Izuku released a breath as the door clicked shut behind him. His cheeks were hot—he hoped Kacchan didn't notice. He felt overwhelmed. He never expected any of that. Especially after he said all that mopey, personal stuff at the bar. He found his hand was pressed to his cheek, right where Kacchan kissed him. As soon as he noticed he removed his hand and shook it out, like there was something sticky stuck to his fingertips.
The shake moved through the rest of his body as he shivered, trying to push away his intrusive thoughts. He let out an odd squeal, just to release his nerves.
"What the fuck?" He whispered. And then shook his hand out again when he found it creeping up to his cheek once more.
OCTOBERIzuku sat in a plush purple armchair across from a woman dressed in beige. If he had to describe her in one word, it would be beige. Everything about her seemed to blend into the walls behind her.
"My name is Dr. Kagari."
Izuku nodded, nervous. He couldn't stop his foot from tapping, his hands from fisting and unfisting.
"Before we get started, I should tell you that I have a Quirk relevant to my profession. It's called Tension."
Izuku perked up, interested.
"What's it do?"
"I can see mental tension. It manifests like tangled clumps. Usually, they're in the brain, but they could easily manifest over a number of different vital organs."
"Where's my tension?" He asked, not really wanting to know the answer, but far too fascinated with her Quirk to think about consequences.
"Your heart, mostly. There are tendrils that run up and curl around parts of your brain, though."
Izuku nodded. "Do you feel what I'm feeling?"
She considered this for a minute, choosing her words carefully. "A bit. It's more like a ghost of a feeling than an actual feeling. It takes a bit of intuition to work it out."
"That's amazing," Izuku said, slightly more at ease. He could talk about Quirks all day.
"Is there anything you'd like to tell me about yourself?"
"I'll be honest, I don't know how much progress we'll make. I feel like my last therapist was a dud, and he only made me feel worse. So, I apologize for what you're walking into in advance." He sighed. He didn't want to be rude, but he didn't want to be subjected to 55 minutes of bullshit again either. Dr. Kagari placed her hands in her lap and gave him a neutral smile.
"Midoriya, I don't know how it was with your previous therapist, but I'm not here to judge you. My job is to help you figure out why you do the things you do, and be at peace with yourself and your decisions. That's what I consider progress."
"So, if I say I don't want to be in a relationship, what would you say? Would you consider convincing me otherwise as progress?"
"I'd ask why you feel that way, but I'd also remind you that many people live perfectly normal and fulfilling lives without a romantic partner."
"What if I'm not living a perfectly normal and fulfilling life?"
"We'll take it one step at a time, Midoriya. I'd like to ask you some questions now, though."
"People have told me I'm good at deflecting," he said, and he'd only just realized that that was a deflection as well.
"The more honest you are, the better you'll feel, but I won't push you. Is there a person in your life you feel that you can be completely honest with?"
Izuku shook his head, and the motion seemed a little too frantic for his liking. He willed himself to relax.
"Not even yourself?"
You like to lie to yourself. Anyone ever tell you that?
"I think what I think is an honest assessment of myself is not what other people find to be honest. Does that make sense?"
"Yes. Would you like to give me your honest assessment?" Her placid smile was somehow simultaneously blank and encouraging. He wasn't sure how she did it.
"Are you going to try to talk me out of my honest assessment?"
"I'd rather talk you through it. We can unpack it together."
"Well, I'm Quirkless."
"Very likely the most famous Quirkless individual in the last 30 years."
Izuku grimaced.
"I'm more than that, though. I'm a person, and I'm smart and driven and I like to think I'm mostly kind. Or at least I used to be, I'm not so sure anymore."
"Do you feel that you have to work harder than others to prove yourself to people?"
"Yes. Every day."
She nodded. "And how does that make you feel?"
"Angry. Sad." He heaved a shuddering sigh. "Useless."
"How do you cope with those emotions?"
"I lean on the people who love me." And I drink like a prohibition era flapper.
"Are you afraid that if you let people know how you feel, that they won't love you anymore?" She had a binder with a legal pad inside, but she was very discreet about her notes.
"Not really. I see it more as an inevitability now, so I may as well lean on them while I can."
"You said now. What led you to that conclusion?"
"I pushed someone too far, someone who loved me a lot."
"Did you love that person?"
That was the million dollar question. Izuku didn't know how to answer it.
—
"Welcome to the thirteenth annual Heroes for Heart Health Charity 5K! We're just about ready to start the race, so place your bets now!"
Katsuki stretched quietly, near the starting line of the race. The 5K was one of the only charity events he ever enjoyed participating in—mostly because he won it every year. People placed "bets," either in person on the day of the event or online, and the winning hero matched the betting money to donate double the funds to research for heart disease. Not only was it a good chance to prove his dominance, it was a chance for a good photo op before the hero rankings updated for the year. It was shameless, but it was also fun.
"Hi."
Katsuki looked up from his stretch at Izuku, looking unfairly handsome in a red Quirkless tuxedo hoodie, and black thermal leggings. He'd seen very few men in his life pull off leggings, but Izuku managed it. He realized he was staring at Izuku's legs in complete silence for too long when Izuku cleared his throat. His cheeks were pink from the cold and his freckles stood out even more.
"Hey, I didn't know you were gonna be here," Katsuki said, clearing his throat.
"My students convinced me to do it. They also convinced me to give them extra credit if they donated to the charity." Izuku pointed over Katsuki's shoulder at the crowd of teenagers on the sidewalk. They cheered when he waved at them, and three students scrambled to hold up homemade signs. In succession, they read Midoriya-sensei kicks ass.
"Language!" Izuku said, almost reflexively. Katsuki smiled at him. He was happy they'd glossed over their impromptu kiss entirely and went straight to being comfortable around each other again. Katsuki had spent a lot of time thinking about that kiss. He went back and forth on whether it was a good idea or not. He was glad it hadn't chased Izuku off entirely.
"Is Quake here?" Katsuki asked reluctantly. He hadn't shown up on Izuku's social media in a while, and Katsuki couldn't help but probe him for information about it. Izuku blew out a big sign as he leaned down to stretch his hamstrings. Katsuki stared at his legs again.
"We broke up, but I really don't want to make a big deal about it. The last thing I need is more negative media attention."
Katsuki had to resist the urge to shake Izuku's shoulders and ask him when it happened and why he wasn't notified immediately. Instead, he asked if he was okay.
"Jury's still out on that one. I think I'm getting there, though."
"Well, if you need to talk…" Katsuki started. The buzzer went off to let the heroes know it was time to line up, and Katsuki couldn't help but think he'd been saved by the buzzer.
"Alright, folks, the bets are in! Looks like the crowd favorite, once again, is Ground Zero! Can he keep up his five year winnings streak?"
The crowd rumbled and cheered and booed, just like every other year. Katsuki smirked and waved, doing his best to play to the fans.
"Don't get too comfortable, Kacchan. You've never had to race against me."
Katsuki's smirked broadens as he turns it on Izuku. He was never one to back away from a challenge.
"Game on, nerd." As soon as he said it, the pistol fired and they were off like a shot. They kept pace with each other easily, and there was only comfortable silence between them. They broke away from the rest of the heroes in the race by the end of the second kilometer, and by the third they were taunting each other. Every now and then, Katsuki would look over at Izuku. He looked good with a thin sheen of sweat on him, his curls bouncing around his head. After he'd barely saved himself from tripping over his own feet, he tried really hard not to look at him.
At the last leg of the race, they were in a full sprint, and the crowd was going wild. He could see the end of the line, a cheesy ribbon across the path that they'd have to run through. Izuku's students were screaming at him, shaking their signs, and screaming profanities. Izuku sped up, pulling just ahead of Katsuki.
"No fucking way," Katsuki growled, and pushed to catch up with him. They were neck and neck as they crossed the finish line.
"A photo finish, folks! Who's our lucky winner?"
Katsuki couldn't be bothered to listen to the announcer's inane comments. They wouldn't announce the winner until every hero finished anyway. Izuku slowed to a stop, and bent at the waist, hands on his knees. Katsuki definitely didn't look at his butt.
"You're fucking fast," Katsuki said, lacing his fingers behind his head.
"So are you," Izuku said, grinning up at him. "But I totally beat you."
"Fuck off. No way."
"You'll see. I've toppled your winning streak."
Izuku's entire face was flushed from the exercise. His eyes were so bright and inviting Katsuki wanted to build a fucking summer home in them and take up residence immediately.
"Midoriya-sensei!" A gaggle of teen girls rushed him, their bulking signs waving in the wind.
"You were awesome! You're so fast," a bird-like girl Katsuki vaguely recognized said.
"Thanks, Haneyama. Did you make your donations?"
"Yes! The volunteer gave us a receipt too. Extra credit, here we come!"
Izuku smiled politely at his fangirls, saying something about how they wouldn't need extra credit if they paid more attention in class.
"Are you gonna cry about your loss?" A girl with shrewd, slitted eyes asked. The snakes in her hair hissed at him. Katsuki grimaced.
"We still don't know if I lost," Katsuki said, smug.
"You did. Gazo-chan has a photo Quirk." She pointed at one of Izuku's students. The girl in question waved back, and a lens popped out of her palm.
"Fine," he grumbled.
"It's okay, Ground Zero, I'm still rooting for you!" The bird girl, Haneyama, winked at him and not so subtly pointed between him and Izuku.
"Idiot! Quakeless is where it's at." The girl with snakes for hair bonked her feathered friend on the head, and they immediately started bickering about the pros and cons of both Quakeless and QuirkZero.
"Ladies, you're scaring Ground Zero. Thanks for coming out, but I'm beat. And apparently I have a medal to accept. Enjoy the rest of your weekend," Izuku said, effectively dismissing them. They waved goodbye and scurried off, still yelling about their handsome teacher.
"So, see you around?" Izuku said, bumping Katsuki's shoulder.
"Hope so."
Izuku's answering smile was radiant. The whole way home, all he could think about was Izuku's newly-single status. Maybe he had a chance now.
—-
Izuku was surprised by how much he missed Shindo. It almost felt like losing a limb. He felt like a bird, finally free from his cage after so long, ready to explore the vast openness before him, only to find he had a bum wing—and the world was too big for someone so broken to explore on his own. Still, he found himself feeling better every day. He owed a large part of that to his new therapist, but he couldn't discount Kacchan.
He found himself thinking about Kacchan in a better light every day—he found himself surprised by how much he thought of Kacchan in general.
Izuku scrolled through Winstagram, mindlessly liking posts. Somehow, through absolutely no fault of his own, he ended up on the QuirkZero tag page. There was a fair number of posts from the 5K. Them running together, mostly likely in the process of taunting each other. Some of them at the finish line trying to catch their breath. Someone got a pretty good picture of them talking to each other after they crossed the finish line. Something about the way they were smiling at each other made Izuku feel off. Like he got caught doing something inappropriate.
Kacchan was a schoolboy with a crush, as hard as that was to believe. It was flattering, but Izuku didn't really do crushes, and he'd rather saw off his own arms than be in another relationship again. He never wanted to feel that out of control or hopelessly trapped again. He never wanted to lose another person the way he'd inevitably lost Shindo. Kacchan was different, though. Somehow, Izuku knew he was different. He wanted to skip straight to the action without risking attachment, and he had a feeling Kacchan wouldn't mind. He seemed to understand Izuku without judging him. Shindo never understood. He always looked at him like he was broken—like he was something to fix. He was tired of thinking about Shindo. He was tired of thinking, period. On a whim, he called Kacchan.
"Hey, let's do something tonight. Come over."
—-
Katsuki didn't know what to expect when he arrived at Izuku's door, but it wasn't an invite inside. He figured they'd go for a walk, maybe end up back at the bar they always seemed to find themselves at. Instead, he fixed him with a searching look, and opened the door wider, wordlessly allowing Katsuki in.
Izuku closed the door behind him and the dark of the apartment enveloped them. Izuku tugged on Katsuki's sleeve, which wasn't nearly as romantic as holding his hand, but Katsuki wouldn't dream of complaining. He needed the guiding hand in the dark.
Katsuki'd only been inside Izuku's apartment twice, and he'd never been down the hall and into what he assumed was his bedroom. He wanted to see everything, take it in, and memorize it for lonely nights when Izuku wouldn't answer his texts. Turning on a light didn't seem to fit into Izuku's plans though.
The bedroom door shut behind him with a resolute click and Katsuki's entire being thrummed in time with his hammering heart.
The lack of stimuli was stifling. He wanted to see whatever could possibly be coming because if he didn't see it, there was no way he would believe it. He had to stop himself from reaching out when Izuku let go of his sleeve, effectively abandoning Katsuki out in deep space. He felt as if he was trying to avoid startling a wild animal. Like Izuku would disappear if he moved too fast.
And then, without any fanfare, Katsuki felt warm lips push squarely against his haphazard mouth. He was nowhere near ready for it, but eventually he caught on, deepening the kiss. His hands found Izuku's hips, his body somehow on autopilot even though he knew fuck all about dating and kissing and where to put his hands. Despite his inner turmoil, the kiss was soft and warm and slow.
Kissing Izuku was like watching the birth of a universe, a big bang supernova. He could only hope Izuku felt a fraction of what Katsuki did.
"You know what this is, right?" Izuku murmured, and they were so close they were sharing breaths. Katsuki nodded, his lips caressing Izuku's cheek.
"You need to get out of your head."
"And that's okay with you?"
"Yes," he said, and he was surprised how rough and desperate his voice was.
When Izuku ran his hands up Katsuki's chest and wound around his neck to pull him closer and card his scarred fingers through his hair, Katsuki shivered. There was nothing better than this.
He was immediately proven wrong when Izuku started working the buttons of his shirt with deft, determined hands. Katsuki's brain short circuited around the time his third button came loose.
"Izuku—" Katsuki panted. His voice was little more than a frantic breath.
"Shh. It's okay, Kacchan." Izuku pressed a soft kiss to Katsuki's throat, his fourth button undone. "I've got you."
"I— Can we… light?" Katsuki had apparently been so frazzled by a few kisses that he'd devolved into sputtering half-sentences. He wanted to slap himself for being so embarrassing, but that would mean removing his hands from the skin of Izuku's back and that was unthinkable.
"No." Izuku's voice was a delicate whisper, but he made it clear he was in control. For once in his life Katsuki was more than happy to hand over the reins.
"Why?" Katsuki's asked, and then—where the hell did this boldness come from?—he added, "Wanna see you."
"No lights, Kacchan. Not tonight."
Katsuki resisted the urge to pout, and if he could spare enough blood and oxygen for his brain to function normally, he might be over analyzing if whether or not not tonight implied there might be more nights like this. Izuku finished his slow work with Katsuki's buttons and pulled his own shirt over his head without ceremony, tossing it away. Izuku's skin was comfortably cool against his—Katsuki always ran a little hotter than most people. It made him hungry in way he'd never known—hungry with the knowledge of exactly what he needed to be sated. Izuku was here, so tangible and touchable, and that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.
They spent the night licking, kissing, biting, touching. Katsuki didn't know if Izuku was always so bossy and articulate, but he appreciated the instruction. He hoped it wasn't because Izuku could feel his fumbling inexperience. All he knew for sure was that if Izuku said jump, Katsuki would ask how high with little hesitation.
They didn't have sex, but they did enough to bring a dark blush high on Katsuki's cheeks when he woke in the morning, no longer in darkness, in Izuku's bed.
The morning light trickled through the blinds, casting lines of shadow over his muscled back and fuzzy bed head.
Katsuki wanted to trace constellations in the freckles of his back, kiss the bite marks and hickeys he'd sucked into existence on his neck, but he was painfully aware of how naked they both were. Even though Izuku had initiated everything, had been an active participant, Katsuki still felt like an intruder. He didn't know how much was too much in the light of day where it was harder to make foolish decisions and even more difficult to run away from the consequences.
Katsuki decided to enjoy this fragile peace while it lasted. Maybe Izuku would guide him again. Katsuki would do anything.
When Izuku rolled over and caught Katsuki staring, he gave a small, nervous smile. It was then that Katsuki noticed the burn scars on his chest and shoulders. And that the scar on his face ran all the way down to his hip bones. Katsuki wanted to trail kisses all the way down the long line of his scar and just keep going.
"I didn't want you to see my scars. Guess I can't really hide them in the light."
"Did I do that?" He asked, knowing the answer already. The burn scars were shaped vaguely like handprints.
"Don't think about them too hard. It was a long time ago," Izuku said, a surprising calm radiating off his exposed skin. "And look at us now. Who'd have thought?"
"You seem… relaxed." Katsuki couldn't pretend like he wasn't waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Izuku asked, stretching off the dregs of sleep and rolling into Katsuki's personal space. Izuku pressed a kiss to his collarbone before going limp and starfishing, half on top of Katsuki. Katsuki was too preoccupied with trying not to pop a boner to say anything. Still, his body seemed to be acting of its own volition because he found his arms wrapping around Izuku's bare waist to preserve the contact.
"You seem nervous," Izuku observed. His voice was barely more than a hum he managed between kisses on his neck. Katsuki's face was on fire and he definitely had an erection. And probably morning breath. The thought kicked him into a full-fledged fight or flight panic. He wanted to punch Izuku in the face and run away screaming, but he also wanted Izuku to kiss him again.
"I feel… naked," he said, deciding that word most encompassed everything well. Vulnerable was too close to admitting a weakness.
"That's because you're naked, Kacchan." Izuku let out a breathy giggle. He could feel his breath on his neck making his hair stand on end. He was trying hard not to lash out under Izuku's teasing, but he was too keyed up not to snap.
"No shit, asshole." He hoped his fond smile and red face would cull some of the venom in his words.
"Besides, we've seen each other naked before." He laughed.
Katsuki didn't have the gumption to tell Izuku that there was a huge difference between stripping down to their skivvies to splash around in the creek behind his house when they were five and sucking each other off in his dark apartment.
"I don't really know what's going on," he admitted, sighing heavily, but trying hard not to breathe in Izuku's direction. He felt like he needed the parameters of what took place last night, and the conditions that needed to be met to get there again. And he desperately needed a toothbrush. And to move his raging boner so that Izuku wouldn't feel it pressing against his thigh.
"But I'm willing to defer to you on stuff like this." Katsuki couldn't shake the feeling that he was being too vulnerable with Izuku but the thought of trying to be cool in the face of his big gay crisis seemed more exhausting than just letting Izuku see him. He wanted Izuku to see him. He didn't want to fight it.
Izuku laughed, soft and smileless, "I'll teach you."
"Right now?" Katsuki asked, his voice riding the line between hopeful and terrified.
"Not today. Come on, I'll make you breakfast."
Katsuki ended up making breakfast because Izuku was almost as bad at cooking as Katsuki was at intimacy.
—
And so it went on like that. Izuku letting Katsuki into his bed after a particularly rough day. He got the sense that Izuku's life was not nearly as full as he made it look on the internet. He got the sense that Izuku only called him when he was so lonely he couldn't stand not to. So often, Katsuki wanted to call him, and reach across the ever closing chasm between them and assure him that he didn't need to be lonely. Katsuki was lonely without him too.
Izuku guided him, taught him what he liked and allowed Katsuki to explore his own interests. It was a surprisingly easy give and take. Katsuki wanted more, but he was too terrified of losing what he already had to ever ask.
It wasn't always great. Izuku was distant in fits and starts. Sometimes he would go weeks without responding to Katsuki, only to careen back into his life at two in the morning with all the subtlety of rocket breaching the sound barrier. Sometimes they were so close Katsuki could barely stand it, his heart was so full and content just holding him. Katsuki never knew falling in love could be painful and wonderful at the same time. He thought they were mutually exclusive feelings.
He knew the other shoe would drop. He just didn't know when.
NOVEMBERIzuku finally agreed to stay the night at Katsuki's apartment, and Katsuki couldn't help but feel like it was an all-important milestone. He seemed nervous to be in Katsuki's space, and he wandered around while Katsuki started dinner. He knew for a fact Izuku hadn't had a home cooked meal since he broke up with Shindo—probably not even before then either. Katsuki was ready to prove his date-worthiness to Izuku, and this was the first step.
"What's for dinner, chef?" Izuku asked, hugging him from behind and pressing his face into the soft space between Katsuki's shoulder blades.
"Something fancy," Katsuki said, doing his best to look back at Izuku without breaking the contact. All he could see was Izuku's bushy head of hair, and part of his bare legs and socked feet. He smiled.
"Really? 'Cause it looks like regular old katsudon to me." Izuku unburied his face from Katsuki's back to peek around his arm, inspecting the pots and pans on the stove.
"It's fancy because I'm making it, nerd."
"I'll be the judge of that. I'm a katsudon connoisseur, you know."
"Where are your pants?" Katsuki asked, flipping around in Izuku's arms to face him.
"Are you lodging a complaint?" Izuku asked, tracing the lines of Katsuki's chest with a fingertip.
"I wouldn't dare." Katsuki wound a lock of green curls around his finger. He wanted to kiss him, but Izuku was a bit skittish that night. Much of the time, Katsuki felt like he was trying to lure an animal from hiding. He found that when he tried to initiate anything even remotely intimate, Izuku backtracked and begged off until he was ready. Izuku had to come to him, but when he did, the wait was always worth it.
"I was trying to read the label on your body wash, and accidentally squeezed it out all over my jeans."
Katsuki raised an eyebrow, and Izuku shrugged.
"You smell nice."
Katsuki was surprised to find that very little embarrassed Izuku—if Katsuki ever got caught doing something a stalker might do, he didn't think he'd be able to carry it off with such grace, especially without pants on.
"I'll get you some for Christmas."
"Pants, or bodywash?"
"Yes," Katsuki said, smirking. He wanted to plant a kiss on the wrinkle between Izuku's furrowing brows. He resisted.
"You have a very nice smile, Kacchan."
"Can I kiss you now?"
"No," Izuku said, almost immediately. A bit of hurt pinched in Katsuki's chest. Izuku rolled his eyes. "Because the pork is burning."
"Motherfucker!" Katsuki whirled around, ready to save dinner. He tried to ignore Izuku's tinkling laughter. He was so easily distracted these days.
"Anything I can help with?"
"Go snoop around my bathroom some more, creeper."
"I've already seen everything I need to in there."
"My bedroom, then,"
"Your bedroom's no fun without you. I can wait," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. Katsuki dared to look at him again, and had to immediately look away. Bedroom eyes were distracting.
"Then go sit over there so I don't fuck up dinner." Katsuki knew his words were paramount to an admission, and judging by Izuku's crinkling eyes and soft laugh he knew that too. He held up his hands in surrender and walked back slowly. Katsuki stirred the rice. It was much easier to focus when Izuku wasn't touching him. It was easier to talk too.
"So how've you been? You've been kinda quiet this week."
"Did I tell you I started seeing a new therapist?"
Katsuki figured it was easier for Izuku to talk when he wasn't being watched as well. They'd had a lot of conversations like this is the last month or so, always in the dark. Pillow talk—Katsuki never had a reason to use that phrase until now.
"How's it working out for you?"
"I like her. She doesn't push me too hard or make me feel judged. It makes me want to tell her more."
Katsuki nodded, not really sure what to say. He wanted Izuku to keep talking. He didn't want to move for fear of spooking him.
"You're a lot like that, Kacchan. You're… different. That's—" A deep breath, the release of something heavy. "That's really important to me."
Katsuki burned the pork.
—
He woke with a start in a cold, empty bed. The bedside lamp was still on, and Izuku was nowhere to be found. He sat up, glancing at the clock. It was three in the morning. Had Izuku gone home, just up and left without so much as a goodbye? Katsuki couldn't help but feel hurt—and a bit cheap. And then he noticed the light coming from under the bathroom door. He pulled on his boxers quickly and padded across the room.
"Izuku?" Katsuki asked, lightly knocking on the door. No answer. He waited a few more seconds before he opened the door.
Izuku was sitting on the floor in Katsuki's baggy sweats, hunched over against the tub, his head in his hands. Katsuki moved slowly, trying his best to give Izuku space. He'd seen panic attacks before—he'd rescued plenty of anxious victims, talked them through their panic until the EMTs arrived. He wasn't that great at it.
"Hey, Izuku. Sit up, alright? Breathe," he said, speaking as softly as possible. Izuku didn't respond, probably couldn't. He was puffing our small, pained breaths. Katsuki put a hand on his bare back, and Izuku jumped at the contact, sitting up ramrod straight. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, looking at Katsuki but not really seeing. He pressed Izuku's hands to his chest, so he could feel his heartbeat and steady breath.
"Breath with me," he said, taking long, deep breaths in and out. For a long time, the only sound around them was Izuku's ragged breath, gradually slowing to match Katsuki's. Eventually, Izuku let his head fall against Katsuki's shoulder, and Katsuki brushed his hands through the Izuku's unruly curls. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to upend Izuku's fragile calm with superfluous words.
"Sorry," Izuku murmured, going almost completely limp against Katsuki.
"Does this happen a lot?"
Izuku shook his head, his hair tickled Katsuki's neck. "I changed my anxiety medication. I'm just… out of whack," he said, a bit breathy.
"Nothing wrong with that. Want some tea, or something?"
"Just sleep," he said, but he made no move to get up, didn't even twitch.
"Are we gonna sleep in the bathtub?" Katsuki asked after a prolonged silence.
"The bed, preferably. You might have to drag me there, though."
Katsuki kissed his hair. He really loved Izuku's hair. He was either growing it out again, or he was too busy to bother with haircuts.
"Say no more. I've got you, babe." They both stiffened at the pet name, and Katsuki hoped it was something Izuku would let him get away with. Even if it was just the one time. When he said nothing, Katsuki picked him up and carried him back to the bed. After they'd gotten situated, spooning each other, and Katsuki was beginning to nod off, Izuku started giggling.
"What?" He snapped.
"Babe."
Katsuki's face went up in flames. He bit Izuku's shoulder because it was the only thing he could reach without moving. Izuku yelped.
"Fuck off," he grumbled, and then, because he was a fool for Izuku Midoriya, he kissed the bite mark he left.
"I don't think I like that. What about darling, instead?" Katsuki's stomach flipped at the suggestion despite Izuku's deeply sarcastic tone.
"How about dipshit?"
"Oh, that's definitely a contender," he said, laughing lightly at Katsuki's expense.
"Goodnight, dipshit."
"Sweet dreams, asshat." Izuku turned his head just so, to kiss the arm his head was pillowed on. Katsuki was glad Izuku couldn't see his beaming grin.
—
"You're in a good mood today," Dr. Kagari said, a serene smile on her face. Izuku shrugged.
"I had a good night," he said, the beginnings of a smile coloring his words. He'd never felt so light and airy and warm for no reason. It scared him a bit that Kacchan could make him feel so much.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"A little," Izuku hedged, preparing himself to feel bare and exposed. He always hated the therapy session itself, no matter how nice Dr. Kagari was, but he couldn't argue with the results. He always felt better the second the session ended.
"Whenever you're ready, Midoriya."
"Well, I stayed at Kacchan's place for the first time last night. I thought it was going to make me antsy—it did, actually—but it was also really nice."
"Why did you feel antsy?"
"I can't really explain it."
"Please, try. I'll wait."
"I was afraid I'd feel… lost, out of my element, or something. I think Kacchan knew that though. I felt really keyed up at first, but he told me to just go look around while he cooked dinner, and that helped."
Dr. Kagari didn't say anything but she nodded evenly. She was really good about knowing when to be silent, or when to ask the one question that made him unravel.
"We just talked. I told him about our sessions, and he was so laid back about it. It made me feel laid back. I told him he was important to me."
"What does that mean to you?"
"It means what it means." Izuku said, dodging the question. She never let him dodge for long, though, and he had a feeling that was why they got on so well.
"Let me rephrase. What about him is important to you?"
"He makes me feel easy-going—which we all know I'm not. He doesn't push me to talk, or do anything I don't want to do. It's like he's keeping pace with me. You know, I had a panic attack in the middle of the night and he was there and he didn't make me feel like a burden. He made me feel safe."
"Do you think your panic attack stemmed from the change of scenery?"
"Maybe a little." He shrugged, knowing the action would prompt deeper questioning.
"We've talked a bit about your issues with control. Did staying with him make you feel like you might have ceded too much?"
"I don't think so. In the beginning it felt like that. Before, we were always at my house and I could kick him out whenever I wanted, but I never wanted to."
"Are you reconsidering your stance on romantic relationships?"
"I don't think so. Not right now. I don't know." That sounded like three multiple choice answers to one questions. They all sounded too indecisive. Before Dr. Kagari could ask another question, he added, "It's too soon for that."
And he felt the creep of anxiety take hold. He subsequently shut down, and Dr. Kagari politely changed the subject.