did, however, continue to watch Deku interviews late into the night. He wasn’t sure why, he just wanted to see what Midoriya had to say. It wasn’t until around 1 AM when he finally figured it out. The bus was silent, save for the whirr of Katsuki’s laptop, and as he peeled his headphones off to go to bed, as he closed his eyes and tried to find sleep, all he could think about was Midoriya’s face, and his mind helpfully supplied him with the word cute once again.

Cute .

Katsuki thought Midoriya was cute.

Bakugou Katsuki thought that Midoriya Izuku was cute .

And at that moment the realization was driving him crazy.

He whipped his laptop back open and searched up the Ground Zero website.

Katsuki began typing. He imagined he was writing to one person and before he knew it, he had a whole paragraph in front of him. It had just spilled from his fingertips, as if suddenly he was perfectly aware of how he felt. And he was. Painfully so. Because Katsuki liked Midoriya.

Chapter Text

I’m not good with words. That’s probably why it took so long to come up with one for you. I’m most likely too stoned to be writing this, but whatever. I think I got one that fits you damn well. It’s in the way that you look at me, the way that you give me the benefit of the doubt even though I’m an asshole (or am I just impolite?). It’s in the way you get flustered when someone asks you a question you should be used to by now. I know I’m a thorny exterior, but the interior is yours to do what you want with if you just keep pushing through (I kinda like it when you do). I don’t really know how to do this, so I guess this is me asking. How should I talk to you?

Hope I’m on your mind,

Bakugou

Midoriya began popping up wherever Katsuki was, as if he were teleported right to his periphery every time Katsuki’s mind wandered to him. And it did frequently. Just about all he thought of all of the sudden was Midoriya, and seeing him everywhere only exacerbated the situation. His thoughts constantly drifted to wondering where Midoriya was, what Midoriya was doing, what Midoriya would think of this or that. Sometimes, he was simply haunted by an image of the man’s face. And as if summoned by these thoughts, Midoriya would appear out of nowhere, smiling and waving at Katsuki as he helped his band move equipment to the stage or chatted with fans at his merch table. 

Katsuki, ever a man of action, had taken it upon himself to approach Midoriya when he saw him. He would stalk up to the man with a gruff “Hey” and Midoriya would light up. Katsuki would ask him some lame question about the weather or whatever, just to hear Midoriya talk. And damn did Midoriya talk. He could ramble for hours about just about anything and Katsuki always had half a mind to let him. He was surprised to find it didn’t really annoy him when Midoriya was off mumbling some tangent about the humidity or what he thought of a set he had seen, when coming from anyone else he would have found it aggravating to no end. Perhaps that was what people felt when they liked someone. 

It left Katsuki feeling not entirely like himself, but the light feeling in his chest when he was around Midoriya made him wonder if that was such a bad thing. It wasn’t as if he was pretending to be a completely different person for Midoriya, just softening his jagged edges a bit. Maybe he could stand to be a little nicer if it meant Midoriya would smile at him the way he did when Katsuki said something particularly positive. All shining eyes scrunched at the corners and apple cheeks and perfect white teeth. It felt strange, being nice, but the reward was worth the discomfort. 

“Bakugou, hey!” said Midoriya one afternoon. Katsuki was sat out front of his bus in a lawn chair despite the fact that the temperature was in the nineties because Mina and Kirishima had once again commandeered the backroom. He sucked on a lemon popsicle, waiting to go back inside when Midoriya once again crossed his mind, and naturally, appeared in front of him. Katsuki wondered if there was some mental link between the two.

“Hey,” he said, eyeing up the man. He was in an ill fitting All Might T-shirt, a pair of cargo shorts, and the same red sneakers he always wore. Hardly a good outfit, but it revealed his muscled calves so Katsuki couldn’t complain.

“I was looking for you!” said Midoriya.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I wanted to ask you something.”

Katsuki smiled.

“Ask away.”

“Well, I figured we always run into each other by chance, but we never hang out. What’s your number? I wanna make plans,” Midoriya explained.

Normally, Katsuki would have told him to go to hell, asking for his number. He didn’t like to give it out, didn’t like to give people that kind of access to him, especially with the specific intent of making plans . But because it was Midoriya, and for some reason Katsuki wanted nothing more than to see him all the time, he nodded and Midoriya pulled out his phone.

Flipping it open, he said, “Put your number in.”

Katsuki punched in the digits and set his name. He sent himself a quick text and his own phone buzzed before he handed the device back. 

“Awesome! So what are you up to now?”

“Just waiting for Shitty Hair and Pinky to stop going at it so I can relax in the AC,” said Katsuki.

“Shitty Hair and Pinky?” Midoriya asked, tilting his head in a way that made Katsuki’s chest swell a bit. Cute .

“My bandmates.”

“Pinky is Ashido, right?” Katsuki nodded. “Which one is Shitty Hair?”

“Kirishima.”

“But his hair isn’t that different from yours,” Midoriya pointed out.

“Yeah, but mine's way cooler.”

Midoriya smiled, saying, “Your hair is cool.”

Katsuki’s ears felt hot, but he managed through it and said, “So what about you? Up to anything?”

“No, I’m free right now.”

“Surprising, considering you’re such a rockstar. Figured you wouldn’t have a moment to yourself,” teased Katsuki.

Midoriya chuckled and said, “I could say the same about you, Ground Zero has been taking off these last few weeks. But I usually get done with interviews by noon and I’m free until our set.”

“Same,” said Katsuki.

“Then if we’re both doing nothing, mind if I join you?”

Katsuki bit back the goofy grin that was threatening to spill across his face. He nodded cooly and Midoriya dropped to sit in the lawn chair beside Katsuki. There was lull in conversation, Katsuki felt like his heart was beating a little too fast and his face felt flushed so he turned his focus back to his dripping popsicle, licking some of the melted desert off his fingers.

He felt Midoriya’s gaze on him so he turned to look at him. His eyes were on the popsicle, a wanting look to them.

“Want some?” Katsuki asked.

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” said Midoriya, blush rising on his cheeks.

“I can get you one of your own if you want,” he offered.

“I’m okay,” Midoriya insisted.

Katsuki shrugged, moving back to lap at the popsicle.

Midoriya continued to watch, before saying, “Maybe I’ll have a bite. If you don’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t offer if I minded,” said Katsuki as he handed the man the treat.

Their fingers brushed and Midoriya fumbled for the stick. He brought it to his lips and took a small bite.

For a second, Katsuki felt entranced by the sight, Midoriya’s lips stretched around the popsicle, full and pink, a dribble of juice slowly trailing down his chin as he bit into it. He couldn’t take his eyes off the other man, and his mind began to wander, to stretched lips, to wet slurping, the image of Midoriya, looking up at him as his mouth circled his—

Midoriya pulled off with a wet ‘pop’, handing the desert back to Katsuki and his train of thought was thankfully broken.

It wasn’t until later that night, tucked away in his bunk, that Katsuki indulged in the thought, one hand slipping down the elastic band of his boxers as the other covered his mouth to keep quiet. Though the rumble of the road drowned out his panting breaths, he didn’t want to wake his bandmates with something as embarrassing as a desperate moan. 

In the following days, Katsuki’s phone was constantly receiving texts from Midoriya, some asking him when he was free to hang out, many simply telling Katsuki about his day. If it were anyone else, Katsuki would have complained about his hours being eaten up and simply blocked the number for the incessant amount of texts. With Midoriya, he instead found himself glued to his phone, replying to all of them as soon as he got them, be it a picture of a cat he had met or a question asking him his favorite color. He would wander the bus lots, staring down at the little screen and barking at people when he bumped into them. 

“Who are you texting, Bakubro,” Kirishima asked him. 

The band had just finished an interview, and Katsuki had felt the demanding buzz from his pocket for the entire tail end of it. It had been driving Katsuki crazy, waiting to check his messages.

“No one.”

“Not like you to be so attached to a screen like that,” said Mina, “I practically have to beg you to respond to a text. You have a secret little lover?”

“It’s totally Midoriya. He wrote that love poem about him on the website,” said Sero.

“Shut up, morons, I didn’t write a love poem, I don’t have a secret lover and it certainly isn’t Midoriya,” Katsuki grunted.

“Aw, Bakubro, it’s okay if you have a crush on him, we won’t judge,” said Kaminari.

“You probably shouldn’t let Aizawa get wind of it, though. Being gay would be totally bad for your brand,” said Mina.

“Not that it matters to us if you're gay!” added Kirishima, “But we are just starting to take off. I don’t know if we’d survive a hit like that.”

“I ain’t gay and I don’t give a shit about my brand. All of you, shut it.”

It didn’t hurt him. Katsuki knew, realistically, that he could never openly admit what he felt for Midoriya. Not like Sero or Kaminari had ever been open about their little flings here and there with other men. His bandmates were right. As stupid as he thought their fans' parasocial obsession with all of them was, he knew that if he lost the interest of their female fans, many of whom were lusting after him, they’d suffer. Not to mention, an openly gay rockstar wasn’t exactly precedented. The industry liked to keep that sort of thing quiet, and he wasn’t dumb enough to think he would be an exception to a backwards rule like “a man can’t want another man”. He had no intention of going public with this.

Still, he sort of wanted to scream it from the rooftops.

when r u done intrviewing i want 2 c u :)

Katsuki and Midoriya hung out every day. Whenever they were free, they found each other. It was blissful to Katsuki, like the ever present livewire that lived under his skin was dampened. It all felt so easy.

After about a week of growing comfortable with the routine, Katsuki had finished all his morning work, and had been waiting for a text from Midoriya. It was taking longer than usual and his patience was wearing thin. He half began to believe Midoriya had forgotten, or wasn’t ever even going to send him anything today, and eventually, the idea of sitting around any longer made his skin crawl so he bit the bullet and sent the first message.

wyd 

He didn’t tend to text first, convinced his desperation would bleed through, but he was desperate. He stared at the screen, willing an answer to appear. As seconds, then minutes began to tick by and no response came, he grew restless again.

He thought about sending another text, but that felt impossibly needy. Instead, he tucked his phone away and watched from the couch as Sero and Kaminari tried to blow up marshmallows in the microwave.

“You two idiots better clean that shit up when you're done,” he grumbled.

“We will, we will,” Kaminari said with a dismissive wave, keeping his eyes glued to the spinning marshmallow. 

After some time, Katsuki got bored and retreated to his bunk. He found his laptop hidden amongst his sheets and opened it. It loaded onto the last site he had visited, a Deku fan forum. He read through posts, ignoring the ones about members of the band he didn’t care about. Honestly, even with all the interviews he watched, he couldn’t even tell you their names. Posts about ‘Uraraka’ or ‘Iida’ drew up no image of a face for him. If they had referred to them as something more along the lines of ‘Round Cheeks’, or ‘Glasses’, or ‘Frog Face’, maybe he would know who they were talking about, but it still wouldn’t interest him. He just wanted to read about Midoriya.

Most of the fans seemed to be in agreement that Midoriya was somewhere between a precious child who they longed to cradle in their arms and a sex symbol they wished to be split open by. Katsuki thought it was all very lame, as he read through post after post, all some variation of I need Izuku to dick me down YESTERDAY or My sweet prince is delightful in the newest interview .

He wasn’t sure what he hoped to find, scrolling through the forum, maybe just a better understanding of Midoriya’s public image. Maybe he just needed to be thinking about Midoriya.

While reading a long winded rant about the excellence of Midoriya’s vocal control, one Katsuki found no fault in, his phone buzzed. The forum was forgotten about in an instant as he yanked his phone from his sweatpants pocket and opened it.

sorry have a shoot rn

with ua magazine!!!

theyr intrviewing us 2!

Katsuki frowned. A photoshoot and interview could take forever, he might not get to see Midoriya until tonight after their sets. But it wasn’t as if he could ask Midoriya to ditch, to let the rest of his band handle it. UA Magazine was one of the biggest alternative publications out there, and if Deku was being shot by them, it was a big deal.

ok

c u tonite then

He didn’t expect another text back, going to put his phone away, but it buzzed again.

do u want 2 sit in on it?

im so nervous i might feel bettr if ur there!

Katsuki’s entire chest did a backflip, and he wondered if his heart might give out.

where?

And just like that, Katsuki was up and out of bed, hurrying off to the location Midoriya sent him. 

It was a sight just a little ways from the lot, an outdoor shoot to promote Plus Ultra. When he got there, the shoot had already begun but Midoriya sent Katsuki a smile and a subtle wave from where he stood, posed in front of a camera.

He was at the center, styled in a tight shirt that he normally never would have worn stretched across his chest and baggy jeans slung low around his waist, exposing just a sliver of tanned skin. One hand fell at his side, while the other was hooked in his belt loop. To his left was Round Cheeks, behind her Glasses, and to his right, Frog Face and Half-and-Half. They all stood in their best imitation of cool and casual. It looked awkward live, the flash of the camera as they stood almost motionless, never breaking eye contact with the lens. But that was just the nature of being behind the scenes of a photoshoot. Once the pictures were edited and printed, fans would be eating up how hot they looked.

Katsuki watched as the photographer snapped shot after shot of the group. Then, he did individual portraits. As the others were shot, Midoriya was pulled aside for touch ups on his hair and makeup. It was mostly just a base to keep him from looking washed out on camera, a bit of styling gel in his hair to give his natural curls more volume, but he also had on smudged eyeliner that made his big eyes look even bigger. 

Katsuki had worn eyeliner for some shoots. It was supposed to make him look ‘tough’. On Midoriya, it just looked pretty.

As he was surrounded by makeup artists shoving brushes in his face, Midoriya shot Katsuki a small grin.

After the photoshoot was the interview. It was more professional than any of the interviews Katsuki had seen of the band, more professional than any of the interviews Katsuki himself had ever done. They were asked questions about their music, about their experience touring, about their inspirations and dreams. The interviewer was friendly, but didn’t pretend to know them, and he never once asked them about their romantic lives. Hypocritically, Katsuki almost longed for a question probing them on that front, maybe to see if Midoriya would answer with any cheeky hints, send a sign that maybe he had a thing for drummers or blondes. Maybe he was single and maybe, maybe he was crushing on someone. But it was all very proper, nothing for Katsuki to latch onto.

By the time it was all over and Katsuki checked the time, he realized he was meant to be at Ground Zero’s merch table in five for signings. He knew he should have been rushing to leave, but he hesitated, hoping Midoriya would at least come by to say hello.

As the UA staff packed things up, Midoriya approached him with a smile and pink cheeks.

“Thanks for coming, Bakugou. Knowing you were here helped calm my nerves,” he said earnestly.

“Sure,” said Katsuki, “No big deal.”

“I’m sure you have more fun things to do than watch some boring photoshoot,” reasoned Midoriya.

Katsuki shrugged, “I was free.”

“Well, do you wanna hang out now?”

“I got a signing now, so…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Midoriya looked disappointed, but he recovered quickly, saying with a smile, “Well, I guess I’ll just see you tonight, Bakugou.”

“Yeah. Tonight,” he agreed, like he was making a promise.

The signing was dragging on and on. It felt like forever, jotting scribbles onto posters and CDs, playing nice with pimply teenagers, answering questions with little more than grunts. He didn’t know where his bandmates found the energy to act chipper with fans, as though they were already best friends. It seemed exhausting.

As Mina gushed over a girl’s hair beside him, Katsuki dragged his pen along the jewel case of A Dynamight CD in the shape of something that resembled his name. The kid he was signing for squealed as he handed it back.

“Thank you! I’m such a big fan, and you’re my favorite,” she said.

“Awesome,” said Katsuki.

“I was so excited to see you posting on the website,” she said, “Your writing is so good, I wish you wrote more songs for Ground Zero.”

“I’m not much of a writer.”

“But still, it’s cool to hear your perspective! It’s a side of you we never get to see!”

“Thanks.”

“Me and my friends have a bet going. Was it about Kirishima?”

Bakugou couldn’t help but scowl at the question. He fought back the urge to cuss out the girl, to scream at her until she cried and begged for forgiveness. Aizawa would strangle him if he fought a fan.

“No,” he grunted.

“Damn. I’m down twenty bucks! Who was it about then?”

“It’s not about anyone.”

“Really?”
“It’s fiction.”

“Oh,” she sighed, sounding disappointed.

“Yeah. Listen, I got a line to get through, so if that’s all.”

“Right, sorry. Sorry to bother you!” squeaked the girl, before dashing off. The line shuffled forward and Katsuki fell back into the meandering rhythm of signing, signing, signing.

Their set that night went by better than usual. Katsuki was on his game, playing like the damn god of drumming had taken over his body. Midoriya was side stage watching with a bright, beaming smile plastered across his face, and Katsuki sent him a smirk every time he got the chance. He could feel his bandmates’ eyes on him every now and then, darting between him and Midoriya, assessing, but he didn’t give a damn what they saw. He just continued watching Midoriya with a sickly sweet feeling in his chest that spilled out into a grin after expertly playing through his drum solo in the bridge of Alien Queen. The chorus kicked off and Midoriya was mouthing along to the words.

“I’m sick of buses.”

“We still have a whole summer of them,” sighed Midoriya.

“We should go out,” said Katsuki.

“Where?”

“Who cares. I wanna go somewhere. Don’t wanna be on a damn bus. Don’t wanna even be near one.”

“Okay.”

The city they were in was unfamiliar, as were most of the cities they visited. They rarely had time to explore, so they all tended to blend together until Katsuki wasn’t even sure where they were anymore. 

They took a cab into the heart and wandered the streets. It was a weekend night, and so they were lined with drunk young people, stumbling in and out of bars and clubs, laughing and talking far louder than they needed to. Midoriya stuck close to Katsuki’s side, and he could feel their arms brush every step. It felt nice. 

“Do you wanna go in somewhere?” asked Midoriya.

“Whatever you want.”

And so Midoriya dragged Katsuki to the door of a club. They went through pat downs, presented their IDs and paid their cover, stepping into the dim interior of the building. Strobe lights pierced the darkness in yellows and pinks and greens, and the bustle of people on the dancefloor created an almost impenetrable wall. 

Midoriya took Katsuki by the wrist and hauled him over to the bar. His hand didn’t leave Katsuki’s arm as he ordered them a round of shots, then another, then another, as if he was trying to keep Katsuki by him. Katsuki felt as though there was a pulse radiating from where their skin met, and each burning shot he downed hardly competed with the heat of contact.

“Dance with me!” called Midoriya over the din of shouting and club music.

Katsuki was helpless to say no as Midoriya tightened his grip and took him to the dance floor, pushing through small gaps past dancing figures to the center.

Midoriya pressed his hips to Katsuki’s, hands moving to clasp them together in a bruising hold. Katsuki, the buzz of alcohol rushing through his system, or maybe it was just the adrenaline of the club, let his arms drape over Midoriya’s shoulders. They were close enough that Katsuki could feel Midoriya’s breath on his cheek, feel the sweat accumulating as they moved between bodies. 

There was nothing dirty about the way they danced, nothing Katsuki hadn’t seen his bandmates engage in with each other as though the proximity was nothing but platonic. Still, he couldn’t help but feel heat rising through his body at the shift of Midoriya’s hips, at the hot air of his breathing against his neck. 

He was lost in the thrum of the bass, in the enclosing sea of people, in the smoky air. The only thing that grounded him was Midoriya. Midoriya’s firm hands. Midoriya’s swaying hips. Midoriya’s confident, easy motion. It was like he was on stage, like he was his rockstar self, but right here and now, it was only for Katsuki. He wasn’t performing for a crowd, he wasn’t anyone’s. He wasn’t anyone’s but Katsuki’s.

By the time he was being dragged back to the bar, they were both damp with sweat. Midoriya’s face was flushed, and an exhilarated grin was smeared across his face. His eyes were wide and shining, the way they were the first time they met, and Katsuki couldn’t help but meet it with the small smile that crept up his face.

“I had so much fun tonight, Bakugou.”

Midoriya looked at him like he had hung the stars. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on Katsuki’s part. Maybe he was just drunk.

Still, he felt like he knew what he was doing. 

“It was okay,” he shrugged. Midoriya knew what he meant.

“I’m really glad we’re friends,” said Midoriya.

Katsuki knew what he was doing. He wasn’t ruining anything.

“Yeah.”

“I should be going to bed. I have interviews early tomorrow. Goodnight, Bakugou.”

Katsuki knew what he was doing. He wasn’t ruining anything. Not with the look in Midoriya’s eyes, not with the way they had been glued together all night. Katsuki knew what he was doing.

He leaned in. He cupped Midoriya’s cheek. Midoriya’s mouth parted, as if to speak, but he didn’t. His eyes dropped down. Katsuki leaned in further and their lips brushed together, before he closed the gap and kissed him. Midoriya was still for a moment, before he melted into Katsuki. Their lips moved together in the same way their bodies had on the dancefloor.

It was short, but it sent an electric shock down Katsuki’s spine. It was short, but it left him breathless. It was short, but it was thrilling.

Katsuki pulled back. Midoriya looked at him with awe.

“Night, Midoriya.”

Chapter Text

The way our eyes meet. The way our lips meet. Bad first impressions and the impressions you left on my hips. I know it’s too soon to call, but can I anyway? Are you free to hang? I want to see you look at me like I’m the greatest thing to ever happen to you all over again. I always feel like the best (when I’m around you), you make it seem real. Yellows and pinks and greens. Feel the bass in every point of contact, like I can feel your heartbeat through your skin.

Wanna dance with me?
Bakugou

Kaminari got high and pissed on the toilet lid.

“I thought it was up, I swear!” he cried as Katsuki gave him a death glare.

“I’ll rip your dick off so you never piss again!” Katsuki shouted.

Kaminari shrunk in on himself, cowering beneath Katsuki.

Through tearful laughter, Kirishima said, “C’mon, man, it’s not that big a deal.”

“Like hell it isn’t! You people live in filth!”

“It is pretty gross,” Mina said, though she too was fighting back laughter.

As Katuski continued to berate a meek Kaminari, shoving cleaning supplies into the blonde’s arms, the others watched on in amusement.

“Geez, Bakubro, you’re more on edge than usual,” said Sero, wiping his eyes.

“Yeah, what’s got you so tense, man?” asked Kirishima.

“I’m not tense!” yelled Katsuki, balling his fists.

He wasn’t. Katsuki was fine. Just dandy. Everything was great. That was true. Because he had kissed Midoriya last night, and even better Midoriya had kissed him. It left him nearly too giddy to sleep the night before, just staring up at the ceiling of his bunk as the others snored peacefully. He had run his finger across his lips in near disbelief. And though he had slight bags under his eyes from the late night, the excitement had yet to leave. He felt like he had been rocketed up into the sky, was walking on starlight. 

But underneath the surface, maybe a part of him was boiling with something a little less pleasant and a little more Katsuki. Because since he woke up, he had been impatiently waiting for Midoriya to text him, or appear in front of him like magic, or walk onto their bus looking for him. He had woken up and gone on a morning run to burn off steam. Interviews went by too slowly. The entire day was at a snail's pace as he waited. It was nearly 3 PM and radio silence. Not even a far off glance of the other man. So maybe it was driving Katsuki up a wall with nervous energy.

All he could think about was the kiss. Was if it could happen again.

“Trouble in paradise?” teased Sero.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“You were out late last night,” said Mina, “Were you with Midoriya?”

“Did you two fight?” asked Kirishima.

“We didn’t fight. Why the fuck would we fight?”

“Maybe he finally got tired of you being such a bully,” Sero theorized. 

“I’m not a bully,” Katsuki said, and his chest burned.

“Yeah, Bakubro is kinda sweet with Midoriya,” Mina said.

“Would you all stop telling me what I am! ‘M hungover is all. Nothing happened and I’m not tense so you can shove all your weird little fantasies about the two of us up your asses!”

Kirishima raised his hands in surrender, though he looked unapologetic. Mina and Sero just exchanged knowing smirks.

“Fine, fine,” said Mina, “You and Mido are just bros and you’re totally not obsessed with him.”

“Totally not,” agreed Sero. 

Then they all laughed and Katsuki’s face smoldered. 

“Assholes,” he griped.

A few minutes later, when Kaminari was done cleaning the bathroom, he came out to find his friends all looking rather satisfied as Katsuki fumed in the corner. 

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing!” barked Katsuki.

Kaminari looked to the others, but in a moment of uncharacteristic intelligence, they just shrugged. He knew as soon as he left the room, they’d tell Kaminari exactly what it was that they thought was going on, but for now they just let his anger quietly simmer rather than add fuel to that fire.

He and Midoriya hadn’t fought. Things were good, weren’t they? Katsuki hadn’t ruined anything. So why wasn’t Midoriya texting him?

“Good work,” Aizawa said flatly, “People like your posts. We’re getting good engagement on them.”

“Yeah, of fucking course. You think I was gonna write shit?” asked Katsuki.

“Yeah.”

Katsuki glowered, but his manager continued.

“I’d like to know who you’re writing about, though.”

“The fuck do you need to know that for?”

“Just wanna make sure you’re not about to publicly declare your love for anyone too scandalous. It’s your business, but I need to know if I have a potential PR mess on my hands.”

“Like who?”

“I don’t know, like Utsushimi Camie. That girl is always surrounded by drama.”

“It’s not about anyone. It’s fiction.”

“Really?” Aizawa questioned with a disbelieving dryness.

“Really. I just wrote what I thought fans would wanna hear, it ain’t anything real,” Katsuki lied.

“That’s not like you.”

“Guess I took your words to heart. Giving the fans something to make them feel like they know me. And everyone’s already so obsessed with my romantic life, right?”

“Fine. It’s not a terrible idea. Just keep it vague. People will like you better if they think you’re some hopeless romantic who’s also still available . And I want you to do a Q&A.”

Katsuki groaned, but he knew Aizawa wasn’t up for further discussion on that front, as he turned and left the bus. Hopefully to go harass one of Katsuki’s bandmates. He would feel a little better knowing he wasn’t the only one with their manager constantly looming over them like a misbehaving child.

Katsuki had the bus to himself. Sero was off with Todoroki, Kaminari and Mina were out with Nighthide again, and Kirishima was on his weekly call with his mom. 

He was listening to an old All Might CD on his discman, scribbling notations into his notebook for a drum part he wanted to try out, when finally, finally , his phone buzzed from beside him. It had been hours of waiting, and he quickly scrambled to check it. Relief flooded his system when he saw it was from Midoriya.

sexiled from my bus

can i go to urs?

Katsuki grinned despite himself, quickly typing out a reply.

Within minutes, Midoriya was stepping onto the bus, smiling nervously. Katsuki paused his music, setting his headphones and notebook aside, and turned to face him.

He looked good. Amazing. Cute. Katsuki wanted to bite him.

“Hey,” said Midoriya, “Sorry if I’m interrupting."

“You’re not,” said Katsuki.

“I just really didn’t wanna be on the bus. Todoroki has Sero over, and they’re being kinda loud in his bunk, so I thought I’d come see you. But if you wanna keep doing what you were doing, I can just sit quietly and—”

“Shut up. I was just finishing anyway,” Katsuki lied. He was only about half way through the album and his notations were still a mess. But he had only really started to distract himself from the fact that Midoriya wasn’t texting him.

Midoriya nodded, sitting beside Katsuki on the couch. He sat with some distance between the two, but Katsuki just shifted over to close the space, until their sides brushed together.

It figured Midoriya was the type to hesitate. But there was no reason to. Not after last night. Katsuki had kissed him. Midoriya had kissed him back.

“How’s your day been?” asked Midoriya, eyes not quite meeting Katsuki’s. The small talk annoyed him. As much as just the sound of Midoriya’s voice could put him at ease, he somehow expected more. Like, he would march in here with open arms and declare his undying love for Katsuki.

“Slow.”

“Yeah, mine too. And we had this interview today, the interviewer kept trying to feel my arms, like trying to be subtle. She was asking about my work out routine and how I kept it up during touring, but she kept grabbing me!”

Katsuki grimaced.

“Sounds like a freak.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. 

“You probably froze up, right?”

“Uraraka had to save me. She told her my girlfriend liked muscly types, and she kinda backed off after that.”

“Girlfriend, huh?”

Katsuki felt like his blood stream had suddenly switched courses at the word, almost lightheaded. 

“Yeah, she loves how big I am. Totally the jealous type too. If she had seen the way the interviewer was touching me, she probably would have grabbed her by the hair and started hitting her,” he laughed.

Katsuki wanted to hurl.

“Can’t blame her,” he rasped.

“No. You can’t,” Midoriya said, a grin peeling at the corners of his lips. That bastard. The nerve to smile at Katsuki, let Katsuki kiss him, kiss him back , while telling him about his jealous girlfriend who loved his muscles. The grin continued to spread and Katsuki was seeing red.

“What?”

“Sorry, your face!” exclaimed Midoriya, bursting into laughter as Katsuki felt himself heat up, “You totally believed me, right? Ah! I don’t have a girlfriend, I was joking.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Dick.”

“Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t look it.

“So then, uh,” Katsuki looked down at his hands, straining to pull at the fabric of his jeans, “Last night was… okay?”

“Yeah,” Midoriya said, with a gentle smile.

“It didn’t, like, bother you?”

“No,” he said, “I liked it.”

“Good. Course you did. I’m a great fucking kisser.”

Midoriya hummed, said, “You are.”

Katsuki looked at Midoriya. He was wearing a pleasant smile, one he frequently wore around Katsuki, or maybe just always had on. His green hair was tousled, flatter on one side than the other like he had slept on it, and Katsuki wanted to run his hand through the curly locks, feel the soft strands between his fingers. 

“Could I,” he breathed, voice coming out softer than he meant it to, “kiss you again, then?”

Pink crept up Midoriya’s cheeks, but he nodded. 

Katsuki leaned in, eyes falling low onto Midoriya’s lips. For some reason, Katsuki felt so much more anxious now than he had the night before. As though here, sober, in daylight, it was all the more terrifying. The anticipation of feeling Midoriya’s lips against his had been building in him all damn day. Longer. Pretty much since the second he had stolen that first kiss, he had been waiting for it to happen again. And now closing that gap felt daunting. 

He looked back up, and his eyes met Midoriya’s. They were so close, all he could see was a soft, shining green. He could feel Midoriya’s bangs tickle his forehead, feel his breathing ghost against his skin. 

Midoriya tilted his head towards Katsuki just a bit, and just as their lips brushed, there was the loud bang of the front door being swung open and slammed shut, and the hustle of footsteps.

Both men quickly pulled away, faces hot and red, as Mina pranced into the room.

“We need to talk music videos,” she announced.

The wait for the rest of the band was… awkward. Midoriya had excused himself, saying he was supposed to meet Uraraka or whoever the hell soon, and so it had just been Katsuki and Mina sitting in the living area, a shit eating grin on Mina’s face. Katsuki couldn’t have been more pissed off at being disturbed.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Mina finally said, after what felt like ages of her just staring.

“Didn’t interrupt shit. We were just talking,” grunted Katsuki.

“Oh yeah? Then why were your faces smushed together?” she asked, teasingly. 

“They were not!”

“Were too!”

“Were not!”

“Just admit it, Bakugou, you totally have a thing for Mido!”

“It’s none of your goddamn business.”

“Oh, but you’re not denying it?” she asked.

“I’ll explode your face off!” Katsuki shouted, and Mina looked pleased with herself for setting him off.

“Why are we exploding Mina’s face off?” Kirishima’s voice asked as he entered the bus. Kaminari and Sero were close behind him. There were nasty marks all over Sero’s neck. 

“Bakubro’s mad I interrupted him and Midoriya’s make out sesh,” Mina supplied unhelpfully.

“WE WERE NOT MAKING OUT!”

“Bakugou,” sang Kaminari, “Finally making it to first base.”

“I’VE KISSED BEFORE!”

“Yeah,” agreed Sero, “Kissed Midoriya.”

This was why Katsuki didn’t tell his friends things. It just gave them more ammunition to tease him and light his short fuse. His chest burnt and his face was on fire. 

“Listen, as fun as it is to make fun of Bakugou’s love life, that isn’t why I called us here,” Mina said, finally changing the subject and taking the pressure off of Katsuki. He would have been grateful, had she not been the one to start the whole mess of a conversation. 

“Yeah, your text was pretty vague,” said Kirishima, “What’s the situation?”

“Well,” Mina said with a smile, pausing to build suspense, “I just spoke with Aizawa. The label wants us to make music videos for Acid and Red Riot !”

“Holy shit, really?” asked Kaminari.

“That’s so sick!” said Sero excitedly.

Mina nodded.

“We have to start thinking concepts,” she said.

“Oh man,” said Kirishima, “I’ve been thinking of concepts for Red Riot since we made it a single.”

The others urged him to share his ideas and so he began explaining.

“Well, I was thinking, the whole song is about feeling insecure in your masculinity. And what’s more manly than boxing? So what if we had, like, a pro boxer who’s totally manly and wins all his fights, but then we see him outside the ring and he’s just a total mess. It’s all really sad and empty when he’s alone, so he’s just putting everything into his career to prove himself.”

“Oo, I like that,” said Mina.

“How do we fit into the video?” asked Kaminari.

“I wanna be the ref,” said Sero firmly.

“Mina could be the announcer, but like, instead of announcing, she sings,” said Kirishima, “And Kaminari could be a medic or something, and Bakubro could be his trainer.”

“And you would be the boxer?” asked Mina.

Kirishima blushed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, saying, “I mean, or Bakugou could be the boxer. He looks the part.”
“You be the boxer,” said Katsuki, “I don’t want a big role. Hate acting.”

“Then it's decided! Boxer for Red Riot !” Mina cheered, clapping her hands together, then continued, “For Acid , I was thinking something where I get to dance.”

They continued brainstorming, throwing out ideas left and right. Katsuki’s attention lapsed, and he found himself wishing he had left with Midoriya, maybe finding some hidden corner away from the others to continue what they had started. By the time the group had come to a consensus on what the second video would be about, Katsuki had totally checked out.

“What do you think, Bakubro?” asked Kirishima.

“Sounds good,” he replied, having no clue what he was agreeing to. 

Sero gave him an odd look.

“Really?” he asked.

“Do whatever. I don’t care.”

They all glanced between each other, then seemed to shrug it off, continuing. 

“I’ll bring our ideas to Aizawa and see what he can do with them,” said Mina, “Meeting successful!”

Katsuki wondered if Midoriya thought about him half as much as Katsuki did. That was how he ended up on Deku’s website, reading through blog entries. He skipped the ones that weren’t signed by Midoriya, but there weren’t that many posted since the time they met. Actually, there were only two. The first was a Q&A

Q: Favorite food? 

A: My mom’s katsudon!

Q: Favorite book?

A: Toshinori Yagi’s memoir “I Am Here”

Q: Favorite thing about touring?

A: Getting to meet so many fans!

Q: If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

A: I was the kid who said I wanted “the power to have any power”

Q: Favorite song you’ve written?

A: Probably Full Cowling. It was the first one I wrote for the album and it’s where I really figured out what I like to write

Q: Least favorite?

A: Song I’ve written? I don’t put those ones out…

Q: Worst sexual experience?

A: …

Q: Who do you think is the hottest member of Deku?

A: They’re all wonderful people!

Q: Do you play any instruments?

A: I play piano but I’m not very good. That’s why Iida is our keyboardist

Q: Who’s your celebrity crush?

A: Toshinori Yagi haha

Q: Did you have a good day today?

A: I did :)

The next one was a simple post teasing the UA Magazine shoot and interview. Nothing to prove he was on Midoriya’s mind. Katsuki felt a bitterness in his throat. He opened his own band’s website and began typing.

Wish I knew you were thinking of me. All I can think is, at least you like blondes. And I know, you said it didn’t bother you, the way I stole a kiss. It’s only fair, the way you steal my breath. But you said you liked it. Does that mean you like me? Does your heart skip a beat when you see me? Unfinished moments and quick exits. I think I know where I stand, I just wish I knew. Want to make you feel as crazy about me as I feel about you. Cause it is a little crazy, right?

Have a good day,
Bakugou

Katsuki meant to finish his drum notations. He really did. He had meant to be more productive this summer, get some pieces written for their next album, but he had been distracted. And of course, just as he settled down to write, he felt the familiar buzz of his phone begging for his attention. For once, he tried to ignore it, actually do his job, but it just continued buzzing and buzzing until he realized it was a call. When he pulled his phone out, he was unsurprised to see it was Midoriya who was calling him. 

“Bakugou!” greeted the man on the other line. His voice was staticky, but it still sent a shot of warmth through Katsuki.

“Midoriya. Why did you call me? Could have just texted…”

“I wanted to talk!”

Katsuki tried to control the bubble of endearment swelling in his chest.

“Right.”

“There’s supposed to be fireworks tonight. Do you wanna watch them with me?”

All of Katsuki’s previous anxieties that Midoriya never thought of him were washed away with that simple question. Sure, it was kinda lame and mushy to watch fireworks with the person you liked, and if anyone else was asking, Katsuki would have told them to fuck right off. He didn’t like that couple-y shit. Or he thought he didn’t. But from Midoriya, it felt like his own private fireworks show was going off right inside his chest. 

“Okay, nerd,” he responded, trying to sound as disinterested as he could. 

“Yay!” Midoriya cheered, “Come over to my bus!”

“I will.”

“See ya then!”

“See ya.”

When the call ended, Katsuki felt like he was floating on a cloud. Midoriya had asked him to watch the fireworks. They had kissed. They had almost kissed again. And now Midoriya was asking to do something like this? It almost seemed like a date and Katsuki, embarrassing as it may have been, was near giddy.

He rushed out of his bunk, before realizing he was dressed in a tank top and sweats. That wasn’t appropriate date attire, was it? He scrounged through his suitcase, hoping to find something decent to wear, but everything seemed so… wrong, all of the sudden. He fished through T-shirts and jeans, unable to feel satisfied with anything. Every article of clothing just led him to wonder, would Midoriya like him in this? It wasn’t until he realized he had been fussing over it for nearly seven minutes that he decided, to hell with it. If Midoriya liked him, he’d like him regardless of something as dumb as clothes . Katsuki was great, why shouldn’t he like everything else about him?

He found a clean T-shirt and a nice enough pair of jeans and threw them aside. He pulled out his All Might boxers, wondering if there was even a reason to wear them. It wasn’t like Midoriya would see them. Still, somehow, it just seemed right, so he pulled them on. Katsuki put on the rest of his outfit, kicked on his dingy combat boots, and hurried out of the bus telling himself he didn’t care if Midoriya didn’t like his clothes and it really wouldn’t even matter. 

There were already a handful of people gathered around the coach when Katsuki got there. He was rather disappointed. He had hoped it would have been just him and Midoriya. But it seemed everyone in his band had invited a friend or two. He recognized a few people from bands he had seen, one of the guys from Tsukuyomi, another from Suneater, and a few from Nighthide. Others, he didn’t recognize at all. He bristled at the unfamiliar faces, but that all melted away when Midoriya ran up to him.

“Bakugou!” he chirped. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans as well. And those stupid red sneakers. Katsuki had been worried over nothing, it seemed.

“Didn’t tell me all these extras would be here,” Katsuki muttered.

“Oh, sorry,” said Midoriya, “My bandmates wanted to have a little get together for the fireworks. But we can do our own thing.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“C’mere,” said Midoriya, before turning and walking off.

Katsuki followed him away from the crowd, around the corner of the bus to the back. There were amps stacked up from their set that night, and Midoriya began scaling them.

“The hell are you doing, nerd?” Katsuki questioned, and Midoriya just said, “Follow me.”

Katsuki grunted and climbed after Midoriya. They reached the top of the stack and Midoriya jumped, catching the roof of the bus and heaved himself up. It was a bit awkward, the way he pulled his chest over the hood and scrambled to get on top, and his ass was in Katsuki’s face for most of it. Not that Katsuki minded all that much. Then, once Midoriya had his full body on the bus’s roof, he reached a hand down.

“Fuck off, I can do it myself,” Katsuki said, mimicking the motion Midoriya had done and pulling himself up onto the roof, a bit more gracefully than the other had done. 

Once they were both up, Midoriya led them to the ledge on the other side, so they stood over the people gathered on the ground. From up there, they could see the dusky sky, darkening to a deep purple. Midoriya sat and Katsuki followed. Their shoulders pressed together, their knees bumped as they dangled off the edge. He was sitting so close. 

“We can watch from up here,” said Midoriya, “That way no one bothers us.”

Katsuki grinned to himself.

As the others milled out about below, Katsuki relished in the way Midoriya tangentialized about how a fan had gifted him a collector’s edition of his favorite All Might album that he didn’t yet own, which led into a detailed, itemized report of every piece of merch he did own. His voice was calming, sweet and open and so perfectly Midoriya. Katsuki listened to the long winded rant about how much better the Golden Age merch was compared to the modern stuff, letting his fingers trace circles of Midoriya’s knee. 

As the daylight dimmed, and blackness overtook the sky, Midoriya paused and checked his phone.

“They’re starting soon,” he said.

“Better be good.”

They turned their heads as a resounding ‘boom’ erupted from miles away, a scattering of sparks dancing across the night sky in golds and pinks. Another went off soon after, this time blue and silver. 

Katsuki thought it was alright, until he turned and saw the look on Midoriya’s face. He seemed entirely enthralled, a big smile consuming his face, pushing his round cheeks up. His eyes were wide, the light of the fireworks reflecting in them. The fireworks seemed more impressive when he was watching them through Midoriya’s eyes. Katsuki decided he liked them.

“Bakugou,” he whispered, as though trying not to break some invisible spell of silence he had created around them. Like they were watching a movie in theatres. “Isn’t it cool.”

“It doesn’t suck,” he whispered back.

Midoriya turned to face him now, and Katsuki was suddenly being attacked by the other man’s mouth on his own. It was longer than the last kiss, and no less intoxicating. The feeling of Midoriya’s lips, moving, prying, inviting, had Katsuki feeling dizzy. He was soft and warm, and when he pulled away, Katsuki suddenly felt like they had never been further from each other. He chased after Midoriya, desperate to keep him so close.

“I really am glad we’re friends, Bakugou,” Midoriya said softly into the kiss, giving him another soft peck.

Katsuki backed up.

“Hah?”

“Don’t you consider me a friend?” he asked, looking a bit disappointed.

“After what we just did?” Katsuki balked.

“But we’re both straight? Kissing doesn’t have to be romantic. Friends can kiss,” reasoned Midoriya.

“Can they?” Katsuki asked doubtfully.

“Why not? I like kissing you.”

A shallow piece of Katsuki preened at the comment, though most of him wanted to jump off the roof of the bus. Or throw Midoriya off. Maybe both. The hell was he talking about? It felt like he had given Katsuki whiplash. Midoriya was straight? He was kissing him… as a friend? It didn’t make any sense in Katsuki’s head. A part of him wanted to reach out and strangle Midoriya until he turned purple.

Another part of him didn’t want to lose him by saying something as silly as But I like you .

Chapter Text

“Today I’m here with Ground Zero! Can everyone introduce themselves?”

“Ashido Mina!”

“Kirishima Eijiro!”

“Kaminari Denki!”

“I’m Sero Hanta!”

“Bakugou Katsuki.”

“Wonderful! Now, I’m sure you get asked this all the time, but how are you liking the Plus Ultra Tour so far?”

“We’re loving it!” Mina said. 

“Yeah, we’re playing music, hanging with friends, and traveling the country. What could be better?” added Sero

“It’s really inspiring,” said Kirishima, “It totally changes how I’m thinking about music.”

“How so?”

“Well, before it was always so contained to, like, what our sound is, but now I feel like I’m taking in so many new bands’ sounds, I want to start exploring, ya know?”

“So you think this tour will change the sound of Ground Zero?”

“Not totally, but I think you’ll hear new influences and ideas in the future.”

“Exciting!”

The interviewer pressed the band with questions that Katsuki didn’t feel much like answering. None were pointed at him, so he took a backseat, something he was rarely comfortable with, though these situations were an exception. 

Eventually, however, his quietness seemed to be noticed, and he was spoken to directly.

“Katsuki,” said the interviewer, and he cringed, “You’re known to be something of a lone wolf, but a lot of fans have taken notice of your budding friendship with Midoriya Izuku from Deku. People have been wondering, is there something in the works with the two bands?”

“No,” said Katsuki, “We just hang out.”

“Would you be open to a collaboration?”

“Maybe.”

“Fingers crossed. I’m sure people would love to hear something from you two. I know I would.”

Sure you would , Katsuki thought bitterly.

Midoriya liked kissing Katsuki. That wasn’t exactly a secret, he had said it before, but Katsuki hadn’t anticipated just how much the man liked to kiss. After their conversation on the roof of the bus, Midoriya seemed to feel as though he was entitled to Katsuki’s mouth. The flood gates were open and Katsuki wasn’t complaining. How could he, when every time he was alone with the man, he was being attacked with an armada of lips on him.

Midoriya still maintained that this was just platonic, that he only saw Katsuki as a friend. But he kissed him, and that was something. He wasn’t exactly happy with their situation, really, it was eating at him like a parasite deep in his chest, but something seemed better than nothing.

They were in Katsuki’s bunk, the rest of the band blissfully unaware of them as they lounged about the living area. Katsuki had told them briskly, “We’re gonna watch a movie,” and dragged Midoriya away from his bandmates. Tucked away in the darkness of the bunk, Midoriya had climbed on top of him and begun devouring. 

Katsuki had been pleased to find that kissing Midoriya never got any less exciting. Every time, it was like he was being struck by lightning in the best way. Maybe he was just still deep in the honeymoon phase, but it just seemed like an endless ocean he never wanted to find land in. 

Their sweat sticky skin clung where it met, hot with summer and closeness and want. Their lips moved together like a choreographed routine, like Katsuki knew just when Midoriya would dart his tongue out to prod at the seam of his lips, was ready to open for him. Midoriya licked into his mouth, hummed, smiled. Katsuki let Midoriya overtake him. As their tongues slid together. He had never been one to give, to relent, but when it was Midoriya pushing him, he just wanted to be taken apart and sewn back together in whatever configuration Midoriya chose. It didn’t feel like losing, not when it felt so much better than fighting against it. He wanted to be underneath, to be at his mercy. He wanted .

Katsuki’s hands wandered to the hem of Midoriya’s shirt, slipping under to drag along his firm stomach. Midoriya sighed.

Midoriya pushed and pushed and pushed. He pushed until Katsuki was tilting his head back, arching under Midoriya. His leg shifted to pin Midoriya to him and he moaned softly at the friction that movement created.

“Bakugou,” Midoriya panted, pulling away much to Katsuki’s displeasure, “We can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Katsuki asked, anxious to get Midoriya back on him.

“I’m not gay, we can’t, you know…” he explained hurriedly.

Katsuki rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, just keep kissing me.”

Aizawa told him to do a Q&A, and though he didn’t want to, he opened up the band website and typed out a quick post.

Ask me questions

Bakugou

It didn’t take long before the questions started flooding in. He had thought he would have time to put answering them off, but he had neglected to take into consideration that many fans checked the website near constantly, awaiting any sliver of interaction from the band. He scanned over some of the top questions.

Who are you writing about? was the number one question.

Others were of similar vein of too personal, asking Favorite sex position? Have you ever slept with a bandmate? and Would you ever sleep with a fan?

He slammed his laptop shut. He would wait for more questions to roll in. Hopefully, by then there would be some damn normal questions like who his favorite band was or whether he preferred coffee or tea. Something that didn’t make him want to retire from music forever and fade into obscurity.

There was a massive tear through the Mid Tom of Katsuki’s drum set. Maybe he had been a little rough on it during their last set. It was only because he had Midoriya watching him and he had to go all out. Now, he was standing in a music shop, looking for a replacement drum head. Kaminari and Mina flanked him, citing boredom and new guitar strings as their reasoning for being there. 

He could have easily just sent someone else to get the head for him, one of the new benefits of being in a famous band, but Midoriya was busy with work for Deku all day and Katsuki was feeling the restlessness of cabin fever laying around the bus. He was itching for something to do, and without Midoriya, this seemed like a good enough option.

So as he perused the aisles of the music shop in whatever the fuck city they were in now, his bandmates stood by him, commenting on the various goods being sold and goofing off. Kaminari had found his strings quickly, grabbing a pack of Fender 09s, and Mina was only there for her own amusement, so there was nothing left for them to do but pester Katsuki. 

Mina was trying to talk him into buying a fancy new set, one with a shiny black cherry shell.

“It’s so your style, Bakubro,” she told him.

“Just need a replacement head,” he grunted, “My kit’s fine.”

Katsuki liked his kit. He had had it for years, and sure, it was a little beat up, but it was familiar to him, felt like it was molded to his style after all the years of brutalizing the thing. He refused to play on anything else if he could help it. It was matte black, with a large orange ‘X’ painted across the batter head of the bass drum. It was recognizable. It was reliable. It was his. And it was good enough for a professional, even if he could afford a pricier kit, there was no need.

“Bakubro will die before he replaces that kit,” said Kaminari.

Eventually, Katsuki found the head he was looking for and they went up to the register to pay. As they left, bags in hand, they were stopped at the doorway by a small group of nervous looking girls.

“Excuse me,” one said, fiddling with a strand of her box blonde hair, “You’re Ground Zero, right?”

“We are!” Mina confirmed, “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh my god, it’s so cool to meet you, I’m—I mean, we’re such big fans!” the girl gushed.

“That’s so cool! What’s your names?” Mina asked.

The girls went around introducing themselves. Their names were forgotten as soon as they passed Katsuki’s ears. He was calling them Blondy , Eyeliner , and Skinny Jeans in his mind. 

“Could you sign something for us?” asked Eyeliner.

“Of course!” said Kaminari and Mina.

The girls all scrambled to find something for them to sign. Blondy produced a book, Eyeliner a napkin, and Skinny Jeans presented a crumpled gum wrapper. Mina fished around in her purse before she found a pen, signing each item while chatting with the girls, then handing the pen off to Kaminari who did the same. When it was Katsuki’s turn to sign, he did so quickly, with barely a glance at the girls. 

It wasn’t that Katsuki hated fans. Just hated meeting them. It was like having someone admit to having a crush on you who you didn’t like back, just incredibly awkward. It used to boost his ego, give him a heightened sense of superiority. To know he was admired, that he mattered. But the excitement had long worn off and now it was just a chore.

“Thank you so much,” said Eyeliner.

Then the group was scampering off and Katsuki was once again alone with his idiot bandmates.

“That was so cute,” said Mina as they too began to walk away from the music shop.

“It’s still so weird being recognized,” said Kaminari, “I’ve never been famous before!”
“No shit, moron,” said Katsuki.

“I’m just saying, even though it’s not that new, it feels new. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do in those situations.”

“Just be nice. I think you’re good,” shrugged Mina.

“Aw, thanks,” Kaminari lilted.

“At least you’re better than Bakubro, he didn’t even talk to them.”

“Not my job to be nice.”

“It kinda is, dude,” said Kaminari.

“No, it’s my job to make awesome music. Everything else is bullshit.”

“All about the music,” sighed Mina.

The two continued to tease him as he herded them back to the festival grounds. His chest burned the whole way.

Katsuki’s phone was buzzing, which was odd, because Midoriya was currently underneath him, definitely not calling him. Katsuki straddled the other man’s lap, lips locked together as they desecrated the bus’s leather couch. No one ever called him except Midoriya, or sometimes Aizawa in an emergency. He figured it must have been the ladder and so he, begrudgingly, pulled away. He took his phone from his pocket, flinging it open and jamming his finger down on the “accept call” button.

“What?” he asked as he brought the device to his ear.

“Bakubro!” came Kirishima’s cheery voice, “Do you prefer salt and vinegar chips, or sour cream and onion?”

“The fuck?”

“Just wondering.”

“Salt and vinegar. I’m not some freak. Why the fuck would you call me about this, dipshit? I was busy!”

“Salt and vinegar, got it!” responded Kirishma, before quickly hanging up.

Katsuki grumbled to himself, tossing his phone away before turning expectantly back to Midoriya.

“It’s cute how your friends call you Bakubro,” said Midoriya, who had apparently been listening in on the conversation. 

“No it ain’t.”

“Can I call you that?” asked Midoriya.

“Like hell,” scoffed Katsuki as he leaned in the nip at Midoriya’s cheek.

“Well, can I call you something? ‘Bakugou’ feels so impersonal.”

Katsuki felt a bit heady, thinking Midoriya wanted something more personal.

“Just call me Katsuki then.”

“But I want to call you something special. What about…” he paused to think, “Kacchan!”

Hearing the nickname sent a shiver down Katsuki’s spine, made warmth pool in his stomach. It was embarrassing how easily it had him melting.

“No,” he said with a groan.

“Aw but I like Kacchan,” Midoriya pouted.

“Nerd.”

“Please, Kacchan?”

“Ugh.

“Kacchaaan,” Midoriya begged.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, “Fine. Call me whatever you want.”

Midoriya smiled up at him, eyes alight with joy and Katsuki’s chest clenched. He was so cute.
“Kacchan,” sang Midoriya happily.

“Fucker.”

“ Kacchan. ”

“You’re awful.”

Midoriya frowned, giving a faux look of dejection. Katsuki rolled his eyes, but nuzzled at Midoriya’s forehead with his nose. Midoriya pulled him down, pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and trailed a gentle hand across the side of his face.

“Call me it again,” Katsuki muttered as they pulled apart.

“Kacchan.”

“Shit. You’re—” Perfect. Incredible. Everything . Katsuki wanted to gag at himself.  He breathed, holding back the words and trying to redirect the conversation to something that would pull at his heartstrings just a little less. “I can’t call you ‘Midoriya’ now if you have some special nickname for me,” he said.

“What do you want to call me?”

“What about Deku? It’s written with the same kanji as your name, ain’t it?”

“You can’t call me by my band’s name, it’ll be confusing.”

“It ain’t confusing. You’re just slow.”

“Kacchan,” he whined.

“Deku,” Katsuki threw back, “What you don’t like it?”

“It’s not that, just…”

“Just what?”

“People used to call me Deku to make fun of me, so I guess I hesitate, but…”

“But?”

“Well, I wanted to reclaim it. That’s why I named the band that. It’s still weird sometimes, but I like the name now. Especially if you’re the one calling me it.”

The tips of Katsuki’s ears heated up, and he asked, “So, Deku?”

“You can call me Deku,” Midoriya nodded decidedly.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he said, putting his hands on Katsuki’s hips and rubbing soft circles with his thumbs.

Katsuki smiled, placing a quick peck on Midoriya’s - Deku’s - lips, before saying teasingly, “Pretty egotistical to name the band after yourself, no?”

“Kacchan! It’s not like I’m some dictator who made us take the name! Everyone liked it! We voted!” Deku protested.

“Yeah right,” said Katsuki as he leaned in towards Deku, capturing him in yet another kiss. It progressed quickly, Midoriya biting at Katsuki’s lip until he opened his mouth and let Deku in. Their tongues snaked together, and a soft moan escaped Katsuki. He felt Deku’s hands slide from around his hips to grip his ass, kneading at the muscle there.

He could feel Deku stiffening under him, and it made Katsuki’s head spin. Katsuki himself was growing hard as the kiss furthered and he couldn’t help but to rub his ass against Deku, a deep desire to take things further blinding him.

He heard a faint shifting in the bus, but he was too enthralled in the many places they were pressed together to really take note, letting Deku deeper inside, letting his hands pull at the green strands of hair at the bottom of his neck, letting himself grind down onto Deku. 

It wasn’t until he heard a yelp from behind him that he was scrambling backwards, falling off Deku’s lap sideways onto the couch gracelessly. He turned, face undoubtedly flushed, to find Kirishima staring and tripping over himself as he entered the bus. Katsuki could see Deku adjusting his pants out of the corner of his eye while Kirishima started backing away.

“Sorry!” he said quickly, “I didn’t know you guys were, uh, in here…”

“Get the fuck out!” Katsuki barked.

“On it!” said Kirishima with a small salute before he was stumbling back out of the nightliner.

Silence permeated the air for a while after Kirishima left, the mood totally killed and both men left to sit awkwardly with each other.

Deku sighed.

“I should probably get going,” he said, “I have another interview soon.”

“Yeah, okay.” 

Katsuki wanted to drag Deku back down to him as the other man got up, but resisted. He let him go without another word.

As Deku exited the bus, he turned back with a small smile on his face and said, “Bye, Kacchan. I’ll see you later.”

The sound of the nickname had Katsuki floundering again, as he sputtered out, “Whatever, Deku.”

Deku’s smile just grew before he turned back and headed out.

Katsuki let his head fall back onto the couch as he groaned. Kirishima better not talk , he thought. Lord knew he had hell to pay if he did.

Kirishima came back onto the bus a little while after Deku left, like he had been waiting. He had a bag of chips in his hand that he threw Katsuki’s way.

“They were giving these out by the merch tables,” he explained.

Katsuki looked at the bag in his lap, Salt and Vinegar chips.

Looking back up at his friend, he said, “You didn’t see anything.”

“Nope, nothing,” agreed Kirishima, then, after a moment, he added, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

Kirishima sat down next to Katsuki anyway.

“You know, doing that in the living room is basically asking to be walked in on. If you want to keep it a secret, maybe don’t do that.”

“Like you know anything about keeping things a secret,” grumbled Katsuki, “Can’t hear myself think when you and Pinky go at it.”

“We’re dating, Bakubro, we’re not keeping anything a secret.”

“You could stand to be a little more discreet.”

“Sorry,” laughed the redhead, before continuing, “So, you and Midoriya are official, then?” 

“No. We’re just friends.”

“Bakubro,” he said seriously, “I get, you’re not super open about your emotions, but I just walked in on you two practically about to fuck on the couch, you don’t need to pretend. Come on, bro, let it out. I won’t judge or anything, that wouldn’t be manly.”

“I’m telling you, we’re just friends. Shitty nerd just likes kissing.”

“Seriously?” Katsuki nodded and a puzzled look crossed Kirishima’s face, “You’re in denial that bad?”

“I’m not denying shit! He’s the one who said we’re just friends. He’s not gay, so the hell am I supposed to do?” Katsuki lamented.

“That looked pretty gay to me?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes.

“Don’t need to convince me.”

“How long has this been going on?” asked Kirishima.

“Bout a week,” Katsuki shrugged.

“Well, maybe if you give it time, Midoriya will realize that whole ‘just friends’ thing is ridiculous and he’ll want to be together,” Kirishima said.

“Don’t give a shit.”

“You’re fine with this?” he asked, like he didn’t believe Katsuki.

“Wouldn’t be doing it if I wasn’t,” because when had Katsuki ever done anything he didn’t want to? Well, lately, a lot, actually. But whatever, that was work stuff. This was different. He wanted to do what Deku wanted. Yeah, maybe he also wanted more , but he knew better than to push on that front for the time being. For now, being friends who kissed was good enough. 

Kirishima seemed to think otherwise, advising, “Just be careful, Bakugou.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m just saying, you have big feelings. If this thing with Midoriya doesn’t go your way, are you gonna be alright?”

“Of course I am, idiot! You think I’m gonna let the nerd get the better of me?”

Kirishima laughed and said, “No. Definitely not. But still, I don’t wanna see you get screwed over.”

“I told you, I’m fine with things.”

“Okay, man. Then I’m happy for you.”

“Sappy bastard.”

Kirishima smiled and gave him a playful punch on his shoulder. 

Katsuki would be fine if it didn’t ever work out between him and Deku. He would be fine. He didn’t need everything from him. Even if they just spent the rest of their lives as friends, as long as Deku kept him close, everything would be fine. Katsuki wasn’t going to fall apart over something as dumb as romance. He wasn’t.

Katsuki was checking the responses on his Q&A post. Most were still too perverse for his taste, and so he decided to put off answering for a few more days.

It was another long afternoon of sitting at the merch table, talking with fans and signing for them. Katsuki was baking under the sun, trying not to lose his temper as the hundredth person asked him who he was writing his blog posts about, until ‘fiction’ no longer sounded like a real word. He was one comment away from exploding.

A boy came up to the table, looking shy as he presented Katsuki with a CD. Katsuki pulled it forward on the table, scribbling his name, and pushing it back.

“I—uh,” the boy stammered, “I just wanted to say, I really love your music.”

“Cool.”

“And… well, you were the reason I realized I was gay, so thanks. For that.”

Normally, Katsuki would be put off by a fan openly admitting their attraction to him. But the boy was so awkward and genuine, like he really just had to get it off his chest without any expectations of Katsuki after the fact, that he just nodded his head and said, “Good taste.”

The boy blushed, thanking him for the autograph, before hurrying away and the next person in line stepped up.

Deku had taken to watching every Ground Zero set. He would sit side stage, grinning like an idiot the whole time. It made every performance feel like a challenge. 

Are you watching me, Deku? Are you seeing me?

Katsuki played his heart out every night. On more than one occasion, he broke one of his sticks, until he had broken so many he ran out of extras and a stage hand would have to run out and drop a new one into his hand. He wanted Deku to see how great he was, to look at him like he was incredible, to tell him how good he was. Every time he heard an excited, “Kacchan, you were so amazing out there!” he felt like his heart was doing backflips inside his ribcage in the best way. He put his all into every performance, knowing Deku was there, watching him.

And Katsuki was watching back. He went to Deku’s sets most nights, side stage, watching the back of Deku as he sang. His voice never failed, and Katsuki liked to imagine he was the micstand when he would grip it just so, put his lips right up to the windscreen and belt. Every night, they would close on Zero Gravity and Deku would rip his voice apart, almost screaming the bridge, but somehow still sounding so sweet and delicate behind all that power. The song would end on a cracked note, Deku would thank the audience, and then he’d be walking off stage to pull Katsuki into a bone crushing, adrenalized hug that Katsuki would never admit he liked. 

He was an even better performer than he had been the first time Katsuki had seen them. Almost as if knowing Katsuki was watching pushed Midoriya the same way it did Katsuki when he knew Deku was there. As if his presence made a difference. Katsuki had almost convinced himself it did. How could he not in situations like these?

“Kacchan,” Deku groaned into his mouth.

Ground Zero had just finished their set that night, and Katsuki had been particularly sweaty when he exited the stage, a mixture of summer heat and exertion. His skin was shiny and slick, and Deku had been looking at him like he was starving for him, quickly dragging him away from prying eyes. They didn’t even make it back to a bus, instead tucking themselves away in some corner that was out of the way of most of the festival’s foot traffic, before Deku was pulling him flush against himself and drinking him in.

“Kacchan’s amazing,” he said for the millionth time, though it felt just as wonderful as it did every night.

“Course I am,” breathed Katsuki.

Their lips found each other, and soon they were desperately lapping each other up. It tasted like the salt of sweat that was clinging to Katsuki’s lips, and they both smelled like they had run miles to get here, but it didn’t matter. They were so close that even the ugliness started to become pleasurable. As if everything about Deku, good or bad, had some innate ability to drive Katsuki wild. He didn’t care that it was gross, and they both badly needed a shower, because Deku’s hands were curling around his waist, because Deku’s hips were pressed against his own, because Deku’s mouth was eating him alive. 

“Kacchan,” he said between kissing, “Kacchan’s so good.”

“Fuck, Deku,” Katsuki groaned.

Deku moved down to mouth at Katsuki’s jaw, and he threw his head back, savoring the feeling of sucking and gentle licks as they trailed down his throat to the hollow of his collarbone. 

“So good,” Deku said again.

Katuski was fucked. 

Tell me how good I am. I need to hear it. It makes me feel like maybe there’s more to this than just friends. Is that even possible now? I feel like I’m being consumed by you, like I’m drowning in you, like I’m on my knees praying to you. I’m a thread wrapped tight around your finger. Do you really not feel it? Or are you just telling yourself that because you’re scared? I’ll tell you a secret, but you have to promise to keep it. I’m scared too. And I don’t know how I’ll survive this, but I will as long as it keeps your mouth on me. I’m desperate to do any/everything with you, so I wish you’d take advantage of that more. This is good. For now. Will it ever get better? I’m holding out hope. Cause aren’t I a catch? If I give you enough time, will you see that and want me the way I want you? Would you give it some thought?

I like it when you call me,

Kacchan

Chapter Text

Q: Do you ever smile?

A: When I’m fucking happy dipshit.

Q: Spicy or sweet?

A: Spicy.

Q: Will you be writing more songs for your next album? You only had one on Dynamight :(

A: Duh.

Q: Who’s Kacchan?

A: Me dumbass.

Katsuki had ultimately decided to let his bandmates pick questions for him to answer, the stipulation being that they couldn’t pick anything that would “piss him off”. They had done alright for the most part, though Mina had picked the last question and it had made Katsuki clench his teeth. Still, he figured at least if he answered it on the website now, maybe people wouldn’t start asking him in real life. He had done it to himself, writing about his shitty feelings he supposed and signing off with some cheesy nickname, but it was annoying nonetheless. It hadn’t been an invitation for people to pry, just a way to get it all off his chest. It was only ever meant for Deku.

Sero had dragged everyone out to a lake a few miles away from the festival grounds. They all had a free afternoon and the heat was starting to get unbearable as a wave of it had hit the last few days as June turned into July, so he had insisted they make the little excursion. They had settled at a small, hilly outlet in the forest, where a rope swing had been tied to the branch of a tall, thick oak tree. There was a thin sand bar that was lapped at by the green lake water, which shimmered under the afternoon sun in a way that made Katsuki think of Deku’s eyes when he got excited. God, what an obnoxious thought.

Deku was there too, along with his bandmates. Sero had invited them, though Katsuki figured it was mostly just to please Half-and-Half. If it were Katsuki, he wouldn’t have invited all the extras, but Sero swore that being friends with Half-and-Half’s friends was important. 

The others were in the water. Mina waded in the shallows with Round Face, while Glasses and Frog Face raced through deeper waters. Kirishima and Kaminari had brought a volleyball, which they passed back and forth, while Deku, Sero, and Half-and-Half took turns on the rope swing.

Katsuki sat up the hill in a small bed of pine needles and dirt, watching the others from a distance. He didn’t like getting wet, so he had dropped his stuff down far enough away from the water and promptly planted himself there. He was more than content to just watch Deku as he romped. He would grab the rope swing, running up the hill with it, then pulled himself up in a way that beautifully flexed his biceps, swinging from the hill down over the water and jumping off with a splash. His wet hair as he came back up would hang off his head like seaweed, and his bare skin would shine with droplets of water.

He had a nice body. Chiseled muscles from the gods, and sweet freckles that traveled all the way down his skin. He was tanned from a summer of being outside, and the way his wet swim trunks clung to him had Katsuki’s mind wandering to rather depraved places. 

He fiddled with pine needles as Deku trudged through water, exposing his waist, until Katsuki could see the ‘v’ of his hips disappearing under the waistband of his suit.

After a few hours, the others tired a bit and only Kirishima, Kaminari, and Frog Face, who had joined in their game, were left in the water. Mina and Sero came to sit with Katsuki while Deku and his bandmates settled at the edge of the water.

Sero fished around his backpack until he found a baggie full of weed, his grinder, papers, and filters. He set to work grinding his weed and rolling it into a joint. 

“Bakubro, find me a twig,” he said as he licked at the rolled paper.

Katsuki tore his gaze from where it had been trained, locked onto Deku, and scanned the ground around him before he found an appropriately sized stick for Sero to pack with, handing it over.

Sero tamped down the weed that was already in the roll, before pinching up some more from his grinder and sprinkling it in, doing so until he had a nice, fat, joint. He dug around in his bag some more, coming up empty, and asking, “Shit. Anyone got a lighter?”

Mina pulled one from her own bag and gave it to him. He flicked it and brought the flame to the tip of the joint. He took two hits before passing it to Mina.

“You want any?” she asked Katsuki when she had finished.

“No,” he said, focus still on Deku.

She shrugged, following his gaze, before calling out, “Anyone want in?”

The members of Deku all stood and joined Katuski’s group, creating a circle on the hill. Katsuki sat between Mina and Deku. Mina offered the joint to Deku, who took it, breathing in a couple hits before handing it off to Round Face. It skipped over Glasses and went to Half-and-Half, then the circle started over. Katsuki didn’t pay much mind to the slow conversation passing between the smokers, instead, his focus trained on Deku.

Deku had dried off, but there were still a few stray drops decorating his skin, and his hair hung in damp curls. Katsuki, without thinking, raised his hand and twirled a curl around his finger. Deku looked at him and smiled.

“You smell like lake,” said Katsuki.

“I swam,” he answered, “Why didn’t you go in the water? It was so refreshing!”

“Don’t like bein’ wet.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” said Katsuki.

Mina leaned over him and the joint was passed back to Deku. He took two hits, before passing again.

“But I wanted to swim with you.”

“Good luck, nerd.”

Deku seemed to have taken that as a challenge as, after the joint was out and everyone started wading back into the water, he grabbed Katsuki by the arm and forced him up. He tugged at Katsuki like a dog with a toy as Katsuki dug his heels into the earth trying to resist him. Deku’s muscles, it seemed, weren’t just for show. Katsuki was hardly weak, and yet he still felt a bit overpowered by the man, and at some point, he liked it enough to let Deku drag him into the lake.

Once he was in, there was no point in fighting and so he took off, swimming speedily through water and calling, “Better be fast if you wanna keep up, Deku!”

A smile crossed Deku’s face as he dove in after Katsuki. They raced across the lake until their feet couldn’t touch the bottom, then further. Once they were a ways out, Katsuki stopped. Deku paddled over to him. They kept themselves afloat in place, before Katsuki put his hand to the top of Deku’s head and dunked him, pushing him down with as much force as he could. Deku came back up a few seconds later, spitting water and gasping.

“Kacchan!” he cried, “That’s dirty!”

“That’s what you get for making me come in here.”

“But it was worth it.”

Underneath the surface, Deku’s hand found his fingers snaking around each other in some clandestine hold. It made it a little harder to tread, but Katsuki liked the way it made his heart race.

Soon, they had to leave. Deku’s set was approaching and they still had a half hour walk back to the festival grounds, so they all began packing their things and they were on their way. It was a nicer walk back than it had been getting there, their skin cooled by the lake water and offering some reprieve from the blistering sun. Deku walked next to Katsuki the whole way, his pinky finger curled around Katsuki’s. Maybe it was just because he was high that Deku did it. Still, Katsuki’s heart raced and he couldn’t hold back the satisfied smile that forced its way onto his face.

Katsuki heaved himself from his bunk as soon as Deku texted. As he stepped out of the bus into the muggy night, he passed Sero and Kaminari smoking cigarettes in their lawn chairs. The purple haired guy from Nighthide was with them. He looked tired, the way Aizawa always did. Actually, he looked quite a bit like Aizawa, and Katsuki wondered if Kaminari had ever thought about sleeping with their manager. He pushed the thought from his head. 

They greeted him and he gave a gruff murmur in response. He kept walking, feeling sweat rolling in fat beads down his skin after only a few minutes.

He found Round Face relaxed on the couch as he pushed though into the cool AC of Deku’s bus. She had a book in her hands, looking up from it as he entered.

He didn’t need to say anything to her, Deku’s bandmates already accustomed to the routine, as she told him, “Izuku’s in his bunk.”

Katsuki grunted in answer as he brushed past her. 

He went into the bunk area, tugging at Izuku’s curtain back and finding the green haired man laying down on his back, phone in hand. He looked at Katsuki, a smile lighting up his face. 

“Kacchan!”

“Hey, nerd,” said Katsuki, climbing up into the bunk. Deku shifted so that they were pressed side by side against each other. He immediately moved to play with Katsuki’s hair. Katsuki leaned into it, savoring the warm, firm hand at his head. They were both a little sweaty and gross, and being smushed together was kind of uncomfortable even with the AC, but Katsuki couldn’t complain. He just wanted Deku closer.

“You still smell like lake.”

Deku pouted, and said, “I had to go play right after we got back, and then I watched your set. I haven’t had the chance to shower.”

“Gross.”

Deku rolled his eyes.

“How was your day?”

“Shit. Stupid fucking interviews all morning. Then some loser made me go into some dirty ass lake with a bunch of bigger losers. Didn’t even want to be there,” said Katsuki, adding “Just wanted to see you.”

Deku’s grin grew as his cheeks became rosy. Damn cute.

“Careful. Smile at me like that and I’ll start getting ideas,” warned Katsuki teasingly. Though it wasn’t a joke. Kirishima’s words ran through his mind at that moment, maybe if you give it time, Midoriya will realize that whole ‘just friends’ thing is ridiculous and he’ll want to be together.

“Ideas?”

“Shit that’d make that shitty jealous girlfriend of your’s come for my head.”

“Yeah?”

“Make you forget she even exists.”

Deku’s smile grew even wider, if possible.

“Wow, you really think you could do that?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you ever had a girlfriend, Kacchan?” Deku asked as he ran a hand through Katsuki’s blonde locks.

“No,” he said.

“Really?”

“What? You think I’m fucking weird for that?” Katsuki accused.

“No, no. Just, I figured you would have. You’re really hot,” explained Deku, blushing furiously.

“Think so?”

“It’s just a fact, Kacchan.”

“Well, I never wanted a girlfriend. Not into that.”

“Oh.”

“What about you, rockstar? You got a bedpost full of notches or what?”

“N-no,” laughed Deku awkwardly, “I’ve had a few girlfriends, but I don’t, like, sleep around I guess.”

He didn’t sleep around. He was the type to date. He had had girlfriends .

The idea of Deku being with someone else, with some nameless, faceless girls, made Katsuki feel a bit ill. That someone else got to call him their boyfriend. That he was capable of being with someone like that, and Katsuki wanted to ask why not him? He didn’t though.

“So that innocent thing ain’t an act, huh?” Katsuki asked instead.

“I’m not that innocent,” said Deku, leaning in a bit. Katsuki’s chest flared with a possessive pang. They were so close. Why did it feel like they were still so far apart? Why could someone else call Deku theirs when Katsuki was still just a friend?

“Guess not,” replied Katsuki lowly, before leaning in as well to close the aching gap between them. Their lips slotted together in a now familiar way, two weeks of experience under their belts. It was aggressive, and Katsuki felt as though he were trying to mark his territory with the kiss, like if he could force his tongue deep enough, he’d reach some untouchable part of Deku that no one else had ever found. It almost hurt. His lips were sore and his body was on fire. He couldn’t tell if the fire was jealousy or desire. 

Things began to heat up, and Katsuki could feel Deku hardening against him. Katsuki himself was no better off. It happened a lot, but he knew Deku wouldn’t let him take it any further.

He pulled away, muttering, “Your girlfriends ever kissed you like that?”

“No. Only you, Kacchan,” said Deku.

“If I was a chick, think I’d be one of ‘em by now?” It spilled from his lips before he had time to think about it, and he immediately wished he could have taken it back. He hated how embarrassingly desperate and pathetic he sounded.

Then, Deku said, “Yeah.”

Katsuki wanted to scream.

Your eyes in the water, the water on your skin. I want to see you like that all the time. I want to see your body. I want to undress you. Desperate and pathetic. You always stop me before things go too far. Would it be too far, though? If I let you do that to me? I don’t know, I guess you’re the more experienced one with this sorta stuff. It’s not like I’m asking for a honeymoon suite, roses petals on white bedsheets. Tucked away in your bunk, cramped and contorted, is good enough for me. But you don’t wanna give, so I don’t get to take. I wanna give, but you won’t take. Maybe if I give it time, you'll realize. How much time do I have with you? Will I see you again after this whole thing ends? August 15th, marked in my calendar like the date of a tombstone. Please, stay close to me.

Wish I was your girl,

Kacchan

Katsuki was walking the festival grounds, looking for Stage Gamma where Fiber Master was supposed to be playing. He hadn’t seen one of their sets yet this summer, usually he was busy when they played. But he had been into their music for years, so when an interview was rescheduled, he had jumped at the opportunity to see them.

Of course, walking the grounds was dangerous. Amongst the flocks of people, a fan had spotted Katsuki and pinned him down into a conversation.

“...And you’re just such an amazing drummer, it’s incredible how versatile you are. It’s so inspiring! You’re a huge influence on my band, if you ever get the chance, you should check out our demos, they’re on our MySpace under…” Katsuki began to tune out the kid’s overly excited ramblings.

“Yeah sure,” he said noncommittally.

“But I had a question too, actually,” the kid continued, “You started posting on the website. What’s that about? I heard you had a thing with Midoriya Izuku from Deku, is that true?”

“The fuck?” bawked Katsuki, suddenly paying a whole lot more attention, “Where the fuck did you hear that?”

“Oh, it’s going around some forums. I guess some people saw you two holding hands the other day on your way to your bus and—”

“Well fuck that shit. We ain’t got a thing .”

“I figured! It’s crazy how many people want to think that you’re gay, but most people are calling it bullshit. I just wanted to make sure! So who are you writing about, then?”

“It’s fiction,” said Katsuki for what felt like the millionth time. It really might have been.

When he finally shook the eager fan, he made his way to Stage Gamma, though he couldn’t enjoy the show. His mind was preoccupied, buzzing with thoughts about what the fan had said. There was speculation that he and Deku were together. And the kid had said it was being brushed off, but still. That was dangerous. If… whatever it was they were doing got out, it could mean a smoky death for both of their careers just as they had started to rocket off. While the idea of his music’s popularity quickly fizzling out into nothing was nerve wracking, what scared him more was the thought that it might very well mark the end of him and Deku. Deku would panic, pull away from him until they were too far apart to be anything. Not even friends. Like a rope, fraying at the middle, chords splitting and splitting until they were just two ends separated. Katsuki couldn’t let that happen. None of it.

They just had to be cautious. They weren’t used to their every move being so carefully watched and analyzed, and so they had slipped up. They had been careless before. But now, Katsuki would make sure that they were never caught. Anything to keep Deku close.

“You and Half-and-Half serious?” Sero looked up from his laptop at Katsuki’s question.

“Not really, why?”

“I dunno. Just wondering what the fuck you two are doing.”

“That’s not like you,” Sero chuckled.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Sero shrugged it off, saying, “It’s a summer fling. Not like we can really get serious if we care about our careers, anyway. We’re not Elton John or anything.”

Katsuki frowned.

“So you’re just fucking around?”

“Mhm.”

“Because you don’t want people to know you like dick?”

“Partly, I guess. It’s also just, like, I dunno. How it is. Neither of us are that interested in anything long term. Why? Trouble with Midoriya?”

“No,” grumbled Katsuki, turning back to his own laptop. Sero didn’t push, so Katsuki was free to scroll the Deku website uninterrupted. 

Deku had posted a few times in the last week. Most were inconsequential to Katsuki, posts about a comic he was reading, about missing his mom, or promoting shows. One, however, had caught his attention, had Katsuki refreshing the page over and over just to make sure it was real. 

It had been uploaded a day ago, not long after Katsuki’s latest post. It was short and simple, but Katsuki couldn’t help but hope. He was obsessed with it, reading and rereading it. He felt crazy every time he saw it.

Wish you were my girl .

Deku

It had to be in response to Katsuki’s signoff on his last post. It had to be. He had even used that stupid nickname. Which meant Deku had read it, had likely read all of them. He knew what Katsuki was feeling. And though Katsuki had been writing to Deku, a part of him hoped the man would never lay eyes on the humiliating splatter of blood and guts that lay in every word. His heart was laid bare, and Deku had seen it.

Wish you were my girl .

But that post meant another thing, that this wasn’t just some summer fling. That wasn’t how it was. Maybe he was scared of the fall out, but Deku wanted him back. He did.

So, if he knew all of this, and he felt the same, why was he so adamant that nothing progressed? Katsuki almost wondered if Deku had made the post, not as a confession, but to taunt Katsuki. It made more sense than anything else his mind could conjure up as explanation. 

Was Deku making fun of him? This whole time? Had he never forgiven Katsuki for being such an asshole the first time they met and this was all revenge? Was he sitting in his bus with his bandmates, laughing at Katsuki? How easy, how eager, how fucking pathetic he was? Was that why he refused to say he was gay?

Wish you were my girl .

God, Katsuki felt like an idiot. He felt like such a fucking idiot. And his temper swelled, burning through him. Heat prickled his eyes, until he felt wet drops sliding down his cheeks.

“...You okay?” Sero asked after a moment, sounding both concerned and uncomfortable.

“WHAT?” Katsuki barked.

“You’re crying, man.”

“THE FUCK I AM,” Katsuki shouted, wiping uselessly at his eyes. He slammed his laptop shut, storming out of the room and collapsing on his bed. He buried his face into his pillow as furious sobs wracked through him. 

fuck u fucking deku

“wish u were my girl”

Katsuki hadn’t seen Deku in a few days, had been avoiding him. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard from him. After he sent his last text, he had been receiving numerous calls and messages from the man.

kacchan?

r u mad?

pls answer

kacchan?

if ur mad pls tell me

i dont understand what i did

i dont want u to b mad at me

can we talk at least?

pls?

kacchan?

And so on. Katsuki never replied. He wanted to. Wanted to hear Deku out, or cuss him out, or just ask him to come over and fall easily into his arms, kiss him until they were out of breath. But that would be weak, to acknowledge him. No, Katsuki wanted a clean cut, to be free of him. Deku didn’t deserve Katsuki’s attention. Deku was a worthless piece of shit who could go die for all Katsuki cared.

Of course, as luck would have it, Ground Zero was hosting a party for another good show that night and, of course, Deku was invited. Katsuki was beginning to hate his band for their incessant need to throw a party every time someone so much as blinked.

Katsuki had elected to stay on the bus through the affair and, try as they might, his bandmates couldn’t get him to budge. Kirishima had quite literally tried to haul Katsuki from his bunk, but was unsuccessful at prying the blonde’s fingers from the ledge, and had eventually tired himself out enough to raise the white flag. 

So Katsuki sat alone in his bed, blaring music through his headphones to drown out the obnoxious chatter from outside. He was listening to an old Mirko album, hoping the aggressive nature of the music would lift his mood from the abysmal grey it had been for days, though it was so far failing. He still felt grey.

After the anger had worn off, something Katsuki didn’t know anger could do, he was just left feeling hollow and bitter. He wished the anger would come back, like it was almost dignifying compared to this empty nothingness he felt. And it was familiar, at least.

He felt his curtain being drawn back. One of his bandmates, he assumed. He didn’t turn to face whoever it was, perfectly content with staring at the wall and ignoring them until they went away, left him to wallow in his misery. But they didn’t. They stayed.

“Fuck off, I don’t wanna be at your stupid party,” he grumbled.

He felt a hand reach out to grasp his shoulder, a thumb rubbing soothing circles. He snapped his head to look at whoever the fuck decided it was a good idea to touch him and was met with Deku. He was crouched so he was at eye level with Katsuki, and Katsuki took a good look at his despondent face. He looked worse for wear, sleepless bags and dark rings around his nervous eyes, hair a mess, and mouth pulled into a pout. 

“ You can especially fuck right off,” Katsuki hissed.

But Deku didn’t move, didn’t even take his hand from Katsuki’s shoulder. Just stared at him with pleading eyes.

“I said go away.”

Deku shook his head. Finally, he moved, reaching up to pull Katsuki’s headphones from his ears, before speaking.

“Kacchan,” he said, voice wobbling, “What did I do?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“I don’t ,” he insisted, “I really don’t. Was it about my post?”

Katsuki didn’t bother responding.

“Kacchan, please talk to me.”

He kept his lips shut.

“I just want to make things right so we can go back to the way things were, Kacchan. I thought it was all good. What did I do?”

He sounded almost desperate. Good , Katsuki thought. 

He only wanted to make fun of Katsuki anyway. It was all an act. He didn’t actually care .

“Would you just say something?” begged Deku.

“Fuck you.”

“Fine. That’s fine. You’re mad, and that’s fine, Kacchan. But things won’t get better if you don’t tell me why .”

The look in Deku’s eyes was starting to make Katsuki feel unbalanced. He was losing his footing, losing his resolve. He just looked so sad . Katsuki turned his head back to the wall to temper the feelings bubbling up under his skin.

“You don’t care about me,” he grumbled, finally.

“I don’t—? What? Kacchan, of course I care about you! You’re one of my best friends!” Deku exclaimed.

“No you don’t.”

“Why do you think I don’t care about you?”

“Why would you write that?” Katsuki asked.

“It’s— I just— You wrote it first,” Deku argued.

“You know how I feel,” Katsuki said, “So why would you write that and still say we’re just friends.”

“I’m not gay, Kacchan.”

“Fuck you.”

“I can’t change that. I care a lot about you, I really do. But I just— I can’t just suddenly be gay.”

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

“So you’d rather just stop talking to me completely?”

No. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want that at all. But he was angry. And he had the right to be. Deku, he had tricked Katsuki. He had made a fool out of him. He had… Deku said he cared about him. He sounded genuine. Had he jumped to conclusions? Katsuki didn’t know what to think. 

“Kacchan?” Deku asked after Katsuki was silent for a moment.

Deku sighed. Katsuki heard rustling, and suddenly, in a panic, he was flipping around and grabbing at Deku’s arm, pulling him back down as Deku made to stand. He didn’t know what to think, but he didn’t want Deku to leave.

“Don’t go,” he said, his voice cracking.

He pulled Deku forward, and Deku let him, until he was being tugged into the bed. He settled facing Katsuki, still looking rather sad. Katsuki wished he would just smile again.

“I care about you a lot,” Deku said softly. He leaned in and gently kissed Katsuki. “I do.”

“I got angry,” Katsuki said uselessly.

“I know. I’m sorry you felt like I didn’t care. Are we… are we okay, Kacchan?”

Katsuki didn’t know the answer to that. He still felt that hollow bitterness burning through him, still felt angry. It felt directionless now, and it was overpowered by his need to keep Deku close. Was that okay? Did that mean they were okay? Nothing felt resolved, but he just couldn’t stomach the thought of going another minute without Deku. The past few days had been torture alone. So he nodded, and Deku kissed him again.

It was long and deep, and at some point, it became frenzied in that way it always seemed to. But unlike usual, when they got too close to something too intimate and Deku heeled, Deku instead let his hands wander down to cup Katsuki’s growing erection. 

Being touched by Deku was like nothing Katsuki had ever felt before. It was like being stripped bare and covered in another person’s blood straight from their still-beating heart. He hoped Deku felt just as good. Neither of them lasted long, but it didn’t seem to matter as they panted into each other’s mouths, coming off their highs, and Deku beamed at him.

Katsuki would never admit it to anyone, but he cried that night. Not like last time, because he was angry. He didn’t know what he was.

Chapter Text

I know you read these. Never thought you did. It makes it kinda awkward. So if this one sucks, it’s on you.

But I can’t stop thinking about the way your hands felt. The way they feel every time. And I kinda wish they never left me. Is this real? The way my mood is never better than when I’m with you, the way you tell me how happy I make you. It feels like the start of some cheesy romance movie that your girlfriend makes you watch. I asked if anyone before me ever kissed you like that, you told me it was only ever me. Can you see why that would drive me a little crazy? Can you understand why, every time you do something that makes it seem like you like me more than just a friend, then dig your heels in, I lose my mind? When you use the name that only I call you now, when you tell me what you want, what I can’t have, I want to take your stupid fucking face in my hands and rip your head off. You know, I’m already yours. Now be mine or fuck off. But you won’t do either. I can’t have heaven or hell. I’m just stuck. Yours. My hands are empty. My heart is too full. I want you. 

I really do,

Kacchan

“Bakugou!” cheered Mina, as he walked into the lounge area of the bus. She stood with Aizawa, who looked his usual perturbed self. “Aizawa was just telling me our ideas for the music videos have been approved! We’ll start filming after Plus Ultra is over!”

“Kay,” said Katsuki. 

“Oh, come on! Show a little excitement!”

Katsuki forced an obviously fake grin, before letting it fall.

“Better?” he asked.

“You’re such a drag,” she pouted. 

“Ashido,” cut in Aizawa, “Could you give us a minute, I need to speak with Bakugou.”

“Oh, sure,” she said. She threw up a peace sign before singing, “Byeee,” and darting out of the bus. 

“What?” asked Katsuki.

“Sit,” said Aizawa.

Katsuki, being his belligerent self, remained standing. His manager seemed unimpressed, though he continued.

“I need to know who you’re writing about.”

“I already told you, it’s fucking fiction.”

“Then why am I hearing about some summer fling going on between you and the singer of Deku?”

Katsuki bristled at the comment. ‘Summer fling’ was putting it rather crassly. It was more than that, wasn't it? Even if Deku denied it, it wasn’t just some fling. Not to Katsuki.

“Where the fuck did you hear that?”

“It’s going around the internet. So I asked Kaminari.”

Kaminari, that little traitor .

It made sense to ask Kaminari, he was afterall, the worst at keeping secrets. Aizawa was smart. Add a little pressure and the idiot was singing like a bird.

“Kaminari doesn’t know shit. Neither do those fucking freaks on the internet.”

“Bakugou,” said Aizawa, a warning tone in his voice.

“What? You’re seriously convinced I have something going on with him?”

“Just tell me. I really don’t want to police your relationships, Lord knows I have better things to think about, but if something is going on that could hurt the band, I need to know.”

“Me and Midoriya ain’t got nothing. We’re friends,” Katsuki bit out. The words felt bitter in his mouth, and Aizawa raised a brow at him.

“Listen, I don’t care if there is something going on between you two. You’re a big boy and you can make your own decisions. But you need to be more discreet. You’re not big enough to take this kind of hit,” said his manager.

“You think I don’t know how to handle my shit?”

“Apparently not.”

“They’re just rumors. I can’t help that,” argued Katsuki.

“Try to help it. Make this disappear. Stop posting about it.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to start making the stupid posts in the first place,” he grumbled.

“Forgive me for thinking you wouldn’t post something quite so revealing,” said Aizawa dryly.

“I’ll post what I want,” stated Katsuki, “If the idiots on the internet want to speculate, that’s not my problem. It ain’t about them.”

“It’s about Midoriya.”

“It’s about fuckin’ me. All these extras can go sit on something sharp for all I care.”

Aizawa sighed, “I’m not getting anywhere with you.”

“So fucking leave me alone.”

“Fine,” said Aizawa, “You want to watch your career fail, go ahead. But I hope you consider how this affects the rest of the band.”

“Nothing's gonna happen cause there ain’t an ounce of truth to those rumors. My career, and everyone else’s, will be just fucking fine.”

“They better be,” was all Aizawa said before he walked away.

Katsuki stood for a moment, waiting for the man to be out of earshot, before he fisted his hands in his hair and let out a roaring scream. Everything was so fucking stupid. He and Deku weren’t even together. Deku wouldn’t let them be. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the whole internet apparently thought they were. It was the worst of both worlds. Everyone thought he had something he didn’t, couldn’t , and that was going to be the end of his entire career? He wished the rumors were true, that he could have just been with Deku. At least then this wouldn’t be rubbing salt in the wound. 

Rumors are bullshit. Don’t believe everything you read. You all look like idiots.

Bakugou

Deku had justified kissing as being nothing more than platonic. Just a bit of fun between friends. There was nothing happening below the belt, so it couldn’t have had any implications as to his sexuality. He could be straight as an arrow with his tongue down another man’s throat, or so he claimed.

Katsuki wondered how this was being justified in Deku’s head when there was undeniably another man’s dick in his hand.

His hand was down Katsuki’s pants, moving in a quick grasp up and down his length, Katsuki’s own hand moving in tandem around Deku. Deku had initiated the touching, he did most of the time, after all. Katsuki was always hesitant, sure he would be told no if he tried. But Deku seemed to have taken to handjobs just as much as he had taken to kissing Katsuki. It made his head spin. It made him hopelessly happy and desperately confused.

“Kacchan,” Deku whimpered, “I’m close.”

“Me too.”

Soon, they were spilling into each other’s palms with brazen groans and shaking breaths. 

Katsuki felt hollowed out. He wasn’t sure if it was just the relief of release, or if it was something deeper, more sinister. He couldn’t help but wish Deku would do something, say something to tell him it was all more than fun. They were more than friends. Because if this was what friends did, was Deku doing this with other friends?  The idea that anyone else got to see Deku like this made Katsuki feel like spitting venom. He claimed he didn’t sleep around, but did this even count in his mind?

“How come you’re okay with this all the sudden?” he asked.

“Because you want it,” said Deku, as though it were that simple, “I just want to show that I care.”

“So you don’t enjoy it?”

“No, I do,” Deku quirked his eyebrow, like he was unsure how Katsuki came to that conclusion.

“Thought you said you didn’t wanna 'cause you weren’t gay or somethin’,” Katsuki said.

“Well, I guess if it’s just this it isn’t so gay. I could do this with you even if you weren’t a man.”

Katsuki huffed.

“That’s some shitty logic,” he said.

“Kacchan,” whined Deku.

“Would you suck my dick?” asked Katsuki crudely.

Deku blushed furiously, sputtering out, “N-no!”

“Would you let me suck your dick?”

“Why—why would you even want to?”

Katsuki shrugged.

“You judge me if I did?” he asked.

“Of course not!”

“So would you let me?”

“Kacchan, can we just… not talk about this right now?” Deku pleaded, eyes falling down as he fidgeted with his hands.

Katsuki tisked, but laid off the topic of blowjobs. Instead, he asked, “What about sex?”

“I’m not talking about this,” Deku stated firmly.

“You ever had sex with your girlfriends?”

“Y-yes, we were dating!”

Katsuki could barf.

“What if I let you put it in? That ain’t that gay.”

“ Kacchan! ” Deku was now beet red.

“Just don’t understand what the big deal is. You don’t mind touchin’ me, why not go further?” Katsuki huffed.

“I just can’t do that stuff, Kacchan,” he said helplessly.

“Why not?”

“I’m not gay !”

“Could have fooled me,” Katsuki griped under his breath. 

“Can’t we just keep doing what we’re doing? I like things the way they are,” Deku said, pouting.

Katsuki rolled his eyes. Truthfully, he would stay by Deku’s side no matter how far this plateau in their relationship lasted. As long as Deku would let him, Katsuki would chase him. But he wanted more. He wanted sex, sure, but mostly, he wanted Deku all to himself. They could never touch again, as long as Deku wasn’t touching someone else.

“Do you do this with anyone else?” he asked, against his better judgement.

Deku looked shocked at the question, before answering a hesitant, “No.”

“Why not?”

“I-I just don’t… Do you?”

“No.”

“Well if you want to, you can. I don’t want to hold you back, Kacchan, or make you feel trapped—”

“I don’t feel trapped, idiot,” said Katsuki, “I just don’t do shit I don’t wanna do.”

“Oh, okay,” Deku responded, flushed and nervous looking. His lips were pursed like he was holding something back.

“What, shit nerd? Got something to say?”

“Just, it means a lot to me that we do this. I think you’re my best friend, Kacchan.”

Katsuki’s heart ached. He wanted to throttle Deku, to kick him out and throw a temper tantrum. He wanted to bang his head against the wall and make Deku watch him bleed out. He wanted Deku to want him, to just fucking say it, instead of insisting that they were nothing more than friends. What the hell would it take to get him to say it? 

Katsuki felt like he was playing by Deku’s rules, never pushing too far, never asking outright for what he wanted. It was exhausting, and his patience was wearing thin. How long could he keep letting Deku hold the reins if he was never going to take them anywhere? How could Katsuki make him feel the same? He didn’t know. He felt totally lost in the dark about how to win Deku over. All he knew was that if the nerd called him his ‘best friend’ again, it would probably kill him.

“I’ll murder you if you say that shit again.”

“ Kacchan! ”

The crowd was as packed as any night since the tour had started. Fans in the audience cheered as they took the stage, waving hands and signs that read praise for the band and its members in the air. 

“Hello, Plus Ultra!” Mina screamed into the mic as they stepped into their places. There was more cheering and she continued, “My name is Ashido Mina. On lead guitar we have Kaminari Denki!” Kaminari let out a wailing tone from his guitar, “On rhythm, Kirishima Eijiro!” Kirishima struck a power chord, “On bass, Sero Hanta!” Sero plucked out a quick riff, “And on drums, Bakugou Katsuki!” Katsuki played a quick fill, and Mina finished, “We are Ground Zero! Thank you for coming out tonight and enjoy the show. We’re gonna start out with a song called 1.3 Million Volts !”

Kaminari came in with the guitar intro, followed by Kirishima then Sero. Katsuki played a simple beat as Mina began to sing, before playing something more complex as the second verse started. It was all very methodical, the way they had played it hundreds of times, but to the fans, it was new and exciting. Even if they had seen a Ground Zero show before, there was something about a live performance that always felt fresh. They changed things up here and there, a song on the setlist, or a solo, or a lyric. Those were the moments Katsuki loved, when he got to show a new side to an old song. It kept him on his feet, kept him anticipating changes, variations, like a secret waiting to spill. Tonight however, his mind wasn’t on the music. Because that hollow bitterness was still eating at him and he didn’t know why. But it consumed him. He played robotically, no flare. Even with Deku watching from side stage, it was tainted by the knowledge that he was still seeing Katsuki in the same light he always had. Nothing had changed. Nothing was going to change. No matter how hard Katsuki willed it into existence, he was only Deku’s friend.

Best friend.

They played through their set without issue. But it felt like a loss to Katsuki. He hadn’t been on his game. When he walked off and Deku pulled him into an embrace, he felt disappointed. In himself. He wasn’t good enough. Not that night. Not ever. Not if Deku didn’t want him. Held in Deku’s arms, his chest burned.

‘Why so grumpy, Kacchan?”

Katsuki whipped his head to Kaminari, glaring, and barked, “The fuck did you just call me?”

“You let Midoriya call you Kacchan,” defended the blonde.

“Well, obviously you’re not Midoriya,” said Mina.

Kaminari deflated, saying woefully, “Bakubro doesn’t love me.”

“Fuckin’ right, I don’t,” 

Kaminari pouted and said, “Be nice to me.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, “Pull yourself together, we have an interview in five.”

Katsuki stalked off towards the site of the interview. As he went, he heard Kirishima tell Kaminari, “Don’t worry, man. We all know Bakubro loves us, he just doesn’t like to say it.”

What bullshit. Katsuki didn’t love anyone. The only thing he loved was music. Everything else was just a distraction.

Was Deku a distraction?

He certainly qualified. Katsuki had been infinitely less productive since the two had met. He had hardly written any drum parts, wasting all his time tangled together with the green haired man, or thinking about being tangled together, or writing sappy poems about being tangled together.
The rest of the band joined him after a moment, the interviewer standing at the ready, camera man set up, everything coming into place. As the camera began rolling, and the interviewer introduced his company, himself, and then the band, Katsuki was lost in his thoughts.

Was Deku a distraction? When had he become such a priority? When had Katsuki let him be? He hadn’t even realized how much he had been slacking off because of the nerd. Now it seemed foolish. They weren’t even together. Katsuki shouldn’t even want them to be together. He had always thought love was just something that held people back, that it was useless and stupid and made people worse and when had he even started thinking about love? This wasn’t love.

“Bakugou?” Kirishima tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hah?”

“He asked you a question,” he whispered, nodding to the interviewer.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, we can cut this part out,” the interviewer assured, “So, you’re the drummer, but you’ve been writing a lot on your website. Are you making a transition to lyricist as well?”

“No,” said Katsuki.

“Bakubro’s writing is really good,” interjected Mina, “We’re totally gonna have some songs written by him in the future, but for now, he’s just drumming.”

Katsuki wanted to correct her, yell at her for speaking for him, but he kept it in. He didn’t need to give Aizawa any more ammunition.

“That’s good to hear, cause people are really enjoying reading what you have to say. I know I am.”

“Cool.”

“Now, is it true you’ve been writing about Deku lead singer Midoriya Izuku?”

“No,” Katsuki bawked, “Cut that shit, I don’t want it in the interview.”

The interviewer gave a tight smile, but said agreeably, “Of course.”

He steered clear of Katsuki for the rest of the interview, asking the other members questions instead. Katsuki was more than happy to be taken off the chopping block, especially as his thoughts kept circling back to Deku, like a shark in the water circling its oblivious prey.

It wasn’t love, was it?

Katsuki was cooking, because god knew if he didn’t, no one around him would ever eat anything but microwavable meals and bags of chips. He was making Katsudon, per Deku’s request. He stood over the hotplate set up on the counter of the bus’s tiny kitchenette while Deku sat on the couch watching. There was something so simple, so homey about it. It was easy to forget they were supposed to be these tough as nails, cool as frost rockstars. It was just them. Katsuki ached deep in his chest.

Deku brought him back to reality, as he said, “We should play a show together.”

“How would we do that?”

“I was thinking we could swap drummers for a song,” Deku explained, “You play one with us, and Uraraka could play one for your band.”

“This your way of trying to ditch Round Cheeks for me?” Katsuki asked with a smirk.

“Of course not! Uraraka is an amazing drummer. I would never. But it would be fun to play together, wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you know any of our songs?” Deku asked.

“No, but can’t be hard to learn.”

“Of course not. You’re an amazing drummer too!”

Katsuki swelled at the compliment. It was pathetic how easily Deku could have him lapping up his praise like a dog. Mere hours ago, Katsuki had been sinking into the deep, devouring feeling that came whenever he thought about Deku not wanting him back, realizing just how much of an idiot he was making of himself, that Deku was a distraction. And now he was soaking up the attention like he was desperate for it.

A part of him thought, how could he not? Deku was just… so Deku. He saw through Katsuki in a way no one else could, or at least in a way no one else bothered to. He was kind and patient, everything Katsuki wasn’t. But he was also a brightly burning star of strength and power and talent. He was stubborn and capable. And he was beautiful. Even just sitting there, bright green eyes watching Katsuki happily, green hair a mess from sweat and the cramped press of two bodies in a bunk, his freckles dotting his skin, and Katsuki wanted to kiss every single one, as though they were marks left as a map for everywhere Katsuki had been. 

Another part of him thought it was ridiculous. He should have been stronger than this. He shouldn’t be so reliant on another person. He shouldn’t have felt damn near giddy every time Deku said something nice about him. And he was always saying something nice about him. Even when Katsuki was being difficult, even when he was a jerk, Deku was so nice to him. Katsuki shouldn’t cave so easily, but there was this constant pressure just to make Deku happy. Happy to be around him or just happy in general. Pathetic. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic .

“Whatever,” he grunted, pouring stock mixture over the sliced onions. 

“Well, we should discuss it with our bands. I think it’d be really fun.”

“Do what you like.”

Sero and Half-and-Half emerged from the bunk area then, clothes rumpled and hair in disarray. 

“What’s cooking? Smells good,” Sero said.

“Katsudon!” answered Deku happily.

“Oo, yum!”

“Only enough for two,” Katsuki huffed, “Make your own damn food if you’re hungry.”

“Aw, Bakubro, you know I hate cooking.”

“We could order something,” suggested Half-and-Half.

Sero nodded eagerly, “What do you want?”

“Soba.”

The two migrated to the couch as they discussed food options, and Deku shifted closer to Katsuki.

When he finished the meals, he plated them, giving one to Deku and taking one for himself. They moved to sit at the table to eat. They were silent for the most part, Deku too invested in scarfing down Katsuki’s cooking, and Katsuki just enjoying watching Deku as he messily ate. There was rice on his chin and Katsuki reached out to pluck it off. Deku stared at him, eyes wide.

“Eat like a damn adult,” he said as he flicked the stray rice back onto Deku’s plate.

“Sorry, Kacchan.”

“You two act like an old married couple!” laughed Sero from across the room, and Katsuki glowered at him.

“Fuck off.”

“You two are quite domestic,” stated Half-and-Half.

“I said fuck off!”

“Aw, Kacchan, I like it,” said Deku, and Katsuki just barely restrained himself from jumping across the table to strangle Deku and make sure he never said something like that ever again.

Katuski was on Deku’s website for the billionth time. He was sure just about all the hits on that website were from him by now. Just reading and rereading posts.

And he was fuming.

Are you and Bakugou dating?

Haha I wish. Unfortunately me and Kacchan are both straight males so our love was not meant to be

Katsuki wanted to throw something. Preferably at Deku.

Was this torture? Was Deku torturing him? Deku must have known he would see the post, he had seen the last one about himself afterall. Was he just saving face, the way Katsuki did when he denied rumors that they were together? But when he imagined Deku, saying those words out loud, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. It wasn’t a simple no, a dismissal of a silly rumor. It was a rejection. It was a taunt. It was painful. I wish . Our love was not meant to be . 

Katsuki laughed a frantic, empty laugh. He was losing his mind. He ran a hand through his hair, down his face, pulling at his cheeks as if he could dig his fingers in and rip the skin off, quell the agonizing buzzing that laid underneath, like insects burrowing. He was certain this couldn’t be love, because why did it feel so awful?

Deku had the nerve to say all that. To play dumb when he knew how Katsuki was feeling. To speak on how Katsuki was feeling. Deku didn’t want to admit he was gay? Whatever. That was his own shitty business if he couldn’t man up and grow a pair. But Katsuki had never once told Deku, or anyone for that matter, that he was straight. Mostly because it had never mattered to him. But he had never denied himself just to appease anyone else. Sure, it wasn’t safe for his career to outright say anything, but that was why he had never said anything . And here Deku was, telling the world Katsuki was straight. That after everything, what he felt just wasn’t real, couldn’t be, because he knew exactly who Katsuki was.

Katsuki’s eyes burned.

He thought about what Aizawa had said, about not posting about Deku anymore. It made sense, yeah, and it really was in his best interest. But he wasn’t sure what else to do, and so quickly, the page began filling up. 

I don’t know what to do (about you). You brush me off, then say shit that has me thinking you’re waiting on a ring. You tell me no, and then you go ahead and do things anyway. You act like I’m seeing things when I point it out and I’m starting to believe this really is all fiction. There’s no way you can be so into me one moment, and distant the next. We’re never on the same page, it’s like our hearts are beating out of sync. I feel like yours is swallowing me whole, and I’m just trying to match your rhythm. I’m supposed to be on beat, but I keep missing it. I want you to admit I belong to you. Stop it with the bullshit. You know I do. There are bruises on my neck saying it loud and clear. There’s ink on the page that says it even clearer. You’re too damn bullheaded. I can’t get through to you. No matter what I say, your answer is the same. “I’m not—” you’re just not that way. But what’s the difference between what we do and what lovers do? You told me you don’t do this with anyone else. Everything I do, you tell me you like. Sometimes it feels like you know me better than I do. Telling me how I feel. You say you wish for everything I’m offering you, but you just won’t fucking take it. Well, I wish too. I wish you weren’t such an idiot. I wish you weren’t so perfect. I wish I wasn’t so obsessed with everything about you. The way you say my name probably has me feeling the way heroin makes a drug addict feel. I’m almost convinced you feel the same, and you just can’t admit it to me. I can’t wrap my head around why, though. I know you have your secrets, but why keep this one from me? It could just be ours. I’d keep it.

Your old husband,

Kacchan

Chapter Text

“...And who am I here with today?”

“Kirishima Eijiro!”

“Bakugou Katsuki.”

“Excellent,” the interviewer said, “Now, it’s been almost two months since you guys started the Plus Ultra tour, how are you handling the heat?”

“It’s hard,” Kirishima lamented, “We’re outside a lot, but we try to take breaks. It’s important to listen to your body, I know a lot of people, musicians and fans both, are super dedicated to the shows. That’s manly as hell, but it’s still good to drink water and cool down when you can. We’ve had people faint during our shows, and we wanna make sure our fans are taking care of themselves. No shame in making sure you’re okay!”

“And what about you, Bakugou?”

Katsuki shrugged, “I like popsicles.”

The oppressive heat had been lingering all summer, but as the tour moved south down the country, it only got worse. There were days where it was unbearable to step foot outside, where even the AC of a bus only made a minimal difference. Shows ended with dripping bodies and heat stroke inflicted kids being carried off after passing out. Days were spent chugging down water as interviews dragged on, and cooling off in the shade whenever possible. Sun burns decorated everyone’s skin. Hair was more often damp than dry. Leather seats became glue traps, and sharing a bunk was hell.

Of course, Katsuki and Deku still tried their best. They would lay around the living areas of their buses, talking or making out, until Deku’s hands began to travel lower and they would retreat to one of their bunks. The dank air would have them panting, even more so than the touching. As soon as it ended, they would peel their sweat-soaked skin apart, go wash up in the bathroom, and return to the living area to cool off all over again. 

Contact was minimal in those days. Deku would play with Katsuki’s hair, or Katsuki would put a hand on Deku’s knee, but being any closer felt miserable. Katsuki still yearned for it, though. His heart felt off balance without Deku to lean on.

They were relaxing on the couch just then, water bottles in hand, far enough away that they couldn’t feel the warmth of each other’s bodies, when Deku said, “Kacchan, Tsu was telling me, did you know there’s a waterpark near the grounds here? She and Uraraka went yesterday.”

“So what?”

“So, we should go!”

“Don’t like getting wet,” Katsuki pointed out.

“But it’s so hot out! I want to cool down and it sounds like so much fun!”

It was a fair point. The heat was even starting to get to Katsuki, who was usually much more tolerant of it than others. Some cool water could really ease the discomfort. But still… 

“Go with one of your friends.”

“I wanna go with you though,” Deku pouted.

It seemed like a horrible idea. Katsuki had already fucked up with his most recent post about Deku. It was pretty blatant, and Aizawa had told him to stop posting about him. Going somewhere public, together, they were certain to be seen and add fuel to the flame that was already starting to take.

“I ain’t going.”

“Please, Kacchan?”

Katsuki could easily have told Deku this. But the idea of mentioning that the rumors were starting to concern Katsuki, that they were starting to concern his management, seemed just as dangerous. They hadn’t discussed the public’s speculations as to their relationship. Katsuki didn’t know how aware Deku was. He obviously knew, but did he know how fast it had begun spreading? Would Katsuki cause him to panic if he said anything? What if Deku called everything off because of it? Katsuki needed to make things last. They still had a little less than a month of touring left, and after that…

Deku looked at Katsuki with puppy dog eyes. No, Katsuki couldn’t voice his concerns.

“You owe me, nerd,” he conceded. 

Deku whooped in celebration, pulling Katsuki into a quick and rather sticky hug. Katsuki couldn’t wait until the heat was gone, forgotten, replaced by a comfortable chill that meant Deku could hold him for longer. If only they could last that long.

When the summer ended and they weren’t seeing each other everyday, would they remain so close? The thought had nagged at Katsuki more than once. He needed to keep Deku by his side. This summer isn’t the end , he told himself. 

Still, the thought that their time might have been limited made it so Katsuki couldn’t really regret his recklessness with Deku. If they only had the summer, then dammit, he was going to make the most of it. He was going to wring dry every second of attention he could get out of the man.

So he let Deku pull him from the couch and lend him a pair of swim trunks and a towel. Let Deku lead him off the bus, away from the festival grounds and down streets to the waterpark.

 Katsuki bubbled with anxiety, thoughts of the end of summer on loop in his mind. As they walked, he longed to reach out and take Deku’s hand in his own like a liferaft, but his palms were sweaty and the needling feeling of eyes on them kept him vigilant. 

They could be seen, but they couldn’t be caught. Being friends in public was fine. There was deniability. Just as long as Katsuki didn’t take his hand.

A large wooden sign over the gates let them know they had reached “Ground Beta Water Park”. The parking lot was as full and lively as the bus lot of the festival, though nightliners were replaced with minivans and SUVs, and semi-famous wannabees and up and coming rockstars with families of everyday people. Most of them were too young or too old to know who they were, and Katsuki found himself hopeful that maybe they would just have a peaceful day out. That no one would come up to them, asking for photos or autographs or conversations. That they could go unrecognized, just two people enjoying their time together. 

The line for the park was long on a day as hot as this. While they waited, Deku rambled excitedly.

“Tsu told me they have a lazy river and a wave pool, and a bunch of slides, like some really tall ones! I think you’ll like those. And they have The Tornado, where you, like, go in a loop!”

“Bet I’d go down a slide faster than you,” Katsuki said.

“Nuh uh,” said Deku, “I weigh more, so I’d totally go faster.”

“You’d probably get scared being so high up, panic, and die.”

“I would not!”

“Yeah you would.”

Katsuki enjoyed their easy banter as the line slowly withered down until they were at the front. They bought their tickets and lockers, before entering Ground Beta through the turnstiles.

In the locker room, Katsuki shoved his phone, keys, wallet, and towel into the metal compartment. Then, he began to strip off his tank top. When it was off and tossed into the locker with the rest of his belongings, he turned to Deku, finding the other man watching him. His eyes were low, focused, before they flitted up to meet Katsuki’s. Katsuki felt even hotter under his gaze, if that was possible. He liked knowing Deku was looking at him, liked the intensity in the other man’s stare directed his way.

Deku started to take off his own shirt, and Katsuki watched him in return. His eyes drifted from the ‘v’ of his hips where his trunks rode low, up the flat expanse of his stomach, to his defined chest decorated in faint freckles. His skin stretched taut against sturdy muscles, tan and shining from the day’s heat. His mouth was practically watering at the sight, and he knew he should have been trying to be more discreet. But he wanted to devour the man right there. When their gaze met again, there was a knowing look on Deku’s face, a pleasant smile crossing his lips, eyes just as intense as before. 

Katsuki wasn’t imagining things. He wasn’t. Deku was looking at him like he was okay with Katsuki’s desire. More than that. He was looking at Katsuki like he was just as hungry. Katsuki was going to let that man ruin him the second they were away from any prying eyes. If only Deku would.

The hollowness was back, eating at him like a starving animal inside his gut, reminding him that Deku wouldn’t. Deku didn’t see him like that, or wouldn’t admit it. And Katsuki hadn’t been able to get him to even come close. He didn’t know how to change things. He didn’t know how to make Deku his. He could stand there, eyeing the man like he belonged to him. Deku could look back his way and make it all seem within reach. But Katsuki was still so far behind him, always racing to catch up as Deku raced to get away. He was always nipping at his heels hopelessly. Deku wasn’t his. 

“Are you ready, Kacchan?” Deku asked, finally breaking the tension between the two.

“Been ready. Was waiting on your ass,” Katsuki responded. 

They hurried through the showers and left the locker room, Deku buzzing with excitement and Katsuki following after him blindly. 

Deku tugged Katsuki from slide to slide, dragging him through lines until they reached the summit. They would go down together on the ones where they could, or alone when they couldn’t. His favorite were the ones with multiple slides lined up in a row so multiple people could go down at once. It meant the two could race. The first time, Deku beat him, and so Katsuki had grabbed his wrist and marched him right back in line so they could have a rematch. Katsuki won the second time, gloating endlessly to an unperturbed Deku. 

Katsuki was wet, but between the heat and the child-like grin on Deku’s face, he didn’t mind so much. The hollowness was still there, still bitter and painful, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything when it came from Deku. As much as it hurt him, he was almost thankful for it. Like it was a gift. Deku could have ripped his heart out with his bare hands and Katsuki would be grateful for the attention.

When they had exhausted the park of slides, Deku had brought them to the wave pool.

“Lame,” said Katsuki.

“Wave pools aren’t lame, Kacchan.”

“If you like getting tossed around by some kiddie waves.”

“Tsu said they’re really big! She got pulled completely under by some” Deku argued.

“Whatever.”

They kicked off their shoes, leaving them by a set of lounge chairs and crossing hot pavement to wade into the turquoise water up to their chests. Around them were families and couples and little kids splashing each other. No one turned to look at them, no one was scrutinizing them out of the corner of their eyes. No one bothered them. It was like they were just a part of the crowd. It made Katsuki feel calmer about it all. He had been worried for nothing. They weren’t going to get caught. He thought about taking Deku’s hand again. Still, the water was quite clear, and just because Katsuki couldn’t see it, he held onto the ever present feeling of being watched from afar, so he didn’t dare to hold Deku’s hand under the water. 

“When are these stupid waves even coming?” asked Katsuki.

“Soon. Be patient.”

Katsuki huffed, splashing water at Deku. Deku grinned, sloshing water right back at Katsuki. Soon, they were engaged in a little war, sending small waves of water at each other, which escalated to Katsuki wrestling Deku into a headlock. 

Before Deku could fight back, they were suddenly being rocked as an actual wave came crashing over them. It pushed Katsuki down, and he sputtered under the water for a moment, swimming back up. Deku emerged shortly after, beaming ear to ear. When the next wave came, Katsuki treaded, hoping to keep his head above the surface as Deku jumped over it. Then, it became a competition to see who could jump the highest.

Another large wave curled over their heads. Just as Deku was about to jump it, Katsuki tackled him, pushing his body under the rising water. As they plummeted together, Deku pulled Katsuki close and attacked him with a kiss. Katsuki’s eyes were wide, blurred by the water. It was over by the time they both surfaced. Certainly, in the commotion of the waves, no one had noticed them. Still, Katsuki felt anxious.

“The hell was that?” he barked. Deku gave him a coy smile. “What if someone had seen you, idiot?”

“No one did, Kacchan,” Deku assured him.

“You don’t know that!”

“Who would have seen?”

“Anyone! That fucking kid over there, or some mom, or whoever!”

“No one is paying attention to us here, it’s fine.”

“You need to be more goddamn careful. We can’t get caught,” Katsuki huffed. It bothered him to no end how reckless Deku seemed about the whole thing, like it didn’t matter if everything was just ruined. Like he didn’t care about how damn hard Katsuki was trying to keep it together. Didn’t Deku want to keep things together?

“We won’t get caught, Kacchan, I promise,” said Deku, eyes softening, “I just really wanted to kiss you all day. I couldn’t help myself.”

Katsuki felt blood rush to his face, as he muttered, “Whatever. Just don’t do it again. We’re in public, and just cause you don’t think anyone’s noticed us, some creep with a camera could always be watching. Trust me, I know.”

“Sorry, Kacchan. I know you’re very private.”

“That’s not it,” he grumbled.

Deku either didn’t hear him, or didn’t want to ask, instead, splashing Katsuki again. 

Katsuki grew tired of the wave pool after about an hour, so after he forced Deku from the water for a quick break at a food stand, Katsuki hauled him over to a tall slide the two had ridden earlier in the day. The height of the plummet had excited Katsuki, and he was eager to go down it again. It was a long, meandering walk up flights of stairs to the top, and the line moved at a snail’s pace, but Katsuki thought it was worth it. Especially as he listened to Deku rant about the All Might Detroit Smash Repressing he had gotten his hands on. 

“When we’re back home and I have my record player, you should come over some time and listen to it with me,” Deku said.

Katsuki clung to those words like a lifeline. 

Going down the steep slide was more exciting than Katsuki had remembered it being, now that he was riding a new high. When we’re back home… you should come over… Deku expected them to see each other after this summer. They were indefinite. Indefinite felt like infinite in that moment. Like three weeks had turned into forever.

He crashed into the water, submerged, dropping to the floor of the pool at the bottom heavily, but he felt lighter than air. He felt like every cell in his body was electrified, like he had been struck by lightning. He felt like he had finally caught a lucky break. And Katsuki was never one to consider himself lucky. 

Everything he had, he had worked hard for. He was determined, he was talented, he was never just lucky. But how had he earned himself a potential eternity of Deku? He certainly hadn’t. That had to be pure luck. It was like a living thing in his chest, and it was thrilling. It was like he had gambled everything and doubled it all. 

He swam to the shallow end of the pool and Deku came flying off the slide behind him, leaving a great spray of water in his wake. When he swam to Katsuki, Katsuki couldn’t help but pull the man into an embrace. It was short, but firm.

When they parted, Katsuki quickly glanced around the area, finding no one had seemed to take notice of the display of affection. Good.

“What was that for?” Deku asked, tilting his head.

“Like I’d tell you.”

When they exited the pool, there was only around an hour left until the park closed. They had spent all day at Ground Beta, interviews done early in the morning and no sets that night to worry about. Deku insisted they stayed a little longer to float the lazy river.

They took a two-person tube, stepping in and letting themselves be carried away. They faced each other, legs up so that Deku’s calves pressed against the outside of Katsuki’s. Katsuki watched Deku, glowing in the golden sunlight of the evening, seaweed hair and freckled skin. He smiled at Katsuki and Katsuki rolled his eyes in return. 

They floated down the river past faux rocks and sprinkling waterfalls in silence for a while. It was rare that the two didn’t talk, or really, that Deku didn’t talk. Katsuki mostly contributed short quips and weightless insults to their conversations. But as they drifted in their tube, there was a calm, comfortable silence between the two. 

Katsuki wished it would never end. That he and Deku could stay here, silent, unimportant. Just two anonymous people wafting with the gentle current. No pressure to be anybody, to fake anything, to deny anything. He wondered, if they weren’t on tour, if they weren’t on track to be the next current it boys, would Deku deny him? Or would they be able to take each other’s hands freely, kiss above the surface of the water, call each other theirs? Sure, they would still get sour looks, biting comments, and there would be places where they would have to hide themselves for their own safety. But would it change things at all? If they were no one, would Deku still be so insistent that there was nothing more than friendship between them, erase all the hollow bitterness from Katsuki’s insides? Could Deku love him back?

Love? Back?

It had come from a place in Katsuki’s brain that he had never delved into before. Katsuki didn’t waste his time thinking about love. Did he even know what love was? How could he? He wasn’t sure he had ever felt it before. But he knew he felt… strongly about Deku. There was a deep fondness there. And it was certainly more than the fondness he felt for anyone else, any of the morons he could stand to be in the presence of for more than fifteen minutes. His bandmates, his mother and father, all evoked a sensation of familiarity, of trust. Was that love? Did he love his friends? His family? Did that mean he also loved Deku?

Katsuki’s thoughts were interrupted, left to stir in his mind for the time being, as they reached the end of the river. Empty tubes piled up, and Deku began to stand. He reached his hand out to help Katsuki up, and Katsuki took it. It would have wounded his pride, being helped to do something as simple as standing, but it was a good enough excuse to hold Deku’s hand at least.

The park was closing, so they headed back to the locker room to retrieve their things. They each took another quick shower, washing the pool water from their skin, before they toweled off and got dressed.

The walk home was cool, their skin still damp and their hair stringy. Beads were falling into Katsuki’s eyes, and it annoyed him, but not enough to regret the day. 

When we’re back home… you should come over… 

Whatever shitstorm awaited them, it had been worth it. About fifteen minutes from the grounds, Deku paused. They were standing on a bridge, overlooking a small creek that ran at a mellow pace out into a golden field. Deku turned to the sky, staring in awe at the pinks and oranges above them. The clouds were painted with the same vibrant colors, glowing as they eclipsed the ruby red of the descending sun.

“Look at the sunset, Kacchan!” he gasped.

“‘S nice,” said Katsuki, though he wasn’t looking at the sunset at all. Instead, his eyes were trained on Deku.

He looked perfect.

I love him , Katsuki thought. There was no internal conflict that came with it, no panic or doubt. In that moment, he was certain.

When they got back to his bus, it was like a switch was flipped in Katsuki’s brain. He was all over Deku, heat be damned. He pulled him in for a rough, fervent kiss, which Deku took to immediately. Katsuki pressed himself against Deku as his tongue prodded into his mouth. His hands pulled at Deku’s shirt, Deku’s grasping at Katsuki’s hips and digging crescent moon marks into the skin under the band of his trunks. 

Impatiently, Katsuki began to tug at Deku’s shirt until the man finally got the hint, breaking the kiss to shuck the stupid thing off. Katsuki did the same with his tank-top, eagerly pulling Deku back into him, relishing in the hot press of their chests against each other. 

Katsuki started walking them through the bus, towards his bunk, Deku stumbling backwards, never taking his lips from Katsuki as he kissed him, kissed his jaw, his neck, sucked, licked, then kissed again.

When Deku’s back hit the frame of the bunks, Katsuki started to push him down to get into his bed.

“Kacchan, we’re wet,” Deku protested.

Katsuki huffed, drawing away and pulling down his swim trunks, looking at Deku expectantly. Deku blushed as he stared at Katsuki’s exposed frame.

“Nothing we haven’t seen before,” he muttered.

Deku nodded, stripping down until they were both naked. Katsuki smirked, sitting in his bunk and tugging Deku down with him. They rearranged themselves so that Katsuki was laying on top of Deku, straddling him, hardening against each other as they grinded. Deku slid his tongue back into Katsuki’s mouth, and Katsuki groaned wolfishly. 

Deku’s hand, like always, came down to grasp Katsuki, but Katsuki growled, grabbing the offending hand and pulling it back. That wasn’t what he wanted tonight. He wanted more, he wanted to ravish Deku. Wanted to make his head spin, wanted to feel him. 

He pulled away and Deku gave him a questioning look.

“Let me blow you,” Katsuki said.

Deku’s pupils were blown as he stared at Katsuki. Maybe it was just a fit of passion, or maybe it was Katsuki knocking down a new wall, but Deku nodded, said, “Okay.”

And so, without much preamble, Katsuki was moving down Deku’s body. He kissed at the freckles as he went, until he reached his goal. 

This wasn’t something Katsuki had any experience with, but he would be damned if he didn’t do a good job. He needed to please Deku, make him feel so good he could never think about anyone but Katsuki ever again. 

Katsuki took his time, planting kisses and licking strips up and down, savoring the sound of the man above him gasping and whining, before he finally took Deku in his mouth.

It was a weird feeling, but the rewarding moan that escaped Deku’s lips as he hit the back of Katsuki’s throat far surpassed any discomfort.

He bobbed his head and sucked. He swirled his tongue, anything that felt right. There was something about it, maybe the pornographic sounds Deku was making, or maybe the knowledge that it was him who was doing this to Deku, but it felt incredible. It felt better than Deku’s hand around him.

I love you , he thought, as he pulled almost all the way off, then sank back down.

I love you .

He took himself in one hand, the other pressing down on Deku’s hip. He groaned around Deku and the other man shuttered, so he tried it again.

I love you .

It wasn’t long before they were both coming undone. Deku spilled into Katsuki’s mouth, Katsuki into his own hand. He saw stars, pleasure washing over his body. It was possibly the most satisfying orgasm of his life. 

When he pulled off, his jaw was sore and his mouth tasted bitter and he was out of breath, but he felt amazing. He looked up at Deku, who was staring at him, wide eyed. 

“ Kacchan ,” he breathed.

I love you .

“You… liked that?” Deku asked after a moment.

“I did. Got a problem with that?”

“No,” he said

“Good. Cause I wanna do it again sometime.”

Katsuki crawled back up his body and pulled Deku into an aching kiss. When they separated, Katsuki rested his forehead against Deku as the two watched each other. Katsuki wasn’t sure what had happened between them, he wasn’t sure that Deku knew either, but it left him feeling completely submerged.

I love you .

They eventually had to pull apart, lust passing and giving way to discomfort. They were too sticky and too warm to stay. They slipped out of the bunk, getting dressed. Deku borrowed a pair of Katsuki’s shorts and a part of Katsuki felt possessive at the sight of Deku in his clothes. 

He went to the bathroom to wash his hands, Deku lingering at the doorway behind him.

“Move,” he grunted when he was done, and Deku stepped back so he could exit the bathroom. When they both stepped out, they found Aizawa waiting in the living area, looking annoyed as ever.

“Bakugou. We need to talk.”

“Later,” said Katsuki, “‘M not in the mood. Hot as balls out and I’m fucking tired.”

“No, not later, we need to talk now.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Deku awkwardly, already starting to side step his way out of the room.

“Stay. It’d be beneficial to have this conversation with both of you.”

At that, Katsuki knew they were fucked.

“O-oh. Okay,” Deku said, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. He likely knew the direction this conversation was going as well.

“I’m Aizawa Shouta, Ground Zero’s manager,” began Aizawa.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” said Deku stiffly, “I’m Midoriya Izuku.”

“I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. But we have a problem on our hands.”

“Wha-What is it?”

“Whatever the fuck those idiots online are saying, it’s not fucking true, how many times to I have to tell you?” Katsuki griped.

“Judging by the noises you two were just making, I’d say they hold some weight.”

Deku blushed and Katsuki clenched his fists.

“Listen, as I’ve told Bakugou. I don’t care what you two do. The problem is, people are noticing. I told you,” said Aizawa, now speaking directly to Katsuki, “to stop it with the posts. You didn’t listen. Now the whole internet is on a rampage trying to prove you two are together.”

“But we're not!” Deku cut in.

“ I don’t care . I don’t want you two seen together for the rest of the summer. Bakugou, I don’t wanna see anymore posts from you about the situation. Not even to deny it. Don’t give it attention, you’re too volatile and it’ll just make people more suspicious. Midoriya, I can’t technically tell you what to do, but I would advise you to refrain from any further comments as well,” Aizawa laid out, “I’m not trying to be harsh. You two both have promising careers ahead of you, and the unfortunate truth is that if any of this gets out, it could end them. I know it’s backwards, but you have to play by the rules of the game.”

“I understand,” said Deku, his head hung and his cheeks red.

“Fine. No more public appearances, no more posts. That all?” asked Katsuki.

“Yes. Now don’t make any more problems for me.”

“Yes sir,” said Deku.

Aizawa stood, walking off. Before he left he turned and said, "Congratulations, by the way. It’s good to see Bakugou finally being nice to someone.”

Then, it was just Katsuki and Deku standing in heavy silence.

Chapter Text

Q: Kacchan, what’s your favorite thing about touring?

A: Don’t call me Kacchan.

Q: Pet peeve?

A: Idiots and people who can’t mind their own business

Q: You’re so sexy

A: That’s not a question, idiot, stop being weird.

Q: Who’s your favorite member of GZ?

A: Me.

Q: Are you working on new music?

A: Always.

Aizawa had called for a band meeting as soon as they had finished interviews that morning, and so Kirishima, Mina, Kaminari, Sero, and Katsuki were all gathered in a circle around the bus with him at the head. Sero and Kaminari took the couch with cups of boba tea in hand, while Kirishima sat on a chair, Mina in his lap. Katsuki took the other chair, and Aizawa stood by the kitchenette. The sun was glaring through the window into Katsuki’s eyes, making his already sour resting face twist into a grimace. It didn’t feel unearned, though. Katsuki hated band meetings.

“So,” Kaminari started, “What’s the situation, boss man?”

“The situation is that Bakugou is creating more PR mess for us all,” explained Aizawa flatly. What a surprise . 

Everyone turned to look at Katsuki, who just grimaced harder.

“Do we really need a whole meeting about this?” he griped.

“Yes. Because I want to make sure everyone is on the same page about this. It’s on all of us if you mess up again, so I want everyone doing their due diligence to make sure you don’t .”

“You want us to babysit?” clarified Sero.

“If that’s how you want to put it.”

“So what is it this time?” asked Kaminari as he sucked on the straw of his drink.

“Bakugou, do you want to say what’s going on or should I?” Aizawa asked.

“Like you even know,” said Katsuki, “I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m not dating Midoriya, so this meeting is pointless anyway.”

“Hardly,” said Aizawa.

“Oh, it’s about that?” asked Mina.

“It’s about the fact that some morons on the internet think we’re together. We’re not, so no one needs to fucking ‘babysit’ me,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Doesn’t matter what you call it. People are talking and I don’t think I need to explain why that’s bad. I don’t want Bakugou and Midoriya seen together for the rest of the tour,” said Aizawa, “I need you all to make sure those two don’t make a mess of things. No posts, no comments in interviews, and no photo ops.”

“I don’t need these idiots to make sure I don’t fuck up. I can do that myself,” said Katsuki.

“We’re not idiots!” defended Kirishima.

“And so far, you haven’t exactly done anything that makes me trust in your ability to not fuck up,” said Aizawa.

Katsuki rolled his eyes.

“So you want us to help keep this secret? That seems easy enough,” Kirishima shrugged.

“Wait! But we were supposed to do a drummer swap with Deku!” Mina cut in, sounding disappointed that her plans, which Katsuki had not been aware were being made, were changing.

“Since when?” asked Katsuki.

“We were talking to Midoriya about it a few days ago,” said Mina, “Deku is all on board for it. He said you already agreed too.”

Katsuki vaguely recalled a conversation where he maybe implied he would have hypothetically been okay with that. He certainly hadn’t agreed . It pissed him off that they would just make that assumption without fucking asking him. As if he would have agreed to something like that, didn’t they know him at all?

“Oh yeah,” agreed Sero, “I was excited about that. It’d be cool to play with new people for a show.”

“Yeah, so what about that?” asked Mina.

“Cancel it,” said Aizawa.

Everyone but Katsuki deflated a bit, Mina letting out a bitter, “Booo.”

“I already teased it on the website, though,” complained Mina, “So did Uraraka on their site. The fans know we’re doing something with Deku.”

“Then do something else. I don’t want Bakugou and Midoriya on the same stage.”

“It’s just a show, not like we’re gonna fuck in front of everyone,” scoffed Katsuki.

“People will be recording and taking pictures,” pointed out Aizawa, “If you two so much as look at each other wrong, you’ll be fanning the flames.”

“So we won’t look at each other,” said Katsuki. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he was suddenly arguing in favor of this plan that, mere moments ago, he had known nothing about. He wouldn’t ever have agreed to it. Except apparently, everyone thought he had because stupid Deku had said so, and for some reason, Katsuki felt defensive. Maybe he just didn’t like the insinuation that he was too lovestruck to get through a damn show without making eyes at Deku. That… was sort of true. But he could keep himself in check, he wasn’t completely fucking stupid. 

“What if we swapped me and Tsu, instead?” asked Sero, “Then we wouldn’t disappoint anyone and Bakubro doesn’t get seen eye fucking Midoriya on stage!”

“You just want to eye fuck Half-and-Half!” shouted Katsuki.

“So what? It’s not like there are posts going around about us ,” shrugged Sero, taking a sip from his tea.

“Sero’s idea is suitable,” Aizawa conceded.

“No fucking way. We said we’d do a drum swap, we’ll do the damn drum swap. Wouldn’t it help our case for people to see me and Midoriya together not being fucking romantic or whatever? It’d be more suspicious if we just suddenly stopped being seen together completely.”

“That’s a fair point,” agreed Kirishima, “Everyone knows by now that they’re pretty close. It might look like a cover-up if they immediately stop being friends after some rumors about them have started to take off, right?”

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose, and said, “You all make my job so much harder. We’ll do the drum swap, but Bakugou, if I see even one look between you two, I’m banning you and Midoriya from being so much as on the same bus.”

“Fine You think I can’t keep my eyes to myself?” Katsuki barked.

“I do. Please, prove me wrong.”

“I will, thanks. Now if that’s all, I have better shit to be doing. I’m out,” Katsuki said, standing and stomping off the bus.

He stood at the door for a moment, calming his breathing. Aizawa had really gotten under his skin, making this whole thing a bigger deal than it was. Yeah, sure, some crazed fans who were obsessed with his private life were starting to talk, but they had no real proof. It was all hearsay, even if there was a sliver of truth to it. Getting the band involved, treating Katsuki like a child who couldn’t control himself, all set him on edge, made his chest burn and his temper flare. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew how to keep his feelings to himself. Maybe that was why he had fought to do the drum swap, to prove himself. 

Maybe a small part of it was because he wanted to be on stage with Deku, felt there was something incredibly intimate about sharing Deku’s music, even if it was just for a song. But that was a secret for him and him alone. 

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he fished it out.

come over?

no one is home ;)

So Katsuki soon found himself blowing off steam on Deku’s bus, hidden in his bunk with the man heavy in his mouth. Afterwards, Deku stroked him until he too had come, and the two laid pressed together.

“I still can’t believe you like that,” Deku said.

“Don’t knock it til you try it,” Katsuki replied. 

Deku didn’t comment on that.

“So I hear we’re doing a drummer swap,” Katsuki continued. 

“Oh yeah!” Deku said excitedly.

“Aizawa didn’t want us to do it. I had to talk him into letting us play the same stage together.”

“Aw, that’s sweet Kacchan.”

“Nothing sweet about it. Didn’t like him telling me I couldn’t do something.”

“Still.”

“He said we can’t look at each other, though. So keep your eyes off me or you’re gonna spend the rest of the summer with blue balls,” Katsuki teased.

“That’s no fun,” Deku pouted, “I wanna watch you drum.”

“Watch me drum at my own set like you usually do.”

“It’s different.”

“It ain’t,” said Katsuki. Though he knew it was. He too wanted to see Deku, up close, while he performed. Wanted to feel like they were playing to each other, see the look in Deku’s eyes when he sang as though he were saying the words directly to Katsuki. But one song where they couldn’t look at each other seemed a whole lot less horrible than spending the rest of the summer without Deku. He was up for the challenge. He was always up for a challenge.

“So what songs should we do?”

“I wanna play Full Cowling ,” answered Katsuki.

“That’s my favorite!”

Katsuki knew that. Obviously.

“Round Face can play whatever. I don’t care.”

“I know she’s been practicing Pink and Cellophane ,” said Deku, “She really likes the solo on Pink .”

“Course she does, I wrote it. It’s awesome.”

“It is,” agreed Deku, “Kacchan’s amazing.”

Katsuki smirked, pulling Deku into a kiss.

The drummer swap happened a few days later. Both bands got together, cramming themselves in the little backroom of the Ground Zero bus where they had their makeshift studio. Katsuki grimaced at the table where the DAW was set up, thinking of all the times one of his bandmates had disappeared back there with a partner, figuring any cleaning that was done after the fact had likely been done half-hazardly, if at all. 

They started by practicing Pink , his bandmates and Round Face, whose name was apparently Uraraka, setting up their instruments. Round Face was settled behind Katsuki’s backup drum set, which took up a bulk of the space in the small room, while the rest circled around her, looking rather cramped.

Deku and his bandmates stood around the edge of the room, watching. Deku was beside Katsuki, his hand playing with Katsuki’s belt loop. 

As the song kicked off, his bandmates played with a practiced muscle memory of the song. Uraraka kept up well. In fact, she impressed Katsuki. She added her own flare to fills, making the song almost feel new. Like a Deku song. Usually, that would bother Katsuki, it was perverse, hearing what he had written being changed by someone who didn’t even understand why he had written it the way he had. But something about Uraraka’s flourishes and personal touches felt, not like a desecration, but a new perspective on the same ideas Katsuki had been playing with. She was better than he had given her credit for. Her style was her own, but she didn’t force it where it didn’t work, didn’t try to tamper with the core, just added her own voice. She was both technically and conceptually skilled.

Deku grinned as she played, looking proud. Katsuki pinched his cheek and the other man turned his smile to Katsuki.

When they had finished, everyone clapped, praising the band and Uraraka for the performance.

“That sounded so good!” Mina cheered, “Uraraka, you were amazing!”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, her pink cheeks darkening.

Katsuki said nothing, but he gave her an approving nod. If someone was to play in his stead, he found he was okay with it being her. He could tell she had not only been practicing, but understanding his playing and it made him like her just a bit more.

After the first run through, everyone shuffled to swap places, handing off instruments and rearranging equipment to suit their needs. Katsuki sat at his set as Glasses assembled his keyboard stand. Frog Face was tuning her bass and Half-and-Half fiddled with the pedal board. Deku stood front and center, microphone in hand as he waited for everyone to be ready.

Once everyone had given him a thumbs up, he began to sing.

Katsuki almost got lost in his voice, in the melodic wave that washed over him, how strongly Deku he sounded. Being so close, hearing him so loud and so clear, it felt like Katsuki was being entirely enveloped in him. Adoration churned in his bloodstream, and, were he a lesser man, he might have gotten so swept up in it that he missed his cue. He didn’t though, hitting the cymbal at exactly the right beat as the rest of the band came storming into the song. 

He played it as if he knew it as well as his own songs, and with the amount he had listened to it in preparation (and perhaps sometimes when he just couldn’t get Deku off his mind), he probably did. 

When the last note was hummed out, and the drums faded, Deku turned back to Katsuki and gave him the most blinding smile Katsuki had ever seen on him. They hadn’t looked at each other once the entire play through, not wanting to form any bad habits, but that single look was enough to make up for it. Katsuki felt his chest tighten, his blood pump wildly. He wished Deku would always look at him like that.

Like he was someone special.

“Kacchan!” he exclaimed, “Kacchan, that was just— Wow! You were so, I mean— Wow, really!”

“Yeah, I get it, nerd,” he huffed, unable to help the smirk that crossed his face, preening at the enthusiastic compliment. 

He was used to compliments, especially from Deku. But ever since he had realized that he was in love with the man, every word of praise seemed to rocket him into space so he was walking on stardust. It was a burning happiness, though it was also paired with a deep ache for more. For it to mean more. How could Deku say such nice things about him, and not feel anything for him? It made him want to carve himself open and scoop out his insides. 

He put that aside for now, as the others added their own compliments on.

“Wonderful performance, Bakugou. You really demonstrated a profound understanding of both your instrument and our song,” said Glasses, long winded as ever.

“I’m surprised you were able to tone it down so well. I thought all you could play was loud and angry,” said Frog Face.

“I can play fucking anything,” Katsuki barked back.

“Seems so,” said Half-and-Half.

“Man,” said Kirishima, “This whole drum swap is gonna be totally killer! You two are both legendary.”

They continued practicing for another hour or so, until every kink was worked out, every hesitation erased, and both songs were performance-ready. 

That night, the air had begun to finally cool down enough to be comfortable. The sound of bustling crowds and far off concerts filled the bus lot as Katsuki and Deku walked to their stage. They put enough space between them to look innocuous, especially as they were tailed by the rest of their bandmates. 

Deku’s performance was first, and Katsuki watched from side stage as they played through the first half of their set. Then, between songs, Deku took to the mic, saying, “We’re doing something special for our next song. I want everyone to give a super warm welcome to our friend Bakugou Katsuki of Ground Zero!”

The crowd erupted into rabid cheers as Uraraka stepped from her drum kit and Katsuki took to the stage. He gave a glare to the crowd, which only made them cheer harder, sitting down in the stool and pulling out his sticks from his pocket. 

Playing through the song was uneventful. It went as it had during practice, perfect, without so much as a single hitch. Deku didn’t look at him, kept his eyes forward on the sea of people shouting along to his lyrics, and Katsuki focused in on his drumming, never sparing a glance. He could almost pretend, gaze trained down, that Deku was looking at him that way. That the words he sung were piercing through his skin, absorbed into his skeleton. Even when he couldn’t see Deku, it was as if the other man was flooding his system.

The song sounded rougher, more intense than it usually did, due to Katsuki’s style, transformed, but not disturbing its original sound. Deku’s voice kept things sewn together, cohesive. They blended. It made Katsuki wonder, if they wrote a song together, how would it sound? Would it feel the way it felt to be with Deku?

When Katsuki left the stage, replaced by Uraraka, and Deku finished the remainder of their set, Katsuki watched on feeling heavy. He decided he hated not being looked at by Deku, not being seen by him. 

And was he ever truly seen by Deku? The man knew Katsuki better than just about anyone by now, though it had only been a few months. Katsuki had never let someone know him before, never wanted to be so transparent. But with Deku, it was like his skin had lost all opacity, his insides begging to be spilled. Deku knew him so well. But did he ever see him? Katsuki felt like Deku was always just looking past him, close, but attention trained somewhere far away. Like he couldn’t acknowledge Katsuki. Maybe he was afraid that if he did, he would see something too real, too vulnerable from the other man. Was he afraid of Katsuki loving him? Would he be disgusted by it?

They ended their final song, and Deku grinned out at the audience.

“Thank you guys! You were wonderful!” he said, “And thank you to Bakugou for playing with us tonight!”

Cheering. 

The band exited the stage, and once he was out of their sight, Deku pulled Katsuki into a hug, just like he did every night. Katsuki wanted to lose himself into the other man’s embrace. He buried his head into Deku’s shoulder, wrapped his arms around him, and breathed him in. Could Deku feel his heart beating like this? Did it make a difference?

“Fuckin nerd,” he grumbled into him. Just love me already , he wanted to add, but didn’t.

They all went out to eat that night. Once the show had ended, Katsuki had been dragged by his bandmates to grab cheap shitty food at a local spot that was open into the early hours of the morning. They were crammed into a large booth. Katsuki was stuffed between Deku and Kirishima. Mina perched on the red head’s lap, with Kaminari practically dangling off the side of the seat. Across from them, Glasses was pushed between a wall and a stiff looking Half-and -Half. Sero was pressed up against him, Frog Face to his right. Uraraka sat at the end in a chair they had pulled from an empty table. Despite the late hour, the place was pretty packed. Sero had a camera with him that he had been shoving into everyone’s face, hoping to take ‘candids’ for his next blog post. 

He was snapping photos of Half-and-Half, saying, “Damn, Todoroki, you’re super photogenic.”

“Thank you,” replied the other man.

“Take one of me!” cried Kaminari, “The camera loves me.”

Sero shot one of the blond. 

As everyone talked and ate, Katsuki stewed over his disgustingly greasy burger. He was in a sour mood, as Deku engaged with the others. They were sat so close, they were practically in each other’s laps. Katsuki wished everyone else would just disappear. He wished he had Deku all to himself. He wished Deku would let him have that. 

At some point, maybe sensing his displeasure, Deku leaned in just a bit, his arm wrapping discreetly around Katsuki’s waist, hand resting on his hip under the table. He gave Katsuki a small squeeze as he continued to talk with Frog Face about the Selkie and the Mariners show she had seen that day. Katsuki didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. It was what he wanted, being touched by Deku. But it felt like an empty promise. The way he held him felt like being lied to. It was so perfect, so tender, so convincing , and yet it all meant nothing to him. 

They paid their bill and left after a few hours. Katsuki’s food was left on the table, almost completely untouched. The walk back to the bus lot was filled with excited conversation and laughter between the two bands as Katsuki tailed behind sullenly. He didn’t have the energy to join in. 

Deku wasn’t walking with him, and Katsuki couldn’t tell if it was because he knew they couldn’t be seen together or because he simply didn’t want to, as he laughed along with something Half-and-Half had said up front. 

The bands said their goodbyes before they split ways as they reached the lot, each heading to their own buses.

Katsuki had settled into his bed, ready for sleep to take him and his dour mood away, but his mind was abuzz with insistent thoughts of Deku. As always. He wondered why it was so hard to be away from the man all of the sudden, when he had spent the last twenty-two years and some change of his life without him. He wondered if it was easy for Deku to be without Katsuki. When he was with others, did he ever wish Katsuki was with him instead, or did the thought never even cross his mind? He wondered if Deku would be sad without him. If the thought of losing Katsuki was as paralyzing to him as it was to Katsuki. He couldn’t be without Deku anymore. He just couldn't. Whatever was happening was better than nothing. Would Deku be okay with nothing?

His thoughts were interrupted as his curtain was drawn back, and Deku was crouched over him, beaming down. 

“Kacchan!” he said happily, “You’re awake!”

“Unfortunately,” replied Katsuki.

“The stars are really clear tonight. Do you wanna come watch them with me?” Deku asked.

Katsuki thought that might have been worse than Deku asking him to watch the fireworks. Corny and romantic and bullshit.

He put his hand out and let Deku pull him up from his bunk, savoring the way Deku held onto his hand a moment longer than necessary. Then, like an eager puppy, he was rushing off the bus, Katsuki grumbling at his heels, and leading him to a grassy patch by the bus lot. He laid down in the grass, green blades tickling his frame. He looked to Katsuki and Katsuki stared at him for a moment, taking in the blue hue of his skin under the moonlight. He laid down beside the other man, letting their fingers brush. 

He gazed up at the expansive blackness above them, littered with tiny specs of white lights. 

“Aren’t they beautiful, Kacchan?” Deku asked in a half-whisper.

Katsuki wasn’t sure. As he stared up above them, he felt small and heavy and alone. Everything felt so distant, everything felt so unreachable in that moment. He felt lonely. He felt insignificant. It wasn’t something he was used to feeling and he didn’t like it. 

“Just fuckin’ stars,” he murmured. 

“Kacchan, are you okay?”

Katsuki turned his head, finding Deku already looking at him, concern in his eyes, his brows furrowed and his lips in a pout.

“Course.”

“You’ve seemed sad all day,” insisted Deku.

“‘M not fucking sad. Just got shit on my mind.”

“Like what?”

You .

Katsuki just sighed, turning back up to that depreciative sky. 

“Kacchan, tell me about it. I want to help,” said Deku. 

It wasn’t as if there was anything Deku could have done. He couldn’t force himself to love Katsuki, afterall.

“You ever miss me? When I’m not around?” Katsuki asked rather than answering. His fingers fidgeted with the grass beneath them.

“Yes,” said Deku.

“Bein around me makes you happy?”

“Of course. I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

“Do your other friends make you this happy?”

“Kacchan, what are you asking?” Deku forced a laugh.

“Just wanna know what I mean to you.”

“I’ve already told you, you’re my best friend.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki said, ripping up the blades of grass between his fingers.

“You’re really special to me,” continued Deku, “I mean, I love all my friends, of course they make me happy. But it is different with you.”

“How?”

“It just feels so amazing to be with you. I love hanging out with you. And I think of you when you’re not there. I want you with me all the time. Whenever I’m with other friends, I’m always thinking to myself, man, I wish Kacchan was here too . Everything reminds me of you, even stupid stuff. I saw a trailer for a movie the other day, and it looked so dumb, I thought about how you would have laughed at it and called it shitty. Sometimes it feels like you’re half of me or something, and—”

Katsuki cut him off, rolling over to plant a kiss on Deku’s lips. He wasn’t sure he was able to let Deku continue, it just might have killed him.

Deku quickly melted into the kiss, his hand coming to cup the back of Katsuki’s head as they moved in tandem. In the secluded grassy area, away from everyone, Katsuki felt free to kiss Deku. There was no one around this late, just the faint sound of cicadas chirping in the distance, no one to catch them. Katsuki climbed on top of Deku, straddling him as the kiss deepened and Deku slid his tongue into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Katsuki huffed.

Deku hummed against his lips.

“Want you,” Katsuki said, panting as he pulled away slightly, just to dive back in.

“Kacchan,” Deku breathed, “We should go back to your bus.”

They hurried to stand, not bothering to brush themselves off as they raced back to the grey nightliner. They padded through, careful not to make any loud sounds that would wake the others up, ducking into Katsuki’s bunk and began stripping each other of their clothing. As the grinded together, kissing sloppily and trying their best to bite back moans, Deku whispered, “Wanna fuck you.”

Katsuki paused. Certainly, he had misheard him. Deku didn’t want fuck him. 

“You what?”

“I wanna fuck you, Kacchan. Is that… is that okay?” Deku asked sheepishly.

Now, Katsuki was sure he hadn’t misheard Deku. He must have been dreaming then. Because Deku didn’t want to fuck him. He had drawn boundaries before just to cross them, but this was… sex. With him. And Deku wasn’t gay. They were just friends. It was too much, Deku wouldn’t fuck him. It was all a dream. That explained it, explained that stupid fucking confession that made Katsuki’s heart feel ready to burst too.

He couldn’t do this. He pinched himself, pulling the skin of his arm. It stung.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” he asked.

“No?” said Deku.

“You want to fuck me?”

“I-if you’re not comfortable we don’t—”

“Fuck off, I’m not uncomfortable. I’m so fucking comfortable,” Katsuki whisper-yelled. He fished around the shelf of his bunk, finding a bottle of lube and a condom he had bought a while back, delirious on the pipe-dream that maybe Deku would come around. It seemed less like a pipe-dream just then. “Get on with it, nerd.”

Deku chuckled, and said, “Alright, Kacchan.”

Deku took the bottle, squirting out a generous helping of the liquid onto his fingers and pulling Katsuki back into another kiss. Katsuki tried hopelessly to keep back all the lewd sounds that threatened to spill from his throat as Deku worked him open, hoping they would just dissolve into Deku’s mouth. He didn’t need one of his bandmates waking up and ruining this moment for him. Deku wanted to have sex with him. He wasn’t going to let anything stop them. He thought the entire bus could spontaneously catch fire and he would still be dead set on getting Deku to fill him up.

Once he had been stretched, Deku lined him up on his hips, pressing in. It was an unpleasant burn, an odd feeling of fullness that Katsuki had never experienced before. He had never had something foreign in his body like this. Still, somehow, despite the oddness and the small part of himself telling him how wrong it was, he enjoyed the feeling. Knowing it was Deku who was doing this to him made it all okay. Good. Great, even. 

He sat all the way down on Deku, and the two began moving. It was hesitant at first, as if Deku was scared he would hurt Katsuki if he pushed too hard, but Katsuki had no desire to be treated like he was a delicate little flower. He moved at a hurried, desperate pace, driving Deku into him with all he could muster. 

It started to feel overwhelmingly good pretty quickly. Not just as Deku found the spot inside him that had him seeing stars, but as Katsuki began to realize just how close they were. Deku was literally inside him, and even if it hadn’t felt so allconsumingly good, he would have been content just to know Deku was there. They were joined, unified, tied together. The thought alone brought him close to the tipping point. 

Deku seemed to be fairing similarly, rutting up into him and panting, “I’m close, Kacchan.”

“Me too.”

They each lasted a short while longer before they spilled out, Katsuki across Deku’s stomach, Deku in the condom. Katsuki collapsed bonelessly on top of Deku, ignoring the stickiness between their bodies in favor of just breathing the other man in.

“Was it good for you, Kacchan?” Deku asked, breathless.

“Yeah. Really good,” Katsuki responded.

“I’m glad. It was really good for me too.”

Katsuki wondered why, then, had he had to put it off for so long. It was as if they had fused together, Deku still inside him even as he softened. It was uncomfortable again, but it made Katsuki so wonderfully connected to him that he couldn’t complain. Why hadn’t they been doing this from the beginning if Deku was just going to go against what he had said about sex anyway? Why was there all this pretending between them?

I love you , he thought helplessly.

Chapter Text

I feel manic depressive the way my mood changes so quickly. I’m livid, then I’m ecstatic, then I’m the loneliest I’ve ever felt. Nothing really makes sense in my head and I hate that feeling. I’m used to trusting myself. I feel like my guts are about to flood out of me like a river when the dam bursts and I’ll say something stupid. Stargazing has got to be the best and worst thing I’ll ever let myself do. Now I’ll only ever think of that night when I look up at the sky. Like a curse over me. It sort of feels like I might die. It sort of feels like I’ve never been more alive. And it’s all because of some damn prying eyes. Maybe if no one could see me, it wouldn’t feel so much like I have to be seen. Or I’ll always crave attention on me. No matter how much I hate the world, I desperately need it to love me. No matter how much you try to deny the importance of a heart, it keeps on beating til you die.

And before you all get in my business asking, no, this isn’t about anyone but me. 

Bakugou

Katsuki felt like maybe he should apologize to Kirishima and Mina for ever complaining that they had too much sex on the bus. It hadn’t been until Katsuki had started having sex of his own that he realized how addictive it was, and now, he was commandeering that backroom more than any of his other bandmates combined. But it was Deku, afterall. Katsuki wasn’t sure if it was the sex that was so mindblowing, or just Deku being so intimate with him. At just about any given opportunity, one glance between the two or a light brush of the hand, and they were squirreling away in the bus and ravaging each other. Katsuki had long abandoned his hesitations around initiating things with Deku, now that there were no lines drawn in the sand to cross, he figured there was nothing he could do anymore that could scare Deku off. He could kiss him, take him in his hand or in his mouth, let him inside, and it was all fair game now. Katsuki’s body was Deku’s to have his way with, and it was only fair that Katsuki had equal rights to Deku. They had to be careful not to leave any visible marks, but Katsuki was still able to mouth softly along every inch of that freckled skin as though it belonged to him. They explored every corner of each other, every nook and cranny and crevice. Katsuki was enamored with the feeling free reign over Deku’s body had given him, like he was golden.

Katsuki had been scared to ask why he was given this new freedom, why Deku wanted him so suddenly. Because if he didn’t ask, he could imagine. Imagine Deku had finally realized he wanted Katsuki, needed him, was in love with him. As much as Katsuki wanted, needed, loved Deku. It could feel real, as long as he didn’t know for certain. Because if he asked, Deku might insist that it was just something between friends, that he had just been horny and his vision had been clouded with lust, that it was still nothing. Katsuki’s heart wouldn’t be able to take it if this all meant nothing. But surely it had to mean something.

So Katsuki just went along with it, riding the high it gave him to be close to Deku like this. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t push. Just let himself pretend that each time Deku buried himself in Katsuki, it was some wordless declaration. That Deku didn’t need to tell him, because what else could this have meant?

Deku loved him, he just didn’t have the words to say it. That was what Katsuki told himself. It was kind of ironic, Katsuki being the one better tuned into his own emotions for once, the one to know exactly what word described his feelings. But Deku loved him. He must have, at least even a little bit. 

Sero and Kaminari had put on a movie and forced Katsuki to watch it with them. A few minutes in, Kirishima and Mina had joined, and the five of them were piled into the living area, watching the TV in rapture. Or the others were. Katsuki was barely paying attention.

“So wait,” Kaminari interrupted the film, “Why are her parents pigs?”

“Cause of their greed,” Sero explained.

“But they were gonna pay for the food!”

“But it wasn’t their food, it’s the food of the spirits.”

“Man, but it looked so good,” Kaminari whined, as if he was going to eat any of it.

Katsuki waited for the conversation to die when Deku stepped onto the bus, glancing around the room before his eyes landed on Katsuki. He gave him a smile and a meaningful look, and Katsuki hoisted himself from the couch.

“As invigorating as this conversation is, I’m out,” he said to his bandmates as he crossed the room, heading to the back with Deku tailing behind him.

Someone wolf whistled and Sero called, “Try not to make too much noise, we’re still trying to watch!”

Katsuki ignored them, pulling Deku into the backroom and sliding in close.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Deku smiled, “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Didn’t interrupt shit, seen it before. And Kaminari talks through movies anyway.”

Katsuki leaned in, pressing his lips against Deku’s. 

There wasn’t much foreplay before they undressed and Deku was sliding his fingers into Katsuki, opening him.

Katsuki panted into his mouth as he was readied and soon Deku was pulling out, lining himself up and plunging back in.

He had Katsuki sat on the table, bracketed by his legs as they pulled him closer, deeper. He thrust eagerly in and out of Katsuki, kissing along his jaw and neck. He leaned down to lick at his collar bone.

He loves me , Katsuki said to himself, This is love .

He struggled to keep quiet, overtaken by the pleasure of having Deku buried deep inside him. Deku wasn’t much better, letting out throaty whines every time Katsuki constricted around him. They were likely being a bother, as they heard the volume of the movie outside rise. But it didn’t matter, not when they were together like this.

Afterwards, when they were spent and Deku had collapsed into Katsuki’s shoulder with ragged breaths, Katsuki ran his hand through curly green locks and found himself hoping they never separated. Deku could stay a part of him, conjoined at the hips, just so Katsuki could always feel so very linked to him. 

Deku began to pull away, but Katsuki held on tightly, resisting the distance.

“Don’t wanna move,” he grumbled, and so Deku stayed for a while longer.

Another signing had Katsuki uncomfortably sweaty. He could see Deku a ways away at his own merch table, smiling and chatting with fans. Katsuki tried to keep his eyes down as he grunted out responses and signed various items. CDs and posters were most common, sometimes clothes or books or other personal items. Someone today had asked him to sign her bra, which he had refused. So had Kirishima and Sero, but Kaminari had excitedly scribbled his name and Mina had laughed and done the same. 

Sero had said, “Well, if they’re signing, I might as well.”

Kirishima and Katsuki held firm that they would not. Kirishima found it inappropriate while Katsuki just found it annoying. The other three thought it was all in good fun.

The line inched forward slowly, as Katsuki impatiently bounced his knee.

Fans asked him about Deku, if he was writing about him, why he hadn’t in a while. He gave his usual response. It’s fiction. But he was starting to think that was more of a lie than he had initially thought.

“It’s a shame that you’re gay,” a girl had told him, “But Midoriya is really cute. I can’t blame you.”

“Hah?”

“Aren’t you two together?”

“No, we’re not,” Katsuki said. He wondered if that was still true.

“At least Kaminari and Sero are still single,” the girl sighed wistfully, ignoring what Katsuki had said, “There’s still hope.”

“I’m not dating the damn nerd! And anyway, you ain’t got a shot with Sparky or Soy Sauce Face, even if they are single,” Katsuki told her. 

She pouted and he felt a bit bad for snapping. He hadn’t needed to tell her all of that.

“Dating fans is shitty. It puts you at a disadvantage where they have power over you, don’t go for musicians who would do that shit,” he added, hoping to soften the blow some.

“R-right,” she stumbled.

He signed her Dynamight CD and she moved down the line to Kirishima, who was much friendlier with her than Katsuki had been. He just hoped his poor attitude didn’t make its rounds through the rumor mill again and get Aizawa’s panties in a bunch. He wasn’t exactly known for being nice to fans, but sometimes he went too far and suddenly everyone wanted to talk about what an ass he was. Aizawa would put out a statement saying Bakugou remains grateful to his fans, and deeply regrets his words. Bakugou suffers from anger management issues which are currently being worked on, so he asks that fans remain respectful and patient during meetings as he grows, or some similar bullshit. It wasn’t his fault fans loved to say stupid things to him and expected him to smile through it. He didn’t have a tolerance for that sort of crap. The only person he put on a smile for was Deku.

Katsuki was scrolling through the Deku website for the millionth time. There were no posts about him, which was a good thing. They weren’t supposed to post about each other anymore. And besides, the last two times Deku had written about Katsuki, it hadn’t exactly sat well with the blonde. Still, he liked seeing what was on Deku’s mind, even if it wasn’t him.

As he scrolled, his computer sent him an email notification. It was from Sero, who rarely emailed, so he decided to check it, if only to break the endless cycle of staring at Deku’s posts.

The email read thought you’d like this one , with a photo attached. Katsuki opened it, finding it was one of the photos Sero had taken when they went out to eat the other night. He must have been going through the camera to download them onto his computer and stumbled across it. Of course he would have sent it to Katsuki.

It was a photo of him and Deku. They were sat at the table, smushed together. Katsuki glared down at his lap, unaware of the camera. Unaware of Deku too, it seemed, as the green haired man gazed fondly at Katsuki. It was a look Katsuki had never seen on the other’s face before. He had seen Deku look at him with excitement, with affection, even with lust more times than he could count. He was used to Deku looking at him like he was someone who mattered. But this face was new. It was peaceful, borderline adoring. There was a content smile pushing at the corner of his lips. His eyes weren’t wide and shining the way they often were when he looked at Katsuki, just soft and gentle. Like he was relaxed, at ease watching Katsuki when Katsuki had no idea he was looking. He was leaning in a bit, so the ends of Katsuki’s hair kissed his cheek.

It looked almost like love.

Katsuki was remiss to have not noticed Deku looking at him like this when it happened. He was annoyed that Sero had been the one to catch it, that he had immortalized such a tender moment that shouldn’t have been witnessed by anyone but him. A part of him, however, was glad that the picture existed, that he could look at it again and again, study the curve of Deku’s mouth, the tranquil look in his eyes, the way his freckles shifted to accommodate his smile. A smile that Katsuki alone had been responsible for. 

Katsuki had never looked at a friend like that. He had never seen Deku look at anyone else like that either. “ It is different with you ”. 

Katsuki saved the image to his computer.

No one knew more about love than Mina. She was obsessed with romance. Not just her own, but everyone’s. She loved seeing her friends couple up, loved shows and movies with palpable chemistry between two characters. Mina would wax poetic about facets of the heart, write songs about the beauty of two people. She loved love. 

Katsuki hated getting advice from people, and usually he went to Kirishima if he was really desperate. But Kirishima, as big hearted as he was, could be a bit dense sometimes. It had taken him years to work up the courage to confess to Mina, and even then, she had beat him to it. Katsuki needed to know if Deku had feelings for him, and trapped in his own head, he found none of it made any sense to him. So, there he was at another stupid post-show party, sat out in lawn chairs with Mina as they sipped from beers together, willing himself to speak.

The others around them paid them no mind, too busy with their own drinks, their own conversations, to care what Katsuki had to say. Still, he felt nervous, the words failing him as he stared at her.

“Well, out with it, Bakubro,” she said, “You look like you got something you’re dying to say.”

Katsuki took a swig of his beer.

“I need advice,” he forced out.

Mina practically squealed in excitement, exclaiming, “Oh my god! Finally! I’ve been waiting for this day, you emotionally constipated grinch! You know I’m your girl, what’s on your mind?”

“It’s about Deku,” he said, then clarifying,“Midoriya.”

“What, finally ready to admit you like him? About time. It’s so obvious you’re head over heels for the guy, you should just ask him out already,” Mina rambled.

“He’s straight,” said Katsuki.

“Hun, no he isn’t.”

“He said he is,” he argued, and Mina tisked, “And I know we’re doing stuff. But he swears it’s just as friends. But I dunno. He told me he feels differently about me than he does his other friends. Like, he thinks about me, and shit reminds him of me, and he misses me when I’m not there. That’s… kinda romantic sounding, ain’t it?”

“Totally.”

“He’s super touchy and affectionate and always tells me how amazing I am. But then he keeps telling me we can’t do things, then doing them anyway. Like, at first he only wanted to kiss, then he started initiating more but he said we couldn’t have, like, full on sex. But then he said he wanted to. I’m just… I’m confused. Why does he keep making boundaries with me just to cross them? Why does he insist that we’re just friends if I clearly mean something to him? Am I going fucking crazy or is there something there?” Katsuki lamented, growing frustrated as he spoke. It all sounded so stupid.

“Sounds to me like he’s in denial,” Mina said, “Maybe he does have feelings for you, but he’s so stuck in the idea that he’s straight that he can’t see them?”

“You think?”

“I don’t know why else he would be acting like that. I mean, it’s totally obvious he likes you back. He’s obsessed with you.”

He was, wasn’t he?

“So how should I get him to admit it, then?”

“I mean, you can’t control when he comes to terms with things. He probably will need time regardless of what you do. But maybe if you tell him how you feel and what you want, it’ll jumpstart his brain and he’ll realize he feels the same?” Mina suggested.

Katsuki thought about that. About telling Deku. He had never considered it, fearing that a confession would break their fragile relationship, scare Deku off. If things got too serious, would Deku bolt? But what if it had the opposite effect, as Mina said it might? Was it worth it?

Katsuki wanted to scream it from the rooftops, tell the whole world he was in love with Deku. Because Deku deserved to be appreciated. But he didn’t want to ruin the balance they had struck. 

Still, he wondered how much longer their balancing act could last? Katsuki needed more. He couldn’t stand the thought of not having Deku to himself, of Deku not caring enough to keep Katsuki. The summer was nearly over, the tour only had a few remaining shows left. What if summer ended and Deku met someone else? Could Katsuki keep it together? Keep being his friend? What if everything fell apart regardless, and Katsuki could have saved it with one simple confession? He was exhausted having to pretend that what they had was enough, that he wasn’t aching for all the things Deku wouldn’t give him. It was draining him. But it was better than nothing, wasn’t it? Should he just let sleeping dogs lie?

“What if he doesn’t feel the same?” Katsuki finally asked.

“He definitely does,” said Mina, “He just doesn’t know it yet. And anyway, even if he doesn’t, confessing to him would make everything more clear for you, at least. Being in the dark is worse than knowing where you stand, isn’t it?”

Maybe it was. Katsuki tortured himself with all the uncertainty. He hated the feeling of being unsure of himself. Did he hate it more than he feared losing Deku, though?

“Either way, he obviously cares a lot about you. I’m sure, even if he rejects you, he’ll still want to be friends,” Mina continued reassuringly. 

“Don’t wanna get rejected,” Katsuki muttered into his beer bottle.

“What, you afraid? Since when are you afraid?” Mina laughed, “Love really does change people, huh?”

Katsuki was not afraid. Not ever. He knew Mina had probably been playing him a little with that comment, but dammit, it worked. It was exactly the motivation Katsuki needed. He stood up, marching across the party to where Deku stood with Uraraka and Glasses. Deku barely had time to acknowledge him before Katsuki was grabbing his wrist and tugging him away from the party goers into a dark corner behind one of the buses. The music and chatter was faint here, private enough, and Katsuki was drunk enough to bully his way forward.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Do we?” giggled Deku, face flushed as he wrapped Katsuki in his arms, leaning in close to kiss him. Katsuki indulged him for a moment, before pulling away.

“‘M serious. Got shit to say to you.”

Deku seemed to sober up a bit, nodding.

“What is it, Kacchan?”

“First, I wanna ask you something. Why did you wanna have sex with me?”

“Huh?” Deku tilted his head.

“You heard me. Why did you want to have sex with me after saying we couldn’t for months?”

“Well, you— you seemed sad and I… wanted to make you happy. I thought you wanted to have sex so…” Deku explained awkwardly.

Katsuki felt himself crumble a little, his resolve faltering. Deku hadn’t wanted to have sex with him. He hadn’t broken down a wall, he had simply been looked down on. Of course. Deku was straight. He didn’t love Katsuki. Not like that. Enough to do what Katsuki wanted him to to comfort Katsuki, but not like that. Katsuki was just his best friend.

“That’s all?”

“Should there be more?”

“Yeah, there should. You should want to have sex with me too. Don’t just do it cause you’re fucking pitying me or something,” Katsuki bit. Because it was infuriating that Deku would do something so intimate, let Katsuki believe something was shifting, just to pull out the same bullshit he always did. Why had Katsuki expected more?

“I do like having sex with you,” Deku countered.

“But you didn’t want to, did you?”

Deku blushed. 

“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” he asked.

“No, I— shit. Whatever. Forget it,” Katsuki huffed, stomping away. He couldn’t keep talking to Deku, because there was nothing he could say to change Deku’s answer, was there? He would just talk in circles, hoping just once, he could crack Deku’s exterior, see the truth. But what if Deku was telling the truth, an open book laid out? Katsuki was just hopeless.

He hurried towards his bus, not wanting to return to the party when he felt like his heart had just been stomped to pieces. He crashed into his bed, staring at the curtain as a salty burn pricked his eyes. He felt hot drops begin to trickle down his cheek, and he wiped them away, but they kept falling. He just felt so fucking stupid for convincing himself all of this shit between them actually meant anything to Deku, when he had been telling him from the start that it didn’t. He felt that hollow bitterness swell up with  a furious vengeance at being briefly forgotten, pushed to the side in Katsuki’s excitement. He felt angry that he had almost confessed to Deku, angry that Mina had convinced him it was a good idea.

He should just leave things be. Be happy with the scraps he was given. He didn’t want to ruin anything. He couldn’t. He couldn’t lose Deku. At the same time, a part of him wished he would never see the other man again, had never met him in the first place. The two feelings wrestled inside him, and he couldn’t decide which would ultimately win out.

At some point, he heard footsteps. Someone approached his bunk, drew back the curtain. He was unsurprised to see Deku on the other side. Always Deku.

“Are you okay, Kacchan?" Deku ran a hand through his hair.

"Fine."

Katsuki took his hand from his hair and pulled him into the bunk with him.

"Are you sure? You seem upset."

Katsuki looked up and found concern written across Deku’s face. It pissed him off. He glared at Deku.

"M fine."

“You ran off,” Deku pointed out, “Did I say something wrong?” 

Had he said something wrong? He had said the truth. Was that wrong? He hadn’t wanted to have sex with Katsuki. He just saw Katsuki as some sad charity case, just wanted to make him feel better. Was that all it ever was?

Katsuki's eyes began to prickle with heat again. He fought off the tears, burying his face in Deku’s chest, but couldn't stop the sobs that began to wrack through him.

"Kacchan, what is it?" Deku asked, concern flooding his voice at Katuski’s uncharacteristic display of emotion.

"What's wrong with me?" Katsuki choked.

"What? Nothing is wrong with you?"

"Don't lie to me."

"Why do you think something is wrong with you?"

Because you don’t love me. Because I tricked myself into thinking you do.

He couldn’t say any of that. Not now. It was pointless. What was there to say to Deku? As his insides continued to wrestle, he found he didn’t want to say anything. He wanted Deku gone, and he wanted him to hold him in his arms, make him feel safe and secure and loved again. Mostly, he wanted to rip out Deku’s throat.

"Fuck. I don't want to fucking talk to you."

"You don't want to talk about what's wrong?"

"YOU don't want to talk about what's wrong!" Katsuki exploded, pulling his head away from Deku’s chest. Despite his tears, he was furious, face hot and red. How could Deku act like he didn’t know why Katsuki was upset? How could he pretend Katsuki was the one who was avoiding the real issue like it was a plague? He felt his desire to stay at Deku’s side slip under, his need to be alone surging forwards with his anger. He wanted to kick Deku out of bed, scream at him, fucking cut him out of his life for good. 

"Of course I do. I want to help you, Kacchan."

"Stop! Stop it! You keep doing this, being all sweet and then saying this isn't anything. It's nothing and then you're treating me like... making me think I'm fucking special!"

“...What?” Deku asked. He sounded genuinely confused, and that just pissed Katsuki off more.

“I can’t stand it when you tell me how fucking amazing I am, when you fucking look at me like I fucking matter, cause I keep convincing myself it’s more than it is! I keep thinking, maybe this is when you’ll finally love me, and then you just fucking don’t! I feel like I’m losing my mind trying to figure you out! You say I’m different from your other friends, that you think of me, that you miss me, but then you still insist I’m just your friend! You don’t act like it! You fucking kiss me, and you touch me, and you let me touch you, and you fucking look at me ! You can’t treat me like I’m your fucking boyfriend, and then tell me you don’t feel anything!” Katsuki yelled, losing track of his words as they spilled unrestrained from his mouth. He was too mad to find it in himself to regret them.

There was a moment of silence after Katsuki’s outburst. Deku stared at him sadly.

Finally, "I'm not gay Kacchan. I'm just not."

Of course that was all he had to say. What more was there? I do feel something ? You are more than a friend ? I’m sorry ? No. He just wasn’t gay.

"Fuck. Just go away."

"What?"

"Fuck right off. I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you."

"It's not like I can help it, Kacchan," Deku tried, but Katsuki was too tired to entertain him any longer.

"Yeah you can't, so just leave me alone."

Perhaps in that moment, Deku had sensed that he lost this battle, that Katsuki wasn’t going to give him anymore, because he pulled himself from the bunk silently and left. His footsteps faded, disappearing behind the sound of a shutting door. Katsuki stared at where he had been, hollow, bitter. His chest burned fiercely. He wanted to set fire to his bunk, erase the lingering heat and the scent of sweat and pine that Deku had left behind. It flooded his senses and made him feel like he was about to break under the weight of it all.

Chapter Text

“So,” said the interviewer, “You have just a week left on the Plus Ultra tour. How are we feeling about that? Sadness, excitement?"

“It’s bittersweet,” said Kirishima.

“Yeah, it’s super sad that it’s over, it’s been so much fun. But it’s also exhausting, and I can’t wait to sleep in a real bed, take an actual shower, cook food with something other than a microwave,” said Mina.

Katsuki stayed quiet.

“That makes sense. Now, you’ve been playing with a lot of other bands, do you guys think you’ve made any lasting connections here?”

“Of course! We’ve made so many amazing friends,” said Kaminari.

“Plus, we have some stuff that we’ve discussed with some people, projects in the works and all. Keep an eye out for that,” teased Sero.

“Some new music?”

Sero gave a coy shrug. Katsuki kept quiet.

“Alright, alright, I get it. It’s a secret. But really, when can we expect new music from you guys? It’s been almost a year since your last record, got anything in the works?”

“Sure. We’re always writing, and once the tour’s over we’ll have a lot more time to really get into the finer details of making an album,” answered Kirishima.

The others talked. Katsuki didn’t. He was silent through the entire interview.

In the week after Katsuki’s outburst, he didn’t see much of Deku. He avoided his bus, his shows, get togethers, everything and anything that might have summoned him. Katsuki didn’t want to see him. 

Deku certainly wasn’t avoiding him. He called and texted, asking Katsuki to talk to him, please , but Katsuki ignored it. He had half a mind to block Deku’s number, but he didn’t. Maybe he was clinging to the hope that one of those texts would hold the words he longed to hear, or maybe it just felt good to know he was on Deku’s mind still, that his absence affected him. 

Deku still showed up side stage at the Ground Zero shows, but Katsuki always brushed past him without so much as a glance as he got off stage. The first time he did it, he felt Deku freeze beside him. After that, Deku seemed to anticipate being ignored.

He performed the same, refusing to let it bring his playing down, but the knowledge that Deku was just to his left, watching him still, made him feel sick.

He showed up at Katsuki’s bus a few times, but Katsuki pretended not to be there, told his bandmates to get rid of him. He’d overhear apologetic voices telling Deku that Katsuki was out at an interview or something of the like, then a shutting door.

He spent most of that final week alone, sulking in his misery. It made him realize just how much the other man filled his time, how much Katsuki’s day revolved around him.

It wasn’t as if he had wanted to cut Deku out of his life. But he couldn’t do it anymore, pretend he hadn’t fallen stupidly in love with the other man, pretend it was just fine that Deku didn’t love him back. Couldn’t love him back. It made him too angry. Like there was a parasite eating away at him.

“Why so glum? You and Midoriya break up?" Kaminari asked him one morning as he heated up a microwavable meal.

"We were never together," Katsuki replied, glowering at his breakfast before him, as if it had personally offended him. Like it was the food’s fault his whole world was washing away down the drain.

"Really? Didn't seem that way to me."

"Shows how gullible you are,” Katsuki grumbled.

Every day began to feel pointless and empty. He moved like a ghost from interview to interview, shoot to shoot, show to show. He didn’t feel much of anything when he was busy, not even the usual thrill that playing brought him. The second he was holed away in his bunk, however, he felt an overwhelming despair settle over him. It felt like something heavy blanketing his body, unmoving, uncaring. It wasn’t violent or explosive the way his emotions usually were. It was stagnant and stone-like.

Plus Ultra ended in a party Katsuki didn’t attend. For once, his friends had the sense to leave him be, let him rot in his bunk like the carcass he was. He wondered if Deku was out there, if he was enjoying the party or if he was hoping to spot Katsuki amongst the crowd. It didn’t matter. Katsuki wouldn’t leave his bed. He just needed the world to fade to black for a while.

Sleep evaded him, and in the early hours of the morning, he heard someone stumble onto the bus. From the weight of the footfalls, he assumed it was Kirishima. As they drew near, his curtain was tugged back with a loud rattling sound.

“Not your bunk, Shitty Hair,” Katsuki grumbled to the ceiling.

“It’s me, Kacchan.”

Right. Deku.

He didn’t turn to look, fearing what he might do if he saw the other man. If he saw that beautiful, stupid, puppy dog look, he might have just caved, pulled Deku into his bed and forgotten all the anger he held. He wanted to, but he didn’t, kept his eyes trained on the ceiling.

“Go back to the party. I don’t want to talk to you,” he said.

“Kacchan,” Deku pleaded, a warm hand coming to grip his shoulder. Katsuki slapped it away, not wanting to give in to the familiar comfort it brought. Like a warm shower on a cold day, beating down on you until you drifted off.

“I mean it.”

“I don’t want to end things like this,” said Deku. 

Katsuki squeezed his eyes shut.

“How do you want to end things, then?”

“I-I don’t. I like what we have, why do we have to—”

“Because I don’t fucking like it,” Katsuki bit.

“I thought—”

“You thought wrong.”

“Kacchan, tonight’s the last night, can we please just—”

“Get the fuck out.”

He finally turned to Deku, his face set. Deku looked like he was about to cry, but Katsuki didn’t falter, didn’t let his face show any signs that the sight affected him. It didn’t. He was cold and impassive and Deku could get fucked and die for all he cared. He didn’t ache to bring Deku close to him, soothe him, make every stupid thing he had said go away. He just wanted Deku gone.

And Deku did leave, looking dejected and he slunk away from the bunk and out of Katsuki’s field of vision.

Katsuki didn’t sleep that night. Didn’t sleep on the plane ride home, stuck in the middle seat as Kaminari and Sero dozed off on his shoulders. Didn’t sleep as the cab took him from the airport to his neighborhood.

Katsuki didn’t sleep until he got back to his apartment, almost twenty hours after their last show. He trudged through the front door, dropping his things half-hazardly, and found his way to the bedroom. He was exhausted, and sleep found him quickly as he collapsed onto the large bed.

It was weird, not being in the cramped little bunk. It almost felt lonely, like he had too much space. Like gazing up at the night sky. Still, he was tired, drifting off into an empty blackness that would hopefully alleviate some of the horrid feeling that had made a home in his gut.

Birds chirped outside his window when he woke, cheery and bright. He still felt awful.

It was surreal, unpacking his things for the first time in months. He threw a load of clothes into the wash, set his laptop on his desk, his music books by his drum kit in his home studio. Having so much space felt overwhelming. He couldn’t remember how he had been comfortable before. Everything was clean and spacious and his, just how he liked it, but it felt wrong.

Being alone was nice, though. He liked the quiet of his apartment, the lack of obligation he had to anyone else when he was inside. No one to force him to play nice, no one to pity him when he didn’t.

When he was done unpacking, he threw on a T-shirt and shorts and went for a run, hoping to clear his head. It helped a bit, but by the time he was back home, he was stuck in his thoughts again.

They were nothing special. Just Deku. His smile, his hair, his perfect freckles. Katsuki thought about calling him, thought again about blocking his number. He did neither.

It didn’t matter. He never reached out. Deku stopped reaching out as well, letting Katsuki be. Thank god and fuck him.

Without distraction, Katsuki began writing more. He and his bandmates would send each other recordings and piece together songs out of the written parts. He had built a drum line around the riff Kaminari had sent, and was currently working on a few of his own original parts. It felt good, taking his emotions out on his kit. As therapeutic as punching a hole through his wall, but without the unnecessary damages.

Kirishma came over a few days after they got back, claiming the adjustment from living with him all summer made him miss Katsuki now that they were home. Katsuki thought it was a check-in. 

His friends had noticed in their final week that Katsuki had been in a worse mood than usual, somber rather than snappy and irritable, and it had clearly worried them all. They knew it was because of Deku, knew the two had stopped hanging out, stopped talking altogether. No one except Kaminari had said anything about it, but he could tell they knew from the way they looked at him with pity written across their faces. It was the same way Kirishima looked at him now as they made themselves comfortable on the couch.

“How’re you doin’, Bakubro?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Being back home treating you good?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” said Kirishima, frustratedly, “I know you’re not usually Mr. Chatty, but you gotta give me something, man.”

“What do you want me to say?” Katsuki grunted back.

“I don’t know. Tell me what you’ve been doing, tell me about the new songs you’ve been working on, shit, talk about Mido-”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” cut Katsuki.

“Okay, okay,” said Kirishima with his hands raised placatingly, “Wanna jam?”

“Yeah,” said Katuki, happy his friend wasn’t pushing on the Deku topic. He was already burdened by near constant thoughts of the other man, he certainly did not want to talk about him too.

The two stood and made their way to the home studio, Katsuki settling at his drum kit while Kirishima took one of the guitars he had hanging from the wall for this very purpose. 

They jammed for a few hours, taking Katsuki’s mind blissfully away from thoughts of Deku for a time, til he was just a faint ache in the back of his chest. He didn’t go away completely, but it was still nice to muffle the sound of his voice playing on loop in his head. It was good. It almost gave him hope that, one day, he would return to normal. That Deku would fade away and only music and the band would remain. If only it would come faster.

Before Plus Ultra, Katsuki used to get stopped in the street every now and then by a fan, though it was hardly a common occurrence. He could usually go about his daily life with minimal disturbance, only getting recognized by the select group of people who were aware of his music. Now, handling the streets felt like stepping through landmines. He would get spotted out on his morning jog, or on the way to the gym, or coming back from the grocery store. Fans would approach him, chatting and hoping to get a shot of them together. Every now and then, a parent would tell him their child was a fan and ask for pictures. Katsuki almost always gave a gruff no, saying he was just trying to get home, or run errands, and he didn’t want to be bothered. Most people, though disappointed, were understanding and polite. Some threw fits, and he saw more than one post about his ‘rude behavior’ circling forums. Most were dismissed, as people defended his right to privacy. He was glad at least some people in this world were still sane. He hated when fans asked about his mysterious summer fling.

I miss my best friend .

Deku

It was dumb, admittedly, but morbid curiosity had once again brought Katsuki to Deku’s website. The stupid words at the top of the page made him see red, made his whole body feel like ice. 

Katsuki found himself listening to Deku’s album the next day, refusing to go and buy it, instead downloading it off Limewire. He listened to it on the little yellow iPod Kaminari had gifted him a year ago after he had gotten a brand new one, plugging in his headphones as he got ready for his morning run. When it ended, a few miles in, he restarted the album. After a few days, he found he couldn’t listen to anything else. There was something comforting about hearing Deku’s voice again, like he was back on stage with him, listening to him sing but not seeing him. It stung, but it was enough to hold him together. Like string tied too tightly around his skin. 

“And, cut!” cried their director, a pudgy man in a newsie cap and an ugly vest.

Katsuki slumped, tired of filming. It was taking way too damn long to get the shot they were looking for, Kirishima struggling to muster the right expression of determination as Katsuki gave him some pep talk. None of the audio would be in the final cut, but there was dialogue written into the script anyway to help them capture the right emotions.

It seemed they had finally gotten it right, as the director told them they’d move on to the next scene now, one Katsuki thankfully wasn’t in. It was a scene of Kirishima with his medic, Kaminari, discussing an injury he had sustained in the ring.

They were on set for the filming of the Red Riot music video, had been for four days now. They were almost done, the video being set to air in about a week and a half, with their last day of shooting, five days of editing, and a few days for higher ups at their label to approve it, make necessary changes and the like. Katsuki hated acting, and he was just about fed up with this video. Thankfully, there were few scenes with him properly in them, most of his shots being cut aways of the band playing. Those were easy enough to film. Mina was the only one who had a real role in those shots, pretending to be an announcer in the box as the rest of them played behind her. But the scenes where he had to take on the role of ‘boxing coach’ irritated him.

Still, he thought. At least the set had AC. Summer was winding down, but it was still quite hot outside, and he was sick of sweating through all his clothes, especially as his costume was a rather thick tracksuit. 

He trudged from the locker room set over to the catering table, pouring himself a coffee and swiping a small sandwich. Mina and Sero came over to him, Sero dressed as a referee in black and white stripes, and Mina in her announcer costume, a black dress under a pink blazer with a mic’d headset. 

“What’s up, grumpy?” asked Mina.

Sero grabbed a handful of snacks as he crowded Katsuki.

“This fucking sucks.”

“No way, it’s fun!” Mina said, “It’s so cool that we’re making, like, a real music video!”

“Totally,” agreed Sero, stuffing his face.

“You’re an old hat at this, right?” Mina asked.

“I mean, my old band made some music videos, but they were all on handheld cameras with like, no budget. Real DIY projects. This is on another level,” Sero said.

“Still, must’ve been cool.”

“Oh yeah. It’s super rewarding when you get that final product in your hands, even if it isn’t that good. It’s like, even though probably five people saw it, you felt so legit.”

“We are legit,” said Katsuki, “This shit is just extra.”

“Oh, come on, Bakubro, where’s your creative spirit?” Mina chastised.

“I’m a musician, not an actor.”

“Always such a buzz kill,” said Sero.

Katsuki’s chest burned and he glared at his bandmate. 

“Don’t get all pouty,” said Mina, “You know we only tease you cause we love you.”

If Katsuki weren’t so tired, he would have exploded at them both. He hated when his friends told him they loved him. But it had bothered him less and less over the last month or so. Maybe because falling in love with Deku meant he had to accept that he kind of maybe sort of loved his friends too. That there was love in his heart, and so maybe there was love for him in others’ hearts. But that was stupid. Cause Deku hadn’t loved him back, so why should anyone else? If even Deku couldn’t find it in him to feel that way about Katsuki, how did anyone else stand a chance? Mina’s comment only made him feel more bitter, made him start thinking about Deku all over again.

“Whatever,” he grunted.

Sero and Mina continued to chat as Kaminari and Kirishima filmed their scene. When it was over, they all insisted that they go out to drink together to celebrate wrapping up the filming. Katsuki was dragged along, more willingly than any one of them had expected. He needed a drink, simple as that.

They found themselves at a small bar a short train ride away from the set, quickly settling into a booth as Kirishima and Sero went up to order. They came back with five glasses and two pitchers of beer to start. 

“Thank you, dears,” said Mina.

“Of course,” Kirishima grinned broadly.

Katsuki took a glass, pouring himself a generous portion. The others followed suit, and soon they were all rather tipsy, four pitchers deep, prattling on and making Katsuki regret coming out. He wanted a drink, but every conversation they had seemed to veer off towards Deku again and again. They talked about a new superhero movie that was coming out, which led to a comment on Deku’s preference for those types of movies, then a conversation started about old video games, and of course someone had to bring up how Deku had the best collection of those, then Sero reminisced on a story about Half-and-Half and some bonfire Katsuki hadn’t known about, and one thing led to another led to Deku.

“So, what’s happened with you and Todoroki, then?” Kaminari asked Sero.

“We’re still friends, but he lives in another city, so things have cooled down,” Sero shrugged, sipping from his beer and coming away with a foamy mustache.

“Me and Shinsou never even got past kissing,” Kaminari pouted, “I waited until the last minute to make my move and now I’ll never see him again.”

“You will, bro, don’t worry,” assured Kirishima.

“Yeah, we’re in the same sphere as Nighthide by now, we’ll totally see them,” added Mina.

“Shoot him a text next time they release and see if he wants to celebrate,” Sero suggested.

“Oh hey, yeah! That’s a good idea!” Kaminari grinned.

“What about you, Bakubro? Any news on your lovelife?” asked Mina, turning to Katsuki who huffed.

“Fuck no. I ain’t got time for a lovelife.”

“You’re still not talking to Midoriya?” asked Kirishima, saying it as if it were a sad thing.

“No.”

“You hear Deku released a new single yesterday?” asked Sero, “Todoroki sent it to me. It’s really good.”

“Oh, I haven’t listened yet,” said Kirishima.

“I’ll definitely have to check it out,” said Mina.

“You should listen to it too, Bakugou. I think Midoriya wrote the lyrics,” Sero said.

“Like hell.”

Of course, that was a lie. As soon as it was mentioned, Katsuki was anxious to listen. Especially if it was written by Deku. The same morbid curiosity that brought him to his blog posts again and again demanded that he listen to the song, parse through each word searching for some sign of himself in them, desperately piece together some secret message to him from Deku. It was pathetic, thinking Deku might have written a song about him, and yet, he found himself hoping. The timing was there, afterall.

The night dragged on from there as Katsuki impatiently waited for everyone to finish drinking so he could get home and play the song. Finally, at one in the morning, they stumbled out of the bar, saying goodbyes as they headed off in their separate directions. Mina and Kirishima went to their shared apartment, while Kaminari and Sero walked together to take the train to their neighborhood. Katsuki lived in the opposite direction from the rest of them, so he was alone. He was happy about that. He was drunk, the sidewalk spinning lightly under his feet, and it was quiet and peaceful. 

When he got home, he immediately opened his computer, searching the internet for the new Deku song. It was posted on their website and easy enough to find. What gave Katsuki pause was the title. Ground Beta .

It couldn’t be, could it? Deku had named the song after the waterpark the two had gone to. Or maybe Sero had been wrong, and Deku hadn’t written this one. Frog Face had gone to the same waterpark the day before, maybe something notable happened to her there and she had written about it, or Uraraka. There was certainly no way in hell Deku had picked that day of all days to write about.

He clicked play. It started with a melancholic guitar riff, some light drums, faint bass. Deku’s voice didn’t come in for a few measures, and when it did, it was soft, gentle. The lyrics were a bit hard to decipher, not very literal or obvious in their meaning. Something about tidal waves and summer slick skin and hidden smiles. It felt familiar to Katsuki, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it. At least until the final line of the chorus.

I miss my best friend

Katsuki nearly choked on air.

This song played on, but Katsuki was too stunned to listen any further. It was about him. Deku had written a song about him. He mattered enough that Deku would do something like that, would put himself out on display. He was worth something to Deku. My best friend . His chest tightened with something familiar, something between anger and hope and love. It was… it sounded like a love song, even if he was dubbed ‘ my best friend ’. It sounded like a love song, as Deku sang about stolen kisses and missing a body beside his. Or at least, that’s what Katsuki thought he was singing about. His lyricism wasn’t very straightforward, but it seemed like that was what he was trying to get at. The bottom line was, he still missed Katsuki enough to write a song about him.

Katsuki stared at the computer screen for what felt like ages, before pulling out his phone and typing out a message.

Chapter Text

can we talk?

Katsuki threw his phone across the room as soon as the message was sent, the durable thing not even having the courtesy of smashing to bits and preventing Katsuki from ever getting a reply. Instead, it just sat there on his floor, taunting him.

He wasn’t even sure if he wanted a reply or not. If he was still mad at Deku. He didn’t want to be played again, didn’t want to let his heart open itself up like a butterfly spreading its wings, just to be stabbed through by pins, keeping him forced into that painfully vulnerable position and rendering him immobile. But at the same time, that song… it couldn’t have meant nothing. It had to be more. It had to be the words Katsuki had been waiting on, right? Maybe Deku finally came to terms with his feelings for Katsuki, and this was the culmination of that. Maybe if he replied, Katsuki would get what he had been longing for. 

And besides, Katsuki didn’t want to get snubbed by Deku. If he didn’t reply, that would just be downright pathetic. Katsuki was not pathetic. 

He would talk to Deku, they would work things out. Deku had to know what he was conveying in those lyrics, had to . So everything would be okay, they just had to talk again.

And God, did Katsuki want to talk to him. He wanted to see him again, have his strong arms wrapped tight around him like he would never let go, feel his heart beating in his chest like it was for him and him alone. 

Katsuki was quickly opening his laptop up again, searching for plane tickets to Deku’s city. It was preemptive, but his mind was made up. He would talk to Deku, face to face, so he could see the way Deku looked at him again, so he could feel Deku’s body heat mingle with his again, so he could be tangled with him again. It wouldn’t be a text chain or a phone call. It had to be in person.

His phone buzzed from across the room as he sorted through the airline website, filtering tickets. He scrambled up to get it.

really?

Katsuki couldn’t help but read the hopeful tone in Deku’s voice, a small smile spreading across his face.

really

The next reply came quickly.

of course we can talk

shud i call u?

Katsuki felt a familiar anxious excitement flooding his system. Deku wanted to talk to him. Of course he did. But his eagerness, like he was still waiting by the phone after all these weeks, waiting on Katsuki, it made him swell with even more hope.

im gonna b in ur city tmrw

we can talk then

This time, the reply came slower. Katsuki imagined Deku panicking at the realization that Katsuki wanted to meet, that this conversation, this oh so very important reconciliation, would be in person. Was he grinning the same way Katsuki was? Was he blushing, covering his face in his hands?

i cant wait to c u kacchan

The message finally came through and Katsuki felt damn near giddy. He tried to hide it, play it off cool for the audience of furniture in his empty apartment, but he just couldn’t pretend he wasn’t over the moon. Love was such a stupid thing, the way it made him a flustered mess. He felt like a little kid at Christmas. He felt like his heart could explode then and there.

He composed himself eventually, sending a quick c u soon before going back to his computer and booking the earliest flight out and a hotel room nearby the airport. 

Katsuki was anxious. Flying always made him anxious, but today was especially bad. He had woken up at the crack of dawn, nervous energy making his skin crawl as he blasted through his morning routine frantically. He took the train to a station near the airport, and went about finding his gate. He was early, so he sat by the gate trying to calm himself for a while. It felt like forever, waiting for his plane to arrive, for his boarding group to be called. He found his row, stuffing his luggage in the overhead compartment and stuffing himself into the stiff fabric of the window seat beside an elderly woman. It all went by too slow. He needed to move. He hated waiting as the other passengers settled without any haste, as the plane got ready for take off like they had all the time in the world, as they drove down the tarmac at a crawling pace. He gripped the armrest of his seat until his knuckles turned white as the plane slanted, and with a jolt, they were in the air.

His breathing was shallow and he wasn’t sure if it was his hatred for planes or his nervousness to arrive at Deku’s city and find himself once again confronted by his feelings face to face. 

To calm himself, he pulled his headphones and iPod from his backpack, plugging in the jack and putting the headphones on. He put on Deku’s album, letting the comfort of his sweet voice ease the anxiety building in his chest. Before, listening to One For All felt like torturing himself, but since he had heard Ground Beta , Deku’s music felt like a safe place, like a security blanket. 

As he listened, he thought about what he would say to Deku.

I love you. Surely. But what else?

He wanted to explain to Deku how he felt, beyond love, the hurt and betrayal and anger.

I love you. But I can’t stand being your friend. I need to be more, I need you to acknowledge me.

His mind did its best to stand in for Deku, to predict how the conversation would go.

I love you too, Kacchan, he would say, I always have. I just didn’t know how to say it, but I want more too…

The plane landed as Katsuki was on his third listen through of the album and his millionth rendition of his conversation with Deku. He put his things back into his backpack, shrugging it over his shoulders as he stood and waited for people to file out. In the aisle, he grabbed his small carry-on suitcase and began the shuffle off the plane.

He felt like he was boiling over in the cab to his hotel, felt like he was about to burst open as he checked into his room.

He navigated cream-white hallways until he found his door, opening to a decently sized room with a bed and a TV set atop a dresser. The window was blocked by a draping curtain, casting the whole room into darkness. Katsuki flicked on the dim light, dropped his things at the foot of his bed and crashed down onto the mattress. He pulled out his phone and texted Deku.

im at my hotel

lmk when ur coming over

Deku texted back promptly as ever.

im leaving now

Katsuki took a quick shower, his mind still running through the conversation between him and Deku, then headed down to the lobby to wait. 

I missed you. I love you. Don’t ever do that again.

He sat at the small lobby bar, asking the bartender for a pisco and pineapple firecracker. He hoped a little alcohol would ease his nerves. He sipped on the drink, glancing at his phone impatiently.

I love you too, Kacchan. I-I think, if you want, we could… we could be more.

His phone began ringing. It was Kirishima.

“What?” he grunted as he picked up.
“Dude,” Kirishima said, “Why are you a thousand miles away right now?”

“How the hell do you know that?” Katsuki grumbled.

“Aizawa said you told him last night that you were flying out somewhere. What the hell dude? You can’t just disappear like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because we have another music video to film in a week! You need to be there!”

“I’ll be back by then, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Katsuki said, draining the last of his drink and signaling the bartender for another.

“Where are you even?” Kirishima asked.

Katsuki hesitated, unsure how much he wanted to say. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going, or more specifically, who he was going to see. It wasn’t that it was a secret, or that he was ashamed. It was just… personal. And at least until he spoke to Deku, telling other people felt like jinxing things. Like, if everyone knew, things would go awry and he’d be back at square one.

He decided to tell Kirishima where he was, with no additional information.

“Hey, isn’t that where Midoriya lives?” asked Kirishima.

“The hell should I know?”

“Are you there to see him? Did you guys work things out?” Kirishima blabbered, suddenly sounding excited.

“Mind your business,” Katsuki huffed.

“Are you with him right now? Should I let you go? I’ll let you go. Have fun, good luck, Bakubro!” with a click, Kirishima was gone and Katsuki was left with nothing but his drink to distract him from the nervous excitement that bubbled in his veins as he waited for Deku.

As he reached the bottom of his third glass, his phone finally buzzed. Flipping it open, he checked his messages, half expecting to be disappointed by another one of his bandmates asking where he had run off to. Instead, he found a text from Deku.

here :)

He turned, eyes scanning the lobby, until he saw him. Right by the front doors, haloed by the light spilling in from outside, a tall, built man with green hair and eyes and a nervous smile on his freckled face. Deku. His Deku. Not a flat image of him from the internet, or a blurry conjuring of him in Katsuki’s mind. The real, in the flesh, Deku. The one he could touch and hold and kiss. He looked so much better than Katsuki could have ever imagined him. 

He rose from the barstool, slapping some cash down on the counter and hurried to him. When Deku saw him, his eyes lit up.

“Kacchan!” he called, running to meet Katsuki. 

He didn’t stop in front of him as Katsuki expected him to, instead plunging forward to envelop Katsuki in a bone crushing hug, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face in Katsuki’s hair. After the shock of being attacked by the other man’s arms had faded, Katsuki found himself melting into the hug, snaking his own arms around Deku’s waist and breathing him in. He smelled cleaner than he had on tour, no more sweat clinging to him like another layer of skin. But the familiar scent of pine was strong. It made Katsuki smile into Deku’s shoulder.

“Kacchan, I missed you,” Deku said.

“Missed you too, nerd,” Katsuki said softly.

“I’m so glad you’re here, that you texted me. I-I’ve been waiting, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear from you again, it was such a surprise when you texted and it made me so happy, just… I’m so glad.”

“Needed to talk to ya,” Katsuki said.

“Yeah,” said Deku, pulling away a bit, though he kept Katsuki in his arms, looking at him with a mixture of tenderness and apprehension, “Okay. Should we- should we go up to your room?”

Katsuki nodded. He led Deku through the hotel to where he was staying, the whole time feeling the heat of Deku’s skin beside him. So close again. He ached to be closer still.

They entered the room, Katsuki turning to look at Deku, found him looking back with his puppy dog eyes, and suddenly, everything he wanted to say was washed away. The need to pull Deku in, to feel him, seemed so much more important then. Fuck, he could say his piece after he felt Deku all over him.

He yanked Deku into him, kissing him desperately, greedily. Deku let out a surprised yelp, before he was kissing Katsuki back with the same fervor. They stayed there, locked together for a moment, before Katsuki was tugging at Deku’s shirt and pulling him to the bed. He fell back, Deku tumbling after him and landing on top, still connected at the lips, pawing at each other.  

“Thought you wanted to talk,” murmured Deku against his lips.
“Later,” said Katsuki, biting at Deku, pulling him down.

Maybe it was stupid, jumping the gun like this. But Katsuki was so certain. He needed Deku right now, and they could talk after the fact, solidify everything. Right now, he needed to feel Deku.

It felt like coming home after too long. Or maybe it didn’t. Katsuki hadn’t felt anywhere near this good when he had first arrived back at his apartment after Plus Ultra ended. It felt warm and familiar and right . Anything but the lonely emptiness of his home.

“I heard the song you wrote about me,” Katsuki said, breathlessly as he broke away.

“O-oh, yeah?” Deku blushed.

“Sappy nerd,” he said, before leaning back up to kiss Deku again, flipping them around so he was on top.

“Did you like it?” Deku asked between kisses.

Katsuki hummed into his mouth, then moved down to kiss a trail from his jaw down his neck. He sucked at the hollow of Deku’s throat, his hands shirking Deku’s shirt up before he moved further down. He mouthed along his chest, stopping at each nipple, before leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down his stomach. He fumbled with Deku’s belt, unbuckling it and pulling at the bottom of his fly.

When he took Deku in his mouth, the heaviness he had been accustomed to made him feel more whole than he had in the last weeks of hollowness. 

Soon enough, clothes were shed and Deku was working Katsuki open. Katsuki writhed on top of him, relishing in the feeling of being filled with Deku after so long. He panted, eyes rolling back as Deku’s fingers curled and pistoned. He was disappointed when Deku pulled out, though eager to go further. He needed Deku inside him, he needed to feel like one.

It became a frantic race to push the other over the edge as Deku pushed his way in. Katsuku, desperate as he was to stay like this as long as possible, wanted to make Deku feel good, and it seemed the other man had a similar idea. His perfect aim had Katsuki seeing stars with every thrust, every roll of their hips meeting in a rhythmic tandem. It felt amazing, being with Deku again. It hadn’t been that long since they had last been together, and yet it felt tragically, to Katsuki, as if a lifetime had passed between now and then. He had been adrift at sea, days becoming meaningless units of time without Deku. And now, reunited, everything made sense again.

“Fuck, Izuku,” he breathed.

“Katsuki,” moaned Deku back.

Soon, release washed over Katsuki, and Deku wasn’t far behind. As the two rode out their orgasms, Katsuki wondered if sex had always felt so amazing. He collapsed on top of Deku, burying his face into his shoulder and breathing in sweet pine. Deku leaned his head over, kissing Katsuki’s hair.

“I missed you, Kacchan,” he whispered into the blonde spikes, as though they were still in the bunk, keeping secrets from their bandmates just a few feet away.

“Ya mean it?” Katsuki asked.

“Of course. You’re my best friend.”

Katsuki grumbled, frowning as he said, “Stop saying that.”

“What?”

“Stop saying I’m your friend.”

“But you are?”

Katsuki felt his stomach sink. Deku wasn’t saying…

“What else would I call you?”

“Fucking, I dunno. Your lover, your boyfriend, your whatever. Just not your friend,” he bit. Because there was no way Deku, after everything, after all the texts and calls that went unanswered, after all this time apart, after that fucking song, there was no way Deku still thought that way. Was this a fucking joke?

Deku sighed, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Maybe just fucking acknowledge me?” Katsuki barked, rising up from his comfortable burrow in Deku’s shoulder to glare at him, “You could just acknowledge how I know you know I feel for once. You’ve read my posts, and I haven’t been hiding it, Deku. Just once, you could act like you’re not totally oblivious.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re not gay, I know, you’ve said it a million times. But what we’re doing is more, isn’t it?” Katsuki asked, desperate.

Deku was silent.

“You know I’m in love with you.”

Katsuki waited, feeling uncomfortably naked, but Deku just stared at him with some unreadable look on his face. Like he was trying to block the whole conversation out or something, and it pissed Katsuki off.

“I know you feel something for me,” he stated, “I know you’re telling yourself you don’t but you do, Deku. It’s obvious to everyone but you.”

“I can’t give you what you want,” Deku finally spoke, sounding meek. 

“Why not? Why can’t you just— fuck, I don’t know. Why can’t this just mean something to you? Why can’t I have you?” he croaked. His eyes were hot, his chest burned. Anger coursed through him.

Deku went quiet again. Katsuki closed his eyes, trying not to scream.

“Fuck. I can’t do this with you.”

He pushed himself off of Deku, standing up and scavenging the floor for his clothing. Deku rose as he began to dress, coming up beside Katsuki and grabbing his arm with a firm hand.

“Kacchan, don’t leave,” he pleaded.

“Admit that you know how I feel,” Katsuki said as he did up the button of his pants.

“What?”

“You don’t feel that way for me. Whatever. Acknowledge how I feel then. At least. Tell me I’m in love with you.”

“Kacchan, I don’t—”

“Tell me.”

When Deku didn’t say anything, Katsuki huffed, grabbing his shirt off the floor and pulling it over his head. He pushed out the door despite Deku’s protests and stomped through the hallway. He moved quickly, ducking behind corners and navigating at random through the maze of halls so that Deku couldn’t follow him. He couldn’t be around Deku right now. Or maybe ever. Not if this was the way it was always going to be with him. Always begging to be acknowledged, always begging to be seen, and Deku denying him over and over again.

He was such an idiot. For getting his hopes up, for convincing himself something had finally changed, for every single version of the conversation he had created in his head, for texting Deku at all, much less flying out to see him with hardly any warning. How could he have let himself get played like that once more? How could he fall so low?

Katsuki felt pathetic, as the adrenaline his anger had given him began to seep out, replaced by a lingering exhaustion. He slumped against the wall, sliding down it and collapsing into himself. He bowed his head, curled his legs and arms around himself, and prayed that no one found him in this sorry state. 

He felt the gut wrenching burn in his stomach more than he had ever felt it before. It was ripping through him, trying to pull everything inside him up his throat to spill out of his mouth. To empty him, leave him bleeding and hopeless. Deku still only thought of him as a friend. And he had been stupid enough to, once again, try and call it love. Deku couldn’t even look him in the eye, couldn’t even state Katsuki’s own feelings back to him. What was wrong with him? Was he that awful? So bad that Deku wouldn’t even admit Katsuki’s feelings for him? It should have been easier, Katsuki had thought, to acknowledge him, to just concede the tiniest bit, say, “I may not feel the same, but I know how all of this makes you feel”. So he knew, he supposed, that at least Deku was okay with his feelings. He couldn’t even do that. Katsuking was disgusted with himself. 

After a while, Katsuki hauled himself up and wandered his way back to his room. Deku wasn’t there. He packed his things and booked the next flight out. It went by too slowly, leaving that city. Katsuki couldn’t get away from Deku fast enough. 

His apartment felt even lonelier than usual, as if the day and a half away had changed it somehow. He kicked at his couch, like it was the stupid plush thing’s fault. He walked numbly through the apartment, until he reached the bedroom, flopping down and closing his eyes. Katsuki was so, so tired.

Chapter Text

I’m done. I can’t catch up to your thought process. And I’m sick of hurting for you when you aren’t even thankful for it. Everything I said, everything you couldn’t/wouldn’t. I’m not even sure which it is anymore. But we’ll never see eye to eye on this. A part of me wakes up to a knock on the door, hoping it’s you, that you came back to me. I imagine you standing there, tears in your eyes as you tell me you love me (ha), that you’re finally ready. But it’s always just a package being delivered or someone trying to sell me something. I haven’t seen or heard from you since that night in my hotel room. And I think we should keep it that way. It’s just a whole lot less pain. I was better before you ruined me. I’ll just go back to being him. I’m a musician, not a hopeless romantic. Love was never my thing. You cemented that.

(Getting) over you,

Bakugou

Kaminari was smoking on Katsuki’s fire escape, while Katsuki listened to him ramble. It wasn’t nearly as endearing as when Deku did it, too loud and energetic rather than the soft murmuring and shy enthusiasm of the green haired man. Still, he didn’t mind. It was good, being with a friend, being forced to think about something other than Deku — even if it wasn’t working all that well. His friends had stopped bringing Deku up since word got around (thanks to Kirishima’s big mouth) that Katsuki’s visit had gone rather poorly. He was thankful for that, even if he didn’t really want everyone knowing what had gone down. He would have rather kept everything to himself, avoided all the pitying looks, but Kirishima insisted that he spilled the details, and of course, he had relayed everything to Mina, who told Kaminari, who told Sero. At least Deku was a thing of the past because of that, even if he was being treated like he was delicate by most of his bandmates. That was why he was hanging out with Kaminari today. Kaminari was good at pretending he didn’t see Katsuki as a broken thing. 

“Sero bought enough mushrooms to feed a family of four for a week,” Kaminari said, “He was thinking they’d help with the next album, we could totally write something next level on them.”

“You think we need drugs to write good music?” Katsuki scoffed.

“No, but it’s supposed to, like, change your world view. Maybe we’ll think of something we never would have otherwise and totally reinvent music,” Kaminari explained as he took a drag from his cigarette.

“I don’t want any.”

“Might chill you out,” Kaminari shrugged.

“I don’t need to chill out,” Katsuki bit back. He knew he had a reputation for having a short fuse, but it was only cause everyone around him was always acting like an idiot.

“Come on, Bakubro, join us, expand your mind. You’d be a terrible trip sitter anyways.”

“I’d be a great trip sitter. Make sure you idiots don’t get into any shit.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Kaminari hummed, “But you’d be yelling at us the whole time.”

Katsuki grumbled a bit, and Kaminari laughed off his sourness as he stubbed out his cigarette butt on the metal bars of the fire escape. They rose from their perch, crawling through Katsuki’s open living room window back inside.

They headed for the studio, whittling away at songs until Kaminari had a riff worth building something around. Katsuki tapped out rhythms, trying his best not to let his mind stray to Deku.

He really did try his best not to think about Deku. But it was hard when he was damn near addicted to thinking about him. It was all he wanted on his mind before and now he couldn’t quite break the habit. When there was a lull in conversation, he imagined what Deku might have said to keep it going. When he washed his dishes, he imagined Deku beside him, drying them off in companionable silence. When he went to bed, he imagined Deku holding him, telling him it was okay. 

The only thing that quieted his mind was music. He poured hours upon hours into his drums, like he was an angry teenager again. He used to spend every free second of his day drumming, hellbent on becoming the greatest. It was cathartic, a way to express all his anger without looking like an asshole.

Katsuki had once been an asshole. Some would argue he still was. But he used to be worse. It wasn’t something he told his friends. But anyone who went to school with him would easily qualify him as a hot headed bully and an egomaniac. Age had mellowed him out, but drums were what really saved him from becoming someone beyond any sort of compassion. They were his outlet when beating on weaker kids and setting fire to their belongings was starting to get him into more trouble than his parents would tolerate. 

Now, he looked back on those days with shame. He had been such an idiot.

And here he was, feeling shameful and stupid once again, turning to his drums to take his mind off it.  Off shitty Deku and his warm embrace and his awkward but sweet personality and his tousled curls spilling onto a face that looked at him with something mistakable for love. 

He was glad his studio was soundproofed, otherwise he’d certainly get endless noise complaints for banging on his drums like he was trying to make himself go deaf at three in the morning. 

He couldn’t rest, because every time he reached the cusp between being awake and asleep, there Deku was. A phantom. Almost real enough that Katsuki could feel his body around him, but not quite there. Maybe it was just the exhaustion making the air feel warm and heavy like skin draped lazily over his. 

But he was getting over Deku, one sleepless night at a time. He refused to think about him. He refused to mope. Whenever a glimpse of green flashed across his vision, he sat himself down at his drum kit and played until his legs were sore and his arms were shaking. He was done with Deku. He really was. As much as it hurt him every time he repeated the sentiment, he was Bakugou fucking Katsuki and he would be damned if he let some pretty face make him feel like anything less. It was hard, kicking the habit, like trying to retrain the way his brain operated, but he had done it before and he was better for it. 

Still, he imagined Deku beside him.

Sero had picked a random day of the week to finally take the mushrooms he had bought. It was a nice day, sunny and warm with a wafting breeze that kept them from sweating their asses off. It began in his and Kaminari’s apartment around eleven in the morning, the five members of Ground Zero sat around the living room with caps and stems in their hands. Katsuki didn’t have any. He didn’t like being high. But he had still shown up, maybe for the promise of free entertainment, maybe just because he was lonely. 

Sero had the largest dose, a palmful of about 3.7 grams. Kaminari and Mina had about 2.5 each, while Kirishima had measured himself a humble 2 grams on Sero’s scale. On the table were strewn various snacks to wash down the mushrooms, which Sero claimed tasted of pistachio and earwax. Peanut butter, blueberries, and a few bottles of soda. Katsuki popped a few blueberries into his mouth as his friends each chewed on their drugs. Kaminari gagged on his peanut butter covered cap and Kirishima made a sour face, each quickly reaching for a drink and swallowing them down eagerly. 

“That was gross,” Kaminari said, sticking out his tongue, “I think I threw up in my mouth a little.”

“You sure you don’t want in on this, Bakubro?” Mina asked.

“Sounds really appealing,” he said.

“So when will they hit?” Kirishima asked as he set his drink back down.

“Bout an hour,” Sero shrugged.

“How will we know?” the redhead pressed.

“You’ll start to feel kinda giddy,” Sero explained, “You’ll feel it in your stomach. After, like, an hour, you’ll start to see shit.”

“I already feel it in my stomach,” complained Kaminari.

“Quit whining, you wanted to do this,” said Katsuki.

“It’ll be worth it, bro, don’t worry,” said Sero.

“We’re gonna write some seriously off the walls stuff!” Mina exclaimed excitedly.

Katsuki doubted that they would get any writing done. The second the effects seemed to kick in, Sero was insisting they go outside, that it was better to be in nature during the trip, and any hope at being productive was lost. They funneled out of the apartment, Katsuki taking up the back to wrangle his friends as they walked to a nearby park. They were scatterbrained at the best of times, but now, they had to stop every two feet for someone to examine some trash they found on the ground or take a picture of something they swore was cool, but to Katsuki, it just looked like regular city shit. 

It was like herding toddlers, and he felt embarrassed for them as they clogged up the sidewalk. They looked like idiots, meandering semi-aimlessly. Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero each had a big acoustic bag slung over a shoulder, making them even bigger hazards to the innocent pedestrians who were unfortunate enough to cross their paths, while Mina carried a large tote filled to the brim with ‘essentials’. Katuski himself had his large cajon case, but he at least had his wits about him enough to get out of people’s way as they walked by. He felt a bit glad he was there, sober, to keep the idiots from being totally lost.

They finally reached the park, ten minutes later than they should have, after Katsuki had barked his millionth, “Get your ass moving, or I’ll blow your head off!” Katsuki settled them on a grassy patch, far away from the walking path so they wouldn’t attract attention to themselves, under a shady tree. Mina laid out a blanket from her tote, kicking off her shoes.

“Oh!” she cried, “The grass feels so nice!”

Soon, all the morons were taking their shoes off, standing barefoot in the middle of a public park, and remarking how amazing it was. Katsuki rolled his eyes, sitting down and pulling a water bottle from Mina’s bag.

The others soon grew bored with the feeling of grass on their feet, sitting on the blanket beside him. Kirishima played with Mina’s curly hair as Kaminari and Sero pulled out their guitars. Kaminari began with a string of chords, which Sero picked up on quickly, plucking out a bass line. Katsuki unzipped his cajon case, sitting on top and feeling out the rhythm easily. As they played, they alternated taking turns soloing, finding harder, more elaborate ways to play off each other. Mina hummed along, pulling out her phone to record as Kirishima grabbed his own guitar to join in.

Just when Katsuki thought they had something going, that maybe they would write something today, Mina cried out, “I wanna go to the beach! Bakugou, will you drive us, please ?” and suddenly he was bombarded with an army of petulant children begging him to drive them to the beach.

“Hell no,” he griped, “I’m not your chauffeur just cause you idiots are too fucked to drive.”

“C’mon Bakubro, don’t make this a bad trip,” Kaminari pouted.

“It ain’t gonna be a bad trip just cause I don’t drive you to the beach.”

“Like you would know what causes a bad trip,” retaliated Sero.

As the pleading continued, Katsuki caved, just to make them all stop whining. It was hurting his ears. He told them to pack their things, that they would drop them off at Sero and Kaminari’s place and, yes fine , he would drive them to the beach.

The walk back was no less meandering than the walk there, and it was starting to make Katsuki grind his teeth. As soon as they were inside the apartment, Katsuki was making everyone dump their things, going into Sero and Kaminari’s rooms to find their bathing suits and towels, before grabbing the keys to Sero’s car and shoving them all back out. They piled into the car and Katsuki took the driver’s seat, pulling out onto the road.

They drove a short distance to Mina and Kirishima’s place so they too could grab their beach supplies. Kirishima even helpfully offered Katsuki a spare pair of trunks, which he denied.  They still managed to find their way into the car though.

The drive wasn’t long, though it sure felt like it as Katsuki’s friends rambled on and on about things they were seeing. Colors and shapes and such. Sero, from beside him in the passenger seat, was explaining gleefully to Katsuki that his face was dripping. Katsuki glared at him, but he only laughed.

When they reached the beach, it was only about one in the afternoon, and they all fell out of the car, taking off for the sand dunes. Katsuki ran after them, not exactly eager to let them out of his sight. He would feel bad, just releasing them on the public like a swarm of doped up children. That was in no one’s best interest. 

They set up camp a few meters from the water, and Katsuki kept a careful eye on his friends as they splashed about in the water. It reminded him of the day they had all gone to the pond together over the summer, his friends playing as he sat on the land and observed. He remembered Deku, wet and shining with the lake water, muscles taut as he swung about on a rope hanging from a tree branch.

It was the first he had thought of Deku all day. He almost felt proud of himself.

Eventually, his friends tired themselves out, and returned to their blanket.

“That was so refreshing,” sighed Mina as she toweled off. 

“Nature,” said Sero wisely.

“Hey, did you guys get a text from Aizawa?” Kirishima asked, flipping open his phone.

The others all padded around for their phones, finding them and affirming they had all received the same text.

“I totally forgot we’re starting filming for the Acid video tomorrow!” Kirishima groaned, “I’m gonna be exhausted!”

“Yeah, that’s gonna suck,” Kaminari agreed.

“Jokes on you all, I’ll be just fine,” Katsuki bragged. Kaminari and Mina glowered at him, as a look of realization followed by concern flashed across Kirishima’s face.

“...You sure you’re okay with doing this video?” he asked.

“The fuck? Why wouldn’t I be?” Katsuki barked.

“Well, ya know…” he mumbled, kicking at the sand.

“No?” Katsuki said. He glanced around at his friends, who all suddenly seemed very awkward as they came to the same realization as Kirishima, though Katsuki had no idea what it was.

“Midoriya was supposed to be in it,” Sero finally pointed out.

“The hell? Since when?”

“Since we first came up with the idea?” Mina said, “I knew you weren’t listening, there was no way you’d agree to it otherwise.”

“What the fuck is this video even about?” Katsuki snapped.

“Vampire hunter dance battle!” Kaminari supplied helpfully, “It was gonna be Ground Zero hunting a dancing group of vampires. Midoriya was supposed to be their leader, and you were gonna stake him.”

“We could… recast,” Kirishima offered, “It’s a little last minute, and he already said yes, but I’m sure we can find someone else, even on such short notice…”

Well fuck that. Katsuki was no coward, he wasn’t gonna just hide away from stupid Deku for the rest of his life. Sure, he never wanted to see the other man again, but in the context of staking him through the heart… well, that wasn’t so bad, now was it? It wasn’t as if he’d see Deku and be back at square one, head over heels in love. In all likelihood, he’d take one look at the green haired man and feel so angry he’d want to break something. That was progress if you asked Katsuki.

“Fucking keep Midoriya,” Katsuki grunted.

“...Really?” Kirishima asked.

“Yeah. I’m gonna kill the fuck out of that dumbass vampire.”

When the trip subsided, Katsuki drove his tired friends home. He dropped Sero’s car keys on the kitchen counter, taking the train back to his own apartment, where he flopped down into his bed and screamed into his pillow.

Deku was beneath him, looking breathless. His eyes locked with Katsuki’s, something between fear and desire.

In all honesty, Katsuki had hoped Deku would back out of this. That he would be too cowardly to show up and face Katsuki. But he was on set the next day, right on time, looking around anxiously. 

Katsuki had avoided him, hating the way seeing him made his gut churn.

But they had too many scenes together to escape it. Even if Katsuki didn’t acknowledge him the second the camera turned off, there he was, calling after him, tugging on his shirt sleeve, trying desperately to get his attention. Katsuki could look past him all he wanted, his mere presence made him feel sick.

And now, they were filming Deku’s death scene, in which Katsuki broke away from the dance battle, pinned Deku to the ground, and drove a stake right through his heart. 

Katsuki sat there, straddling Deku’s lap, prop weapon fisted in his hand. And Deku’s eyes were locked on him.

When the director called a wrap on the filming, it felt as if everything had gone by in a blur, and Deku was gone again. Katsuki couldn’t have been more thankful. Still, a part of him yearned to know what Deku would have said had he given him the opportunity to speak. Not I love you , that was for sure. So what did it even matter?

In our next music video, I kill Midoriya Izuku. Was super fun to shoot. Watch it here .  

Bakugou

“I thought I told you to stop posting about Midoriya.”

“Hello to you too, Aizawa,” Katsuki grunted to his manager through the phone.

“I emailed you a link. Read it.”

“Whatever,” Katsuki dismissed, “I’ll get to it.”

“No, you will read it now so you know just how much shit you are in. Call me back when you’re done.”

“Fine,” he sighed.

Aizawa hung up, and Katsuki wandered to his desk, picking up his laptop. He slumped on the couch, opening his emails and finding the one from Aizawa. The link took him to a page where he was greeted with a photo of him and Deku. He didn’t know when the photo was from exactly, though it was clearly taken some time over the summer. It featured him and Deku hugging tightly after a show, just barely in view of the camera, pixelated and grainy. But the blonde spikes and green curls were recognizable, unmistakable.

He scrolled down the website page, scanning the contents. It was mostly lines of words, a few images of him and Deku interspersed. What he read seemed to be a detailed timeline of his and Deku’s alleged relationship, complete with excerpts from both his and Deku’s blogs as evidence. It made Katsuki’s blood run cold. As he read it, he found whoever had written it was either way too perceptive, or had totally been stalking them. The information, albeit lacking a few minor details, seemed to have pegged down much of their relationship, tying together blog posts he had thought were vague enough, fan sightings he didn’t know had ever occurred, accounts from people who met him, and a full fucking analysis on the lyrics to Ground Beta .

He read it over and over again, baffled at how near accurate it was. They placed him meeting Deku at a party, rather than in the bus lot by chance for example, or failed to pick up on some specifics detailed in one of Katsuki’s blog posts. But somehow, they knew they had watched fireworks together, knew they had gone to a club together and danced, knew about every side stage hug and secret glance between the two.

There were even photos of them from when they went to the water park together. Ones Katsuki had been so paranoid would be taken, had been so convinced never were. 

They ended the tirade by saying they were certain there was something between Katsuki and Deku, and for all they had gotten right, they were dead wrong on that. There was nothing between him and Deku.

Chapter Text

“I’m here with UA magazine at the release party for Ground Zero’s sophomore album, Catch Up , set to launch at midnight, joined by the band themselves! So, how are we feeling about the release?”

“I’m excited!” said Kirishima into the mic, speaking loudly over the din of the party behind them, “We’ve put a lot into this album, and we’re so ready for people to hear it. I think it came out totally awesome.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a change from our last album, but I think it was totally for the better. We tried out a lot of new stuff that maybe we were scared wouldn’t work before, or hadn’t even thought of, but it’s been a big year for us, and this album reflects that,” added Sero.

“What can fans expect to hear?” asked the interviewer.

“A lot,” said Sero.

“We really tried to elevate our sound, I don’t want to spoil anything, but it’s a lot more us , I think,” said Mina, “Especially Bakugou. He wrote a lot of the lyrics for this one, and you can totally tell. His lyrics are really something else!”

“So all those fans speculating that you were transitioning to take a bigger role in song writing were right?” the interviewer asked, turning to Katsuki.

“Guess so,” he said.

“We’ve all seen the posts, how could we not make him write some awesome songs for us?” Kaminari laughed, “It was hard. We had to lock him in a room against his will with nothing but a pen and paper for weeks, but the product is worth it.”

“Sounds intense!”

“Totally,” Kaminari agreed, “He would bang on the doors, begging us to let him out, but we were good wardens, we slipped him food under the door and everything!”

“Well, that’s kind of you. Now, the topic of who you’re writing about is common, and you claim it’s all fiction. What exactly is the story you’re trying to tell in your music?”

Katsuki faltered. It was a good question. It wasn’t perverse or prying. But he had no idea what to say.

“Uh,” he said lamely.

“Bakubro likes to leave it up for interpretation,” Kirishima answered for him, “It’s all better left unsaid.”

When the interview ended, his bandmates spilled out into the surrounding party, eager to celebrate their upcoming release. It had been months of writing tirelessly, recording from sunrise into the black of night, obsessing over mixes and masters, teasing fans with snippets and preparing for the album to come out. Anticipation had built, and just about everyone was talking about Catch Up . It was nice for them all to see the fruits of their labor appreciated.

And Katsuki was proud of the album. He wouldn’t have let it see the light of day if he thought it was anything less than perfection. He thought, with this, no one would be talking about that ‘lightning strike of genius’ bullshit they had with their first album. No, they would cement themselves as consistent talent. A band who could put out hit after hit without ever faltering. 

His pride, however, did not mean he wanted this party. It was thrown by their label and he was forced to attend. The album was projected to be big, bigger than they had hoped, so they had really pulled out all the stops. The crowd was filled with their team, execs from the label, press, random celebrities, and other bands they were associated with. Servers milled about with trays of drinks and snacks on them. The banquet hall they had rented out was packed, and Katsuki felt overwhelmed by all the unfamiliar people, so he retreated to the mostly empty balcony. There were a few others who sought solace out there, or a smoke break, but Katsuki was as alone as he could have been at that moment. 

He leaned against the balcony ledge, gazing out into the night sky. It still felt too big, and he wondered if it could just swallow him whole. 

As he stood, a few people wandered over to him here and there, congratulating him on the new album, gushing over the bits and pieces they’d heard. They all left when his disinterest bled through in his weak responses, heading back to the party where someone might have actually paid them some attention.

He tugged irritably at the collar of his suit, hating the way it choked him up. It felt like he couldn’t breathe in the stupid thing. But his stylist had insisted he wear it, because this was a formal work event and there would be cameras. He looked good, he knew, in the well-tailored maroon three piece. But he didn’t care much if other people thought he looked good. He didn’t feel like himself in it. He scuffed his shiny new loafers against the concrete of the ground, wondering what Deku would think of him in a suit.

It had been almost six months since he had seen Deku last. Six months. Almost than half a year without speaking to the man, without being in the same room, without touching him. He had stopped posting about him, to appease Aizawa and evade further rumors following that damned timeline some freak had made, sure, but also because he couldn’t stand the thought of him. But for some reason, he still thought about him. Less, but not never. It was bad and he knew it, but it just wouldn’t go away.

His thoughts were, thankfully, interrupted by a firm hand on his shoulder. He turned and found Aizawa giving him a rare smile.

“Congradulations,” he said, “I know it’s too early to call, but I think you’ve got a real gem on your hands.”

“Thanks,” grunted Katsuki.

“I know these last few months have been hard on you, but I’m proud of you, ya know. You never make it easy on me, but I really am proud to watch you all blossom into the best versions of yourselves, both as musicians and people.”

Katsuki laughed half-heartedly. He certainly didn’t feel like the best version of himself. He felt miserable most of the time. “What are you on about, old man?”

“You’ve grown a lot in the last year. You’ve always taken music seriously, that’s been clear since the beginning. But you’ve opened up, found your voice. I think it’s improved your writing. It’s certainly made you more pleasant to be around,” Aizawa said, a fondness to his dry words.

“I’m a fucking joy to be around.”

“When you’re not pretending you hate everything and everyone.”

“Coming from you.”

“Touché,” Aizawa chuckled, “But really, I know you’ve taken the whole thing with Midoriya hard. That’s what your first heartbreak will do to you. And I know I made it harder. I hope you don’t hate me too much for that. I really do want what’s best for you.”

“Not your fault things didn’t work out. They never would have,” sighed Katsuki.

“Maybe not. But don’t lose hope, there’s someone out there for a grump like you,” Aizawa said. He had a small smile on his face, glancing down at his hand, and for the first time, Katsuki noticed a wedding band on his ring finger.

“You’re married?” he asked.

“Not legally. But I consider myself married, after all these years, even if no one else does.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s just say, I understand hiding who you are for the sake of your career. Or someone else’s,” Aizawa turned back towards the party, and Katsuki followed his gaze. He was watching a blonde man, one who Katsuki instantly recognized as the head of the label, Yamada Hizashi, as he spoke animatedly with Kirishima and Mina. He had been a pretty popular singer back in the day, under the name ‘Present Mic’, a booming presence that the spotlight was drawn to, founding Voice Record as he aged. He had no idea he and Aizawa had even really known each other beyond being colleagues, but the way Aizawa’s gaze softened as he looked at him made things clear enough. How he had managed to keep things a secret with someone as famous as Yamada while Katsuki had fucked up when he and Deku were only just taking off was beyond him. It seemed impossible. And yet, he had never heard a word of it.

“You think it’s always gonna be like this?” Katsuki asked after a while.

“No. It’s already better than it was when I was your age,” he said, “Someday, I’m sure kids in our position will be running around, dating whoever they want without fear.”

“I’m not afraid,” said Katsuki, “I’ll get so big, it won’t matter who I’m with.”

“I look forward to seeing it.”

Katsuki returned to the party a while later. He glanced around the room, searching for his friends. Sero was talking up some girl with a camera. Kaminari was being pulled towards the bathrooms by the purple haired guy from Nighthide. He pushed through the crowd towards the center, where Mina and Kirishima danced to an old All Might song that was playing. Their movements were loose, unrestrained but graceful nonetheless. A small smile crossed his lips as he wandered over to them. When they caught sight of him, they grinned, pulling him close to dance with them, and he allowed it.

The song was one of Deku’s favorites, but he tried not to think about it as he moved with his friends, letting the rhythm wash over him. Tonight was for him, for them. He didn’t want to mope. He wanted to bathe in the attention they had all worked so hard for, to feel appreciated for his work. Even if he wasn’t one for parties, he deserved to be acknowledged. He deserved to have fun.

At a quarter to midnight, the others seemed to tire a bit, and the three of them found a table to sit at. Mina pulled off her heels, sighing in relief as Kirishima wrapped an arm around her shoulder. 

“I’m so nervous,” said Mina.

“I know!” Kirishima agreed, “It’s kinda scary, how real it is. This is it. Once the album is out, it’s out and we’ll really be, like, celebrities.”

“We’re already celebrities. Can’t even go to the store without getting recognized anymore,” Katsuki scoffed.

“But we’ve never put out an album as celebrities. This’ll be our first taste of getting so much feedback on our music.”

As the release time drew nearer, Sero and Kaminari joined them at the table. Kaminari looked flushed, his hair a mess and a bruise peeking out under his shirt collar. 

“You guys ready?” Sero asked with a grin.

“No!” cried Kaminari, “I hate being judged, this is nerve wracking!”

“Oh my god, what if people hate it?” Mina squealed.

“They won’t,” said Katsuki assuredly, “It’s a damn good record.”

“Youre confidence is so manly, bro,” said Kirishima. 

At 11:57, a voice boomed through the hall, and everyone turned to find Yamada Hizashi standing on the little stage at the head of the room, speaking into the mic.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “The clock is about to strike midnight, you know what that means!”

There was a cheer from the audience, so loud it rattled in Katsuki’s skeleton.

“That’s right, the release of Ground Zero’s new album, Catch Up , is almost here! This album has been a long time in the making, and I can tell you all now, it’s worth every second. I’m proud that Voice Records is home to this stellar band who have put out some amazing music in the past, and this record is no exception. So, without further adieu, let me hear you make some noise!” The cheering continued as Yamada raised his arms as though he were conducting a symphony. When the noise finally died down, he leaned into the mic again, and said, “This is Catch Up !”

The intro riff to their first song began to play, fast and melodic under the heavy distortion of Kaminari’s guitar. As the rest of the band joined in and the song picked up, Katsuki sat back in his chair and took in the enraptured awe of the crowd. 

He could tell from their faces alone, they had killed it. 

The positive energy that came from Catch Up ’s release didn’t die down for a few days. There were numerous articles reviewing it, one from UA, which gave it a 9.5/10. If Katsuki thought errands were impossible before, well, now he could hardly leave his building without getting flocked. He reveled in the praise, in the attention, in the acknowledgement. It wasn’t just some dopey interviewers and crazed fans obsessing over his love life anymore, now it was full blown adoration for his music . And it had always been about the music. He wasn’t being put on a pedestal for his looks, for the mystery of his writing, for the perverse need to know him, he was a musical god amongst men. His expert sense of rhythm , his genius breakdowns , his intricate fills , as they were often referred to in the articles he read, were finally being appreciated.

Of course, when the excitement wore off, he crashed hard.

Because there was a small, helplessly hopeful part of him that, through everything, had thought that maybe this album would set things right. Not just in his career, but in his life.

His songs were about Deku. People would have assumed regardless, but it was obvious to anyone who really knew. Half the lyrics were taken straight from his blog posts about him, and the rest were just new words about Deku. 

And he thought back to the first time he heard Ground Beta , the feelings that he had been overcome with when he listened. Maybe he had hoped silently that Deku would listen to his music and feel the same powerful regret, the same need to reach out. That he would be back to chasing Katsuki the way he had when they shot Acid , finally have the right words for him, an explanation, an apology, a confession.

It was stupid, and pointless, and something Katsuki hadn’t even admitted to himself until he was faced with the disappointment that came when Deku never reached out. The last spark of hope had died after four days of silence from Deku. Nothing was going to come of this. 

Suddenly, the attention he was given for the album felt worthless, meeting fans on the street was a chore again. Fuck, just getting out of bed was a chore. Katsuki felt dismal. Like the door he had left just a crack open all this time, had finally just creaked shut. There was no big slam like he wanted, no finality. Just the subtle click of the lock. 

Some extra had made moves on Katsuki at a bar that Sero and Kaminari had dragged him out to, and one thing led to another. Soon enough, Katsuki was between his sheets, hoping to feel good.

He sort of had. It was nothing special. The other guy didn’t measure up to Deku. Katsuki wished he could feel something more. For just about anyone else. 

The guy had sworn up and down that he wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened, but Katsuki had Aizawa write up an NDA anyway. He showed up at the guy's place once he had it a day later, and the guy signed, though he seemed a bit offended Katsuki hadn’t taken his vow of silence seriously. Whatever.

Every so often, Katsuki would go out again, searching for someone to make him feel more than the fleeting pleasure of mediocre sex, his friends teasingly calling him ‘Katslutski’ as he left with yet another man. Time and time again, he left the strangers’ homes with nothing more than a few hickeys and signed NDAs.

It was unfulfilling. It was terribly lonely. It only served to make him miss Deku more. Still, he tried.

Ground Zero was leaving a photo shoot with UA Magazine, taking the backdoor out of the building where they had been shot. There was a railed walkway for them, fans gathered on either side, clamoring for their attention. Some begged for them to sign things, and, ever the people pleasers, Katsuki’s bandmates were pulling out pens and stopping to sign CD case after CD case. Katsuki was stalled behind them, annoyed that they couldn’t just file into the company car in peace, ignoring the demanding calls to him as he mechanically signed each item he was presented with after his bandmates.

“Bakugou, sleep with me!” one fan cried out.

“Don’t sleep with fans,” he grunted, not sure why he was even giving them the time of day.

“I’m not a fan!” they yelled back unconvincingly.

“In your dreams.”

This is Bakugou, ask me more questions.

Q: How many/what instruments can you play?

A: Seven. Drums, piano, violin, guitar, bass, trombone, and clarinet.

Q: What’s the AP in AP Shot stand for? It’s my favorite new song!

A: Armor Piercing

Q: Do you ever watch romcoms?

A: Why would I?

Q: Who’s your celebrity crush?

A: Usagiyama Rumi. She’s badass

Q:  When will you tour next?

A: It’s literally on our website.

Katsuki just wanted a snack. A bag of chips or something. He was just kind of hungry, his apartment was a little bare at the moment, and the walk to the grocery store was far too much of a hassle these days. He had opted to go to the little convenience store down the street from his building. In and out, that was all.

The dull buzz of refrigerators and the glow of fluorescent lights set him on edge and made him eager to get out as fast as possible. 

He walked the dingy aisles of the store, scanning bags of chips until he found one that had a spicy flavoring and grabbed it off the shelf. Then he remembered he was out of condoms, and so he was snaking through the aisles again, until he found the packs hanging off hooks. He looked them over, picking one and taking it.

When Katsuki walked to the register to pay, his gaze flicked to the magazine stand up front. It was all trashy tabloids, reporting on celebrity gossip, the kind of stuff that made him roll his eyes at the best of times. It should have been uninteresting. But on the cover of one, front and center, was Deku, the caption reading, “Midoriya Izuku seen walking out of the studio. New Deku album on the way?”

Katsuki stared at the photo. It was Deku, wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, curls of green peeking out. He was in casual clothes, a sweater and jeans, midstep as he seemed to be exiting a building. The photo was grainy, taken from far away, but it was still Deku. Katsuki was familiar enough with the man’s sturdy form to recognize that, despite the low quality and concealing clothes. 

Katsuki barely heard the cashier as he read out the total of Katsuki’s purchase. He absent mindedly pulled out his wallet, glancing to count his cash, before his gaze returned for the magazine. It was such a shitty picture. It hardly showed anything. But it was the most he had seen of Deku in months. He hadn’t allowed himself to keep up with Deku, watch their interviews or check out any new photos that were put out of them, and he certainly didn’t look at any old photos. The one he had saved on his computer just sat there, untouched. Seeing Deku, even like this, made his chest tighten and burn.

As the cashier bagged his items, he heard a familiar voice calling out.

“Kacchan?”

His eyes flickered up from the magazine, finding none other than Deku standing before him.

Katsuki couldn’t believe his luck.

It was like when he had first realized his feelings for Deku, and the man started appearing everywhere, as if summoned. The second Katsuki let his mind drift, there Deku was, inexplicably in his city, in his neighborhood, in the same damn convenience store as Katsuki.

He stared in horror at the wide, hopeful green eyes that were locked right on him.

“Kacchan?” Deku repeated, looking a bit concerned now, “Are you okay?”

Katsuki continued to stare, unable to find the words within himself to respond. There was a lump in his throat, his head pounding as thoughts raced. What was he supposed to say? Did he greet Deku as if nothing had ever happened? Did he cuss him out, tell him to go fuck himself? Did he say nothing and leave?

“The fuck are you doing here?” he finally settled on.

“I-I just moved here. It’s closer to our label, so we all decided to… and, well… Do you… Do you also live nearby?” Deku stammered, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he spoke.

“None of your fucking business.”

Deku frowned.

“I suppose not,” he said.

“So what? You fucking stalking me now?” Katsuki bit. His heart felt like it was on fire. His chest was so tight he could hardly breathe.

“No! Of course not!” Deku said, shocked at the accusation, cheeks ruddy like Katsuki had called him a groupie once again, threatened to call security on him, “I didn’t know you would be here. I mean, I knew you lived in this city, but it’s so big, I didn’t expect to run into you. At least not so soon, but honestly, I was hoping I would, I really need to—”

“No,” Katsuki said firmly. He grabbed his bag off the counter, much to the cashier’s seeming delight, as he had been watching the dawdling exchange in annoyance, and began to stalk off. He pushed past Deku, bumping his shoulder, but Deku was quick to grab his arm and halt his exit.

“Kacchan, please,” he said, a pleading look in his big, puppy dog eyes.

“Nothing to say to you,” Katsuki said back, tugging his arm from Deku’s hold. He hated that he missed the feeling of his hands on him.

“I know,” Deku said, “I know. But I have things to say to you, please, just give me a chance.”

“Given you enough chances,” spat Katsuki.

He stomped away, exiting the store with an inappropriately cheery ding of a bell and hastened down the street, bullying his way through crowds of people in an angry rampage. He heard footsteps follow him, and he was a bit shocked that, for once, Deku was chasing after him. When the hurried slap of feet finally caught up with him, he felt a hand wrap around his arm once again, pulling him back.

“Leave me alone, Deku,” Katsuki warned as he plowed forward. The hand stayed firm on his arm as Deku followed.

“No,” said Deku, “Please, just listen to me.”

“I’ve been listening to you!” Katsuki snapped, turning back to face the other man, glaring. Deku looked at him desperately, but Katsuki barreled onwards, “All you’ve done is tell me no! I’m not gonna try and salvage something that only one of us wants, and I can’t stand being your friend, so fuck off about all that shit! I can’t stand having just some of you, I’d rather have fucking none of you so at least I can fucking move on! So just let me move on!”

His throat burned painfully, and he became aware of the concerned and nosey looks people gave them as they walked past the pair, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Deku, too, glanced around awkwardly at the attention they had garnered.

“Let’s do this somewhere more private?” Deku suggested.

“Do what ?” Katsuki shot.

“I-I can’t… not here. But if you would just please come with me. I really need to tell you some things.”

“If I go, will you promise to leave me alone after?” Katsuki asked.

“If that’s what you want,” Deku said despondently. 

He didn’t want to speak to Deku. He also didn’t want to have the man follow him all the way to his apartment, begging him to hear him out, as it seemed he really might have done so. That was the only reason he agreed.

“Fine.”

Deku led Katsuki down the street to his apartment building. Katsuki was a bit bitter at the fact that it was probably only a five minute walk from his own. They entered the brick building, Deku guiding him up stairs and down halls until they reached his door. He unlocked it, fumbling a bit with the keys, and Katsuki noticed that his hands were shaking. Had they been shaking this whole time?

They entered, and Katsuki was greeted with moving boxes that had yet to be unpacked, and a half furnished living room and kitchen. There was an old green couch in the center of the living room, a TV on the floor. The attached kitchen was filled with take out boxes and convenience store snacks, like Deku hadn’t even gone grocery shopping yet. He wasn’t kidding when he said he had just moved, Katsuki supposed. Though, knowing Deku, it was entirely possible he had been there for a month and simply never gotten around to unpacking.

Deku stood awkwardly as Katsuki shuffled in, glancing around at the space.

“Sorry for the mess,” he said uselessly.

“Don’t give a shit. Just tell me what you need to tell me so I can fucking go home.”

“Okay,” Deku breathed, “Okay. I just, I’ve been thinking a lot. About you. And I talked to my friends about it, and they’ve been really helpful. I just— I’ve been an idiot, Kacchan. All this time, I was telling you I was straight, that I didn’t have feelings for you, and I don’t know. I just… didn’t think I could be anything but straight. It didn’t make sense in my head. But being away from you, I just missed you so much, and I couldn’t stand it. I—” he paused, staring at his feet, at those dumb red sneakers he always wore.

And Katsuki felt like he was dreaming. Everything Deku was saying, it was… it was exactly what he had been waiting to hear, wasn’t it? There was no way it could have been real.  It was like one of the conversation Katsuki had imagined in his head, all building towards—

“I love you. I’m in love with you, Kacchan.”

Chapter Text

“I love you. I’m in love with you, Kacchan.”

His world stopped.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Katsuki was frozen, staring at Deku, who apparently , after all this time, loved him. Deku stood before him, looking earnest and raw and deadly serious. Katsuki had never seen him look so determined, except when he was about to go on stage and perform, as though he were taking Katsuki as seriously as he took his music.

“You— you can’t just say that,” Katsuki warned.

“I’m not,” Deku said insistently, “I mean it, Katsuki.”

At the use of his real name, Katsuki’s eyes widened. He felt hot tears begin to prick at them. He was dreaming. He was hallucinating. He was certain something was wrong with his hearing, or with his head. Because there was no way, not after everything, that Deku was telling him this and meant it .

It was too good to be true. It was too perfect.

“You’re not gay,” Katsuki reminded him.

“I really thought I wasn’t. And I-I’m not gay, exactly. I did a lot of research after Uraraka mentioned the idea that I might be bisexual, and I am. I didn’t even realize that was an option. I do like women, but I like you too, Kacchan. I can’t pretend I don’t anymore.”

“Why now? Why not earlier? Why couldn’t you— why wasn’t I enough then?” Katsuki pleaded desperately, hoping to unravel Deku’s claim, to make him realize it was untrue before he convinced Katsuki it was and broke his heart all over again.

Deku didn’t love him, never had. He had made that clear enough. If he couldn’t look Katsuki in the eyes and tell him back when Katsuki was willing to hear him out, back when Katsuki still had hope, then did he really even mean it? Was he just saying all of this because he missed Katsuki, wanted to be friends again and didn’t know how else to win him back? Had he forced himself to the conclusion that he could love Katsuki the way Katsuki had been begging him to out of pity, the way he had forced himself to have sex with Katsuki? To make him feel better, to make him happy enough to come back? There had to be some ulterior motive to this confession, because Katsuki had given up on hoping. Had given up on Deku. He just couldn’t let himself believe this.

“You were enough, Kacchan, of course you were. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you. Even right now, it feels like this huge weight has been lifted off my chest, just seeing you again,” Deku said, “I just— I was scared. My feelings for you were too big, what if I hurt my career, or yours? Being a musician is so important to you, I couldn’t be the reason you failed.”

“I don’t care about that. I don’t need to be famous to be a musician,” Katsuki said. He had dreamed of fame, of recognition, but it was a shallow dream. Being with Deku ran so much deeper through him than that. “And besides. I’m gonna get so popular, no one will care who I’m with. Like fucking Elton John or whatever. Don’t worry about me. I’m gay, that ain’t gonna change and it ain’t your fault.”

“Still, I felt guilty,” Deku admitted.

Katsuki had a lot of things he could have said to that, all of them mean. You should feel guilty. He said nothing.

“And it was selfish, to be with you and pretend it didn’t mean anything. I couldn’t stay away from you,” Deku continued, eyes starting to well up, “And it was selfish to talk to you today, to make you listen to me. I just— when I saw you, I couldn’t stop myself. I finally knew what I wanted, and I had to try.”

Katsuki remained silent.

“I’m sorry.”

“ Fuck .”

Something broke in Katsuki then. The plastic convenience store bag he had been holding dropped from his slackened grip.  He sank to the floor, curling in on himself, tears beginning to fall unrestrained down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure if it was anger or something else. Cause he was angry. How dare Deku fucking apologize, how dare he think that Katsuki still held onto him enough to think that that apology would fucking matter. And he was angry at himself because it did. It sank into his core, nestled in his ribcage like a small, warm pulse beating right next to his heart. Everything was bursting through him, all the pent up emotions he had been bottling until the dam broke and sobs wracked through his body like he was a goddamn child.

He doesn’t love me , Katsuki told himself, he’s just fucking saying that . He said it over and over again, hoping to squash the growing craving he had to believe Deku. To let him in, to embrace him. It would all just inevitably come back to bite him in the ass, leave him bleeding out on the floor covered in lacerations like an animal hit by a truck. 

“Kacchan,” Deku said soothingly, coming to kneel in front of him. He put a warm hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing gentle circles to ground him.

He doesn’t love me.

Katsuki shrugged him off, yelling, “Fucking stop! You can’t— I don’t want— FUCK!”

Deku pulled his hand back like Katsuki had burned him.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his confidence sounding completely shaken, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Stop,” Katsuki rasped.

“Stop what?”

He doesn’t love me.

“Stop saying everything I’ve been fucking wishing you’d say to me! You don’t fucking mean it, stop giving me hope! I can’t do this again, I can’t keep loving you like some desperate pathetic fucking— I can’t keep waiting for you to—”

“You don’t have to wait for anything, Kacchan,” Deku said in a hushed tone, like he was speaking to a feral cat, “I want you. I love you. I want to give you everything you want from me.”

Another round of sobs ruptured through Katsuki, and he buried his head in his hands.

“I know that I haven’t given you a reason to trust me, and if you really can’t accept what I’m saying, I understand. I knew you might reject me from the beginning, but I had to tell you. I’m ready for whatever you want to give me, Kacchan, if you want to be together, or you never want to see me again, or if you want to curse me out or hit me, I’m ready. I love you Kacchan.”

Katsuke wanted all of the above. He wanted to run away and never look back, be free of the torment of loving Deku. He wanted to scream at him, to beat him to a bloody pulp, to leave him hurting as bad as he had left Katsuki. He wanted to forget all his anger and just be with Deku, to call him his boyfriend and kiss him and touch him and have him . Deku had finally put their relationship in his hands, and he didn’t know what to do with it. 

Still, he found himself moving without thinking, his arm raising and grasping at the neck of Deku’s hoodie, pulling him forward. Deku went pliantly as Katsuki pulled him fiercely into an embrace, wrapping his arms around Deku’s shoulders in an iron grip. He buried his head into the soft fabric on his shoulder, still afflicted by his stupid crying fit. One of Deku’s arms came to tightly hold his waist, reassuring and protective. The other held the back of his head, keeping him in place, petting at his hair in soothing strokes.

“Deku,” he croaked.

“I’m here, Kacchan.”

They remained in that position, locked together on the floor of Deku’s living room, for a long time. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or maybe it was hours. Katsuki couldn’t tell, lost in the sobs ravaging his body, in the calming way Deku held him against his body. And it felt so good, being pressed against the other man again. It flooded Katsuki’s system, this feeling of home. Adoration and contentment rooted deep inside him, deeper than he had ever felt before. The ever growing distance Katsuki had felt between them, the uncrossable gorge that separated them, grew smaller and smaller until he swore his skin would fuse to Deku’s in every place they met.

When he finally calmed down, his breath labored and shaky, he pulled back just a little. He had left a wet patch of tears and snot on the shoulder of Deku’s ugly green hoodie, but Deku didn’t seem to care. Deku met his eyes, smiling fragilely at him. Katsuki realized the other man had been crying as well, eyes shining and red. Still, he looked happy.

The look he gave Katsuki was the same one he had worn in the photo Sero had taken of them. Fond, peaceful, adoring. Soft and gentle. It looked like love. Katsuki was too tired to fight it anymore, to remain steadfast that Deku was wrong about his feelings. He was just so exhausted.

“Say it again?” Katsuki asked quietly.

“Say what again?”

“That you love me.”

“I love you, Kacchan. I love you so much.”

It sounded real.

“Took you long enough,” Katsuki teased weakly.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. But now that I have, I’m gonna say it so much, it’ll drive you crazy. I have to make up for lost time,” Deku smiled brighter.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Deku said, sneaking in another quick, “I love you.”

It made Katsuki’s head spin, his heart flutter, and any other cheesy line he could think of.

“Sap.”

He leaned in, planting a chaste kiss on Deku’s lips, which Deku was quick to return. One kiss led to many, and soon Katsuki was feeling heated. It wasn’t an urgent, arduous lust, but a deep ache to be closer. He let his hands wander, and Deku seemed to hesitate for a moment.

Katsuki pulled away, and whispered, “I want you.”

“Are you sure?” Deku asked. Katsuki nodded, and Deku smiled, “I want you too.”

Deku gathered up Katsuki’s crumpled form into his arms. Katsuki wrapped his legs around Deku as he stood, feeling secure in the other man’s strong arms and kissing him again. They went down the hall and Deku hip checked his door open, revealing a bedroom in a similar state of disarray as the rest of the apartment. Katsuki barely had time to take it in, before he was deposited into the plush bed at the center of the small room, Deku coming to lie on top of him. 

It was all so familiar, the feeling of being pressed together, the anticipation of feeling good at the other’s hand, and yet, it overwhelmed Katsuki like never before. As though he had never known Deku like this before. And in a way, Katsuki thought, he hadn’t. Sure, he knew the ins and outs of Deku’s body fairly well, knew the way he kissed and moaned and writhed if you caressed just the right spot, but he had never known Deku’s true feelings or intentions before when they had sex. And somehow, knowing made everything so much more intense, so much hotter.

Deku licked against Katsuki’s lips, and Katsuki parted them, inviting him in. Deku ground his hips down, and Katsuki met each thrust with his own. Deku’s hand began to wander underneath Katsuki’s shirt, and Katsuki quickly shucked the thing off. Deku’s own shirt and Katsuki’s pants were soon to follow.

Katsuki was slightly embarrassed to discover he was wearing his All Might boxers that day, though Deku seemed very excited about it, grinning and pulling his own pants off to reveal his own yellow All Might underwear.

“We really do match, Kacchan!” he exclaimed.

“Nerd,” Katsuki said fondly, pulling Deku back in to kiss him as he palmed him through the fabric.

The mood returned to a more heated one, as Deku’s breath hitched. Katsuki teased him, enjoying the knowledge that he was the one making Deku feel good with every grasp and stroke against Deku’s clothed erection. There was something intoxicating about being responsible for Deku’s arousal, something Katsuki had always felt with the other man, though now it increased tenfold with the additional knowledge that Deku wanted this, wanted him , as badly as Katsuki did. 

Soon, Deku’s hand was moving to touch Katsuki in turn, running along his groin and down. 

“Kacchan,” Deku breathed, “I don’t have any condoms or lube.”

“I have condoms in my bag. No lube though,” Katsuki replied.

“I guess we’ll have to make due,” Deku said cheekily, and Katsuki wasn’t sure what he was implying.

Deku rose, leaving the room for a minute, and Katsuki felt cold. The air of the apartment on his mostly bare skin stung where Deku had previously been. Thankfully, Deku returned after a short time, box of condoms in hand. He tossed them onto the bed, returning to his place over Katsuki.

“Have you been… with other people?” Deku asked shyly.

“Yeah,” Katsuki admitted, though for some reason it felt wrong. It wasn’t, they hadn’t been together. But still, his heart had always belonged to Deku in a way that made it feel like disloyalty. “Haven’t you?” he added, hoping to make himself feel less guilty.

Deku blushed and shook his head.

“I couldn’t bring myself to,” he said.

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“I—” Katsuki began trailing off, unsure what he wanted to say.

“It’s okay that you were with other people, Kacchan. I mean, I hate the idea of anyone else getting to see you like this,” he traced his fingers along the line down the center of Katsuki’s stomach as if to demonstrate his point, making Katsuki shiver, “But I understand. You couldn’t keep waiting on me forever.”

“I would,” Katsuki said, “I would wait on you forever. Being with someone else only ever made me miss you more. I don’t think I could ever feel like this for someone else.”

He was rambling and it was embarrassing, but it was so worth it for the possessive kiss Deku pulled him into afterwards. 

Deku slowly began to crawl down his body, sucking at his jaw, his neck, his collar bone, his chest. He planted kisses at the ‘v’ of his hips, then down to the crook of his thighs.

Katsuki almost jumped out of his skin when he felt something prodding its way inside him, from both shock and an unprecedented amount of pleasure.

“Deku,” he panted, “What the hell?”

Deku peeked up, looking shy as he said, “Was that not okay? Sorry, I just figured since we don’t have lube, I could just—”

“Just eat my ass?” 

Deku blushed so hard his entire face was a ruddy shade. 

“If you don’t like it—”

“Like hell I don’t like it. But you’ve never done anything like that before. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Deku nodded, “I’m sure. I was scared before, but I’m not now. 

“One hundred percent?”

“I kinda really wanna do it, actually.”

That went straight to Katsuki’s dick.

“Well then have at it,” he grunted.

Deku did, lapping at Katsuki as though he were the most delicious meal he had ever tasted. It was driving Katsuki wild, his eyes rolling back as he groaned and his body jerked at each flick of the tongue. 

Eventually, Deku drew back, fumbling for the box of condoms and taking one out, tearing the pack open, and slipping it over himself. He did so efficiently, hardly leaving Katsuki any time to feel the aching emptiness before his tongue was replaced with his dick. He pressed in slowly, leaning down to knock his forehead against Katsuki’s, breathing heavily. Katsuki was in a similar state, and he was certain neither would last much longer. There was too much built up tension, too much desperation for release.

As Deku began to move inside him, Katsuki thought back to the summer, when he had tried to convince himself Deku was telling him he was in love with him with each thrust. That words weren’t needed to convey something so obviously there. And now that those words had been spoken anyway, and Katsuki knew how Deku felt, every perfectly aimed punch to his insides felt so spectacular with a burst of stars clouding his vision each time. 

Katsuki was in love and Deku loved him back. It felt so real, and finally it was. The thought alone nearly pushed him over the edge but he held off as long as he could, wanting to prolong the feeling of perfection rooting deep in his gut and heart.

Still, neither of them lasted much longer. Katsuki took himself in his hand, shuddered as euphoria overtook him, Deku followed. He collapsed on Katsuki with all his weight and Katsuki took it happily. Deku planted a kiss on Katsuki’s temple and sighed, sounding happy.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” Katsuki said, finally free to. 

Detroit Smash played softly in the background as Katsuki lounged between Deku’s legs, pressed with his back against Deku’s chest on the couch. The room, though bare, felt so cozy as they laid together. It reminded Katsuki of hot, lazy afternoons on a bus, though this time it was so much better. He was rid of the hollow bitterness that had pervaded every tender interaction between the two that summer, replaced with a filling contentedness. It reached every cell of his body like blood circulating through his veins.

They had been attached to each other for hours, moving about the apartment as one. It had taken a long time for them to peel themselves from the bed, Deku motivated by hunger and Katsuki a need to feed him. He had cooked a small meal with the few items of food Deku had in the fridge, a simple rice plate with chicken. Deku had devoured it, before suggesting they put on a record.

The player sat on the floor, a stack of vinyls in an open box beside it. Deku had picked the record he had promised Katsuki they’d listen to together all those months ago, pulling the other man to him as he laid back on the couch.

Deku played with his hair as the songs drifted in and out, a comfortable silence overtaking them. There was still a lot they had to talk about, but for now, Katsuki was happy to just sit with Deku, knowing that whatever happened next was up to him, that Deku loved him enough to finally give up control to him.

Eventually, though, he decided to broach the subject he had been sitting on since he had accepted Deku’s confession.

“This could ruin our careers if it gets out, ya know,” Katsuki said as he rubbed circles on Deku’s thigh.

“I know. We’ll be careful,” Deku said, “But it doesn’t matter. I want to be with you.”

“It doesn’t scare you?”

“It does, but you’re worth it.”

“Damn right I am,” Katsuki scoffed.

“Yeah. Kacchan is amazing,” Deku said seriously.

Katsuki preened at the compliment. He rolled his head back to look Deku in the eyes. Deku looked back, smiling down at Katsuki. All Might continued to play in the background, the familiar voice of Toshinori Yagi ringing through the room in an assuring tone. Cars drove by outside, the sound of wheels on the asphalt a faint rumble. 

“I want to be together,” Katsuki told Deku.

“Me too.”

“For real. Just the two of us, no one else. I wanna be your boyfriend and shit.”

“Me too,” Deku said again.

Katsuki felt light as air, fuzzy in his chest. He wasn’t used to the soft, gentle feeling that love could bring. He hadn’t known love could feel so painless. He decided, as cheesy and foreign as it was, he enjoyed the strange sensation. Maybe it ruined his tough image, but it was worth it to have Deku hold him like this.

Someone told me a while ago that there was a person out there even for a grump like me. I finally believe that. Love you. Love the way you love me too. I just can’t believe you’re really mine. It’s like waking up from a nightmare in your arms, soft kisses and whispers that it’s all okay now that we’re both awake. Breakfasts at your place, watching TV at mine, your hands within reach, and your smile directing all its light at me.

Yours,

Kacchan

“Feels good to be back,” Kirishima sighed, dumping his duffel bag on his bunk.

“Speak for yourself, I already miss my bed,” Kaminari griped.

“Oh boo,” said Mina, “I like being on the road, it’s fun.”

“Yeah man, you’re just bitter that Nighthide isn’t doing Plus Ultra this year. You got no one to shack up with,” said Sero.

“Neither do you!” Kaminari pointed out.

“I’ll find someone.”

“So I’m gonna be the only one who’s alone all summer?” Kaminari whined, collapsing onto his bunk.

The others all shrugged. It was true. While Kaminari’s new boyfriend, Shinsou Hitoshi, was busy touring for his band’s newest album, he would likely be the only one to spend the summer alone. Mina and Kirishima had each other, and Sero always found someone. Katsuki had Deku, of course.

It had been a little under three months since the pair had gotten together, and now that they were both touring with Plus Ultra again this summer, it felt like a redo. They still had to keep things quiet, but knowing that they were together made Katsuki feel as though he was riding a high he would never come down from, one he never could have dreamt of amongst the mess of the previous summer.

The band continued to settle onto the bus as it pulled out of the lot and began its long drive to the location of the festival’s first set. Katsuki was first to finish unpacking, ever the most efficient of the bunch, and he moved out into the living area to relax on the couch, away from the bustle of his bandmates unloading their things into their bunks. As he sat, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Flipping it open, he found it was, unsurprisingly, two texts from Deku.

leaving now

c u in a few hours kacchan :) 

Katsuki smiled warmly at his phone.

The bus ride meandered on down the highway for hours. Kaminari and Sero spent the ride on the floor playing video games on the small TV in the lounge, while Mina sat behind them on the couch braiding their hair. Kirishima talked animatedly to Katsuki about his new tour workout routine and Katsuki listened quietly. He was lost in thought, anxious to arrive at the festival grounds and see Deku again. He had seen the other man just that morning, sleeping over at his apartment for the third night in a row, but it still felt like too long.

It was dark by the time they finally did reach their destination and Katsuki was ready to bolt from the bus the second it was in park. Unfortunately, Deku had yet to text stating his arrival, so he had to wait a bit longer. He bounced his leg impatiently as the others got up to stretch their legs outside.

By the time Deku texted to let Katsuki know his bus had made it, Katsuki’s bandmates had already orchestrated a small party for their friends on the tour, which had kicked into full swing outside their bus. Katsuki messaged Deku back to meet him outside, sipping on a beer as he did so. By the time he finished his beer, Deku and the rest of his band were walking up to the party.

Deku came up beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder in a way that could have been considered friendly to an outsider. To Katsuki, though, it made his head spin.

“Hi Bakugou!” greeted Uraraka.

“You look well,” said Half-and-Half in his usual monotone.

“Hey,” he gruffed.

The group chatted for a while, though Katsuki wasn’t really paying attention. He was lost in the warmth Deku radiated against his side, in the smell of pine and the sweet lilt every time he spoke. Maybe it was a bit impolite, but Deku had never faulted him for his impoliteness, so what did it matter? Katsuki was in love for the first time in his life, and he was lucky enough for Deku to love him back. Him, of all people. 

And it really was luck. He hadn’t done anything to earn his place by Deku’s side. All he had done was love the guy, and as chance would have it, Deku welcomed him in with open arms. 

They stood together the remainder of the party, always close, but with enough distance to create deniability. Once people started going to bed, Katsuki dragged Deku into the nightliner and brought him to his bunk. It wasn’t deep enough into the summer where they couldn’t be pressed tightly together without a great deal of hot discomfort, so they tangled up amongst the sheets, entwined. Deku pressed a kiss against Katsuki’s lips and smiled bright enough that Katsuki could see his gleaming teeth even in the dark of night.

“I love you, Kacchan.”

“I love you too, Deku.”

“I’m here with Bakugou Katsuki of Ground Zero. Bakugou, how are you doing today?”

“Fine.”

“How are you settling into your second go round with Plus Ultra?”

“Good. Happy to be back.”

“Awesome! Now, people are excited about your reunion with Deku’s lead singer Midoriya Izuku. The two of you developed a close friendship last year that had a lot of fans captivated. How is it this summer to be back with him?”

“Awesome. The nerd is my best friend.”

Katsuki smiled to himself, for once, unbothered by the title. Deku was, afterall his best friend and more.