Fuck, no! That was the wrong thing to do. He hadn't thought. He just acted.

Izuku stilled himself, took a deep breath, and opened the door back up.

He'd barely cracked it before a loud BOOM and a concussive blast shot him back a few feet into the living room, causing him to land square on his butt.

"What the hell was that, shitty nerd!?" Kacchan still had one hand extended out from the blast, and the other was carrying a grocery bag. "You pick up some bad manners in America?!"

"S-sorry, Kacchan," Izuku rose to his feet, "I was just…surprised. What are you doing here?"

Kacchan closed the door behind him and stormed into the kitchen.

"The hag sent this," he set the bag down on the counter, "she figured your useless ass didn't shop for dinner."

Tension disappeared as realization dawned on him.

Dinner!

What was wrong with him? How was he planning on taking care of his mom when something as basic as food hadn't even crossed his mind?

It must have been apparent on his face, because Kacchan smirked knowingly.

"Looks like she was right."

"I would have figured something out," Deku snapped back to reality, "but tell her thanks for me still. This was really thoughtful."

Izuku joined Kacchan in the kitchen to peer into the bag. There was an assortment of ingredients—rice, pork, eggs, some spices, and batter mix.

"Katsudon!" he smiled excitedly. His mouth watered in apprehension—it had been a while since he had any decent Japanese food. "I can't believe she remembered it was my favorite."

"Let's see, I need water, to mix this together, the eggs with the batter…" Izuku muttered to himself as he pulled some of the ingredients out of the bag and then paused, looking over at Kacchan. "How much water do you use for the rice again?"

Kacchan blasted him again out of the kitchen with another explosion.

"Die, you useless bastard!" he took off his jacket and threw it on Izuku, still on the floor, "just stay out of my way 'til it's done!"

"K-Kacchan," Izuku got back to his feet, "you really don't have to do that…"

"You tryna kill Auntie with your shitty cooking?"

Izuku hung Kacchan's coat up, and scratched his chin warily. As much as he loved katsudon, he really didn't know how to actually make it. Not well, anyway.

"Um, well, thanks," he blushed.

Then suddenly he felt more pathetic than ever. Here he had been panicking, feeling awkward, literally running away and slamming doors in his face—and Kacchan was totally fine.

Why was he surprised? It had been 6 years after all. That's plenty of time for any normal person to get over an ex.

Maybe their relationship had been more one-sided than he'd realized.

Izuku smiled sadly to himself, sitting down at the kitchen table and watching Kacchan work. His mind wandered to the last time Kacchan had cooked for him—it was their third year at UA.

"It smells so good, Kacchan," Izuku's eyes twinkled with joy.

It had been a long day at their respective work studies, and they'd gotten permission to stay the night in a hotel, since the mission had taken them far from the dorms. They'd gotten a suite that had a kitchenette.

"The hell you expect?" Kacchan smirked smugly, "Don't be impressed by something so basic."

Izuku had just gotten out of the shower and walked up behind Kacchan, drying off his hair with the towel around his neck.

"Do you need help with anything?"

"No, it's almost done," he took the lid off of a pot to stir the contents. "Go sit down 'til it's done."

The aroma drifted straight from the pot, through Izuku's nose, and into his grumbling stomach.

When Kacchan turned around to get the hotel bowls and cutlery out of the cabinets, Izuku quickly (and covertly) snuck a big spoonful from the pot before Kacchan turned back to him.

Kacchan paused upon seeing him still there.

"I said go sit down before I kill you!" he snapped.

But Izuku already felt like he was dying.

The food. Was. SPICY.

It took every ounce of his self-control not to scream in pain.

Summoning all the fortitude that his years of hero training had granted him, he swallowed the spicy ball of rice and tried to walk normally to the table.

As he sat down, the trail of spiciness seared a path down his throat, threatening to tear apart the very fibers of his organs. His eyes watered, his throat prickled, and he was fighting back a fit of coughs.

One slipped out and caught Kacchan's attention. Izuku steeled himself while Kacchan eyed him suspiciously.

"What is it?" he asked.

Izuku would rather have dealt with the pain of the spice than the wrath of Kacchan.

"Nothing," he managed to wheeze.

Kacchan turned back to grab the food before setting two bowls on the table—one for each of them.

Izuku eyed the venomous dish like it was the devil itself. He knew Kacchan's love for spicy foods, but he wasn't used to being subjected to them himself. There was no way he'd be able to get through that for dinner.

He tried to open his mouth to say he wasn't hungry, but his tongue was still on fire.

A glass of milk suddenly thudded onto the table in front of him, and he looked up to see Kacchan grinning in fiendish delight.

"Hurry up and drink it."

Izuku chugged the milk like his life depended on it, and didn't stop until he felt something like relief cool its way through his system.

As he coughed and hacked, he tried to ignore Kacchan's loud laughter.

"You knew it was too spicy?" Izuku complained when he finally could, suddenly irritated with his boyfriend. "And you were planning on feeding it to me anyway?"

"No, moron!" Kacchan's laughs were subsiding, "you're the dumbass trying to sneak a taste and got the wrong pot."

Kacchan pointed to the bowl in front of Izuku, and then to the one in front of him. Kacchan's bowl had red-orange rice, instead of the plain white that his was.

"This is the weakling food," he explained as he took his place at the table. "What you stole was some of mine.

Rather than embarrassment, anger or sheepishness that he probably should have felt, Izuku could only focus on one thing.

"You made a separate pot just for me?"

Kacchan looked up across his food at Izuku.

"Hah?" he frowned, "I just said that, didn't I? You can eat that—it's safe for your weak-ass taste buds."

Izuku felt as though his heart would burst from happiness. He watched as Kacchan began to mix in his food in preparation to eat. He couldn't resist the urge. He rose up out of his chair enough to reach across the table and plant a quick kiss on Kacchan's lips.

"Thanks for dinner, Kacchan," he clapped his hands together over his meal.

Just as he'd stabbed his fork into the bowl, however, Kacchan reached across the table and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, snatching him in for another, longer kiss.

Without realizing how, Kacchan was now standing again, hunched over him, kissing down his chin to his neck and from his neck to his collar bone, licking and sucking the entire way.

Izuku had wrapped his arms around Kacchan's lower neck, snaking his fingers through his hair.

When Izuku felt the feather light touches of Kacchan's hands begin to snake their way up his stomach, he breathlessly pulled away.

"Wait, dinn—ah!" his voice got tangled up in a moan when Kacchan sucked on his weak spot—the crook of his neck. "—cold."

Kacchan led Izuku out of the chair and toward the bedroom.

"There's a microwave."

Izuku's face was heated at the memory, and he buried it in his arms so Kacchan couldn't see. When he was finally brave enough to look up at him, Izuku was surprised to see him staring right back.

It made him even more self-conscious, but looking away after direct eye contact would have been worse.

"Congratulations, by the way," Izuku offered, "Number 1 hero for two years now, just like you always said."

Kacchan just scoffed.

"It shouldn't have taken so damn long."

He turned back toward the stove.

Kacchan laughed at his streak of perfectionism that hadn't ebbed at all.

"Only 4 years after your debut is a huge accomplishment though."

"It pisses me off that it took me as long as you," he shook his head at himself.

A surge of school girl giddiness pulsed through his stomach. Kacchan had been keeping up with him in the U.S.? He had also made it to the top of the U.S. rankings two years ago.

"Well it doesn't work exactly the same out there as it does here, so it's really not a good comparison."

"You're right," Kacchan looked over his shoulder, "with the shitty excuses for heroes they have over there, you should've been number 1 years ago."

If he didn't know any better, Izuku would have almost called that a compliment.

"You're probably right," he laughed.

"So," Kacchan spoke, "You and Melissa. How long's that been?"

And just like that, painful awkwardness hit Izuku like a bucket of ice. He hadn't meant for Kacchan to hear that lie, and it was a weird subject to speak to him about, but there was no point in lying to him about it.

"Well," he stammered, "actually we—"

"Izuku!" the sound of his mother's call was like sweet, sweet salvation from the ball of awkwardness Izuku had started drowning in.

"I'll be right back," he announced, and quickly left the room.

When he did go back into the kitchen later on, thankfully, Kacchan didn't bring it up anymore.

A little more surprising to Izuku than the first night Kacchan showed up was when Kacchan came over the following evening. He had more food from Mitsuki and prepared it for dinner again.

And not only had it happened the following day, but it happened the day after that as well. It quickly became a nightly pattern over the next few weeks, and what had at first been awkward was now routine. It was apparent to Izuku more than ever that the weirdness he'd built up around the situation had been completely in his head.

Kacchan was the same as he'd ever been, and Izuku was glad to know that he had moved on from him, and they could have normal interactions again.

"Kacchan…I…can't…move…"

Izuku had managed to roll himself from the table to the couch after dinner one night, but was now finding it quite impossible to make any other movements.

"You ate too much again, moron," Kacchan complained, picking up the empty dishes from the table and taking them to the sink.

"I couldn't help it," Izuku rubbed on his bloated feeling stomach, "Your cooking is too good."

Izuku was slumped halfway down the couch, fighting the food coma.

"I'll clean the dishes, Kacchan," he objected when he heard the water cut on. "I've got to make myself useful somehow."

Inko had been able to walk again, and joined them at the table for dinner the last few nights, but was now in her room, knocked out from a combination of the food and pain killers. Izuku closed his eyes and felt like he might follow suit, when he felt the couch shift right beside him.

He opened his eyes and saw Kacchan sitting there.

He had to actively beat down the nervousness that threatened to return; this was the closest he'd physically been to Kacchan since returning.

But things had been normal, right? There was no need for him Deku it up and make a big deal out of nothing.

"Auntie's doing better," Kacchan observed, settling comfortably into the couch.

His shoulder was an inch away from Izuku's, but Izuku tried not to think about that.

"Yeah," he smiled, "I'm glad that she can walk again. I'll be able to leave with some peace of mind."

Izuku's return flight home was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Kacchan was quiet for a moment before looking directly at Izuku.

"Already?" he questioned, "Eager to get back to that woman?"

There was a note in the sentence that felt off to Izuku, but he couldn't place it.

"Well it's already been almost a month away from work," he explained, "And I've been a burden on Kacchan and Auntie."

Izuku broke eye contact.

"Besides, I'm not actually going out with Melissa," he added, "it was just a misunderstanding that was easier to let her believe, so Mom wouldn't worry about me being alone."

Kacchan snorted and shot Izuku a look that said pathetic without him actually having to open his mouth.

"Hey!" Izuku defended, "I've been focused on my work. I haven't had the time to even think about that sort of thing."

This topic was a little weird for Izuku to be broaching with Kacchan. But he was the one who kept bring it up, and if he was fine with it, Izuku would learn to be.

"In 6 years?" Kacchan scoffed doubtfully, "That's hard to believe. A man has needs, doesn't he?"

Kacchan had him there. It had been a long, dry 6 years for Izuku. He'd had options, and opportunities—but never followed up on any. And the implications of Kacchan's words as he considered them made the jealous part of his heart ache.

"I guess," is all he could say. "So that means Kacchan's found someone? That's great."

Izuku hoped that sounded a lot more sincere than it felt.

"Don't be stupid," he sat back in the couch and folded his arms. "You don't get to be the Number 1 Hero worrying about shit like that."

Izuku frowned in confusion at Kacchan.

"But…you just said that a man has needs," he repeated to him.

"Don't lump me in with a bunch of losers who don't know how to keep it in their pants!" Kacchan yelled angrily.

"But you just lumped me in with them!" Izuku protested, a little agitated now.

"Well you're just Deku," Kacchan fumed, "who knows what kinds of habits you picked up over there."

Izuku was pretty sure he'd just been called a slut.

"That's ridiculous," he argued, "Kacchan is the only one I've ever even—"

He stopped cold in his words and his movements, freezing in place as though he'd been paralyzed.

What the hell had he just said?

A meteor. A vortex. The 7 rings of hell. The League of Villains. Literally anything. Izuku wished that literally anything would open a hole in the earth and suck him through it.

He wanted to vanish immediately, but the damage was already done.

Clear understanding dawned on Kacchan's face, followed by what Izuku was certain to be a smirk of triumph.

Food coma effectively squished by humiliation, Izuku sat up straight on the couch.

"W-well, Kacchan, it's… getting late."

"It's 7:30," he said flatly.

"Oh," he looked at the clock on the wall, "right. Well…the dishes—"

Izuku began to rise to his feet, but felt a firm grasp on his shoulder hold him down where he sat, and pull him so that his back was leaning against the couch again.

Kacchan leaned in, face now inches away, staring Izuku straight down.

"Stop trying to run away."

He gave Izuku zero time to do just that before leaning in and attacking his lips.

The kiss was fierce, impassioned, and didn't waste any time. Kacchan's tongue immediately found Izuku's, and did its best to leave no inch of his mouth unexplored.

Izuku struggled for both breath and thoughts. Kacchan pressed forward, forcing him to lie flat on his back across the couch.

The blond continued to kiss him, pinning Izuku down. Half of his weight was supported on his elbows, and the other half on the green-haired man.

The familiar pressure caused Izuku to let out a quiet, involuntary moan, especially when one of Kacchan's hands began to creep under his shirt.

This felt good. This felt scary good.

It was then that something like presence of mind returned to Izuku. He placed a hand on Kacchan's chest.

That was a mistake. Even through the shirt, Izuku could feel the years of added muscle and definition between his fingertips.

He suppressed a whimper.

"Kacchan, wait," he called out to Kacchan, who had moved on to his collar bone, "What are you doing?"

Kacchan didn't slow down in the slightest, continuing to explore body, all the way up to his pecs.

"I think that's fucking obvious," Kacchan breathed into his ear, sending Izuku up the walls. He felt his dick ache in his pants as it struggled against the restrictive cloth.

"No, I mean—" his voice caught in his throat when Kacchan grinded against his erection, the friction was electric. He could feel that Kacchan was also hard, and that only turned Izuku on even more.

But suddenly, the warmth on his neck was gone, and the hand that had been under his shirt vanished. Kacchan propped himself up to look Izuku in the eye once more.

"Do you want me to stop?"

The sight of his bright red eyes so close to his was something he thought he'd never see again. He'd fantasized about exactly this so many times over the last 6 years. The feel of his hands on his body, his mouth, his tongue—Izuku had spent so much time trying not to think about it, that he'd forgotten how much he needed it.

This is stupid. He broke your heart, remember?

This is stupid. He shattered it.

This is stupid.

"No…"

This is REAL stupid.

Keep going~~~.