The shop keeper is not too worried when the blond-haired man in front of him starts growling. Given the number of people who end up with canine-like vocal cords or muzzles these days, growling tends to be no more worrying than a cough or an involuntary 'ow!' No, it's when they start showing their teeth to you and actively glaring, that's when you know you have a problem.

Because, well. Although the youth in front of him doesn't seem to have any teeth protruding past his lip, he's certainly got the glaring down pat. And even through the tinted red haze of those sunglasses he wears, all jagged angles and sharp corners, the shopkeeper can feel the heat in that stare reaching out to hit the small TV his cousin got his daughter to fix up above the counter half a year ago with her vines. And curious, despite himself, the shopkeeper turns, catching sight of the word 'quirkless' and 'sponser' and 'Deku' all in the same place.

'Damnit,' Mr pointy-sunglasses growls to himself. And then he's off, hands practically becoming a blur, as they shovel through the more recent newspapers on the rack. Another sudden swear as he flips through the pages and catches something of interest, and then suddenly the shop keeper is accosted by the light slap of said paper in question, as it lands on his counter.

'This,' growls out his sudden customer. 'Please.' It comes out grated and barbed, like a heavy growl, almost as though the other man's having to fight an aneurysm. Daunted, the shopkeeper accepts the yen notes shoved at him none the less, his free hand hovering over his phone the whole time, ready and waiting to call for an ambulance.

Thankfully however, it remains unrung, as moments later the blond practically storms out the shop, brow furrowed, the wrinkles of skin above actively digging into the sunglasses as though trying to grind the lenses down into dust.

The shopkeeper lets out a sigh. That sort of customer, he can do without.

Dust. It travels in the light, caught by the shafts of sunlight that poke out and over the gap in Izuku's curtains. Izuku watches them hazily, a small smile poking out above the duvet he is snuggled beneath, as he follows their trailing flips and curves, and the small, almost invisible river they form together, as it shivers across his room.

'DEKU!'

Ah, thinks Izuku blearily. But whatever else he may be tempted to follow that thought up with, is interrupted by Kacchan throwing up his door and then marching onto his bed, each stamped imprint of his foot narrowing missing the bumps of Izuku's legs as he hastily throws them out of Kacchan's way. But given the slight, crazed grin on Kacchan's face, Izuku's willing to bet that the other man had been aiming at them in the first place.

Jerk, he thinks, mildly mollified by the fact that Kacchan isn't attempting to stamp on his stomach, the way he did that one time Izuku was careless and let a villain follow him home…and then he takes it all back, and lets out a pitiful whine as Kacchan stretches out an arm and yanks both curtains aside. The resulting blast of direct sunlight hits Izuku right in the face, and the whine transforms into an unholy screech as he dives under the duvet, blinking frantically.

'KACCHAN!'

'Deku,' intones Kacchan in reply, sounding a lot calmer now that he's managed to force out a whimper or two from Izuku. 'Get your lazy ass up and explain yourself, nerd.'

Izuku winces as he feels what appears to be several sheets of paper hitting him in the head and gradually, palms upraised (but still ready to curl, to tighten and swing into fists if need be) Izuku braves the sun-filled room and emerges from beneath the duvet. He blinks up at a fuming Kacchan, then, blinking some more, directs his gaze down at the newspaper, the pages spread open to reveal an article about-

'O-oh!' he stammers, a slight scream echoing in his mind, at the thought of 'oh crap, I didn't realise that they were going to print it up this soon, I meant to mention it last night-'

In one swift motion Kacchan is crouched over him like a cat waiting for the right moment to pounce, hands splayed faux lazily over Izuku's shoulder, while his knees shift, pressing dangerously close to the tender curve of Izuku's stomach. His eyes close and he gives Izuku a beautiful smile tinged with menace, the one he always gave when he was about to do something particularly unpleasant in middle school. The effect is marred, only somewhat, by those stupid red sunglasses perched over his closed eyes and the deceptively happy curves they give off.

'Start talking, Deku,' the 'smiling' man in front of him says, as his fingers tighten round Izuku's shoulders like a vice. 'Or else I'll be serving up fried loser for breakfast.'

'Please don't turn into a cannibal, Kacchan,' Izuku manages to say in return, eyes quickly glancing over the article in question, with his heart sinking at every word. 'I don't think you'll be able to be a hero anymore, if you do that.'

'Huh?' Kacchan shakes him a little. 'If I want to fucking roast you, then I'll do it! I'd be doing the hero association a favour, getting rid of a green ant like you!'

Izuku's head snaps up at that, an open look of bewilderment climbing up onto his face. 'I've been downgraded to an ant?!' he exclaims. 'WHY?!'

'BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE!' thunders Kacchan, practically tearing the duvet off Izuku as his hand clenches into the lining of Izuku's pyjamas and he twists, heaving Izuku up, straight into his face. Their foreheads swing together with a soft clunk, not hard enough for it to bruise, but still strong enough for Izuku to feel the crawl of Kacchan's sweat against his skin and the rims of those stupid sunglasses Kacchan likes so much, digging into his cheek. He grimaces.

'HUMANS OPEN THEIR MOUTHS AND TALK! BUT IF YOU'RE CONTENT TO REMAIN A MEASLY BUG, THE GO CRAWL IN THE DIRT AND DIE!'

Izuku's grimace immediately fades, his mouth uncreasing and falling open into a soft 'oh.' Which does absolutely nothing to placate Kacchan.

'Oh? OH! IS THAT ALL YOU CAN SAY, SHITTY BASTARD?!'

Izuku looks up at this man some would confuse for a demon or villain, and sees the hurt there behind the panes of scarlet glass, the fear that Izuku may be purposefully hiding things from him. And given what the article is about…which, okay, yes, Izuku can see why Kacchan's insecurities might find reason to flare up big-time.

But still, staring up at Kacchan and his sunglasses-covered eyes…all Izuku can find it in himself to think is that the tinted lens are only serving to distort the narrow shape of Kacchan's eyes, rather than adding to their usual demonic effect. And he finds his lips twitching slightly because of it.

Those eyes narrow even further. 'The hell are you smiling for, damnit!'

Still smiling, Izuku reaches up, slides a finger behind Kacchan's ear…then, quick as viper, whisks the sunglasses off his face, and shoves them onto his own face, his finger giving one final push over the bridge off his nose to hold them in place. 'These don't make you look as edgy as you think they do,' he says softly, all smiles as he meets Kacchan's glare.

Kacchan's glare worsens, a vein visibly twitching in his forehead. 'Now who's in danger of turning into a villain, you damn thief!'

Izuku frowns back at him. 'I think being a thief is better than being a cannibal, surely.'

Kacchan snorts, some of the fight leaving his expression as he twists away from Izuku, rolling down next to him. 'Well, I guess if you have the gall to play around like this, like a complete dork, then I guess the reason you kept this from me was for some equally stupid reason like…'

He pauses, then lets his arm stretch up in the air, fingers flicking together to create a loud, sharp snap that sends Izuku flinching against the pillows.

'You forgot, right?' he says, no hint of surprise on his face as he sends Izuku a smirk for flinching. 'Typical. All your hundreds of nerdy notebooks and dossiers and you forget important shit like this.'

Izuku frowns as Kacchan's smirk grows, engulfs his face into something wolfish. 'I meant to mention it last night! It's just I forgot, and they told me they would print it on Tuesday! I should have a word with them about that…'

Kacchan snorts, brandishes the paper at Izuku like a weapon, and then raises it into the air in front of them both, at a comfortable reading distance.

'Hero Deku takes a stand for the quirkless,' he drawls, doing nothing to suppress the mirth in his eyes as Izuku squawks and fiddles with the sunglasses on his face. 'It's no surprise in this day and age,' he continues, 'that sometimes those children who are unable to join in with the flashier games their peers come with the aid of their bludgeoning quirks…blah, blah, some bullshit statistic about how quirkless kids are more liable to be the victim of bullying…'

Izuku flashes him a quick, sharp look at that, which Kacchan studiously ignores.

'And then dear ol' Deku, who the writer of this article is apparently creaming themselves over-'

Izuku makes a face.

'-is doing some sort of community outreach program where he goes round to quirkless kids and lets them ride on his shoulders for half an hour, and magically their lives become so much better!'

Izuku huffs out a sigh. 'It would have meant the world growing up, if someone with an awesome quirk would have come up to me and let me run a Q and A sessions on how it works,' he admits, suddenly finding the ceiling a wonderful place to rest his eyes on. 'Or maybe, let me play with it, make suggestions…I mean, kids are pretty creative. I've had a lot of fun with the few I've met already. It's just…it gives them a sort of power that they won't have on the playground or anywhere else really, if only for a few moments. There's nothing quite like hearing a six year old whooping on your shoulders when you jump over a house, because he wants you to pretend to be a kangaroo.'

He braves a glance at Kacchan and finds the other man unreadable.

'Huh,' says the hero in question. 'I guess showing a few snot nosed brats why they should be cheering for me, instead of you, wouldn't be too bad. When's the next session? I'll knock you dead.'

Izuku feels water spring up along the lining of his eyes. 'Kacchan-' he begins, voice wobbly and filled with a soft, delicate waver that makes Kacchan's nose automatically screw up.

'Urgh, no,' he says pointedly, raising a hand as a barrier to thwart the incoming hug Izuku wants to strangle him with. 'You can shower me with your undying gratitude after breakfast. Come on.' He thumps the side of Izuku's leg for good measure. 'Up. Or I'll kill you.'

Izuku trails after him, through the corridor, into the kitchen, almost bumping into walls through the haze of watery eyes and red sunglasses. Kacchan snorts as he almost rams his ear into the door-frame, and whisks the sunglasses off his nose the next moment. 'You get a scratch on these and I'll murder you.'

They weren't worth whatever you paid for them, Izuku thinks grimly, but the next second finds himself softening again, eyes wide and open, tears already slipping down his face as he sees the pale white anemone flowers Kacchan has perched inside a vase on the table, and the four-leafed clover, hanging like a monkey next to them, the stem cleverly curled over the blue rim to make it stay in place. Izuku reaches out to it with trembling fingers, picturing the patience it must have taken to find it. For although Kacchan has always had tremendous luck in managing to find the best bugs when they were little, and ending up with the best quirk in the neighbourhood, finding this must still have taken some back-breaking searching.

But what's even more amazing to him, is that in the midst of his hurt and anger, Kacchan still had made time for this little floral arrangement. Maybe because of faint surge of guilt, sure, or maybe it is due to something else, either way the flowers are here. And Izuku is touched and stupidly in love.

He looks at Kacchan, seeing that broad back turned to him, as his boyfriend mutters over the hub, brow furrowed in concentration as he balances an egg in his palm, and rolls it as though to test its weight, and as always Izuku finds himself dragged over to him, his arms wrapping round Kacchan's waist as he snivels into his shirt.

Kacchan freezes. 'Oi,' he says. But he doesn't push him away. And if he has anything to say about the tears Izuku is burying into his shirt, he at least waits a few more seconds to do it.

'It was so weird,' the shop-keeper tells his cousin later. 'This guy looked like he was ten seconds from having a heart attack, and then he races out of my shop, only to come stumbling back seconds later, cursing and asking if I knew where there were any decent flower shops in this 'hell-hole'-'

His cousin tenses at the word choice, knuckles tightening on her charity pamphlets, but the shop-keeper chooses to ignore this, breezing right past.

'- and then he started asking, rather ferociously where people went to find four-leafed clovers. I told him it was nearly the end of the season for them and he glared at me and said he'd blow them all up if they dared to shrivel up and die before they had the chance to 'make that nerd sniffle into my shirt.'' He shakes his head. 'I don't know. Maybe I should have called that ambulance after all.'

But his cousin simply shakes her head, keeps her hands clasped firmly on her pamphlets and gives him a look of simple pity. 'No,' says Shiozaki Ibara , vines jostling round her ear. 'Trust me; there's no saving those two.' She closes her eyes beatifically. 'Only providence, has the power to-

The shop-keeper successfully tunes her out after that. And very quickly decides that he simply does not want to know. So it's with some trepidation therefore, that the next time that bad-tempered blond enters his store, he freezes and tries for a shaky smile. But still, some part of him, as the blond inspects the miso soup sachlets lining his shelf with a strange intensity, feels the need to pipe up and ask; 'did you find any four-leafed clovers?'

The blond blinks at him. Tilts his head. And then grins wide and slow. 'Oh, so you were here, last time, huh?'

I never left, the shopkeeper thinks, vaguely insulted. Honestly, perhaps his cousin is right. There's no saving some people.

'Yeah,' Bakugo Katsuki continues, grin even more apparent, especially without his sunglasses on. 'They knocked him dead.' He looks stupidly happy about this in a violent sort of way.

And the shop keeper once again, decides that he very much does not want to know.

Notes: Day 2 (17/9) - Power Tabloid Flowers