Work Text:
Izuku doesn’t touch Katsuki.
They’ve been sharing the same flat for close to 3 years now and Izuku still takes great care not to intrude in Katsuki’s personal space.
Izuku rarely goes into Katsuki’s bedroom and never unbidden. When Katsuki is on the couch, Izuku takes the armchair. If Izuku is already on the couch, he moves to one end, giving Katsuki enough space to sprawl himself in, moving his legs so they don’t accidentally nudge each other.
There are no casual touches over breakfast, no unthinking sliding of fingers over skin as they share the kitchen to cook or wash dishes. Izuku would smile, give an easy laugh and always keep his hands to himself, making sure his shoulders don’t brush Katsuki’s as they pass each other in the hallway leading to the bedrooms.
Katsuki thinks he wouldn’t have minded so much except that he sees how Izuku is with his other friends. Uraraka can usually be found plastered against Izuku’s side, Izuku’s arm lightly around her shoulder, looking down at her with a fond smile. He routinely stands beside Todoroki or Iida, close enough to rub shoulders, giving subtle nudges every now and then.
Even beyond his usual circle, Izuku is not stingy with his physical presence. He enthusiastically returns Kirishima’s bro hugs, doesn’t shrug off Kaminari’s arm when he slings it over Deku’s wide shoulders, and blushingly accepts kisses on his cheek from Aoyama and their female classmates.
He shakes hands, clasps arms, bumps shoulders, sits thigh and hip touching whoever hero is beside him.
But he doesn’t touch Katsuki.
Yes, they spar and body contact is hot, fierce and all sweaty. They wrestle on the gym mat and Izuku’s massive thighs would fold around Katsuki’s, Izuku’s crotch to Katsuki’s ass all but grinding against each other as Izuku struggles to pin Katsuki face down on the mat. Izuku’s broad chest firm against Katsuki’s heaving back, holding his body down, Izuku’s breath hot against the side of Katsuki’s neck.
After, depending on who got up first, Izuku would reach down to help Katsuki up or accept Katsuki’s outstretched hand. But that would be it. No congratulatory pats on the back, no playful slaps on the butt, no brushing of arms as they strip off their sweaty clothes and head naked to the shower.
Sometimes, instances that Katsuki could count in the fingers of his one hand, Izuku would scrub his back for him. These would be days when Katsuki was feeling particularly lazy and self-indulgent and he’d say something like ‘wash my back, nerd?’ and Izuku would smile and nod and join him in the bathroom fully clothed and do so.
He always left before Katsuki moved to soak in the hot tub and he never asked Katsuki to return the favor.
Katsuki knows why Izuku doesn’t touch him. What he doesn’t know is when he began to be bothered by it.
One spring morning, during their last year in UA a lifetime and a half ago, Izuku had confessed to Katsuki. They were at the rooftop of Heights Alliance, by the wall where a trellis of morning glories grew, the red purple flowers in full bloom.
‘I like you, Kacchan. Really like you. Will you go out with me?’
The words surprised Katsuki, which irritated him, and the open mouth of surprise was soon replaced by a scowl.
Katsuki’s ‘Fuck, Deku. I don’t feel the same way’ was snarled instead of the polite but firm response that their course on public relations advised their class to use.
Katsuki should have left, to avoid the messy bits and give Izuku privacy. But he didn’t. This was Izuku. He owed it to him to acknowledge his feelings, even if he couldn’t accept them.
Izuku had cried as expected but also laughed through his tears, which was unexpected. Six feet tall and brawny, and he wiped his tears and snot away using the sleeves of his shirt like a 4 year old, sniffling and chuckling at the same time. Katsuki never quite understood why Izuku was laughing then. He didn’t find anything particularly amusing in their situation.
‘I didn’t really think you’d say ‘yes’, Kacchan,’ Izuku said softly after the initial bout of crying had tapered off.
‘Then why the fuck did you even ask?’ Katsuki asked, honestly confused and a bit irritated.
‘So I can know for sure. Now I can give up on these useless feelings. Thank you, Kacchan.’
Izuku’s smile wasn’t quite as wide as Katsuki was used to, and his green eyes were still swimming with tears, but it was genuine all the same.
Katsuki would never admit it but he had been nervous the next day. He wasn’t sure how Izuku would react once the tears had dried up and the rejection and heartbreak settles in. He didn’t know how he himself should behave.
And because he is Katsuki, the nervousness bled to irritation. He had only just gotten used to them being friends again, only been a year since he had overcome the reflex irritation he feels at Izuku’s presence. He likes where they are now and was both anxious and irritated at the idea that they may be back to ignoring each other because stupid Izuku needs space to deal with his unreciprocated feelings.
But other than being unusually subdued for some days — less fidgeting, quieter, smaller smiles — Izuku hadn’t changed their routine. Katsuki still got his good morning, Kacchans (albeit less exuberant), they still ate lunch on separate tables, partnered for training drills, went to All Might for tea and spar, shared notes at the common room.
Yaoyorozu and Uraraka both commented on Izuku’s subdued demeanor but that had been it. No excessive crying, no scenes, no drama.
Katsuki wouldn’t notice that Izuku had stopped touching him until a couple of months later. He would note it but think it unimportant. They still spent time together, still worked well together. If this is how Izuku chose to cope, Katsuki will not call him on it.
Izuku had confessed, Katsuki had rejected him, and life moved on just the same.
Katsuki hadn’t immediately moved out of his parents house right after graduation. His dad was an excellent cook and it was nice not to worry about running a household while he got settled into pro hero work.
But living back home as an adult after 3 years of living away chafed. And when he comes home at ass hours of the morning battle-singed but otherwise unhurt, he could do without his parents’ cloying concern and worry.
A weekend of looking at apartment listings and he came to the conclusion that he will need a housemate. Everything was either too small or too expensive.
It wasn’t a problem. Katsuki had liked the set-up in the UA dorms. Common areas but separate bedrooms. People who knew what he was going through and wouldn’t bat an eye at any of his injuries because they probably had one too. He won’t come home to an empty apartment but won’t be forced to socialize because everyone knows he’s in bed by 9pm if he can help it.
Katsuki really only considered one person. While he had graduated from UA with 19 other people claiming to be his friends, he knew he would only be able to tolerate living with one other.
They had come a long way, it took time to get there, but by the time they were 18 years old, between sharing dorm space, classes, internship, and train rides to go home some weekends, Katsuki is more likely to be disoriented that Izuku is not anywhere near him than be irritated by his presence. Now that they are pro heros, not seeing Izuku everyday was something he was surprised he had to get used to.
He spared a thought to Izuku’s confession not quite two years ago and shrugged. Izuku can always turn him down if he wants to. But the exercise was perfunctory. Katsuki never really thought Izuku would refuse.
And he didn’t.
Izuku was a near ideal housemate. He cleaned up after himself, he did his share of the chores. He’s mostly pathetic in the kitchen but effusive in his praise of Katsuki’s cooking.
Katsuki didn’t mind the muttering, the pro hero documentaries, the amount of hero merchandise that slowly filled their home.
He realized that living in the same dorm with 19 other people is different from sharing a home with just one. There is a forced intimacy in living together despite that they do not share bedrooms. Katsuki can now honestly say that no one knows him better than Izuku does. And he would bet even odds that he knows Izuku best as well.
There is a whiteboard in the kitchen detailing their patrol rotation schedule. Katsuki knows when Izuku is out with Yaoyorozu or Todoroki, Izuku knows when Katsuki is sparring with Uraraka. They text each other when one will be late getting home, when they land in the hospital. They are each other’s person to contact in case of emergency. They have fully executed powers of attorney to deal with matters, just in case.
Over time the lines blur. Izuku’s green curls now smelled of Katsuki’s shampoo, his tolerance for spicy foods higher than the average Japanese but still not quite Katsuki’s level. Izuku is a bit wider across the chest but their hoodies get interchanged anyway, smelling of the same powder fresh scent of their fabric conditioner.
They both still have bedrooms in their parents’ houses, kept tidy, ready for their return. But this two bedroom flat he shared with Izuku is now home to Katsuki more than the house he grew up in.
Izuku has a hickey.
It’s on the left side of his neck, on that sweet junction between neck and collar bone, directly below Izuku’s shy dimple. It’s a dark red purple blemish, the color of the morning glories that were in bloom when Izuku confessed to Katsuki those many years ago.
Katsuki can’t take his eyes off it. Can’t stop thinking about it.
Izuku had gotten in late last night. Katsuki had been asleep, but had awakened long enough to register that Izuku was now home, hearing steps on the hallway and water running in the bathroom, before allowing sleep to reclaim him.
Katsuki had been in the kitchen eating breakfast when Izuku came out of his room, yawning, hair a mess of green curls, one hand absently scratching his tummy under the soft thin shirt that had once been blue but was now more gray from years of washing.
And the hickey was there. Loud, lewd, lurid. A lascivious contrast to the sleepy sweet smile and morning, Kacchan.
Izuku headed for the pot of coffee on the kitchen counter, taking the hickey with him, giving Katsuki’s stalled brain time to restart itself.
If they had been back in UA, if it had been anybody else but Katsuki sitting there, Izuku would have placed a friendly hand on his shoulder as he passed by. But they were at home and it was Katsuki. Izuku went the long way around the island, navigating around Katsuki’s bulk.
Obviously, Izuku didn’t mind it if other people got close enough to touch him, close enough to suck long and hard, leaving marks on his smooth freckled skin.
As long as they’re not Katsuki.
Katsuki has never really thought about Izuku’s sex life.
Pro hero Deku is like one of those sculptures depicting Greek gods in their element. Powerfully muscled, broad at the shoulders, brimming with confidence. That was attractive enough in itself but topped with soft green curls and a megawatt smile and it was just a testament to the unfairness of life in handing out blessings.
Katsuki has seen thirsty fans literally throw themselves at hero Deku.
Except that Katsuki knows that one-night stands make Izuku feel nervous. Anxious. Unsatisfied.
More than anyone, Katsuki knows that while pro hero Deku might stand like a Titan that will not be moved, Izuku himself is a mass of insecurities, always trying to do his best because he thinks that he is not good enough. Katsuki tries not to think how much of that baggage can be laid at his metaphorical doorstep, tries not to think how ironic it is that he now shares his literal doorstep with the same man he used to make fun of and belittle.
Izuku grew up in a loving, affectionate household but without the solid presence of a father. It was a combination that made him want to seek that same loving atmosphere with someone.
Every now and then Izuku would go on dates. As far as Katsuki could tell, none ever lasted longer than a handful of evenings out, Izuku claiming work stress as the culprit, extinguishing whatever initial interest there may have been.
If Katsuki sometimes had suspicions as to why Izuku’s dates never went anywhere more permanent, he kept it to himself.
In contrast, Katsuki doesn’t want a relationship, loving or otherwise. While he knew his parents loved him, and he could now see as a grown up that his parents personalities suited each other well, life with them growing up had been volatile, noisy, stressful.
Pro heroing is hard work and he only has enough time and energy in a day, none of which he intends to spend maintaining romantic ties with some extra. Every so often, he would cruise the bars and take his pick of willing participants for a couple of hours of sex at the nearest love hotel. Simple, uncomplicated.
He has never brought anyone back to the home he shared with Izuku, never talked about it. Through years of breakfast topics and lazy evening chats, he has never brought it up.
Except now, Izuku has a hickey.
It happened one night.
Their class got together for dinner and drinks at an izakaya, celebrating Kirishima and Ashido’s engagement. 12 of the original 20 were able to make it, a good turn-out for the event.
Katsuki had a good beer buzz going on. Izuku, as always, was barely tipsy. Unless he drinks fast enough to court alcohol poisoning, his accelerated metabolism will generally process the alcohol out of system as soon as he ingests it.
The hickey was long gone now. Izuku had gone to work with a plaster on his neck to hide it but it’s been several weeks and Katsuki knows that the mark has already faded.
Except in Katsuki’s dreams where they continue to bloom like morning glories.
Katsuki spent the evening watching how Izuku sat with one side pressed close to Todoroki. Every now and then, Izuku would look to his right and give Todoroki a beaming smile which would be returned with a slight shift of Todoroki’s lips that Katsuki knew passes for a smile.
Katsuki wonders if those same inexpressive lips could have been the ones to give Izuku the red purple marks, the idea souring the beer in his mouth.
He doesn’t question why it matters now when it never mattered before.
When they got home that night, Katsuki had alcohol in his veins for courage, an angry territorial beast growling in his chest, and a fire burning low in his belly that wanted, needed to know what Izuku’s skin tasted like.
He followed Izuku into the kitchen and crowded him against the counter, pressing his body close against Izuku’s. He looked into shocked green eyes and leaned in.
‘I’m gonna kiss you, Deku.’ It was a low growl of arousal, of possession. He waited, giving Izuku the chance to push him away. He didn’t. Katsuki saw the green pupils blow with arousal and dove in, swallowing Izuku’s moan for himself.
He kissed him deep, hungry for contact. He swiped with his tongue and felt Izuku’s whimper even as he sucked Katsuki inside his mouth. It was hot, heady. Katsuki never wants this to stop and at the same time he wants more.
They broke for air and Izuku was a frazzled mess, his curls tousled from Katsuki’s wandering hands, lips bruised from kissing, the green of his eyes mere rings around dark dilated pupils. Katsuki wanted to see him like this all the time.
‘Bed?’ he growled the question out, punctuating it with a press of his hips against Izuku’s, rubbing their erections together through their jeans.
Izuku’s moan went straight to Katsuki’s cock, clouding his brain.
‘Please, Kacchan. Let me. Just this once.’
They made it to Katsuki’s bedroom. Katsuki was all for hastily tossed clothes and frenetic groping but Izuku slowed them down.
‘Shhh. We’ve got all night.’
And for the first time in years, Izuku touched Katsuki.
Katsuki woke up to see Izuku fully dressed in street clothes, standing by his bedroom door.
'Ah, you’re awake, Kacchan. That’s good. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.
Deku had been called to be part of an emergency rescue mission up north. A series of avalanches had trapped remote villages. Katsuki checked his phone but wasn’t surprised that he didn’t get the call. Ground Zero’s abilities are not well-suited for rescue work and the cold would only put him at a disadvantage. He’d be better suited to hold the city in the absence of other pro heroes.
Katsuki sat up in bed, still naked, a sheet over his hips but leaving his chest bare. Izuku came over, sat on the edge of the bed. He touched a red purple mark on Katsuki right chest, a match to the one on Izuku’s neck.
'Thank you for last night, Kacchan. But let’s not do it again. It’s not good for my heart.
Izuku’s smile wasn’t quite as wide as Katsuki was used to, and his green eyes were bright if a bit sad, but it was genuine all the same.
Katsuki sat in bed a long time, long after Izuku had walked out the door.
Izuku was gone for almost three weeks. The disaster was big enough that some international pro heroes had arrived to provide assistance. He came back exhausted, a tired smile and hi, Kacchan on his lips, before he fell into bed and stayed there for almost 24 hours. He woke up once to eat the soup Katsuki prepared and promptly fell back asleep.
Katsuki didn’t know what to expect now that Izuki is back for the first time since that night of mind-blowing sex.
What he didn’t expect was for nothing to change.
Izuku still laughed, still gave him sleepy sweet smiles with his good morning, Kacchan. Still didn’t touch him.
If Katsuki hadn’t lived it, if he hadn’t spent days looking at the red purple mark on his chest, if his dreams hadn’t been filled with images of Izuku moaning beneath him, Katsuki would have believed that nothing had happened between them.
He went to a bar and picked up a pretty girl with a bright smile. Two weeks later he was with a young man with deep red purple eyes. While Katsuki pounded the man on the mattress, all he could think was how his eyes were the color of the mark on Izuku’s freckled skin. He doesn't know why but sex with strangers had become satisfying in an unsatisfying way. It relieves the itch without making it go away.
Throughout this, Izuku remained the same, seemingly unbothered by Katsuki’s presence when it was all Katsuki could do to stop himself from claiming Izuku’s lips and keep his hands to himself.
Six months later, Izuku had gone off on an international conference for pro heroes. Katsuki had been invited as well but his left leg was on a cast, an injury sustained in a villain attack. Izuku had been taking care of him and to his irritation, had conscripted Uraraka to check in on Katsuki while Izuku is away.
He was gone for 2 weeks. Their home felt empty without Izuku’s laughter. Uraraka thought he was bored with his forced inactivity. Katsuki didn’t bother to correct her.
The conference led to an invitation for pro hero Deku to come to the the US. A sort of mash-up between good will mission and training exercises. 4 months after he arrived, Izuku left again. He would be gone for a month this time.
Izuku texted, video called sometimes, always chirping happily about the interesting people he meets.
Katsuki thinks back to the time right after they graduated from UA, back before they began living together. He had felt Izuku’s absence then, disoriented at not seeing him everyday.
It was nothing compared to what he feels now. There is a hollow in his chest that only eases when he sees Izuku’s smiling face in a video call, only to return tenfold when they say goodbye.
Izuku unexpectedly extended his stay in the US for another 3 weeks. He called his agency and used up all his vacation days, accumulated through all the years that he didn’t use them.
Katsuki was fit to burst, pissed off, feeling betrayed. Izuku had apologized, laughing, but offered no real explanation. Only that he wanted to stay and explore the city more, now that the training exercise was over.
He still called, still texted but Katsuki could feel something was happening behind the happy smiles.
He wanted Izuku home.
One Thursday night, Katsuki arrived home to half scattered luggage and a note that says Izuku will sleep at his mother’s house and he will just see Katsuki the next day. Knowing that Izuku was back in the country, close enough to see and touch and just a train ride away, made Katsuki feel both better and worse.
The lease to their home was up for renewal. They had been thinking of moving to a bigger place. They can afford better places now but neither had brought up the idea of living separately. Katsuki had spent the last few weeks looking at apartment listings. They could view them together now that Izuku is back.
Katsuki wanted a place on a higher floor. Izuku wanted space to raise plants. A balcony would be a good compromise. There’s one that Katsuki thinks would suit them well, the balcony already has red purple morning glories crawling along one wall and there is lots of space for plant boxes.
When Izuku arrived the next day, chirping ‘Hi, Kacchan!', Katsuki wasn’t prepared for the burst of emotions in his chest. When did Izuku worm his way into his heart like this. How did Katsuki not notice?
It wasn’t quite right though. Izuku looked happy, really happy, in a way Katsuki has not seen him be in a long while. But he was nervous as well.
Izuku ran his fingers through his green curls in a familiar, nervous gesture and Katsuki saw it.
A ring on his finger.
Izuku had met someone. Met him at the rescue mission up in Hokkaido almost a year ago. Met him again at the international conference. It was his agency that invited Deku to the US. He spent the last 3 weeks with him.
They were madly in love and before Izuku left for Japan, had asked Izuku to marry him. Izuku had said yes. They plan to marry in the spring in the US. He had an extensive family and relations, while Izuku can just as easily fly his mom in for the wedding.
This changed things. Instead of going back to work, Izuku is just back to coordinate with his agency, fix the paperwork. There is a job waiting for him back in the US. He plans to live there.
Katsuki listened through it all, not interrupting the flow of ‘he’s so AMAZING, Kacchan! I’m not sure why he likes me. Me! Deku! But Kacchan, he thinks I’m amazing too! And I’m so happy!’
And Izuku was happy. Katsuki could see it. His green eyes glowed they way they once did when Izuku looked at Katsuki, back when he still loved him.
Izuku was crying, sniffling and laughing at the same time, clutching at Katsuki's arm, saying ‘I didn’t think I’d feel this way about anyone again. All these years it’s only been you, Kacchan. I’m so happy. He makes me so happy!’
Katsuki moves out of their apartment when the lease expires. It’s too big for him, now that he’s living alone. He moves to a single bedroom unit, on a higher floor, with no balcony for flowers. It's good to move, away from memories that haunted him in the old place, the walls echoing with the remembered sound of Izuku’s laughter.
He needs no reminders in any case.
In his mind, he carries an image of a young Izuku on a lovely spring day, against the backdrop of morning glories in full bloom, crying, smiling at him even as Katsuki broke his heart.