*Izuku*
Izuku opened his eyes and found himself in a completely unfamiliar bed, an unfamiliar room, with some familiar scents. His head throbbed as light flooded across his face and his vision tried to focus.
Where am I? He asked himself, peering around as his head throbbed painfully.
Water glinted in the light from the bedside table. Along with what looked like a note? Izuku sat up slowly and allowed the blood to flow into his head before he reached for the glass and sipped it slowly. He felt nauseous but his mouth and throat was so dry, he couldn't leave it that way.
"Fuck." he said out loud to the empty room. When he felt like he could look beyond the glass in his hands, he let his eyes flit across the space. Two chairs and a tablet, a kitchenette, the bed, a bathroom. Sheets were neatly folded at the foot of the bed next to what looked like a folded t-shirt, boxers, and sweatpants.
The apartment was completely empty and still. Devoid of another body, but the lingering scent of burnt maple and smokiness.
"Kacchan?" Izuku called into the very visibly empty room.
He glanced at the note and reached for it.
' Soup in the fridge, drink water, I'll be back soon - K '
Izuku stared at it.
Katsuki Bakugou was taking care of him, legitimately, actively, taking care of him. He didn't know who this Katsuki was. He blinked the mild shock away and looked around for his phone. He didn't know what time it was and the bare apartment didn't have a clock anywhere that he could see.
He needed to pee as he felt the dull sensation of his bladder beginning to protest. He sipped at the water before placing it back on the bedside table carefully with the note, then placed his feet firmly on the floor before he stood. He let the blood leave his head and return again, patiently waiting to walk and then made his way to the one door that could have been a bathroom.
He relieved himself, washed his hands and then stared at his face in the mirror. He looked a wreck. He didn't wear makeup but his face somehow looked like he had lazily removed eyeliner or mascara from the night before and gone to bed crying. He didn't remember crying.
He sort of remembered a warm body holding him, gripping the back of Katsuki's neck with his hand to steady himself, hands on his thighs? Deku shook the thought from his mind. He still had his clothes on, so it couldn't have been a drunken pass at Katsuki.
He would never cheat on Shouto.
Izuku took a couple mouthfuls of water and juggled it in his mouth. There was a new toothbrush on the sink and toothpaste. It seemed like Katsuki thought of everything. But where did he go? And what time was it? He forgot he was looking for his phone.
He brushed his teeth thoroughly, trying to get the alcohol taste of leftover wine from his mouth and simultaneously quench his dry gums and tongue.
Then when it felt satisfyingly better, he dried his face in one of two towels that hung on a too small towel rack on the bathroom door, then he looked around the room for his phone again. He saw it finally, plugged in and charging in the little kitchenette beside a toaster oven.
It was 7 o clock. Izuku huffed in annoyance. Even hungover, he couldn't sleep long. His usual wake up time was 6, so he was still late to rise, yet couldn't sleep in.
Izuku sighed and unplugged the phone that had reached 100 percent and put it in his pocket. He opened the fridge and found ramen, broth in one container and noodles and sides in another. His stomach churned at the thought and he retreated.
He felt gross. Like he had sweated all the alcohol through his pores and it had seeped into the clothes he wore which made it heavy with a saltiness that hung around him in a musky smell he didn't like.
He vaguely remembered not being able to find his gym clothes in the studio last night, and groaned. He glanced at the clothes next to the neatly folded sheet in its neatly stacked tower and he approached it like it was a living thing.
Without touching it, he bent over and smelled it. They were clean. Then he caught a scent of himself and decided he would chance that the clothes were meant for him.
The warm shower was blessedly refreshing, and the soap smelled like that spring smell almost all generic soaps have, the one Izuku liked the most and he wondered at the coincidence. Izuku ducked his head into the warm water and let it run through his hair and to his scalp. He found Katsuki's shampoo and with some hesitation, lathered it through his own green hair until it felt clean of his alcoholic sweat.
There was hair conditioner, so he used that too. It was cedar wood scented, and very earthy. Izuku decided he liked it.
Izuku climbed out of the shower, grabbed the towel he had used earlier and dried himself. He looked around for the clothes and realised he didn't bring it with him. His hungover brain was really unorganized and Izuku slapped lightly his cheeks in annoyance. He wrapped the towel loosely around his waist and peered outside.
No Katsuki.
He tiptoed out toward the clothes, it was just ten steps away, and the door clicked. Izuku yelped and there wasn't any place for him to hide. But Katsuki didn't even look at him, but seemed determinedly looking at his hands where they opened, closed and locked the door behind him.
"Kacchan! Sorry- I- the clothes, I hope they were for me-" Izuku stammered. Katsuki looked at him finally and his face reddened slightly.
Izuku was aware how cold he was, damp from the water dripping from his hair and the draft that came in with Katsuki. And the very musky scent that came with that draft that smelled homey and of smoke and maple. Katsuki's shirt was damp, his hair was sticking to his forehead, he had an empty water bottle in his hand.
He had gone running.
Something about being shirtless in front of him right this instant after his very vulnerable and hazy night felt so much more incredibly baring than being in front of a camera with Katsuki behind it.
"Why- could you put some clothes on?" Katsuki asked, his eyes coming up from Izuku's torso to his eyes. He then looked away quickly and went toward the fridge. Izuku watched his back for a moment before he returned to the bathroom, clothes in hand.
They were baggy, but the boxers hung on his hips well enough. Izuku remembered Katsuki wore baggy clothes, it just looked extra baggy on Izuku because he was shorter. He emerged sheepishly from the room and the smell of ramen wafted through the room.
"Could you have taken any longer?" Katsuki said in his usual aggressive tone.
"Sorry-" Izuku said.
"Stop apologizing." Katsuki said. He placed the ramen on the little table that had two chairs and jabbed a finger at it while looking at Izuku. "Eat."
He pushed past Izuku and paused. "And take those." He jabbed a finger at painkillers on the kitchen counter, then disappeared into the bathroom himself, shutting the door a little loudly. Izuku heard the water start to fall before he moved and he settled into the chair by the ramen.
It smelled good. Spicy, but good. He sipped at the broth slowly to allow it to settle in his stomach, feeling out if he was still nauseous. After having what felt like enough of the broth and noodles, he took painkillers from a brand new bottle. Katsuki finished his shower much faster than Izuku had finished his and he came from the shower with pants hanging low on his hips and without a shirt.
Izuku wasn't staring. He definitely didn't stare.
"Kacchan," Izuku said to his bowl of ramen. "Thank you for-"
"I didn't do it for thanks. I still need you to be alive and not drunk in a ditch somewhere so I can learn to shoot, right?" Katsuki said abruptly. Izuku smiled at the noodles. Katsuki huffed and went into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter and Izuku could feel him watching him.
They had been alone in the studio before, but not alone in a room like this. In one of their personal spaces. This was Katsuki's apartment.
"Thank you for the clothes at least." Izuku mumbled, his hand twisting at the baggy t-shirt in his lap.
"Mm." was the only noise Katsuki could muster.
"I don't know what to do with my day. I've never had a day off before." Izuku said, still to the bowl of ramen.
"You have, you've just never used it like a day off. Now that your dumbass is hungover, you can't do gym or anything else your workaholic ass likes to do, so you're stuck here." Katsuki said smugly.
Izuku turned to look at him and kept his green eyes on Katsuki's red.
"You've got me all figured out, huh?" Izuku said with a small smile. Katsuki's ears reddened but his expression still looked like an angry cat.
"Stay here, if you want. There's food places nearby, you can recover, feel better." Katsuki said. He said it was a scoff that sounded like anger but his bright red ears and the fact that it was helpful words just made Izuku laugh.
"Kacchan, is your default like an angry hedgehog everyday? Why can't you say the nice words you're saying, but nicer." Izuku asked.
"I am nice, what are you talking about?" Katsuki grumbled.
"Ah, so it's just me that makes your face that way?" Izuku teased.
"Got a problem with my face?" Katsuki glared back.
"Did you eat?" Izuku asked him.
"I ate after my run. Plenty of food places, remember." Katsuki said. Izuku nodded and returned to his ramen.
"I'll stay, Kacchan." Izuku said softly. "You must think I'm pathetic. No friends, no where else to go."
Katsuki huffed and made a clicking sound with his teeth.
"You don't know what I think about you, Deku." Katsuki said. Izuku held his breath but still looked at his ramen. The room had gone still.
And the stillness was suddenly broken by the buzzing of someone's phone. It was Katsuki's.
Izuku could hear Ochako's voice but not hear the words she was saying. Katsuki's face progressively grew darker.
He hung up the phone and glared at the floor.
"Kacchan, do you have to go?" Izuku asked. Katsuki's chest was heaving ever so slightly. Izuku could see his brain working in the way he could never, in silence. "Kacchan, I can go-."
"Deku." Katsuki said. He looked up at him. "Stay, I have to deal with something. I'll be back." He took long strides to a cupboard and ripped a t-shirt from the shelves, yanked it on with one arm and paused at the door.
"Just feel better." and he left with a solid click of the door.
Izuku finished the ramen, and spent two minutes trying to find the bin. He absentmindedly opened and closed cupboard doors and found them all bare except for some tupperware. There was one drawer with a rolled up set of chef knives, and a cupboard with various pots.
Izuku tried to remember if he knew whether Katsuki liked to cook as a hobby or not. He must have. The knife set was pretty expensive. Why was it in this apartment and not in his and Ochako's place?
Izuku shook his head, maybe that was enough prying.
His mind whispered to him in Katsuki's voice ' You don't know what I think about you, Deku. ' and he jumped, then a shiver ran down his spine.
What the fuck. He was feeling better, not nauseous or lightheaded, but his heart was racing. The suddenness of being surrounded by everything Katsuki started to close his throat and steal the air from his chest.
Izuku took a deep breath and it didn't fill his lungs. He needed to leave. He looked around for paper and only found the note Katsuki had left him and the pen abandoned next to it. He scribbled ' Thanks for everything, Kacchan ' on the back side and then slid it onto the table where he hoped Katsuki wouldn't miss it.
He needed a key so he could lock it before he left. Fuck . He turned in place, like a top, his eyes searching for a cupboard and drawers he didn't touch and he started looking. Soon enough, at the bottom on the bedside table was a miscellaneous drawer with various abandoned objects. A key glinted up at him, unused and new looking.
Hurriedly, he tried it on the open door with a locked door knob and it worked. He breathed a sigh of relief, inhaled the stale corridor air, and shut it. He cleaned up the mess he had made in his search, straightened the towel he had used, balled his dirty clothes so it was carryable, and made the bed.
He called for a cab on his phone, locked the door, slid the key through the space under the door and stood staring at the handle feeling his chest tighten.
A hand was gripping at his painfully beating heart and he swallowed.
Drinking was a terrible idea.
