Archive of Our Own

When Katsuki walks into class that morning, he finds Deku standing across the room with his back to the door, gesturing frantically through a conversation with Kaminari. 

Technically, he was due back in the afternoon, but Katsuki wouldn’t be surprised if Deku charmed a nurse into discharging him early. This is not the part Katsuki finds odd. 

The doctors had informed the teachers that Deku would make a full recovery, also assuring them that a second overnight stay was not necessary. These updates were relayed to them yesterday, but now, the ashen looks on his classmates’ faces tell an entirely different story. Kaminari, especially, looks very pale when he forces an encouraging smile across his face.

After a quick scan of the room, it is clear where everyone’s attention lies, no matter how subtle they think they are being. His classmates may be huddled in their own private conversations, but their shifting eyes tilt the energy of the entire room towards Deku, as though he were the heaviest object in space. 

It’s nothing new, Katsuki thinks and rolls his eyes. If they used the time they spent worrying about Deku to train their quirks, maybe Katsuki would consider them equals. It’s always incredibly embarrassing to watch them fawn over Deku every time he hurts himself, as if he can’t handle it. Like he’s not the strongest person in their class. Like he’s not the goddamn tank that he is. 

If he were Deku, he’d be insulted.

What Katsuki does find odd is not that Deku is here, but that he is in one piece. Aizawa relayed the information to them yesterday, but the details were vague. Deku was to make a full recovery from whatever injury he sustained during his internship hours, but when they wouldn’t even let Uraraka see him over the weekend, Katsuki was expecting an arm sling or a pair of crutches, at least. 

If his typical rambling is anything to go by, it looks like Deku is in perfect shape, save for the bandage wrapped around one of his fingers.

“Deku,” Katsuki calls, immediately snapping all eyes towards him. 

It’s a warning like he’s never seen before and for a second, he almost pauses. Kirishima’s face in particular begs him not to continue. Unfortunately for them, he was never one to listen to words, let alone looks.

“They’re sending nerds to the hospital for bandaids now? Go figure.” 

He huffs out a snort. It’s filled to the brim with derision and maybe that’s why it hurts so much more when he chokes on it. 

Deku spins around and Katsuki’s stomach drops like a crashing elevator. 

A thick bloody gash runs from Deku’s right brow, across the bridge of his nose, over his cheek, and all the way down to the edge of his jaw. A sickening, jagged line etched diagonally over his face, wide enough to miss one of his eyes by mere milimeters.

Deku’s lips move in the shape of Katsuki’s name as he takes a shy step forward. Deku can walk. No arm in a sling, no bandages or gauze, and not even a limp. Just that nasty fissure of a scar marred across his face. 

His body registers what it means before his mind does and suddenly, he’s moving. 

There is a desk between them and Katsuki shoves it out of his way to get to him. He hears his classmates cry out his name as it crashes into some chairs, but Katsuki ignores them. He has his eyes set on his target and a raging one track mind. 

He almost crashes into Deku, grabbing his arm in one hand and his face in the other. Katsuki’s index and thumb press into either side of his jaw, squishing Deku’s cheeks together. He feels the bright green eyes try to pin him in place, but he can’t. He can’t look right now.There is only one thing he can see and it’s even brighter. 

Red. Katsuki sees red. And Kastuki feels red. And Katsuki is ready to bring the world to its knees if it means he doesn’t have to see it anymore. 

With a voice so low he doesn’t recognize it as his own, Katsuki grinds out his words. 

“Who did this to you?”

He tries to tighten his grip on Deku’s wrist to stop the trembling, but it only forces the tremor into the rest of his body. 

He realises he’s the one shaking. He can’t stop shaking. His rage in battle, the one he is so familiar with, the brute fury that he spent years learning to hone into strategy, it’s loose. It burns inside him like a wildfire, the physical limits of his body the only thing standing between the explosion and the classroom.

“Bakugou.”

It’s Kirishima. It’s another warning and it also goes over his head as he tugs Deku closer to him by his wrist. 

“Answer me,” he hisses, eyes darting across his face, following the scar from brow to jaw, jaw to brow, over and over. It was too long, too evendly wide and deep for a wayward slash of a blade. Worse, it was too sharp, not continuous enough for an accident. Whatever this was, it took work and more so, it took time . 

“Hey man, I know you’re upset, but you gotta let go of his face.”

The unfamiliar edge in his friend’s tone cuts clean through the chaos unfurling in Katsuki’s mind and draws his attention to him. He’s standing to the side, a hardened arm extended to hold a furious Uraraka back. She looks murderous and ready to unleash all of it on Katsuki. Behind her, Todoroki watches him with the whisper of a question in his eyes. 

He lets go, but his classmates’ disapproval persists. 

Deku stumbles backwards and Katsuki forces himself to look away, all too aware of the blinking green eyes drilling into the side of his head. 

He imagines Deku must look shocked, or even terrified. Katsuki can’t check even if he wanted to. That gash, it’s all he can see when he looks at Deku. 

“Kacchan?”

He flinches at the sound of his nickname and is about to decide between looking at Deku and walking away when Aizawa makes the decision for him. 

“Third years, in your seats.”

Reluctantly, they all scatter to their seats. Katsuki waits for Deku to sit down before sitting down behind him, unwilling to suffer even a glimpse of his face. 

He needs to know what happened. Everyone is thinking the same thing. They’re third years and next year, they’re going to be sidekicks. They all know what it takes to leave a scar like that and when Katsuki scans the room again, he finds every face praying that they’re all wrong. 

Aizawa holds class like he always does, but Katsuki almost swears his gaze avoids their side of the room for the entire hour. 

All Might is already waiting at the door when Aizawa dismisses them and Deku rushes to meet him before any of their classmates can get a word in. They all freeze in the middle of getting out of their chairs and watch him scamper away with a quick wave over his shoulder, muttering something about catching up with them later. He doesn’t even need to look at Uraraka’s aborted wave beside him to know that Deku is addressing his circle of three close friends, but Katsuki internalizes that promise like it had always belonged to him. 

Deku has some explaining to do, he will catch up with him later. He better. 

With Deku gone, the tension hanging over their heads loosens and it’s like the entire class unclenches at once. 

“Man, that’s rough,” Sero hisses, shoving himself away from his desk. The chair scrapes loudly against the floor and the sound makes Katsuki’s teeth hurt. “I hope that shit heals fast.”

“You can’t… not look at it,” Kaminari adds, visibly flinching. “It doesn’t help that it’s him, of all people.”

Katsuki stops in the middle of stacking his books. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

It takes him a second to recognize his own voice. The question is far from the spitting rhetoricals he usually directs at Kaminari. He is shocked by how genuine it sounds, how foreign it feels on his tongue.

Kaminari looks surprised for a moment, before he reaches back to rub at the nape of his neck. 

“Uh, like his face?” He shrugs. 

“Deku gets injured all the time,” Katsuki prods, irritation beginning to drip back into his voice. 

Kaminari stills and frowns at him. He opens his mouth to speak, but glances over to Kirishima instead. 

“Yeah,” Kirishima intervenes, even going as far as stepping between Katsuki and Kaminari. “But like, it’s extra messed up, you know? Because Midoriya’s face is all cute and–”

“Right,” Katsuki interrupts and scans the room, almost to confirm that this is everyone else’s take on the situation as well before he wastes any more of his time with them. 

Deku gets injured all the time, but Katsuki knows foul play when he sees it. He’s not about to squirm in his seat over Deku’s stupid baby face when the bigger picture threatens to be so much worse. The thought makes rage simmer in his gut again; if he lets his mind wander further, he might lose it again. Only this time, without Deku to answer his questions, there won’t be anything to appease him. 

"He can't tell you what happened.”

They must have collectively forgotten that Aizawa was still in the room because they all startle when their teacher's voice interrupts their hushed conversation. His bleary eyes are trained on them from the front of the classroom. He’s not looking at anyone in particular, but Katsuki prickles at the comment.  

“Sir?” Iida presses. 

“Need I remind you of the confidentiality agreements you all signed for your internships? He can’t tell you what happened,” he repeats, “so don’t ask him.”

He catches a few of them nodding in his periphery. This is news to no one, especially not Katsuki who had to sign an abundance of non-disclosure agreements under Best Jeanist. What irritates him this time around isn’t so much the rules, but the fact that they apply to him. He tries to fight the sour entitlement spreading through his chest, but it’s no use. For ridiculous reasons he refuses to entertain, Katsuki’s instincts take offense at not being seen as the obvious exception. 

“Did they catch them, sir?” Todoroki speaks up, suddenly. “The criminal.”

Aizawa considers them for a moment. He looks annoyed, but even Katsuki can tell that they are about to get an answer out of pure sympathy. 

“Yes,” he sighs. “Heroes apprehended the culprit safely, no collateral damage.”

With that, Katsuki swings his bag over his shoulder and heads for the door. There is nothing more this conversation can provide and he is not about to stick around to listen to his classmates lament the affront on Deku’s face.

It’s a waste of time. Injuries happen to them so often in their internships, it doesn’t even matter anymore, especially not this one. It’s barely even an injury. Deku is standing on two feet with both arms in top shape and yet, his classmates still feel the need to fawn over him. It’s pathetic and irritating and Katsuki is above all of it. 

It doesn’t stop him from pausing in front of Aizawa on his way out. 

“ Some collateral damage,” he corrects under his breath and is out the door before his teacher can react. 

Deku is absent from their next class and then again in the class after that. His empty desk is a loud, immovable eyesore before Katsuki, drowning out the voices of his teachers throughout the day. When dinnertime finally rolls around, the relief floods the tension out of his shoulders. But even then, he can only pretend not to notice the empty seat at Uraraka's table.

Aizawa told them that they couldn't ask Deku about the case, but he also told them that the culprit was apprehended by more than one pro hero. The arrest of a no-name villain involving a few heroes and a minor injury to an intern will definitely not make big headlines, but might not go unmentioned either. After dinner, he makes his way straight to the coffee machine. If some of his classmates gape at him, that's their problem, but he makes it a point to ignore them. It's been a while since he's had to stay up past his bedtime.

He disappears into his room around the time he usually does and goes through the motions of his nightly routine, except when he crawls into bed, he takes his phone with him. It doesn't take him long to find the local news channel online, but it leaves him with an hour to kill before he can get the information he's looking for. This is exactly why Katsuki always leaves his phone on his desk. He hates distractions, he hates the buzzing of his overstimulated brain keeping him from sleep, but he has little choice now.

Lying on his back on top of his sheets, he glares at the ceiling. Somehow, all alone in his room, he is angry again. He is angry at the memory of that hideous scar and he is angry at himself, for sacrificing more than an entire hour of sleep to catch the report at ten o'clock.

Again, he reminds himself that he has no choice in the matter. Local news channels don't exactly attract a wide audience. When they report on it – if they report on it – it will be once.

Cooing over Deku is an embarrassing use of energy, which is why Katsuki is here seeking out the facts. Good heroes don't act on their emotions, they look at facts and make decisions accordingly. And Katsuki is a good hero. While his classmates worry over Deku's face, he is gathering and examining all the evidence he can get his hands on.

It's not about the scar. It doesn't take a genius to figure out the circumstances that could leave a gash like that. Katsuki is by no means humble, but knows he wasn't alone in ruling out all potential accidents after a single glance at Deku's face.

No, there was purpose there. Slow, calculated, malicious purpose that Katsuki refuses to dwell on because there is no point. It's not about the scar. It's about how in the burning hell it got there.

More importantly, it's about Deku's quirk. It's about how Deku, the literal embodiment of brute physical strength, somehow managed to sustain an injury that takes so much time and precision to cause.

Was the villain stronger than Deku? It's unlikely, but even if it were the case, there's no way they were so unevenly matched that he couldn't even struggle.

Or was it an erasure quirk? Even then, even without One For All, Deku is not so weak to lose the upper hand for that long.

It's no use. Katsuki needs details and this report is his best option right now. He wonders if the others are still downstairs, if Deku came back from wherever he was all day. He wonders if Uraraka is staying awake to wait up for him. She probably is, probably even roped some of the girls to wait up with her. Deku will be a flustered mess when he gets back and finds them there.

Katsuki knows better. Katsuki knows Deku better, he thinks, just as the clock hits ten.

Deku is forbidden from sparring. 

There is no formal announcement, but when he shows up to their group training session in track shorts instead of his hero suit, it’s clear he’s sitting the one-on-one matches out. This was not his idea, that much is obvious. As Aizawa breaks down the new pair rotation to the class, Deku listens in as he stretches a few meters away. The temporary change in rotation is due in fact to his absence in the training and one look at Deku’s glaring face tells Katsuki how much he resents that decision.

He looks like an angry loaf of bread, Katsuki thinks, scored only once across. 

“–which means that one person will have to sit out each round–”

“I’ll sit out.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can reconsider and he’s got one gauntlet off before Aizawa can reply. 

“You’ll sit out,” he deadpans, a raised brow the sole source of expression on his face. 

“Yeah, the whole session,” he adds, pushing off his second gauntlet. “Now you’ve got an even number. You’re welcome.”

He meets Aizawa’s gaze and holds it for a moment. It feels like his teacher is waiting for him to continue, but Katsuki maintains his resolve. 

“Very well. Thank you, Baku–”

“They need it more than I do, anyway.”

“And there it is,” Aizawa sighs. 

Ignoring the groans and protests of his classmates, Katsuki picks up his gauntlets and marches his way to a bewildered Deku, who is clearly having trouble understanding the commotion unfolding right outside of his earshot. 

“Kacchan, is everything okay?” he asks.

“Peachy.” He walks past Deku without looking at him and discards his gauntlets against the wall. His gloves come off next, followed by his mask, and boots. 

“He’s having you run laps, Deku?” he speaks to the wall. 

“Yeah,” he says, and then, “they won’t let me spar.”

“How come?”

When he doesn’t get an immediate response, Katsuki risks a glance over his shoulder and finds Deku staring straight at him, soft frown sitting heavy over a hesitant gaze. It ripples the stretch of scarring between his eyebrows. 

"Um," Deku blinks and seems to catch himself in the middle of a thought, regaining some semblance of composure. "There were some... issues with the progress of my recovery," he explains, tense.

He crosses his arms over his chest and turns around to lean against the wall. He can feel the cool metal of his gauntlet press against his calve and a small part of him regrets sitting the training out. He loves sparring, almost as much as Deku does.

"Issues?" Katsuki snorts and runs a quick glance over Deku's body.  "You look fine to me."

He doesn't know why Deku is speaking at half the speed he normally does, but Katsuki decides he hates it. At least the rambling ends sooner, but between the long pause and the calculated wording, he knows Deku is hiding something.

"After a recent examination," he explains, "I was deemed unfit for any high-impact training."

The excuse, both entirely too vague and too formal, would have been acceptable in Katsuki’s books, had it not come out of Deku’s mouth. His words are slow, his tone level, which means that not only is this rehearsed, but it is a bold-faced lie, one that his pleading eyes easily betray. 

He doesn't know what Deku is hiding, but he can't ask, at least, not now and definitely not here. This makes things even more difficult, considering how the news report was barely any help. They touched on the incident very briefly, citing a no-name villain who cornered and mildly injured an intern moments before the pros arrived on the scene. The villain was arrested by local police, but there was no mention of where they were holding the guy. Katsuki almost threw his phone across his room when the report ended; he could've guessed all of that. Anything more, he would have to get from Deku and that was currently not an option. In fact, it was even less of an option than he initially thought. 

So, Katsuki does something he’s only recently started doing in his tangled mess of a relationship with Deku. He spares him.  

“Alright, Deku,” he says with a smirk. “Let’s race.”

At that, Deku seems to perk up and rolls his shoulders back to stand a little straighter. 

“Are we using quirks?” he asks, stepping forward until they’re face to face. 

Katsuki scoffs and pokes a finger straight into Deku’s broad chest. “You and I use our quirks, we’re gonna be fighting in five seconds.” 

Deku covers his mouth with the back of his hand to muffle the laughter that bubbles out of him. It catches Katsuki off guard, not so much the laugh itself, but how refreshing it sounds. It makes him realise he hadn’t heard it in a while, that the nervous chuckling Deku was using as a placeholder had almost fooled him too. 

“Without a single lap to show for,” he snickers, mischief twinkling in his eyes as he gazes at Katsuki from underneath his lashes. 

Katsuki huffs out a laugh, but it comes out hoarse and broken. Deku’s face is distracting in the way it usually is, with a brightness that doesn’t make him sick. For a moment, the green outshines the red and something in Katsuki’s chest settles. 

A couple of years ago, Katsuki would have outrun Deku in a race and been a jerk about it. A year ago, Deku would have outrun Katsuki, but he’d still be a jerk about it. Now, there is something comforting about watching Deku’s back as they run and knowing that he’s strong, that he’s earned his place ahead of Katsuki. 

The years were kind to Deku, giving him an extra few inches and a tamer head of hair. The broad shoulders and chiseled musculature, however, were all his doing and Katsuki could easily attest to that. Everyone knows how hard Deku trains, but apparently Katsuki is the only one fated to meet him punch for punch. 

Katsuki’s atonement started long before he joined Deku’s training with All Might, but his investment in Deku’s improvement was recent. He’d reluctantly agreed to help, mostly because of who was asking, but as the months passed and Deku progressed, Katsuki couldn’t help but see him as a product of his own efforts as well. 

All Might called it pride. Katsuki pretended not to hear him. 

Watching Deku’s form keep a steady pace before him, he wonders if that’s why the scar made him so furious. With this logic, Deku’s losses are Katsuki’s losses too and that scar is a testament to a failure beyond Katsuki’s control. 

And Katsuki hates not having control. 

He only notices he’s picked up his pace when Deku’s back grows closer and closer. Katsuki wishes he could reach for him now, in more ways than one, and simply ask for all the parts he’s missing. For his peace of mind, Deku would do it. Non-disclosure contract or not, for Katsuki, Deku would do it and it’s for that exact reason that he keeps his distance. He lets Deku run ahead. It’s not time yet. 

They’re nearing the end of the lap when Deku shoots a glance over his shoulder, only to flash him a smile. Katsuki can’t stop himself from smirking back. For a while, he was convinced the thrill of their rivalry would die with their budding friendship, but it never did. If anything, the rush of their competition winds him more now than it ever did before and when Deku shoots him another grin when he finishes the lap first, all flushed cheeks and sweaty brow, it knocks all the air right out of him. 

“I win,” Deku calls.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep running, nerd,” he huffs, as if Deku was ever going to stop. 

By the end of class, Katsuki and Deku are left high and dry. Drenched in sweat with nowhere to go, the restless energy of an unsatisfying workout buzzes loudly between them. They are so used to grinding themselves down to the bone, having to watch their exhausted classmates shuffle by after their own glorified jogging session is downright painful. The victors of the sparring matches wear the unmistakable glow of a successful training day and when Katsuki feels Deku prickle with envy next to him, he extends his mental sympathies. He's itching for a fight himself and while the shower is necessary, Katsuki can't help but think it's undeserved. The long drags of Deku's feet behind him as they make their way to the changing rooms sound like he shares the sentiment.

Stepping under the spray, the warm water feels nice on his skin regardless. From the corner of his eye, he spots Deku standing under his own showerhead, staring blankly at the water swirling down the drain at his feet. Just like that, the sick tightness returns to Katsuki’s chest and only gets worse when they return to the changing rooms. 

His classmates are rummaging about their lockers, chatting as they slip back into their uniforms, while Katsuki lingers right out of earshot. He is taking his sweet time washing his face at one of the sinks, trying to be as subtle as possible as he watches Deku lean into the mirror next to him. He musters all of his self-control to stop the anger bubbling in his gut from tumbling out of his mouth. Drawing any suspicion from Deku is the last thing he wants, but he can’t help but find it concerning that his rival has yet to notice his eyes trained on him.

Katsuki is distracted by the sudden movement of Deku’s fingers tracing along the scar on his face and does not notice Kirishima round the corner until it’s too late. He sees Kirishima stop dead in his tracks at the sight of Deku and has the misfortune to also see the thought form all over Kirishima’s face. 

Katsuki holds his breath and narrows his gaze into a laser focus, willing his friend to look at him. He mentally begs Kirishima to look his way, to meet his eyes before opening his mouth. It’s the only way to stop him now and Katsuki’s gut twists even tighter because he doesn’t even know. Kirishima doesn’t even know what he’s about to do, but it’s too late. 

"Midoriya!" He laughs out loud, drawing the attention of a few more people nearby. 

Katsuki flinches when Deku nearly jumps out of his skin, hands flying away from his face to grip at the edge of the sink. Kirishima nudges at him anyway, until they are standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the mirror. 

“Hey man,” he says and lowers his voice, "don't worry about that scar, okay?"

"What?"

There’s an edge to it. When Deku glances back at himself in the mirror, the smooth edges of his bright, open face have sharpened. His question cuts through the air, weighted from an outrage that only Katsuki can hear. 

That’s the worst part, Katsuki notes, the fact that no one notices. Kirishima spends a second stumbling to start his sentence, but Deku’s tilt in attitude goes over his head otherwise. 

“Your face,” he chuckles and gives his shoulder a squeeze before pulling away. “It’s still cute.”

Deku visibly flinches this time and instead of ending it there, instead of realising his mistake and apologizing, Kirishima hands over the floor to someone else.

“Dude, of course.” Kaminari appears from behind and slings an arm across Deku’s shoulders. Their eyes meet through the mirror and Kaminari grins wide. “Still cute as hell.”

“Oh,” Deku practically hiccups and the room relaxes. It sounds so forced that Katsuki almost wipes the relieved smiles off their stupid faces himself. Manually, if he has to. 

Then, with a handful of absent nods to the mirror, Deku says:

“Thank you.” 

And Katsuki turns to stone.

The last time Deku accepted a compliment so eloquently was never. He is not flustered, he is not embarrassed, and he is certainly not doing that thing where he tries to cover his blushing face with both elbows. 

He just thanked them, composed and unwavering, with a shadow cast over his face that Katsuki does not recognize. Deku, he realises, has never looked like this and it has absolutely nothing to do with the scar on his face. This is not the person he was running laps with, this was not who looked at him over their shoulder. 

Kirishima and Kaminari disappear with smiles and pats to his back, but the expression on Deku’s face does not budge, the visible tension in his shoulders does not melt away.

Katsuki just watched Deku empty himself into a shell and can’t shake off the feeling that something is very, very wrong. 

The second time it happens, they’re in homeroom reviewing for a math exam. At least, that's what they were doing until Aizawa fell asleep and the group review session quickly turned into a hang out. In their defence, they're third years and math isn't really the subject they are most concerned with. Iida, of course, is an outlier since he is concerned about everything all of the time.

It so happens that Katsuki is also an outlier because, while he does not care about math, he is in no mood to entertain any obnoxious conversation. He deals with enough of it in the locker room and at lunch. He manages to keep his eyes glued to his book for a solid two minutes before a flash of pink moves in his periphery, just a little too close for comfort.

Reluctantly, Katsuki raises his eyes to find Mina sprawled on her side across Deku's desk, her hip covering most of his textbook.

"Oh, hi Mina," he greets and sets his pencil down. "Do you need help with math?"

"Nope!" Mina grins. "Just wanted to look at your face."

Deku's back straightens and Katsuki has to grab onto the edge of his desk hard not to blast Mina clean off Deku’s. 

"My... face?" Deku's voice is quiet, but that's not going to save him now. Mina's voice carries and already has half the class lending an ear to their conversation. 

"Yeah," she says and tilts her head. "It already looks way better than it did a few days ago."

"Does it?" Deku chuckles nervously, fingers going up to touch his face, only to stall somewhere along the way.

Katsuki relaxes by a small fraction. It’s not every day Mina is harmless, but Deku seems more startled than distressed by her comment. 

"Mhm! Not that it matters, you're still very cute," she says and flashes a grin across the room, right over Katsuki's shoulder. He does not have time to follow her gaze before she is shouting again. 

"You and Todoroki both!"

Katsuki almost breaks his own neck turning to look behind him and without fail, there Todoroki is, leaning awkwardly over Uraraka's desk, clearly caught off guard in the middle of his explanation.

"Oh, I don't know," Deku is chuckling again, the sound dripping with discomfort. "Todoroki is so handsome..."

At that, Todoroki's eyes blow up wide, as a dark blush creeps up his neck. From her seat, Uraraka gazes up at Todoroki's burning face and giggles into her palm.

Katsuki does not like this. Kastuki is having a very bad time in homeroom.

Mina and Deku continue their awkward conversation, but Katsuki’s mind tunes them out in favour of the flustered mess that is Todoroki. The guy looks like he’s going to set himself ablaze and it makes Katsuki want to light the spark himself. 

It's unreasonable, but it angers him. There’s something to say about Todoroki getting embarrassed over the obvious; everyone and their grandmother knew Todoroki was handsome. Watching any given thirty seconds of the sports festival broadcast would tell you that much. It was something about Deku saying it that had Todoroki reacting the way that he did and it was something about Todoroki reacting that way that had Katsuki grinding his teeth together. 

He tries not to think much of it and truly believes he’s succeeded until the bell rings and he is following Deku into a nearby bathroom. He wouldn’t have if Deku hadn’t rushed in himself and the sight that greets him confirms every suspicion he had.

The edge of the counter presses deeper into Deku’s hips as he leans in further over the sink, as though he were trying to fall into the mirror entirely. Two of his fingers prod gently at his face and Katsuki does not need to follow their trajectory to know what has Deku’s eyes crossing. His focus is balanced on the edge of a blade, not only because it is unblinking, but because it is unfazed by Katsuki’s less than quiet entrance. 

He prowls over to the urinals without taking his eyes off of Deku who, in turn, continues to be enthralled by his own reflection. He reaches for his fly and shuffles closer, pretending to pee. He should look away, but the fact that Deku has yet to feel his eyes boring into him is deeply concerning and Katsuki wants to see just how much longer it will take him to notice. 

When Deku finally glances over, he is not even startled to see Katsuki there. He stares right back at him and arches a brow before letting his eyes wander down to his open fly. 

“Kacchan, are you… good?”

Katsuki realises that, okay, maybe one cannot pretend to pee without actually peeing, but if Deku thinks he’s the one asking the questions here, he’s dead wrong. 

“Never took you for a guy who cares about his looks, Deku,” he says, loud enough that the sound of his fly zipping shut doesn’t have a chance to echo in the empty bathroom. “Or Half-n-Half’s, for that matter.”

Deku rolls his eyes, but only spares Katsuki one more once-over before returning to his reflection. His fingers, at least, retire to grip the edge of the sink, but his eyes narrow as he stares back at himself.

“Did Kacchan come in here to save me from my vanity?”

Katsuki snorts and rolls his eyes right back. Deku maintains their banter as if Katsuki isn’t also shouldering the tension in the air between them. Forget caring about his looks, Katsuki never took Deku for a master of deflection, embarrassing honesty being his usual method of operation. He is careful when he chooses his next words, something that will back Deku’s sharp tongue into a corner. 

“You looking for something in particular?” Katsuki asks, and takes a tentative step forward. From the new angle he can see the scar clearer, both in the flesh and through the reflection. “Or just checking it’s still there?”

It is Deku’s turn to consider him. Katsuki freezes in place, letting his eyes wander over him, head to toe. There is something vaguely threatening about how wide Deku’s eyes remain as they creep over his body, it makes Katsuki wonder if he struck a nerve he didn’t mean to strike. A question dances in Deku’s eyes, only to die there seconds later. 

“I know it’s there,” he says, curtly, and Katsuki is surprised he even took the question seriously. “I just forget what it looks like.” 

Katsuki frowns and takes a step closer. 

“Why do you need to remember?” he asks. “Mina’s right, it’s gotten better.”

Deku sucks in a breath and pushes himself away from the sink. He stands in front of Katsuki with a cheerful smile on his face 

“That’s not fair at all,” he exhales. “You get to look at it whenever you want.” 

“What makes you think I want to remember?”

Deku huffs a small, tired laugh and shakes his head. It almost sounds condescending, but Deku is looking right into his eyes and there is a challenge there that Katsuki does not understand. 

“Are you saying you’re going to forget?”

“Never.” The word is flying out of his mouth before he can even get a hold of it, or at least, stop it from sounding like a promise. 

His regret is short-lived when Deku’s smile only widens. 

“Thanks, Kacchan,” he beams and with a quick hand on his shoulder, walks right past Katsuki. 

The door shuts softly behind him and Katsuki is left alone in the boy’s bathroom, wondering what exactly he was being thanked for and more importantly, what mysterious game they were playing. No matter, Deku’s deflection clearly won this round and somehow, the ball is in Katsuki’s court again. 

Another quiet and frustrating week passes before he overhears a conversation between Uraraka and Deku on his way upstairs. They are sitting on the couches in the common area, Uraraka going on about a move she just can't get right, when she veers into a new topic that keeps Katsuki lingering in the kitchen for a while longer. 

"What about you? You've been training a lot with All Might lately. How's it been?"

"With– with All Might?" Deku sputters and Katuski resists smacking him upside the head for still failing to compose himself three years after the fact.

"Yeah!” she laughs. “He keeps pulling you out of class, I figured it must be something important."

"Right! Yes, um…” Deku trails off for a moment before composing himself again. “I needed his help refining some new techniques I’m trying out. Our quirks are really similar, so he’s a lot of help." 

The awkward laugh does little to help the fact that he's so obviously lying. Katsuki can’t tell if Uraraka is too starstruck by Deku to realise it or if she's just nice enough not to call him out. Either way, it’s tedious to watch. 

“That’s good to hear,” she beams, shoulders falling as she considers Deku. “I know how much you hate missing class.

“Why are they making you sit out then?” Iida chimes in. “I, for one, would love to see these new moves.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Deku says, sounding just apologetic enough. “All Might says it’s a little dangerous without his supervision. I have to perfect it first!”

It’s a lie.

Of course it’s a lie. There were no such trainings and Katsuki is all too painfully aware of that, having spent the past two weeks in a perpetual state of apprehension waiting for All Might to text them about it. There has yet to be such a text and Katsuki is growing more impatient by the day, checking his phone between shorter and shorter stretches of time. They have never gone this long without training with All Might and that training is his only shot; if Deku is going to discuss any type of classified information, it’s going to be with All Might in the room. 

He knows Deku is lying because if he had been training with All Might, Katsuki would know. He would have been there. They would have addressed the scar on his face and the incident that led to it. Katsuki doesn’t even need details at this point, he just needs fragments, enough to piece together a rough picture.

He knows what he has to do if he doesn’t want to lose his damn mind. He downs his water and heads straight to his room. He has the evidence he needs; Deku is not only lying, but actively hiding something. It stirs an unfamiliar thrill in him to know that he is the only one who can see through it all. 

Katsuki remembers the news report and has his phone out before the thought is even fully formed in his head. He types out the address into his map app and checks for the first train out tomorrow morning. 

Bakugou slams his palms against Aizawa’s desk. Explosions itch behind the burning skin of his palms, but he keeps them at bay. His frustrations have been piling high over the past week, eating away at his already short fuse, and his teacher presenting him with yet another pointless obstacle is certainly not helping.

“Who snitched?!”

The police station was a bust, but the mere fact that he showed up to make demands was less than ideal. The legality of his actions is lost on him, but Katsuki knows it probably looks bad for the school if they somehow connected him back to UA. They could have recognized him from the sports festival, but how did they know his name? Someone must have said something.

Katsuki glares down at his hands pressed flat on the desk as he tries to remember everyone he walked past before leaving the dorms yesterday. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going, though and there was no way in hell any of his classmates actually managed to follow him without being noticed.

“Did the police ask you for a piece of identity when you stormed the station?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Bakugou huffs and rolls his eyes.

“What piece did you show them?”

“I only had my school ID on–”

Aizawa raises a brow at him.

“Damn it!” he yells and slams his hands down again.

“Did you really expect them not to contact us?” Aizawa scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “After one of our students shows up to the station making threats and demands for classified information? I thought you’d grown out of this.”

“I have,” Katsuki grumbles, looking away. It's true and while it sucks to admit it, Aizawa suggesting otherwise wounds his pride. He's gotten better and they both know it. He just doesn't know how to explain to his teacher that he's doing this because he's gotten better.

“Right, you have,” Aizawa concedes. “But I suppose this is an exception.”

Katsuki snaps his attention back to Aizawa and allows himself a moment to be shocked before forcing the scowl back onto his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, voice low. His words hang suspended in the air between them, trapped in a moment that Katsuki wants to keep still, unmoving. Like an afterthought, he throws his guard up in that instant, his entire body wound tight, because Aizawa dared only call it a supposition, when Katsuki knows damn well he's right.

And for a moment he can see them unfold before him, all the shapeless pieces he didn't even know were missing. The ones he hadn’t thought to look for. 

“I believe it was the twelfth precinct that processed Gentle Criminal’s arrest,” Aizawa deadpans.

Katsuki blinks. “What?”

“And I’m sure you know that Overhaul is being held at Tartarus,” he continues, breathing a deep sigh. “And so is Stain, for that matter.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Katsuki snaps, but there's no anger in it, only caution. “I don’t care where those assholes rot.”

“Why not?”

“The hell do you mean ‘why not’?” Bakugou sputters. He’s growing frustrated. He’s made himself clear, his logic is a clean line between the information he needs and why he needs it. “They’re not the ones who–” Except, it’s not. Not even close. 

“They’re not,” Aizawa interrupts. “They only tried to kill him, right?”

The revving of his brain stutters to a halt and once the dust of his oncoming rampage settles, he is left all alone to face a looming question that his teacher hasn’t even asked yet.

Aizawa seems to hesitate for a moment and then, with a heavy exhale, his shoulders fall into an exasperated slump. He shifts forward on his chair, leaning into the space between them to rest his elbows on top of his desk and folds his hands together. He looks straight at him when he speaks. 

“But I suppose this too is an exception?”

He gets detention, which is a fraction of the punishment he was expecting. He spends the rest of the week waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never happens. Katsuki stormed into a police station, practically threatened every deputy there, essentially tarnishing the school’s reputation, and he didn’t even get a proper scolding. Instead, he gets to make friends with the cleaning supply closet for a couple of weeks.

The true punishment, it turns out, is that Katsuki is left alone with his thoughts and the echo of Aizawa’s words. It is a brand of torture he is unfamilar with. His one-track mind usually leaves no room for distractions, but wandering thoughts, he finds, are harder to reel in when they’re this loud. 

Katsuki never makes exceptions and he always has the last word, no matter what. Yet, Aizawa managed to subvert that entire narrative in a single conversation. Arguably, in a single sentence. A victim of his own unshakeable pride, Katsuki was left gaping open-mouthed at his teacher. There was nothing to say, no logical rebuttal to an already truthful argument. 

A rule once broken might as well be broken again. Katsuki had no choice but to make another exception, sacrifice the last word, and accept his punishment in absolute silence. 

The worst part is that Aizawa knew before he did. His teacher understood Katsuki’s intentions before he could even stop to consider them. How had he acted so irrationally for so long? How had he not stopped acting irrationally, not even for a moment long enough to question himself? Most of them were going to be sidekicks next year. Katsuki is expecting the best possible offers from the top ranking agencies and yet, all the training and discipline that made him the perfect candidate that he is were thrown out the window the second he laid eyes on Deku’s face. 

Katsuki’s grip tightens around the broom handle. Why was he always the exception?

Whether it’s the silence brought on by the late hour or the mindlessness of the menial task, at some point between the vacuuming and dusting, Katsuki loosens his guard just long enough for another question to float through. 

What if he’d found the villain? What then? He dismissed the rashness of his actions because he saw them as a means to an end, but what end was that exactly?

“Kacchan?”

The nickname elicits an almost instinctual reaction out of him, as his thoughts and movements all come to a screeching halt. 

Deku is standing in the doorway with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket, flushed bright from the chilly outside air. He looks windswept and glowing and absolutely lovely and Katsuki finally names the feeling that drove him into this detention in the first place. 

The sight of Deku revives the dormant vengeance like fire to gasoline.

I’ll find them. I’ll find them and tear them to shreds for this.  

“Hey,” he greets instead, voice hoarse. “Where’ve you been?”

“Doctor’s appointment,” Deku says with a shrug. It’s not a lie, but Katsuki still makes note of the time and the dark circles under Deku’s eyes, as he approaches.

“What are you doing?” Deku continues. He looks Katsuki up and down, clearly amused. 

“Detention,” he explains, matching Deku’s shrug. With that, he turns back to his task or more accurately, continues to sweep the same spot he has been sweeping for the past ten minutes. He pretends not to see or hear Deku approaching. 

“What’d you do?” Deku asks, leaning in slightly. 

Katsuki gazes up at him and finds that he is closer than expected, big green eyes looking straight at him. 

“Aizawa thinks I have issues with authority,” he deadpans, which makes Deku throw his head back and laugh. Katsuki smirks at him and wonders how much he would be laughing if he knew the rest of it. “Understatement,” he giggles behind his hand and Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“You know, Deku,” Katsuki interrupts, “you keep seeing this doctor, but that scar looks the same to me.” He leaves the broom leaning against the arm of the couch to cross his arms over his chest. 

The smile does not fall from Deku’s face, but it definitely dims. It’s Katsuki’s turn to lean in, smug, just as Deku breaks eye contact to stare down the hall instead. 

“I told you, my progress has been slow,” he sighs, arms coming up to cross over his chest only to curl around his sides instead. 

“Is that right?” Katsuki hums and takes a final step forward. He doesn’t have to lean in to make his point anymore, he’s right up in Deku’s face now and the nerd can look away all he wants, but he’ll still know Katsuki is there. 

“Yes,” Deku breathes, flinching at the shakiness in his voice. “There’s more to it than just…”

He trails off, eyes rolling up to fix the ceiling with a pleading look. Katsuki does not budge, but takes note of the way Deku is bouncing in place, fidgeting on his feet. It’s been a while since Katsuki has seen him like this. With all the confidence he’s gained over the past three years now shed, Deku reminds him of their first day at UA. 

Katsuki’s fingers twitch at his side and he is moving before he can help himself. He reaches for Deku’s face and for a moment, Deku flinches in a way that Katsuki hasn’t seen in years. It makes an ugly feeling thrash in his gut, one that reeks of guilt and mirrors, but Deku’s face changes before he can hesitate. Bright green eyes blink at his fingers suspended in mid air before Deku screws them shut. His body goes rigid, as he braces himself for Katsuki’s touch. 

With the opportunity now giftwrapped before him, Katsuki panics. He’s been dying for more information and while this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, a closer inspection of the wound could only tell him more. 

But there is fragility at play here, and Katsuki doesn’t mean Deku. 

No, Deku is far from fragile, as is Katsuki himself. It’s whatever hangs between them now, in the floating silence of the dimly lit common room, that Katsuki is scared will break. Maybe, he thinks, maybe it’s worth breaking, even after all the mending they’ve done. 

In the aftermath of their healing, maybe there are still things left to be broken.

He doesn’t make it far, in the end. Katsuki’s finger lands like a feather against the corner of Deku’s brow where the scar begins and follows it down to the bridge of his nose. He traces along the scarring at first, feeling the edges of the raised, scabbing skin. He moves slowly, allowing his finger to run across the scar, feel the depth of the groove where the blade truly made its indent and that’s when he doesn’t dare take more of it. On the bridge of Deku’s nose, Katsuki pulls away and flicks the tip of it. 

“Ow!” Deku’s eyes snap open. Both his hands fly up to his face to cup protectively over his nose. “What was that for?”

Katsuki smirks at him, but it’s muted. Maybe he’s tired, maybe he just doesn’t have it in him anymore, but he can’t bring himself to do it. 

“Hurry it up, Deku,” he says and turns to reach back for his broom. 

Deku watches him work for a handful of excruciating and silent seconds. Katuki can feel his eyes on him, but does not dare look at his face again. 

“I’m trying, Kacchan,” he says, but it sounds as defeated as Katsuki feels. 

The text from All Might could not have come sooner.

They received it the previous evening, right before dinnertime. Katsuki’s phone buzzed on top of the coffee table, just as Deku’s buzzed across the room. No one noticed, but Katsuki saw the name on the notification and looked straight at Deku before he even checked the message. Katsuki did not miss the way his face fell, how his entire body suddenly slumped in his seat. That one text drained Deku of the drop of energy he had left and confirmed the enormity of the situation for Katsuki. It takes one hell of a situation to make Deku look downright distraught because of a message from his lifelong idol. The twenty-four hours that followed felt like an eternity. 

The day went by so slowly, with Katsuki in an apprehensive fidget and Deku wearing the same crestfallen face from yesterday. They did not talk about the meeting, they hardly even acknowledged each other, but Katsuki was still somewhat surprised when Deku was not waiting for him in front of the dorms when it was time to leave. They usually walked over together.

Katsuki heads for the school building on his own. They are meeting in All Might’s office, which means they are not having a training session. For once, this works in Katsuki’s favour; an office meeting means talking, which presents him with an ideal situation. What would they talk about, if not Deku?

He reaches the building and, as he rides the elevator up, can’t help but find Deku’s absence a little curious. Katsuki is right on time, he should have run into him by now. The elevator doors open to reveal yet another empty hallway and a bad taste begins to spread at the back of his throat, as he makes his way to All Might’s office. 

The flash of green rushes past him just as Katsuki turns the corner. He's technically on time, but judging by Deku's tense form receding on one end of the hallway and All Might standing defeated on the other, Katsuki already missed the party. 

"Deku," he calls after him, but the only response he gets is the slamming of the stairwell door behind him. Katsuki catches a glimpse of him storming up the stairs; he's not headed to the dorms or the gym, which means he's headed for the roof. Which also means that Deku is exceptionally upset.

He turns to All Might next. Their mentor stares down the hall, eyes fixed on the fading presence of the long-gone Deku, before breathing a deep sigh and finally meeting Katsuki's gaze.

"Hello, Bakugou."

Katsuki stuffs his hands into his pockets and makes his way over to him. All Might keeps glancing at the door, as if Deku is going to come back at any moment, but Kastuki knows better. Deku definitely went upstairs. He should already be on the roof by now, which means no one will hear from him for the rest of the day, unless they know where to look. Unless they are Katsuki.

"What the hell happened?" Bakugou asks.

"Midoriya and I got into a bit of an argument," he explains, voice sad enough to put Katsuki on edge. "He's been frustrated lately and I think my attempt at appeasing him only made it worse."

"Frustrated about what?" Katsuki forces his voice to remain calm, pushing his words through gritted teeth. He himself is starting to get frustrated by these vague answers and allusions to this miserable overarching secret they are keeping from him. He can feel its weight hanging over all their heads, but he's the only one who can't call it by its name.

"His recovery is going–”

“Slower than expected,” Katsuki interrupts. “So I’ve heard.”

All Might eyes him for a moment and then sighs, his shoulders finally slumping completely. 

"It's not something he can rush, but he is so stubborn," he says, pensive.  

Katsuki grinds his teeth together, forcing patience and calm to bleed into his body. Deku has been hinting at it, sure, and it seems that All Might is not even trying to pretend this is about the scar, but that still doesn’t leave Katsuki with much. 

"What’s he trying to rush, exactly?" Katsuki asks and when All Might looks at him, the distant ponder on his face is replaced with open surprise. 

“Ah… well, it’s not my place to tell.”

“Who’s place is it then?” he snaps. “How am I supposed to know what the hell is going on when I’m supposed to give the nerd space and act like nothing’s wrong? He’s clearly going through hell and so whoever does know what’s going on is doing shit about it.”

All Might’s brows arch high on his forehead and Katsuki realises that while he did not insult All Might to his face, per say, he certainly came dangerously close. However, not even his mentor’s scrutiny can get him to budge. His chest rises and falls as the seconds tick by, his furious glare meets All Might’s gaze head on and refuses to break eye contact. 

“You haven’t spoken to him about it.”

It’s not a question, but Katsuki answers anyway. 

“No.”

All Might hums and turns to stare into his empty office. Another moment passes where All Might releases a long breath and plunges his hands into his pockets. 

“Maybe you should,” he says. “I think Midoriya needs it right now, even if he might not know it himself.”

As he walks into his office, he sends Katsuki one last glance over his shoulder and the twinkle of a challenge in his eyes is all the permission he needs before he is sprinting down the hall. He takes the steps up two at a time and by the time his brain forms any fledgling doubts, it’s far too late. Katsuki kicks open the door to the roof and it bangs loudly against the outside wall, sending all the nearby birds flying in a frenzy. It is the second most satisfying thing to happen to him this week.

The first most satisfying thing happens a fraction of a second later when Deku whirls around at the echoing ruckus and fixes Katsuki with a furious snarl. His lips are curled back, stretched over his grinding teeth and when his eyes meet Katsuki's gaze head on, they are rimmed red and brimming with wet fury.

Katsuki almost grins at the sight. He is only barely bracing himself against the rush of having Deku back, of having Deku look at him like that again after going so long without it. Even if it only lasts the short moment it takes Deku to realise that Katsuki is not here to fight him.

"What do you want?" he spits.

The door slams shut behind him and Katsuki sucks on his teeth. This was their song and dance, after all. It was no one else's, and Katsuki would be damned if he didn't return everything Deku sent his way.

"We're talking," he announces and takes a step forward.

Deku glances up and down Katsuki's body as he moves closer.

"Talking about what?" he asks, somewhat calmer this time. Hesitation laces his question and seems to lift some of the fight out of him. Deku's eyes are searching, questioning, and Katsuki feels his patience evaporate with Deku's rage.

He is so beyond irritating, it makes Katsuki want to scream. The dense idiot has no idea. He has no idea how he's been acting, what he's made Katsuki do. He has no clue, has not even noticed the way Kastsuki has been scrambling around him, trying to see him from a thousand different angles when no one else was looking. And now he has the audacity to be suspicious? Like Katsuki is the one with issues here?

"The hell do you mean about what?" Katsuki snaps and swallows the few strides between them just so he can get up in Deku’s face.

Deku glares right back at him, taking full advantage of their evened heights. 

"What do you want to talk about, Kacchan?" he hisses. It's a challenge. Of course it's a challenge, it's them . What else would it be?

"Maybe," Katsuki begins, voice so low it's almost a growl, "we can start with that ugly ass scar on your face, hm? How's that sound, Deku?"

He jabs a finger at Deku's chest and sends him stumbling back for half a step. At some point in this ugly exchange, Katsuki's words manage to sidetrack Deku enough to melt the fury away from his face and make room for the calculative furrow he wears so often.

His quivering gaze meets Katsuki's and what was once brimming, spills over in a pair of tears and a dry, hacking sob.

"Fuck," Katsuki hisses and closes the gap between them again. His hands find Deku's shoulders and grip them tight. They shake under his touch and Katsuki has never seen Deku cry like this, like he's choking on something painful.

"Fuck, Deku. I didn't mean to say that. I didn't mean that, okay? Kacchan didn't mean it."

Deku continues to heave against the back of his hand, tears dampening his dark lashes before streaming down his face one by one. His eyes are bloodshot, his face is flushed, and the scar runs across it all, in all its horrible arrogance. There is so much red there, Katsuki's anger spikes at the sight of it.

"It is ugly," he croaks.

"No nerd, listen, I–"

He doesn't know what else to say. His hands, in a mirror frantic state, slide up and down his shoulders until they trespass onto his neck. When his thumbs graze both sides of his jaw, Deku tilts his head in a question and Katsuki's hands make the final move to cup his face.

“No, you listen,” Deku chokes out, screwing his eyes shut tight before opening them again. “It’s ugly. Why does everyone keep saying it’s not?”

Deku’s hands come up to grip Katsuki’s wrists, but he doesn’t push them away. His chest rises and falls rapidly, but seems to be slowing down by the second. 

Katsuki gives Deku the time to calm down. 

“How’d it happen?” Bakugou finally asks, jerking his chin right at Deku’s face. 

“Villain did it,” Deku shrugs and Katsuki bites down on his tongue hard to salvage the sliver of patience he has left. 

“Yeah, no shit,” he spits. “What I want to know is how a fucking nobody villain managed to leave a scar like that on fucking baby-symbol-of-peace Deku.” 

For a moment, it looks like Deku is not going to answer. He’s long turned away from Katsuki, now facing the edge of the roof and staring off at the city unravelling beyond it.

“Paralysis quirk.”

Katsuki feels the words crystalize inside of his body and make a wreck out of him. 

It can’t be shock, he thinks. Some part of him always knew; this had been the only answer left for some time now. This is closer to devastation, the type of fury that freezes over instead of burns. This is the anger that Katsuki hates the most, one that does not move. It is the useless kind, reserved for hindsight, dead on arrival. 

He holds the missing piece in his hands, now with a name, and wants nothing more than to obliterate it. 

Deku. Deku couldn’t move when–

He releases the breath he was holding and it trembles out of his mouth like an earthquake pillaging through his entire being. 

“Tell me more.” 

“I don’t think I should,” Deku says, but the hand he wraps around Katsuki’s arm keeps him grounded. 

It’s the sheer helplessness, he thinks. Not on Deku’s end, but his. He can’t hurt the person who did this, he can’t shred them to pieces and how will he ever, ever get the fuck over this when that scar is going to linger on Deku’s face for the rest of his life. 

“I can’t–” he whispers, the sound rough and absolutely ravaged comes out of a place in him he didn’t know existed. Katsuki feels possessed by his own anger and Deku’s presence, torn between keeping Deku impossibly close to him and burning the entire city to the ground. 

“No, you can’t,” Deku confirms, frowning slightly. He’s watching him intently, guard up and waiting. Neither of them is sure what Katsuki will do next. 

Katsuki watches Deku watch him and belatedly, realises that he is waiting for him. It is too late for a lot of things, but counting all the impossible ways he can fix this is not why he was sent after Deku. If the villain’s exact location magically appeared before him now, Katsuki would still stay, weighing what his anger wants against what Deku needs. For once, Deku is the one waiting for him to catch up. 

He takes a deep breath and meets Deku’s expectant stare with a nod. His hand on his arms slips until it is loosely holding onto Kastuki’s wrist. 

“It was just a provocation, you know?” Deku continues, very carefully. “He knew he was cornered, I guess he just wanted the last word.” Deku lowers his head and stares at their feet. Katsuki follows his gazes and finds but a handful of inches separating the tips of their toes. 

“I’m lucky though,” he chuckles, the sound broken and entirely devoid of humour. “It would have been worse, he wanted to do worse, but he… he got distracted by my face. Said I was too cute for a hero, said he’d fix it for me.”

“That’s sick,” Katsuki spits. His entire body is vibrating with the million explosions he yearns to set off in this unknown villain’s face. “If I get my hands on this sick motherfucker, I–”

Katsuki’s roaring thoughts come to a halt. He blinks once, and then twice before he connects the dots and his face twists into a fresh, even uglier snarl. 

“Those fucking extras,” he hisses and grinds teeth. “Been calling you cute every fucking day since you got back.”

Suddenly Deku’s hands around his wrists make perfect sense because Katsuki is pulling away, turning his back on Deku to storm the common room where all those idiots are probably hanging out, completely oblivious of the damage they–

“Kacchan, stop,” Deku sighs and tugs him back. “There was no way for them to know.”

“Don’t care,” Katsuki snaps and does not relent, ready to drag Deku with him to witness the carnage he’s about to cause. 

“You know,” he scoffs, tugging hard at Katsuki’s arms. “I don’t really love baby-symbol-of-peace Deku either…’

“You got a problem, Deku?”

He whirls around and crowds Deku until he has the backs of his knees pressed against a nearby bench. Still, Deku does not loosen his hold on Katsuki.

“I’m not a baby,” he huffs. 

“Got a stupid baby face, though,” he leers and grabs Deku’s cheeks between his fingers. 

Deku sputters and tries to push Katsuki away. “What? I don’t, especially not like this!”

Katsuki is about to protest, but clicks his mouth shut before his thoughts become words spoken out loud, words he’s not sure he should speak when he’s sure they will cross a line. Now that he knows the reason behind Deku’s questionable behaviour, he’s not sure he should share, as true as he thinks it is. 

“You’re thinking something,” Deku shakes him out of his thoughts. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” he mutters.

“Just tell me,” he rolls his eyes. 

Katsuki looks at him, scowls into his earnest green gaze and deflates. 

“Scar’s ugly,” Katsuki admits and realises that even he is not strong enough to maintain eye contact for this. He swallows hard and quickly looks away toward the far end of the roof. 

“Scar’s ugly,” he repeats, “but you’re… you know.”

When Deku is silent for more than a couple of seconds, Katsuki braves another sideways glance his way and finds him looking far too amused for his liking. Deku’s brows are arched high on his forehead, smirk curling the corner of his lips. 

“No,” he says, slowly. “I don’t know.” 

Katsuki clicks his tongue and looks away again. “Yes, you do. Shut up.”

It’s all in vain, though, when Deku steps into his line of sight, head tilted to the side and that stupid smirk a thousand watts stronger on the cocky scale. That’s more his brand, but he has to hand it to him, Deku wears it well. Katsuki has no choice but to look up to the sky to avoid him. 

“Does Kacchan think I’m handsome?” he teases, but there’s an underlying bewilderment there. 

Deku snorts as he says it too and something about Deku being so confident that this is a joke doesn’t sit well with Katsuki.

When he finally musters the courage to meet Deku’s eyes again, it knocks the air right out of him. Katsuki thinks he loves the playful mischief lighting those eyes more than most things in the world, especially when they’re turned to him– only when they’re turned on him. There is something very satisfying in the way Deku faces him at eye-level, crosses his thick arms over his barrel of a chest. There is colour in his face, his windswept hair, and suddenly everything about Deku is huge and overwhelming. 

Even the scar, slashed right across this sight to behold, is stunning. It shrieks and stings, but proves that Deku lived, that he survived and overcame and it’s everything Katsuki loves best about him. He’ll take it, too. With Deku looking at him like this, even the scar Katsuki will take.

He blames the heat pooling in his stomach and creeping up his neck on his residual anger, as he reaches around to grip the back of Deku’s neck. The nerd, at least, has the decency to look surprised. 

“Kacchan thinks you’re a dumbass.”

Katsuki pulls their mouths together in one swift tug and kisses Deku hard. It takes a second for Deku to recover, body going rigid at first, only to relax as Katsuki deepens the kiss. He feels his arms unfold from his chest and slip around Katsuki’s waist to pull them even closer together. When Deku finally kisses back, catching Katsuki’s bottom lips between his, Katsuki opens up and lets him take everything he needs. 

When Deku pulls away, Katsuki is about to chase after his mouth when he is met with an even wilder sight to behold. Deku’s mouth is even prettier freshly kissed and the pink of his cheeks sends Katsuki heart roaring in his chest. He did that to him. He can keep doing that to him and have him like this forever. 

“Kacchan, what was that?” Deku whispers. 

They are still holding each other. Deku’s arms slip loosely around him to let his hands squeeze at his waist. The way his thumbs press into his hip bones is almost as criminal as Deku letting them go. Katsuki only tightens his grip at the back of Deku’s head, fingers tangling further into the curls there. 

“You scared me, you know that?” he mutters, shaking his head. “Deku, I–"

He hesitates and, despite the question pleading all over Deku’s face, pulls away for a moment to stare off at the pink orange skyline. 

“I don’t think I’ve been this angry in years,” he says. “I can’t shake it off.”

 Deku hums, considering him for a moment and gently nodding his head. 

“Because of the scar?”

“Because of you ,” he corrects and makes Deku flinch. “You weren’t yourself, you must know that...”

He trails off, running out of the emotional steam he needs to actually finish the thought when Deku looks at him with a question written all over his face. 

“It looks–” Katsuki doesn’t know how to phrase this. He doesn’t know how to say this without making it sound like Deku belongs to him. “It looks like it was on purpose. Like someone did this to you just because they could.”

“It’s all he could do, so he did it,” Deku says. “Almost like a brand, something to remember him by– Kacchan, you’re burning.”

Deku pulls away entirely, hands moving up and gripping Katsuki’s shoulers to hold him at arm’s length. He remains compliant, lets Deku move him around as he tries to monitor and control the anger inside him. 

“Hey, seriously, I’m fine,” Deku whispers. “It’s not even a real injury, yeah?”

Katsuki’s eyes snap wide open and fix Deku. 

“No.”

Deku’s mouth moves around unspoken words as he blinks at him. 

“No?”

“No, it’s not a real injury,” Katsuki elaborates, voice hoarse. “An injury means a fair fight. You didn’t get injured on the job, Deku, you were made into some asshole’s message. “

Deku’s face falls and for a moment, it looks like a bit of Katsuki’s anger has translated onto his face.

“I should’ve fought back,” he spits. 

“It was a previously unknown paralysis quirk,” Katsuki argues. “What the hell could you have done?”

“I let him get the upper hand–”

“Deku–”

He’s losing him. Deku’s eyes are no longer focused. When he spits his words under his breath, it’s not Katsuki he’s talking to.

“–and he beat me.”

“Hey!” Katsuki growls and gives Deku a nice hard shove. “What the hell do you think you’re saying, huh? You can’t just treat this like one of your stupid broken bones.”

Deku’s mouth is no longer moving, but it’s still hanging open. He looks slightly horrified when he stares at Katsuki, but he’s more concerned about how wet his eyes are getting. 

“You sound like the therapist I keep ditching,” he mutters, but Katsuki catches it loud and clear. It resonates through him like the echoes of a church bell. 

“Shut the hell– wait, what?” he snaps and pulls Deku back to him by the shirt collar. “Is that what this is about? Your slow progress? Because you won’t talk to a shrink?”

“I don’t need one,” Deku sighs and when he looks away, Katsuki knows he doesn’t mean it. 

“Ha!” Katsuki laughs and he knows it’s a little vicious by the way Deku flinches, but he doesn’t care. Deku has been neglecting himself and it’s about to get way more vicious.  “Call me when you can handle ‘cute’.”

“Fuck you,” Deku hisses and shoves at him. “It’s ‘cause the villain said it.”

“Yeah and it’s called trauma, fucker!” Katsuki shoves back. “You would know that if you went to the shrink like you were supposed to.”

Deku is silent for a moment, as he runs his tongue over his teeth. He looks absolutely furious, but Katsuki knows it’s because he’s trying to hold back tears. 

“I don’t need one,” he repeats. 

“Yes, you do.” Katsuki rolls his eyes. This is getting old. If Deku doesn’t start seeing the issue here, he’s going to drag him to that shrink’s office himself. 

“You don’t know what I need,” he spits. 

At that, Katsuki’s gaze snaps right back to him. They hold it for a moment before Katsuki dissolves into laughter. It’s cruel and he thinks it hurts Deku, but he can’t help it. 

With one last chuckle and the remnants of a lazy smile on his face, Katsuki looks at Deku like a man on the brink of a checkmate. 

“Don’t lie to yourself, Deku,” he says. “If you’re not gonna listen to All Might, I’m afraid I’m all you’ve got.”

“You don’t!” Deku almost shouts. “You don’t know how I feel or what it’s been like!”

“Then tell me,” he says, as calmly as he can. “What did it feel like?”

“Like I was used !” 

The tears are running down his face now and Katsuki resists reaching out to him no matter how badly he wants to. Deku needs this moment, he needs to figure it out for himself. 

“Am I so easy a target?” Deku is crying now, pacing in front of Katsuki as he rants. “He knew exactly what he was going to do the moment I showed up in the alley.”

“The pros shouldn’t have sent you in alone without knowing the guys quirk,” Katsuki tries to reason with him, but it’s clear Deku isn’t looking to place blame. He’s trying to make sense of an incredibly unfortunate situation. 

“So what does that make me?” he sputters, gesturing to himself. “Just one big liability? If I’m not strong, I’m nothing!”

In Deku’s defense, the words shock Katsuki as much as they shock him. They stare at each other wide eyes for what feels like multiple minutes, before Katsuki takes a step forward. 

Deku watches him approach, lips pressed tightly together. Katsuki can tell he doesn’t want him to come closer, to touch him. He even closes his eyes when Katsuki lifts his hands to his face. 

“Deku.”

Katsuki’s arms wrap around his shoulders, a hand coming around to cradle Deku’s head in the crook of his neck. He can feel the wetness there, he can feel Deku shuddering in his arms. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers and presses his lips into the curls on the side of his head. “This doesn’t make you weak, Deku, any idiot will tell you that.”

Deku sniffles and nods against his shirt, but Katsuki knows it’s going to take more than that to convince him. More so, Katsuki that he can’t be the only person getting Deku through this, as much as he wishes he could be. 

“Then what does it make me?”

“I don't know, really unlucky?” he tries. “A victim of procedural failure?” 

“I hate feeling like a victim,” he sighs into Katsuki’s shirt. 

“Yeah well, you know what might help with that?” he scoffs. 

Deku pulls away to look at him, but Katsuki doesn’t let him get far. He holds his face tight, a mere inch away from his. 

“I know you’re right, in theory. I’m not dumb. If this was happening to anyone else, I would be saying the exact same thing,” he says, voice small. “I just… it feels so awkward.”

Katsuki nods, hesitates for a moment, and then makes a decision. 

“It is at first, but it gets easier the second and third times.”

Deku frowns instantly. Yeah, there was no way he wasn’t catching that. 

 “Wait, Kacchan. Have you…”

“Anger management,” he says. ”What, you think I just mellowed out with old age?” 

Deku chuckles, nuzzling his face into one of Katsuki’s palms before shooting him a look from beneath his thick lashes. 

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call you mellow, Kacchan.” 

“Shut the hell up, you know that’s not what I meant!”

He tries to put on his typical haughty air, but even his face breaks out into a smile as he says it, watching Deku laugh against his hand. He chuckles along with him and swipes away a couple stray tears with his thumb.

There is a sense of relief between them, even though they both know this won’t be the last time Deku feels this way. But Katsuki thinks it’s worth basking in the moment anyway. They’re quiet, gazing at each other’s faces. Deku looks expectant and, as he glides his thumb over the corner of Deku’s mouth, Katsuki realises he might be hoping for another kiss. 

He considers it for a moment, even almost gives in when Deku licks his lips for some ungodly reason, but settles against it. He feels like an exposed nerve and the raw energy radiating off Deku tells a similar story. 

His arms end up around his neck again and it only takes a gentle pull to get Deku crashing into him. He holds him tight against him, relishes in Deku’s grip on the back of his shirt and his warm breath tickling the side of his neck. 

“Deku.”

“Hm?”

“Will you go?”

He feels him tense up, but only for a moment, before relaxing against him again. 

“I'll go.” 

The person knocking at his door is cutting it close.

His bedtime is technically in another two minutes, so he can’t really get mad, but whatever brave soul is standing in the hallway better make it quick. Bakugou Katsuki makes no exceptions. 

“Hi, Kacchan,” Deku greets when Katsuki opens the door. 

Damn it . 

Deku looks like he’s fresh out of the shower. His softly tousled hair is still damp and spots of water sprinkle the front of his white t-shirt. He’s leaning against the doorframe with his hands in the pocket of his sweatpants, smiling in a way that only Katsuki could know is smug as hell. Deku is really working for that ‘exception’ title, whether he knows it or not. 

“Can I come in?” he asks, grin widening as he catches–god damnit –Katsuki checking him out. 

He walks back into the room, leaving the door open for Deku to step through and close behind him. The light from the hallway disappears and they are left with the dim orange lighting of Katsuki’s desk lamp. He was reading in bed before Deku knocked on his door and something about Deku glancing at the disturbed sheets where he was lying makes heat creep up the back of his neck. 

They haven’t really spoken beyond short in-class interaction since their conversation on the roof almost a month ago. Katsuki won’t admit it, but he is surprised to see Deku here. While All Might has been making fewer appearances in between their classes, Deku has remained absent from their hero training exercises.

Of course, Deku seemed pretty bummed about sitting out for so long, but Katsuki is no longer worried. The frustration on Deku’s face when he was made to watch his classmates spar without him was not a product of defeat, but determination. The little shit even made it a point to start cheering for Katsuki’s opponents, no matter who they were. Katsuki would never admit to it, but he took more than a couple punches to the face because his gaze insisted on following that voice to the stands. 

“What do you want, Deku?” 

He doesn’t answer him and instead, pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and offers it to Katsuki between two fingers. Katsuki eyes Deku for a moment before snatching it out of his hands. Deku leans back against the door with his hands behind his back and a wide smile on his face, too wide for his liking. Katsuki squints at him suspiciously, but that only makes Deku chuckle, so he turns his attention to the paper. 

It’s a note, a doctor’s note from what Katsuki can tell. He reads it over knowing Deku is watching him, but can’t help the smile that twitches on his lips when he realises what he’s holding. He skims it again, rereading the line about satisfactory progress. They’ve signed off on his recovery; Deku can train again. 

“Congratulations, nerd– oomph!” 

He looked up from the note just in time to find Deku already charging at him. Strong arms wrap around his waist before he can even react. The impact knocks all the air out of his lungs as Deku tackles him to the ground. 

They land on the floor with a loud thump that shakes the walls of his dorm room and Katsuki feels like he just got hit by a truck. Deku’s crushing weight presses him hard against the hardwood and for a moment, Katsuki considers exploding him off of him. If they weren’t in his own room, he might have gone through with it. 

Deku pushes himself up onto his hands to grin below at Katsuki. His arms come up on either side of Katsuki’s head, but with Deku’s chest now floating above him, he can see down the length of their bodies. He only dares glance down for a second, the sight of Deku’s massive thighs straddling his own sending a shiver up his spine that he cannot afford to have Deku notice. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Deku?” he growls.

“What are you gonna do about it?” 

Katsuki returns the open excitement on Deku’s face with the arch of a single brow.

He’s spurring him on, he realises. Deku looks borderline hopeful and Katsuki would love nothing more than to indulge him, but the proximity of his large body is a loud reminder of the collateral damage that his indulgence could easily cause. 

“I’m not sparring with you in my room, idiot,” he scoffs. 

“Why not?” Deku whines. “No quirks!”

“No shit!” Katsuki sputters. “That’s not the point. I’m not destroying my room just so you…”

He trails off as a sudden calm washes over Deku’s face. He’s not paying attention to him anymore. He stares down their bodies and slowly reaches for one of Katsuki’s hands laying at his side. He wraps his fingers around his wrist and drags it up until it is pinned over Katsuki’s head.

“What are you–”

Without so much as a glance in Katsuki’s direction, Deku does the same with the other wrist, pinning them both above his head. 

Then, ever so stoic, he drags his lazy gaze back to settle on Katsuki’s face. 

“I win.”

The growl rips out of him and Katsuki can only catch a small glimpse of the grin that splits Deku’s face before he has his legs wrapped around his waist. Katsuki flips them over, but he is only top for a second before Deku is rolling them over again. 

They wrestle on the ground, fingers intertwined as they push against each other. At some point, Katsuki manages to stick his foot on Deku’s stomach and push hard enough to send him tumbling off of him. Deku recovers quickly, but hesitates on his next move, suddenly wary of Katsuki’s bookshelf nearby. Katsuki takes the opportunity head-on and is the one to tackle Deku this time. 

They land on the floor again, desk and shelf items rattling against each other as the two struggle for dominance. Their ankles are locked together, but Katsuki is more flexible than Deku on that front and snakes his way out of the hold, quickly sinking his knee into Deku’s thigh. 

Deku grunts in pain and it sounds especially chaotic with the big smile on his face. It’s clear he’s been waiting for this, and while Katsuki doesn’t mind playing, he is not about to hand him the satisfaction of winning. 

He presses his knee in deeper and swings his other leg other to pin his shoulder. Deku is struggling beneath him, but not as hard as he could be. His heaving breaths slowly dissolve into chuckles as he relaxes underneath Katsuki’s weight. 

“I should kill you for this,” he says, which only makes him laugh louder. 

“You have no idea how much I needed that,” he says and without warning, knocks Katsuki’s foot off his shoulder, landing him flat on top of Deku. 

“Asshole,” Katsuki grunts, but maneuvers himself around so he’s straddling Deku properly. He grumbles a little more as he sits up and only once he’s comfortable in the seat does he notice that Deku has stopped laughing. In fact, he has stopped smiling altogether. 

Deku's eyes dart all over the room with the exception of the space Katsuki occupies. Not to mention, his fingers fidget nervously against the hardwood. A blush to be reckoned with has spread across his face and only gets darker when he dares glance at the spot between them where their two bodies meet. 

Katsuki can’t help the wolfish grin that splits across his face. 

“Don’t be a sore loser, Deku,” he says and leans forward onto Deku’s chest until his face looms above his. “Look at me, nerd.”

Deku’s eyes snap forward, followed by an audible gulp. 

“Hi, Kacchan,” he says and God, is it ever endearing. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks, and settles his chin on Deku’s chest. 

“You’re very close,” he explains. “We’re not usually this… close.”

Deku is radiating panicked energy, that much is obvious, but Katsuki just leans into it. He enjoys the satisfaction of having someone as large as Deku squirming underneath him. 

“You don’t like it?” he asks and creeps up further to let their lips brush together. 

Deku gasps into his mouth and tilts his chin up to close the distance, but Katsuki escapes him by mere millimeters, smiling at the desperation on Deku’s face.

“Can I?” Deku asks. “Like it, that is.”

Katsuki pulls away further, frowning. 

“What are you talking about?”

Deku smiles sweetly at him and tilts his head slightly. “I just want to know if this is something I can want, if Kacchan is something I can want.”

It is Katsuki’s turn to blush. He wonders if there will ever come a day where he won’t resent Deku for always managing to turn the tables between them so quickly. 

“Am I something you want, Deku?”

The grin Deku flashes at him is the brightest thing in his room. Large hands come up to run up and down Katsuki’s thighs and he shivers under the touch. 

“You’re everything that I want.”

Katsuki shivers in Deku’s lap before he is coaxed forward. His forearms come down to frame Deku’s face as he plants an open-mouthed kiss against his lips. 

Deku’s arms wrap around him, pulling him impossibly closer as Katsuki licks into his mouth. Deku’s lips part easily, letting Katsuki in with a soft moan. He sucks on his lower lip, tugging hard before letting go and assaulting Deku’s mouth all over again. He loves how pliant he is underneath him, moving in tandem with Katsuki for once, instead of against him. Part of Katsuki is relieved that this, at least, doesn’t have to be a struggle between them. 

Deku shifts underneath him slightly, only to choke on a surprised gasp when their hips grind together. 

“Hey,” Katsuki whispers into his mouth. “Tell me if this is okay.”

“It’s okay,” Deku whispers back. He cranes his neck back as Katsuki presses kisses along his jaw and down his neck. 

“What about this?”

Katsuki ruts even harder against Deku and feels his hardness between his legs. The friction feels amazing and Katsuki has to fight to stop himself from chasing after it again. Instead, he gently rocks against Deku, waiting for him to catch his breath. 

“That’s…” Deku bites down on his lip and groans. “That’s very okay.”

Deku’s hands slide up his thighs and onto his sides, slipping underneath the fabric of his tank top. Katsuki pulls away from Deku to tug it off and throws it across the room. Deku’s hands continue to roam, heating up Katsuki’s skin with his touch and his gaze, as he hums in appreciation. 

“Come back,” Deku whines. 

“You too,” Katsuki says, tugging at Deku’s shirt.

Deku sits up and reaches behind him to pull his shirt off over his head. Katsuki has seen Deku undress multiple times and is not sure why this time is exceptionally sexy. 

The bare skin of his torso reveals a plethora of scars and ridiculous musculature. For every bit of Katsuki that is lean and toned, Deku is massive and bulging. It was bound to happen, considering their quirks, but Katsuki finds great pleasure in having something so huge all to himself. As the smaller of the two, it gives him a sense of power. 

Deku’s arms wrap around him, his fingers trailing up and down his spine as he licks along his collarbone. 

“You’re so warm,” he mouths against his skin. 

“I run hot,” Katsuki sighs, tipping his head back to give Deku more acces. “You know that.”

“Not like this,” Deku mutters. He brings their lips together again, as his thumb brushes over a nipple. Deku’s other hand slides further down his back and slips underneath the waistband of his shorts to grab a handful of Katsuki’s ass. 

“This is all brand new,” he chuckles against his lips. 

Katsuki groans and allows himself to chase the friction this time, grinding up against Deku’s body for as much contact as possible. 

“New section for your notebook,” he says. 

Deku laughs, louder this time, and pulls away to look at Katsuki’s face. 

“Might have to start a new one,” he says and squeezes even harder. “Just for this.”

Katsuki reaches over to his nightstand behind them and grabs a bottle from the top drawer. When he turns around again, Deku is breathing much faster, his eyes blown wide open and a lazy smile gone.

“Better make it count, then,” Katsuki teases and tosses him the bottle. 

Deku glances between the bottle and Katsuki’s face before silently nodding. It’s very funny to him, how earnest he looks. A thrill rushes over him at the thought that Deku will certainly not disappoint. 

They kiss as Deku coats his fingers with the lube behind Katsuki’s back. He almost drops the bottle twice and tries to see what he’s doing over Katsuki’s shoulder, but he doesn’t let him, making sure to keep Deku’s mouth occupied with his own.

“Ka- Kacchan,” he laughs, “I can’t see.”

“Nah, you can do it,” Katsuki smiles against his lips, keeping his mouth in place. “Let me see you live up to your name.”

Deku takes that one to heart real quick, as Katsuki feels slicked fingers slip down his ass and circle his rim. He gasps against Deku’s arching, arching as far against Deku’s body as Deku’s hold will allow. 

“Fuck,” Katsuki hisses when Deku pushes a finger in. He can handle one easily, but in his defense, Deku’s fingers are far from lithe. 

Katsuki pushes back against Deku’s finger, trying to get it as deep as possible, when another one slips in. The stretch is absolutely delicious and Katsuki thinks he could come just from this. 

“Is this okay?” Deku whispers right into his ear and Katsuki can hear the smug smile in his voice.

Kastuki is about to make a snide comment when Deku’s fingers push in deep enough to choke the words at the base of his throat. His entire body clenches around Deku, who only holds him tighter, whispers more soft things right into his ear. 

“You’re amazing like this,” he says with so much reverence that Katsuki wishes he could see him. “You’re going to take me so well.”

“Deku,” he breathes. Deku is barely moving his fingers now, letting Katsuki meet him halfway instead, but he’s teasing. He hasn’t dared go as deep as he had and Katsuki is at his breaking point. “I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

Katsuki does not answer. He whimpers as he lets Deku’s finger slip out of him, as he lifts his hips to let the both shimmy out of their pants. Katsuki discards his shorts in another dark corner of his room, but not give Deku the time to fully remove his sweatpants.They are bunched around his knees, when Katsuki is straddling him again. 

“Oh, fuck,” Deku hisses when Katsuki grabs a hold of his cock. He falls back on the floor, one arm slung over his eyes while he grabs Katsuki’s thigh with his free hand. 

Deku has a pretty cock, Katsuki notes. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he comes close. 

“Not tonight,” he says, stroking and watching Deku’s reaction. ”But maybe in the showers after training, I’m gonna taste you.”

“Kacchan,” Deku chants. “Kacchan, please.”

“Bet you taste good.”

Katsuki finally lifts his hips, holding Deku’s cock in place with one hand, and begins to sink down. He lets the head get slick against his hole before pushing past the tightness. He feels himself stretch around Deku as he slowly bottoms out against his hips. He’s going to need a second, he knows this, but watching Deku’s reaction is definitely worth it. 

He’s not covering his face anymore, having sat up slightly on his elbows to watch Katsuki. He looks absolutely wild, with his hair mussed and his pupils blown so wide. He is looking at Katsuki with so much devastation that he almost reaches out to him to hold him together; Deku looks like he’s about to fall apart into a million pieces. 

“How are you this perfect?” Deku gasps and throws his head back when Katsuki shifts in his lap. 

The praise pools hot in Katsuki’s stomach. He leans forward and plants his palms flat on Deku’s toned chest. He lets Deku’s cock slide out of him almost entirely before bottoming out again. The stretch is incredible, but he has to try a few different angles before it's perfect, but Deku doesn’t seem to mind. He is chanting Katsuki’s name under his breath as Katsuki rides him, the sound of skin slapping echoing loud in his quiet bedroom. 

“Kacchan, oh my God.” Deku’s eyes roll back, as Katsuki picks up his pace.

His hands come up to grab his hips, guiding him through the motions and Katsuki groans loud when he finally hits that spot. 

He lets Deku hold him and pound into him. His hands come off his chest as he arches his back and takes him as deep as possible. He feels so full with Deku inside, stretched so tight around him that it’s overwhelming. 

“Kacchan,” he pants. “You feel so good, fuck. Touch yourself for me.”

“Yeah?” Katsuki hesitates. He already feels so exposed, sitting snug in Deku’s lap as Deku fucks up into him.

“Please, baby,” Deku breathes. “You look so pretty like this, make yourself feel good.”

Katsuki can’t help the groan that bursts out of him. Between the praise and the pet name, he knows he’s not denying Deku shit tonight. With a steadying hand on Deku’s thigh, he wraps his hand around his own cock. 

“‘M not gonna last,” he moans and it’s true. He feels his orgasm build at the base of his stomach just as Deku sits up.

They are face to face again. Deku kisses him as he makes Katsuki bounce on his cock.

Katsuki grunts, twitching in Deku’s lap as comes on both their stomachs. This does not deter Deku in the least. He fucks Katsuki even harder, fingers digging bruises into his hips.

“Kacchan.” He’s short of breath. When Katsuki looks at him, his face is flushed red, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead. Deku looks absolutely stunning, he can’t help leaning in. He drags his lips across his cheek and nips at his ear. 

“Come inside, Deku.”

Deku wraps his arms around him so tightly, Katsuki can’t breathe. He feels Deku’s cock twitch inside him as he comes. His breath hitches against Katsuki’s skin, where his head is buried in the crook of his neck.

“I got you, sweetheart,” Katsuki shushes him, petting his hair. 

He only pulls out when they both catch their breaths. Deku peels himself away from him. For a moment, they hold each other at arm’s length and stare into the other’s face. Katsuki feels the mess leaking between his thighs, but he can’t be bothered to do anything but stare at Deku.  

“We should clean up,” Deku says, but Katsuki isn’t sure he’s even registering the words. Deku looks distant, like his soul has left his body and all he can do is go through the motions. 

“Yeah,” Katsuki whispers. “Um, you okay?”

Deku nods. “It’s just a lot right now. You’re… a lot right now.”

“And you’re not?” Katsuki scoffs. 

He waits for a moment before attempting to pull away and start the clean-up, but he doesn’t get far. Deku is holding him in a vice grip, keeping him in place in his lap. 

“What are you doing Deku?” He frowns. 

“I know how much you hate people in your room,” he says. “I’m trying to figure out a way to stay.”

Since he can’t pull away, Katsuki has no choice but to lean in. He cups Deku’s face with both his hands and presses a soft kiss against his lips. Their bodies are warm where they touch and Katsuki wonders if Deku would carry him to bed if he asked; he doesn’t like the idea of being apart, of abandoning this warmth for even a second.

When their lips part, Katsuki almost laughs at how worried Deku looks with his sweet face in Katsuki’s hands. It baffles him, really, that the nerd hasn’t figured it out yet, that he’s going to have to spell it out for him. 

“I'll make an exception.”