Katsuki remembered fleetingly thinking that he'd rather see a post of Izuku and Shindo full on making out than have no update at all from Izuku. Yeah, that was bullshit. When he said it, he never thought he'd actually be confronted with a photo of the two of them like that. Katsuki didn't want to keep scrolling through Winstagram and seeing the celebratory comments on that post, but he couldn't make himself stop. His chest hurt every time some no-name extra exalted their union in all caps and key smashes, but he couldn't make himself look away. Every now and then, there was a Ground Zero stan in the comments crying about QuirkZero or Groundless—apparently, the fandom hadn't decided on which moniker worked best yet—and he felt a bit better, but the fact remained that Quake was the one horizontally kissing Izuku for the entire world to see, not Katsuki.
The news came as he was coming off a patrol shift, and he stomped through the agency, exuding his don't fuck with me energy with reckless abandon. It always worked to make people keep their distance, but there was always an exception to the rule.
"Bakubitch, quit sulking." Ashido caught him as he was leaving the agency, easily keeping up with his quick stride, despite the fact that he was a head taller than her.
"I'm not sulking," Katsuki said like the sulking baby he was.
"You are, and that's valid. Even you're entitled to lose your shit every now and then."
"My shit is together. Like always." Katsuki walked faster, doing his best to lose her on his way to the train station.
"Bakugo, you like him. Kiri told me."
Katsuki stopped. He felt like he'd been shot. The truth was always more cutting, especially when it came from the people you trust.
"So what?" What did it matter how Katsuki felt, in the grand scheme of things? That wouldn't stop Izuku's relationship in its tracks. That wouldn't stop the odd pinching sensation in Katsuki's chest.
"So, be patient. It took Kiri and I years to get where we are."
"You and Kiri, are not Izuku and me. Not even close."
The worst part about being confronted with Izuku's relationship was that he hardly had a definition for what he and Izuku were. Were they friends? Casual acquaintances that ran into each other and made the best of an awkward encounter? He had no idea. Izuku was starting to feel like everything to Katsuki, an all-consuming want, but he had no basis for what he was to Izuku. There were very few things in his life that he was uncertain about. Uncertainty was a bitch, and he was glad he didn't have much experience with it.
"So, be his friend. Don't throw away someone important to you because you didn't get your way, at first."
"I'm not throwing shit away," Katsuki said, and the fire of determination ignited in the center of his being. He had no intention of ever doing so, he couldn't fathom not seeing Izuku again, couldn't even see it as an option.
"Good. I just wanted to make sure you had your shit straight. You don't have to bear everything alone, you know?"
"Fuck off, Alien Queen. My shit's straight."
"There's nothing straight about you, idiot. And I know you only call me Alien Queen when I've done something right. You're fucking welcome, dickhead." She smiled and bumped his shoulder. Katsuki let the conversation die, mostly because he had no defense for anything she said.
He was about a block away from the train station when Ashido finally stopped walking with him and veered off toward what he knew was the path to Kirishima's apartment.
—
Izuku arrived on the Ketsubutsu campus Monday morning feeling a bit tired. It was leaving a safe, comforting cocoon and stepping out into the real world. In the real world, away from the safety and privacy of Shindo's bedroom, Izuku was starting to feel like he'd been too hasty. On the surface, there wasn't much of a difference in being Shindo's boyfriend. He might've bore it with more grace if that pictured hadn't been circulated and talked about with so much vigor.
"Midoriya," a familiar voice said, interrupting his thoughts.
"Ms. Joke," he said in greeting. They exchanged quick hugs—a much more warm greeting than he expected—and Izuku felt the weight of his stressors float away. It was odd to see his mentor as a colleague, and equal, but the second he graduated that's what they became. Ms. Joke took care of him in high school, she put him on a path to where he was today, and he was so grateful to her for it.
"How've you been, kid? How's life in the big city?"
"Don't make me sound like some rosy-cheeked ingenue, Joke. Everything's fine."
"I know. You always roll with the punches, Q. How's your other half?"
"My what?" Izuku was stopped short by her choice of wording. Had she seen the post too? That was a stupid question, even older pros still did the bare minimum to keep up with social media, but he wasn't ready for her to address it so casually.
"The other Q in Q-Sqaured? I gave you kids that name, after you guys pulled off that rescue during your internships. I haven't forgotten!"
"Oh, yeah. Right. He's great."
Joke smiled tightly, sensing the beginnings of his distress. The air around them was suddenly awkward.
"Anyway, you'll be talking to my class. 2-A, just like you used to be. A real smart batch of kids, but they're still kids—so expect a healthy amount of attitude and short attention spans."
"Gotcha. I'll work with it. I'm a teacher now too, after all." Izuku smiled at his mentor. She beamed at him, and put a gloved hand on his shoulder.
"How could I forget? Proud of you, Q. Go get 'em."
—
"Any questions before we get started?"
To Izuku's immense surprise, every hand in the classroom shot up. He picked a student at random, a girl in the back of the room with pink, spiked hair.
"Is it true you're dating Quake? He's the most famous Ketsubutsu alum in years."
Izuku blinked, trying his best not to betray his frustration at the question. He doesn't answer—he doesn't even pretend to think about an answer.
"Are there any questions that aren't about Quake?" He clarified, trying to unfist his hands. All but two hands go down, and then he further clarified, "Or about my personal life?"
All the hands went down, and Izuku sighed. It'd hadn't even been two full days since HeroBuzz posted that photo of him and Shindo, and he was already sick of answering—or better, deflecting—questions. He couldn't for the life of him understand their fascination with Quakeless. It wasn't anything new. People had been pairing them together like that since they graduated, and weren't there more famous hero couples to ogle? He could name three off the top of his head that all ranked higher than the two of them.
Shindo seemed entirely unbothered by their newfound lack of privacy. They went to the grocery store Sunday night and Shindo held his hand on the walk home. It wasn't unpleasant—it was really sweet, actually—but there were soon upwards of twenty new pictures of their outing online, and an outpouring of opinions on every aspect of their relationship, including who was the top. It boggled Izuku's mind that so much of his life was under a microscope. It undermined his authority in a classroom, and it undermined the level of control he had over his life.
"Okay, so we're going to talk about using your support weapons to the fullest."
—
By the time he got back to work at UA on Tuesday, he was raging against the bars of his new life. The teachers knew better than to question him about Quake, but he'd been hounded by reporters at the gates that morning, and every morning after that the entire week. Every morning, he had to resist the urge to tear his hair out and scream how am I that important to you?
But Izuku knew better. He knew that he wasn't the pertinent half of the relationship, but Quake was too important to hound with questions because he outranked him. Why not go for the lower hanging fruit?
With his students on their internships, he'd busied himself with adding additional supervision to the hero course's lessons. His utter uselessness did little to distract him from the fucked-upped-ness of his personal life. Aizawa's kids were skilled—and lucky to wield such powerful Quirks. Unfortunately, they seemed to be high on their Quirks, and relying solely on brute force to get them by. He was sure it wasn't for lack of trying on Aizawa's part to try to get them to think outside the box. Still, he was excited for his students to come back so they could teach them a thing or two about strategy.
"You good?" Shinso said, popping up out of nowhere, as he often did. Izuku barely kept himself from jumping in surprise.
"Fantastic, thanks," Izuku said dryly.
"Really? 'Cause you look pissed off."
"I look like Aizawa gave me the most awkward talking-to of my life. Something about me being loose, if I recall."
"I can't imagine Aizawa saying anything like that."
"I believe his exact words were, it's not hard to keep it in your pants, kid. Personal lives are meant to be personal."
Shinso whistled, an abysmal, unimpressed sound. Izuku bristled, feeling like the joke he was. Izuku had no kind of response for that.
"Listen, there's something about Aizawa you could never know if you weren't his student: he's a tough-love son of a bitch, but he doesn't waste his time on people he doesn't care about."
"All you've managed to communicate to me is that I have a sub-par, non-UA education and that Aizawa doesn't care about me the way he does about you."
"That's your problem, dude. You're so busy undercutting yourself, you refuse to accept help."
"So this is you trying to help me?" Izuku asked, sighing haughtily.
"I'm trying to be a friend—a colleague, or whatever you want to call it."
"I didn't know we were friends."
"Yeah, well, I'm like Aizawa in that regard. Sorry you didn't figure it out sooner," Shinso said, looking anywhere but at Izuku. Before it got any more awkward, a hero student managed to snap an ankle.
"I'll take him to Recovery Girl," Izuku said decisively, extricating himself.
Izuku helped the student limp to the nurses office. His costume was bulky and superfluous, so it wasn't exactly easy. When they finally lumbered to the nurse's office, he was surprised to see a familiar face.
"What are you doing here?" Izuku asked, like it wasn't obvious.
"The old lady always heals me up when I need it," Kacchan said, his tender, half-healed broken arm in a sling. He'd never expected to see Kacchan that day, but he wasn't put off by his presence. It was almost pleasant to see him so unexpectedly.
"And here I was thinking you just never got hurt," he said, depositing his ward in a cot for Recovery Girl to treat him.
"Typically, I don't. I'm just that good." Kacchan gave him a devilish grin. He stood to leave the infirmary, and Izuku fell into step beside him easily. They walked through the halls, and Izuku had that same feeling he had earlier when Shinso mentioned that he hadn't gone to UA—he was an outsider next to someone like Kacchan.
"You off-duty for the rest of the day?" Izuku asked, coming up with somewhat of an idea.
"I shouldn't be. The old bat says I need to rest though."
"Want to assist the youth of Japan instead?"
"What did you have in mind?" Kacchan asked wryly. He got the sense that he wasn't wary at all though, and that spurred him on.
"I teach a third year Quirk analysis elective in about twenty minutes. All the girls in my class are mad at me right now, so it might be useful to distract them with some eye candy."
"Eye candy, huh? You flirting with me?" Kacchan smirked again, even more devilish than before, and for the first time in a long time, Izuku felt a thrill that started in his groin and shot up his spine. He felt the need to shake his head to rid himself of his odd—yet pleasurable—thoughts.
"If I was, you wouldn't have to ask for clarification." He gave his own devilish smile, and Kacchan seemed to stop short. They were close to the classroom by then, and just before he moved to open the door, Kacchan found his voice.
"So how's—"
"If you ask me about Quake, I will not hesitate to break your arm again."
"That good, huh?" Kacchan huffed a laugh.
—
Katsuki was surprised to find that the class was almost entirely girls, aside from one kid that looked annoyed with all the idle adolescent chatter going on around him as he tried to write in his notebook, one kid that looked like he joined the class just to chase skirts, and one very flamboyantly, gay boy who gave Izuku a birthday present before scurrying off to his seat. Izuku did not touch the gift, but he thanked him for being so thoughtful. It was made abundantly clear to Katsuk that almost every student in his class was hot for teacher, and very likely only in the class to ogle and harass Izuku.
"Alright, class. This is Ground Zero. You have ten minutes to come up with five questions about his Quirk that you all can agree on, and I want as comprehensive an analysis as you can write up with the rest of the class time. Nishinoya, will you be timekeeper?" Izuku said. The serious boy nodded before turning back to his notebook.
"Perfect. Any questions?" Izuku asked, clasping his hands together.
A hand flew up, and before Izuku could even call on her, she blurted out, in an almost possessive, accusing tone, "How do you know Midoriya-sensei?"
"We grew up together," Katsuki said.
"Ah! Zip it, Number 5. Don't answer personal questions. They're like vultures," Izuku snapped, at the same time as another student asked, "Is it true you're in love with Midoriya-sensei and you lost the duel for his heart to Quake?"
"Where the hell did you read that?" Katsuki spluttered.
"The Eggplant!"
"Togane, that's irrelevant and inappropriate."
"First of all, kid, I could totally take Quake in a fight—"
"Get to work!" Izuku huffed, cutting him off.
"Didn't you get your ass kicked by Midoriya-sensei last year?"
"Language," Izuku said, sounding weary. The students reluctantly turned in their seats to start brainstorming their questions—or so he thought, until he heard someone whisper. "He did! My friend's little sister was in that class—remember Murasaki? She said it was really hot."
"What the hell is The Eggplant?" Katsuki whispered, seating himself on the edge of Izuku's desk.
"A website dedicated to fabricating embarrassing and salacious relationship drama among heroes," Izuku grumbled.
"Why is it called The Eggplant?"
"They got their start releasing celebrity dick pics. With the eggplant emoji over the explicit bits."
"Christ. Are your students always like this?"
"Only when my life is talked about online. Well, actually, that's not true. They're always like this, but it's worse now."
"Because you and Quake are out?"
"Do not say the Q-word in this classroom. It won't end well." Izuku sighed, and leaned back into his chair. For someone who'd apparently found love, he didn't seem blissfully happy. He seemed agitated and bone-tired of being asked about it. As selfish as it was, all Katsuki could think was that maybe he still had a chance. Maybe he just needed to ride this out, like a bumpy section of road, or a turbulent flight.
"I'm sorry," Katsuki said, unbidden. Izuku looked up at him, and his eyes seemed to glow with something.
"That's the second time you've apologized to me now, Ground Zero. What gives?"
Katsuki shrugged. It was hardly the time or place to make any kind of declaration to Izuku, and it didn't seem like saying something like that would do anything to alleviate Izuku's stress. He chose his words carefully, remembering their one good conversation in the bar.
"You said once that you felt like you were drowning, and you needed a life vest. I'll be a whole goddamn raft, if you want. If you need to talk, I can listen—and we can even get drunk, within reason." He didn't mean for his words to carry so much weight. He felt himself leaning closer to Izuku, pulled into his orbit again, looming over him almost protectively. Izuku looked at him with that same guarded look he'd given him at his parents' house so many years ago—like if he didn't armor himself he'd be in danger of breaking. Izuku opened his mouth, and then closed it, chewing on his lip. When he opened it again to speak, someone else's voice permeated the air.
"Times up. We have to question Ground Zero now."
—
"You saw Ground Zero again?" Shindo said from the couch, rather abruptly, as Izuku was making tea. It was a beautiful morning, and Izuku really didn't want to spend it fighting.
"Yeah," Izuku said, giving no extra details.
"Why?"
"He helped out with my third year class."
Shindo was silent for a long time, and Izuku assumed that was the end of it. It wasn't worth getting into a fight over. Izuku walked the mugs over to the couch slowly, so as not to spill.
"This isn't working," Shindo said, decisively and completely out of nowhere. Izuku was taken aback, so much so that he took a literal step back, as if to reorient himself. Some tea sloshed out of the mug in his hand, mildly stinging his skin.
"How do you figure?"
Shindo gave him a withering look, and that set Izuku off. He knew it wasn't working. He went against everything he believed in because Shindo said he couldn't go on with things they way they were, only for it to go up in flames faster than ever. When Shindo said nothing, Izuku dug his heels in, ready for battle. He put the mugs on the coffee table with much more force than necessary.
"How is this any different than what we've been doing for two years?"
"How is it the same?" Shindo asked, borrowing a play from Izuku's book of deft deflections. The rage in Izuku came to a head. He was so frustrated, caged as he was by his attachment to Shindo.
"Oh, right. It's totally different. Now, all of Japan gets to weigh in on our lives more than usual. Now, I don't get to be myself, I get to be your goddamn boyfriend. That's it. That's all I am now, that's all I get to talk about for the rest of my life. Now, you get to feel secure because you have a stupid label to put on us."
"What's so wrong with labels? What's so wrong with being open about our relationship?"
"Because I'm more than that! And nobody cares—not even you. No one looks at me and sees anything other than some tabloid puff piece to probe and exploit, and all you see is someone to lock down—as if I've ever done anything to make you this jealous—as if I've ever been with anyone else."
"Jealous? Are you kidding me?"
"Yes! You care about Kacchan more than I do," Izuku said, and he knew right then that he fucked up.
"Kacchan, huh?"
"It's a hard habit to break. Don't read into it." Izuku couldn't quite meet Shindo's gaze, and he knew that made him look all the more guilty. But what does he have to be guilty about? Mending a relationship that'd grieved him for ten years? Wasn't that progress? Shouldn't that be something to applaud, if Shindo really cared about Izuku's "recovery" (truly, an idiotic term, in his opinion) as much as he claimed he did?
"So, he calls you Deku again, and you're just fine with it?" Shindo said Deku the way another person might say gangrenous wound or curdled dairy.
"He calls me Izuku, actually," he said, knowing full well that he was digging himself deeper. At that point, Izuku hardly cared. He'd been holding everything in for so long, he was more than happy to explode. Izuku was always the sensitive one, but that was only because he treated Shindo's feelings with kid gloves. The metaphorical gloves were off now.
"We should've never done this."
"I did this for you! I didn't want this!"
"Then why do it? You pushed me for this. I tried to give you an out," Shindo said, and all the anger seemed to go out of him—and that was no way to fight. He sounded so sad, resigned. It took all the fight out of Izuku too because he really had no answer for that. No answer that he could put into words and still walk away with his dignity, at least.
—
Katsuki woke up feeling oddly lucky, like he was meant for greatness (more so than usual, anyway). And when he saw that Izuku had texted him while he was sleeping, he took it as a sign. The text itself was innocuous and friendly, a thank you for helping out with his class the other day. So Katsuki decided to spend his lucky day doing his damndest to lock down some one-on-one time with the green haired idiot he couldn't stop thinking about.
Their apartments weren't far from each other's, and it was a really mild day for July, so he decided to walk. He felt empty handed and wondered if he should bring something with him as a peace offering to add to the growing pile of peace offerings he'd been laying at Izuku's feet for the last year or so. He wandered into a flower shop and stared at some stargazer lilies before he decided that was way too forward and left without buying anything. He decided on candy. Izuku liked sour gummies when they were kids, so he grabbed four different kinds of sours before grabbing a pack of hot cinnamon candies for himself. Maybe they could watch a movie together. Katsuki smiled to himself as he paid for the candy and made his way to Izuku's apartment.
—
Just as Katsuki was about to knock on the door, it opened.
"Uh," Katsuki said, his hand still awkwardly fisted in the air where the door used to be.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
To say that Katsuki was surprised to come face to face with Shindo Yo instead of Izuku was an understatement. He was suddenly grateful that he was too embarrassed to buy those flowers.
"Shindo. Long time, no see." Katsuki was trying really hard not to be an asshole to Izuku's kind-of-pretty-much boyfriend despite the fact that Shindo looked murderous and the jealous monster inside Katsuki was preparing for war in the pit of his stomach.
"Yo, wait," Izuku said, scurrying from around a corner. When he saw Katsuki he faltered, blinking a few times before asking, "What are you doing here?"
"It's my day off. I… didn't know you were busy," Katsuki said because he really didn't feel like explaining that he was throwing his hat in the ring in the fight for Izuku's affection. He'd fight Shindo for nothing, to be honest, but he had a feeling that wouldn't go over well.
"Seriously?" Shindo asked, looking at Izuku like he needed an explanation for Katsuki's offending presence at his door. Katsuki gritted his teeth.
"Now's not really a good time." Izuku looked apologetic as he grabbed Shindo's wrist, presumably to keep him from leaving. Before Katsuki could beg off, Shindo pulled his arm out of Izuku's grasp and pushed past Katsuki.
"Now's a great time. I'm leaving."
"You barely just got here," Izuku said, raising his voice to call after Shindo's retreating form.
"Doesn't matter," he called back, not bothering to turn or stop. Katsuki didn't miss the miserable hunch in Shindo's shoulders as he watched him walk away. Katsuki might've felt smug if Izuku didn't look vaguely hurt by Shindo's exit.
"So that happened." Izuku sighed.
"Yeah. Sorry." Katsuki didn't know if he was apologizing for interrupting what was clearly a fight, or if he was apologizing for the fact that Izuku was obviously upset.
"It's okay. Come on in." Izuku stepped out of the doorway to make room for him to pass.
"What crawled up his ass?"
"He doesn't like you very much." Izuku sighed. Katsuki thought he was always sighing, trying to rid himself of some heavy emotions. He wanted to be funny, to lighten the mood. He wanted to make Izuku feel better—and wasn't that an out of character thought?
"The feeling's mutual; however, I'm trying this new thing called civility."
"How's that working out for you?" He gave a small, pitifully half-hearted smile.
"It fucking sucks."
Deku only laughed, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Your apartment's nice. I didn't get to tell you that last time," Katsuki said, desperate to change the subject.
Izuku laughed and nodded.
"Yeah, it's hard to work that into a screaming match. Your mom helped me decorate."
Katsuki raised his eyebrows at that. He didn't know that. He couldn't really imagine his mom in Izuku's space, putting up curtains and picking out furniture. Katsuki wished he could've seen it.
"So, what brings you here?" Izuku asked, trying really hard to lighten the sour mood Shindo left.
"I have a fuckload of sour gummies. I thought we could watch a movie or something, but I understand if you're not in the mood for that."
"Well, that depends…."
"On?"
"Did you buy watermelon Sour Patch?"
Katsuki smirked. "You know it."
That's how they ended up on Izuku's couch watching some old pre-Quirk era superhero movie they'd both seen a thousand times. They were both silent, save for the occasional comment on the impracticality of their hero gear and uniforms, or the smacking sound of chewing gummies. It was… nostalgic.
Katsuki remembered many summer afternoons in the Midoriya household watching All Might videos and eating too much sugar before Katsuki's Quirk came in and he turned into a supreme douchebag.
Eventually, Izuku dozed off. And that was familiarly nostalgic too, because Izuku could never stay awake through an entire movie when he was a kid either. His head fell on Katsuki's shoulder, his bush of curly hair tickling Katsuki's neck.
Katsuki knew that day was a lucky day. Still, he thought it best not to push his luck. So when the movie ended, Katsuki gently got off the couch, careful not to jostle Izuku too much. He didn't wake, and Katsuki quietly saw himself out.
He almost got away without another awkward confrontation. Almost. As he was leaving Izuku's apartment complex, Shindo seemed to magically appear. He was going to keep walking. He had nothing to say to him, and knew next to nothing about his and Izuku's complicated relationship, so what was the point in speaking to him?
Shindo grabbed his arm as they passed each other.
"I don't know what you think you're doing, but you need to leave Izuku alone."
Katsuki snarled and wrenched his arm from Shindo's grip.
"I'm not doing anything. And even if I was, it's none of your fuckin business."
"He's my boyfriend. It is my business. I know all about you. I know what you did to him. I've seen the scars your bullying left."
I left scars? Was I really so awful? Katsuki faltered. He couldn't bring himself to say anything. That didn't stop Shindo.
"When I first met Izuku, he was afraid of his own shadow. He hardly spoke to anyone because he was so embarrassed of his stutter. You did that to him. You're the reason he can't stand to be around fire, or go five seconds without beating himself up for being human. He's finally in a good place, and you just want to shit all over it because you can't handle not being the center of attention."
Katsuki's jaw clenched further—as if that was even possible. He didn't know anything about Izuku's time at Ketsubutsu, or how Katsuki's bullying changed him. He was horrified by the words coming out of Shindo's mouth, and he was pissed that he had no defense at all. But there was one thing he was certain of. One thing, he knew, Shindo got wrong.
"He's not in a good place. I don't have to be dating him to see that. Why can't you?"
Shindo's hands were fisted at his sides, clenching and unclenching like it was taking all his strength not to just punch Katsuki in the mouth. Well, same.
"Leave him alone," Shindo said, his mouth an angry pucker.
"Why? Feeling threatened?" Katsuki smirked. He reveled in the look on Shindo's face, stricken and surprised. Fuck being civil. Fuck anything other than being an asshole to Shindo. He didn't have to explain himself to anyone. That was between him and Izuku—no one else. There's a reason Izuku never outed him as the bully of his childhood, and he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth by questioning that decision.
"Fuck you, Bakugo." Shindo started to turn back, no doubt heading for Izuku's apartment. Katsuki was glad to have the confrontation over. He didn't know if he could take anymore revelations. He didn't want to know how much he'd fucked Izuku up.
And then, Shindo wheeled back around and sucker punched Katsuki in the jaw.