*Katsuki*

Momo. That was her name. She was drinking champagne with her friends who had their eyes glued to Katsuki as he learned her on the spot. What she liked, what she smiled at, what she didn't care for, how she laughed at her friends, how she sipped on her champagne without it getting above her lip to dampen her skin. She hardly smudged her lipstick.

He had seen when Izuku leaned into Kirishima to say something in his ear, and then walked to the dancefloor, Kirishima followed. He was going to dance? Katsuki couldn't look away, he got distracted and whatever Momo was saying was missed because of the brain fog. Izuku's eyes were closed as he lost himself in the beat and a bright fucking stupid smile was stretched tight on his face. Katsuki pulled Momo to her feet from their booth.

He pressed himself to her, snaking his body and trying to drown himself in her warmth and softness. She was blushing crimson but her pupils had blown wide as she stared at him. He pressed his lips in the nape of her neck. He would give her his undivided attention.

Katsuki was trying to. But fucking Izuku had laughed and his ears peaked with interest, so he looked away for a moment and missed a beat. He concentrated hard on her, the music, and not Izuku's laughter. Katsuki knew he could take her home. Broccoli boy didn't even notice, and Katsuki himself almost didn't either because of his stupid too loud, too happy laugh.

"You're a model, right?" Momo had leaned onto him and was talking against his neck, tickling his skin with the closeness of her lips and force of her breath. Katsuki felt annoyance grow from the spot she hovered over, but turned his cheek slightly so that it brushed hers and he smirked.

"Are you a collector?" Katsuki whispered into her earlobe as he tore his eyes away from Izuku.

"Only of fine art." Momo had said directly, her eyes now gazing directly at Katsuki asking him the question he was looking to answer from the moment he had decided he couldn't bury his feelings in someone else he would like to very much.

"Would you rather spend some more time here, with your girls," Katsuki directed his gaze to the three others who were all looking at him and giggling into each other's ears, and watched as they blushed. "Or, would you rather take me home, yours or mine, where I can fuck you into oblivion, then cook you a meal for the hangover?"

"You cook?" Momo extracted herself so she could see his face as she looked at him in surprise.

"Almost as good as I am at sex." Katsuki smirked, her eyes grew wider and he swore he could see her mouth water. He was always surprised with how well cooking worked on women and men, something about food made them feel like he was amazing in bed, which he was, but if he couldn't go on his looks alone, that would usually seal the deal.

"I don't usually do one night stands." Momo looked at him curiously. Katsuki could see her weighing her options, take him home knowing full well he'd never call, or tell him to go away, because she knew she was worth more. More time and effort and long term goals.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't consider the possibility." Katsuki said as he breathed in her perfume. Floral and too pungent, but he suspected she had rubbed it onto the nape of her neck just where he had pressed his mouth to. She let out a soft moan and Katsuki moved away from her perfumed skin to her collarbone, trailing his lips and then tasting her salty skin. Her hand on his thigh gripped at the action and he smirked against her skin. She would take him home, he knew it.

*Izuku*

"There he goes." Kirishima's eyebrows raised as his eyes followed Katsuki who was being led to the front door by the hand of the woman he had sat then danced with. Izuku stared, curious what it was like to have any kind of charisma to go home with a stranger within a half hour of meeting them. His head swam and the lights in the room were too bright and hazy now, twinkling at him merrily as the beat of the music pulsed with his heart.

"I should go home, too." Izuku suddenly remembered he didn't need that charisma. He had Shouto waiting at home, not likely waiting because he was always late, but possibly with dinner. And Izuku needed dinner and a nap because his head was entirely too woozy.

"Aw man, that means I havta go home too. I don't got anyone to hang with." Kirishima raised his arms in defense, "I know how that sounds, like I got nobody, but, runnin' my own store and trying to keep a girlfriend is hard work."

"I run my own studio and I live with my boyfriend," Izuku stood as a wide smile split his face. Kirishima's eyebrows raised with appreciation. "Yea, it's tough. Which is why I have to go."

"I get it man." Kirishima shrugged before looking at the table then gathering the half empty beers and drinks before looking over at the bartender. "I got this bill too. Next one's on you."

"Understood, Eijirou." Izuku pretended not to stumble and steadied himself on the chair.

"Hey, that's my name!"

Izuku found an Uber in his phone and walked carefully to not trip on the flat surface of the sticky floor. Outside was crisp and refreshing and he gulped the air gratefully as the sounds around him became slurred and happy; the lights became soft with no hard edges to hurt his extra sensitive eyes.

He was almost asleep against the wall, a mixture of fatigue and alcohol when the app pinged and woke him. When he got home, it was nearly 10 pm, and Shouto wasn't home. There were fresh take away dishes in the fridge, so Izuku suspected he had come and gone. He ate carefully, showered slowly, then crawled into bed with a glass of water on the nightstand.

Shouto was gone when he woke the next morning and Izuku wasn't concerned about where to. He had become numb now, complacent to the way things were. He had more of the take out for breakfast and his phone pinged as he chewed and swallowed while staring at nothing in particular.

'Got your number from the angry lil shit. Hope you got home safe man. See you next Saturday, if you wanna.'
-Unknown

Izuku figured it was Eijirou. So he saved the number, gave a generic response because that's all his brain could muster and then continued eating in a manner that reminded him of a cow masticating grass.

Surprisingly, he didn't feel hungover, but he was sluggish. He chugged back some water and rode his bike slowly to the gym before he started a steady walk into a soft jog because he didn't know what else to do with his Sunday. It wasn't until a familiar scent drifted to him did he think of Katsuki again. And it wasn't Katsuki, which left a previously unknown part of Izuku feeling as though it was freshly vacant.

The fresh produce market remained undisturbed by Izuku for the week. He returned to his sad grocery but bought what seemed to be the freshest ingredients. He broke his ceramic knife trying to crush the garlic and ginger the way he had seen Katsuki do it. He cut his finger tip when he sped up his chopping, having gotten cocky when his slices looked even, and he ate alone because Shouto had stopped coming home before he collapsed into bed.

Dinner was lonely, but it was tasty. Amidst all of that, the negotiating for the redo of the shoot Iida had messed up was finally concluded. It was free of course, but they wanted a full refund. And Izuku was happy to refund them, but only if they weren't satisfied with his work.

Saturday was the decided day for this follow up, and Shouto wasn't present, though he made sure to send Iida.

Izuku knew the reason Iida had messed up the photoshoot in the first place was because the concept was high fashion and interpretive, so while Iida was good with lighting and composing, he didn't understand the assignment.

It was a long shoot, Izuku could feel the sweat in his armpits making his skin stick when his arm moved back and forth under his shirt. He could smell his deodorant working as he moved around and at the same time made sure Iida was observing.

By the time the photos were imported and Izuku assigned Iida some practice, every muscle ached all the way to the bones in his thighs. The alarm beeped to signify it was armed and Izuku glared at his bike, then sighed heavily. His phone pinged in his pocket.

He had expected Shouto to check in on him, but it wasn't Shouto.

'Hey, Kiri's asking for you to come out with us tonight.'
-Kacchan

Izuku read it and reread it. He was too tired.

'He could ask me himself, if that's the case. I'm tired Kacchan, I'm heading home.'
-Izuku

Izuku stuffed his phone in his pocket, climbed gingerly onto his bike and balanced, his thighs throbbed and then the pain dulled as they settled. His phone began to ring in his pocket.

Eijirou's name shone in a too bright white font on his screen and Izuku groaned. He answered.

"Hello." his voice sounded as tired as every part of him.

"Dude, you sound dead." Izuku could hear Eijirou walking along the street based on the footsteps, voices, and cars tires roaring past on the asphalt.

"That's because I am. I can't tonight, Eijirou. I'm sorry." Izuku closed his eyes and tilted his head back, allowing a cool breeze to skim him and his too sweaty body. There was a scuffle sound on the other end.

"Baku, let's go get him. How far is he." Eijirou's voice had moved away from the phone and Izuku was saying 'no no no no' but he knew Eijirou wasn't hearing him. The red head's too excited voice returned. "He really didn't want to but I convinced him! See you in-" there was a pause and Izuku heard Katsuki's voice, "ten or fifteen minutes."

"I'm sweaty and gross and tired!" Izuku whined.

"You have a shower in the studio. And clothes." There were more scuffling noises, Katsuki's irritated grunting and Eijirou's cheery rebuffs. "Izuku, man, you sound like you need a drink and you had a shit day. Come out with us."

It was true, he didn't drink much, not everyday anyway. He never used to drink every weekend. He could definitely drink half as much as he did last time and be happily loosened and pain free. He didn't have to bike home on his groaning thighs and sore abs muscles.

"Fine." Izuku found himself saying. An eruption of joy deafened one eardrum before the line went dead. Izuku returned to the studio and promptly showered, allowing hot water to soak into his skin for as long as he could before he sifted through clothes on the racks. There was a t-shirt and jeans he thought would suffice. Then he waited, ignoring the pleas of his body, and giving into the please of the vacant space that had woken with fresh emptiness when he thought of saying no.

Katsuki and Eijirou found him half dozed on his propped bike and woke him with a prolonged honk of the horn. Eijirou attached the bike to the back and Izuku dove into the backseat which was somehow lower than the passenger's side, so he fell into it and Katsuki gave a short, sharp laugh. Before Izuku could retort, Eijirou dove in gracefully in the passenger side and spun around to grin at Izuku.

"Dude, the luggage under your eyes! It's gonna be lighter when you drink somethin'."

Izuku groaned and Eijirou looked simply gleeful.

It was then that Izuku realised his t-shirt and jeans were very casual compared to the sheer black shirt Katsuki wore with two silver chains and his regular dangling fang on his ear. Izuku closed his eyes so he wouldn't stare.