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Izuku stared resolutely at the coffee table, pretending to be fascinated by the same wooden surface he had seen a hundred times before. There was something to be said about how things that literally belonged to him could look foreign when he paid actual attention to them. A lesson about taking things for granted and never appreciating them properly. He nearly winced at the thought, quickly shoving it away. Still, he didn’t look up. Anything to push back the moment he would have to meet her gaze.
Her angry, accusatory gaze.
“Deku.”
This time, he allowed his wince to show. Not ‘Deku-kun’, not ‘Izuku’. ‘Deku’. She was pissed alright.
“Ochako,” he muttered.
The slam of her mug on the table made him sigh. The painkillers had helped his headache, but the noise still echoed in his brain, reminding him of the consequences of his actions in more ways than one. Resigned, he lifted his head and finally looked at his friend. Ochako was glaring at him as if she could impregnate her anger into his skin, so he could feel the weight of it even when she left.
Never one to beat around the bush, she blurted, “You were an asshole last night.”
There it was. Izuku sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch. “I know.”
“I know damn well you know.” She pointed an accusatory finger at him he only saw in his peripheral vision. Didn’t make him feel any less disgruntled by it. “I know that you knew from the moment you started that shitshow that it was what an asshole would do. But it didn’t stop you from doing it. Seriously, Izuku! What went through your brain?”
“Alcohol, mostly.”
Ochako scoffed. “As if you wouldn’t have done the same sober.”
Izuku stayed silent. He couldn’t deny that. Hell, something told him that had he had all his neurons working at full power, he would have done worse.
Last night, Class A had their usual monthly gathering. After the first few years of working as pros and barely seeing each other, they had decided that the night of every third Saturday of the month would be dedicated to catching up and having some fun. When work got particularly grueling, it was the one thing they could look forward to.
It wasn’t anything new for someone to bring an outsider. Sometimes a person they all knew – Class B or the likes – sometimes a person they wanted to introduce. It had never been an issue and most of those people had felt welcome in the chaos that was Class A. Izuku, particularly, had always made sure of that, knowing all too well how it felt to feel out of place.
Last night, however, he didn’t pick up that role. Hell, he went and did the exact opposite.
Because last night, Kacchan brought his brand new little boyfriend. Just thinking the word made Izuku’s mouth twist unhappily.
It wasn’t exactly a new development per say. This guy had been after Kacchan for months. Some fellow sidekick from Best Jeanist’s agency whose quirk worked well with Kacchan. So well that they were assigned a bunch of patrols together.
At first, Izuku didn’t think much of it. Kacchan never really talked about the guy except to complain when he got in his way. But then, he started mentioning him more and more. Switched from his hero name to his last name – that Izuku couldn’t recall for the life of him when he had been spending so much time referring to him as ‘Kacchan’s little boyfriend’.
And one day, Kacchan had met up with Izuku looking like he had just eaten a lemon whole. After much prodding, he dropped the bomb; the guy had asked him out.
And Kacchan had said yes.
The silence that followed had been so heavy, it nearly felt like a blanket. If the blanket was made of ice cold rock, that is.
“I thought you weren’t interested in dating,” Izuku had forced out, well aware of how wrong his voice sounded. Kacchan didn’t point it out. Izuku wished he did.
Kacchan shrugged, his back to Izuku. “Thought I would try it out.”
“With him?” Izuku hadn’t been able to keep the scoff out of his voice, something acidic and ugly twisting his stomach. He refused to put a name on it.
That had made Kacchan finally look at him. Just a glance over his shoulder, but his gaze had been heavy, intense. Searching. “What is that supposed to mean?”
And Izuku had been so tempted to just be honest – finally honest. Tell him that he didn’t think this guy was good enough for Kacchan. Hell, that nobody was good enough for Kacchan. That nobody knew him enough to know how to make him happy and keep him that way. That nobody could read Kacchan’s every micro-expression that turned him into an open book for anyone bothering to look. That nobody could love him and treasure him and worship him nearly as much as he deserved.
Nobody except Izuku.
But he hadn’t. Like a fucking idiot, he had snapped his mouth shut before he could express any of that. He had kept silent for a long moment, Kacchan’s gaze growing so heavy he had been forced to look away.
Glaring at the floorboards, Izuku had said, “Nothing. I just hope he is good for you. Kacchan deserves the best.”
Kacchan hadn’t said anything to that. As a whole, they had been pretty silent after that.
And now, weeks later, Kacchan was parading around with a boyfriend that didn’t deserve the title. Some guy who may not annoy him too much right now, but definitely didn’t live up to Kacchan’s high standards, barely meeting the bare minimum requisites. Some guy Izuku hated with a burning passion that alcohol had brought out with a vengeance, to the point of turning him petty.
When Kacchan showed up last night, he was pretty late. A particularly annoying villain and a mountain of paperwork to deal with. A story Izuku already knew because Kacchan had called him earlier in the day to bitch about it. A story his little boyfriend clearly discovered along with everybody else when Kacchan came into the bar already ranting about it. And the satisfaction that Izuku felt at the knowledge that Kacchan had instinctively turned to him when he wanted to talk, and not that joke of a partner he had, had been the fire to the fuse.
The last push he needed – along with several shots – to go on a mission. One meant to prove to that useless boyfriend that no matter how hard he may try, even if he was the one supposedly dating Kacchan, he would always come second.
Second to Izuku.
The instant Kacchan sidled up to Izuku’s side after dutifully introducing his boyfriend to everyone who hadn’t met him – which was a damn lot –, Izuku’s hands were on him. An arm thrown around his shoulders that lowered to his waist as the night went on, a hand pushing back his sweaty hair from his forehead, a body serving as support when Kacchan’s tiredness grew and made him loose-limbed.
Them being touchy wasn’t anything new. Since their second-year at UA, when their friendship had solidified into something real and unshakable, Izuku had stopped restraining himself. At first, Kacchan flustered at even the slightest brush of their arms. But he quickly accepted it, so much so that by third year, nobody batted an eye at finding them so tangled it was hard to tell them apart.
When Kacchan got his little boyfriend, however, a distance grew between them. One Izuku was just as much responsible for, the idea that someone else was allowed to put their hands where Izuku did driving him insane.
Tonight, however, he was determined to shatter that feeble barrier.
Izuku never once looked at the boyfriend, even if he could feel his burning gaze on his back the whole night – though that may also have been Ochako’s or literally anyone else who wasn’t drunk enough to notice the spectacle. He didn’t care to when Kacchan was right there. Relaxed, happy and open. Responsive to every single one of Izuku’s touches that made the last functioning part of his brain realize that Kacchan had missed this.
Izuku knew that little boyfriend of his wasn’t restraining himself from putting his hands all over Kacchan. He had felt sick at the sight enough time to know that Kacchan wasn’t somehow touch-starved. Yet, he melted in Izuku’s hands as if he was. As if nobody’s touch could equal Izuku’s.
The realization had made him grow bolder. So bold that when both of their legs grew tired and they made their way into the booth Class A had claimed for themselves, Izuku pulled on Kacchan’s arm to make him fall right into his lap.
Kacchan’s eyes had been wide, fixed on his face with guilt and something else warring in his gaze. And Izuku had watched him right back with something he knew to be defiant. A dare. A challenge.
Move if you dare to.
And Kacchan had never been one to back down from a challenge.
All of which led to Izuku sitting in his living room with a hangover that wasn’t bad enough to justify his actions and a very angry friend.
“You flirted with Katsuki right under his boyfriend’s nose, Izuku!” Ochako exclaimed, making his head pulse. “I get that the whole situation is difficult for you but that’s taking it too far. Poor guy looked like you repeatedly kicked his puppy in front of him for the whole night!”
Izuku knew that was supposed to make him feel guilty. There was a reasonable part of him that did, that regretted going out of his way to hurt someone who wasn’t even guilty of anything.
A bigger, much less compassionate part of him made his mouth twist stubbornly.
“Maybe he shouldn’t have just sat there uselessly, then.”
Ochako chucked a pillow at him for that, berating him, but he couldn’t help but feel self-righteous.
Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have taken it so far, but the guy didn’t even try to put up a fight. He never once entered Izuku’s field of vision until he went up to Kacchan to tell him he was leaving. He had been stone-faced, something tight in his voice that made Kacchan’s easy smile fall. Izuku added that to the long list of reasons he fucking hated the guy.
“Oh, okay,” Kacchan said, voice small. A pause where nobody moved. Then, hurriedly, as if he realized something, “Do you want me to drop you off or–?”
“No need,” the guy cut him off, voice hard. The anger that bubbled up in Izuku had him tightening his grip around Kacchan to prevent himself from reaching out and strangling the asshole for daring to talk to Kacchan like that. The guy didn’t miss the movement, eyes dropping as he said through gritted teeth, “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your night. It seems to be going so well.”
That made Kacchan flinch, but the guy had already turned around and marched away. There was a long silence that Izuku didn’t dare break. He watched as Kacchan stared at the table in front of them, mouth twisted down and cheeks flushed in shame. Then, abruptly, he went to stand up, refusing to meet Izuku’s gaze as he muttered, “I should probably go too, in case he misses the last train or something–”
Possessed by God knows what evil spirit, Izuku stopped Kacchan, pulling him back into his hold. Kacchan looked at him with that same torn expression, though there was some reproach in there too now. Izuku ignored it.
“Let it be for tonight,” Izuku had said, voice low. “Better talk it out with him later, when he has cooled off.”
Kacchan snorted. “I don’t think there will be a later if I don’t fucking go to him now.”
And because alcohol always shattered whatever brain to mouth filter he had, Izuku muttered. “Would that be so bad?”
He hadn’t looked at Kacchan when he said that, but he still felt him tense up in his hold, before he abruptly stood up. Izuku let his arms fall back limply.
“You are a fucking asshole, Izuku.”
And then he had stalked off, probably running after his boyfriend and fixing what Izuku had selfishly tried to break. Only hindsight made Izuku notice how much his voice had wavered, more hurt than angry.
Izuku closed his eyes, and whatever his face did interrupted Ochako’s rant. There was a lull, then a sigh.
“Izuku,” she said, much softer than before. “Look, I get it, okay? It was wrong and you really need to apologize, but I get that sometimes, feelings make you do stupid things.”
“Like try to ruin your best friend’s relationship because you can’t stand him being with someone that is not you?” he asked, bitter. It was the first time he had admitted to that out loud, though he doubted it was news to Ochako.
She sighed. “Yeah. Stupid things like that. If it makes you feel better, you aren’t the only one who messed up.”
Izuku opened his eyes, looking at her in confusion. “I may not like defending the guy, but he didn’t do anything.” The words left an aftertaste in his mouth, but he knew them to be true.
It made Ochako roll her eyes, though. “You and your pink-tinted glasses, I swear,” she muttered too herself before fixing him with an unimpressed stare. “I meant Katsuki.” When Izuku blinked at her owlishly, then frowned before opening his mouth to defend Kacchan, she raised a hand with an exasperated sigh. “Izuku, you may have been the one to initiate the whole thing, but Katsuki sure as hell didn’t call you out on it. Hell, he practically melted into you the second he arrived. It would have been cute if his boyfriend wasn’t watching.”
Izuku forcefully beat down the satisfaction he felt before it could make its way onto his face for Ochako to see and literally beat down. He hadn’t mentioned it, but it didn’t mean he didn’t notice. Kacchan never once pushed him away throughout the whole night or looked back at his boyfriend. Izuku was actually pretty certain that had he not said what he did at the end of the night, there would be a world where Kacchan had remained right there and let his boyfriend go home alone.
He sighed. Being such an awful person didn’t suit him but he had always known that Kacchan brought out the best and the worst in him. He shouldn’t be that surprised, though he wouldn’t blame anyone but himself.
Before Ochako could say anymore, a knock echoed in the quiet space, making both of them look up. Izuku blinked. He knew that knock.
He slowly looked back at Ochako, who searched his face for all of two seconds before sighing and getting up. “You better do this right, Izuku,” was all she said before walking to the entrance. There was a knock as she put her shoes on, before she opened the door.
“Hey, Katsuki,” he heard, and there was some vindication at hearing the same accusatory tone in her voice than when she talked to him. He could almost see the way Kacchan’s face probably twisted, shame and stubbornness warring.
“Round Cheeks,” he muttered, before Izuku heard slightly stomping footsteps and a sigh before the door closed.
And finally, Kacchan turned the corner and appeared in the living room. His eyes immediately found Izuku and he stalked up to him until he was standing right in front of him with his arms crossed, looking down on him.
“We need to fucking talk.”
Izuku winced, but didn’t dare to look away. “Yeah, I think we do.”
Kacchan stared at him for a long time, not saying anything, before his shoulders slumped down. He looked to the side, mouth frowning. Without warning, he dropped onto the couch, his whole side pressed against Izuku, like it had been last night. Izuku swallowed, refusing to enjoy the comforting warmth. That was his repentance.
“He broke up with me,” Kacchan suddenly said, voice quiet.
Izuku refused to take a look at the mess of emotions that filled his chest at the news, knowing the imaginary Ochako in his head would beat him down with a stick if he acknowledged any of it.
“When?” was what he mastered up the courage to ask.
“Last night. I caught up with him and well.” A pause. A sigh. “Don’t know what else I expected, to be honest.”
And that made Izuku’s guilt flare. “I’m sorry, Kacchan. I know it’s my fault.”
He wished he could say he hadn’t meant for this to happen, but they would both know it’s a goddamn lie.
“It is,” Kacchan confirmed, making Izuku wince. “But it’s also mine.” He chuckled humorlessly. “We are both assholes, it seems.”
“A match made in hell,” Izuku said without thinking, before realizing that may not be the most appropriate thing to say at the moment.
Kacchan rolled his head around to look at him, and before Izuku had never been good at looking away, he met Kacchan’s gaze. There wasn’t the expected anger in them. Instead, they looked more searching than ever.
“Izuku…” He took a deep breath. “Did you mean anything by that?”
Izuku blinked. “That we are both assholes? It’s a play of words with the original expression, ‘match made in heaven’–”
Kacchan groaned, breaking eye contact to let his head hit the couch. “You are a fucking idiot.” Sighing, he stared at the ceiling, voice growing quiet again as he clarified, “I meant last night, nerd. All that shit you did… did you mean anything by it?”
Biting his lip, Izuku also turned to the ceiling. There were words stuck in his throat, words he had swallowed back so many times, he didn’t even know what form they would take if he allowed them out. Words that had expressed themselves through his actions last night.
Unfair, selfish words.
“Yeah,” Izuku whispered. “Yeah, I meant a whole lot by it.” He heard Kacchan’s breath hitch and he couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. “I think you have known that for a while, Kacchan.”
There was a short silence.
“I wish I did, asshole.”
Izuku frowned, looking at Kacchan’s profile. There was no way he couldn’t have known. Everyone and their mothers knew. Hell, strangers clocked him as soon as photos of he and Kacchan hanging out started going around when they debuted. He knew Kacchan didn’t keep up with the press at all, but come on.
Studying him, Izuku picked out every little twitch and subtle movement, matching them with the knowledge he kept in his Kacchan Encyclopedia. Guilt, happiness, relief, uncertainty. Kacchan was trying to keep his face impassive, but he was with Izuku. Kacchan might as well be shouting his feelings at his face with how obvious they were to him. How easily Izuku could read him.
Bet that stupid boyfriend could have never managed to read Kacchan half as well.
The acidic thought made him cringe, but he didn’t look away. “Yeah, me too. Would have spared us a whole lot of troubles, I think.”
Kacchan snorted. He looked back at Izuku, and there was still uncertainty and shame, but his eyes were bright. Bright with something Izuku hadn’t seen in a long time.
Hope.
“By troubles you mean all our friends ready to rip us a new one?”
Izuku snorted. “You had an Ochako calling you an asshole too?”
“Kyoka threw ice cold water at me this morning.”
And despite how justified it was, how they deserved every bit of their friends’ anger, they still giggled, looking at each other as if nothing else mattered.
“The worst one was Ei, though. Kept looking at me with that fucking disappointed look. It was awful.”
Izuku patted Kacchan’s shoulder sympathetically. He had been on the receiving end of Eijirou’s disappointment exactly once, and he would rather have a rematch with Shigaraki than go through that again.
“What will we have to do to appease them, you think?” Izuku asked, letting his hand slip from Kacchan’s shoulder to interlock their arms instead.
Kacchan looked down, expression much more appeased than before, but still debating something. Izuku was pretty sure he looked the exact same.
“I have no idea. But we should at least… you know. Show them it wasn’t all for nothing.”
As he spoke, he moved his hand to intertwine it with Izuku’s. He lifted his gaze, still hesitant, still searching, but with a determination that was all his. A certainty that settled over Izuku’s bones like a blanket.
A certainty he never showed about that other guy.
Izuku smiled.