@kingfischerr: #bkdk #bakudeku #ktdkfive ye...

#bkdk #bakudeku #ktdk

five years into the future, when izuku and all of his classmates were pros, a UA class reunion was practically obligatory.

the only thing that none of their friends expected, was for katsuki and izuku to arrive at the reunion’s bar together.

and don’t get it wrong. they weren’t TOGETHER together. at least, that’s what izuku claimed. they were amicable, though, all that teenage angst long gone: katsuki was filled with more placating smiles than scowls, and izuku wasn’t as fearful of hovering around him now. katsuki—

learned to nod along as izuku spoke, and izuku learned to take katsuki to a corner when he started to roll his eyes too much. it was as if they’ve grown as a forged unit, as if their trajectories no longer rivaled each other’s but intertwined, creeping like ivy along the brick—

wall of hopes and ambitions and something else.

so izuku didn’t understand WHY it came as such a surprise when he told his ex-schoolmates that he and katsuki were living together, sharing a duplex apartment off the road near their agency.

it didn’t seem to be something that any of them had anticipated, judging by the shocked looks of those they weren’t too close with. not close enough to invite to intermittent, weekly dinners at their apartment, at least. and karaoke—

nights, and picnics, and paintball tournaments that katsuki claimed were stupid.

and izuku didn’t know why, but it UPSET him.

was it really such a stretch, imagining that he and katsuki could reconcile? that they could put their years of history where it belonged—

— in the past? was it really so impossible to imagine his shoes next to katsuki’s boots in the foyer, or them sharing a room to display their hero suits and all might merchandise, or their laundry coming home together?

izuku sat in one of the bar’s booths, squished between ochako and iida, katsuki somewhere at the other end of the room. and there was booze —of COURSE there was booze— perched in front of him in a myriad of frosty glasses, and the chatter around him was warm and pleasant, but—

all izuku could think about was monoma’s bewildered scoff as someone mentioned that he and katsuki were living together, saying something along the lines of “and you guys didn’t burn down the apartment yet?” while a chorus of well-meaning laughter followed his tacky comment.

and it shouldn’t bug izuku as much as it did now, but it did anyway.

and, well, if the glasses of sake seemed to disappear from right in front of him as these thoughts circled his head like vultures, then at least he only had himself to blame.

before he could try to find the answer to why he was so distraught in the bottom of another cup, ochako stopped him with an understanding smile. and she gave him one of those looks that meant that he was going to get taken care of whether he liked it or not.

“‘zuku, i think maybe it’s time for you to drink some water,” she said kindly, looking like she knew exactly what this was about.

izuku shook his head, and woah, since when did the room spin like that, and since when was he leaning bonelessly against iida’s shoulder?

“no…” izuku still managed to slur, shaking his head.

“you’ve had quite a lot to drink,” iida said, matter-of-fact.

“just one more.” izuku insisted.

and then, iida and ochako shared a look over his head, and glanced in the direction of the only person they knew could wrangle him out of this.

which, frankly, was cheating. izuku’s weaknesses shouldn’t be so easily used against him. but whatever.

they caught his eye pretty fast, and before izuku knew it, there was a tall, devastating shadow looming over their booth, eyebrows drawn in a sigh.

“can’t leave you alone for one damn minute, can’t i?” katsuki said, with none of the bite it would usually come with, five years ago.

izuku only whimpered, turning away from his firm gaze. he wasn’t really in the mood to confront the object of… whatever it was that he was feeling. but the traitor ochako dutifully shuffled out of the way to create an opening in the booth, just enough for katsuki to—

grab him gently by the shoulder, pull him up, and keep him there with the drape of an arm.

and when that didn’t seem like enough, when izuku kept sagging where he stood, he simply knelt just enough for izuku to wrap himself over his back, tucking his hands around katsuki’s—

neck. like it was the easiest thing in the world. like they’ve done this thousands of times before.

(which— maybe they have. in the late hours of those karaoke nights. or when, after patrol, izuku couldn’t even make it to his bedroom, passed out on the couch. to reach—

the topmost cupboard in their kitchen that didn’t seem to be built for human proportions. but that’s neither here nor there.)

“i should get him home,” katsuki said, and izuku could feel the rumble of his throat against the back of his hand.

“take care of him,” ochako smiled. “i think he’s feeling a little down today.”

there was a small silence, and for a moment izuku wanted to lift his head to ask what was going on, before katsuki’s hand came up to his hair, keeping his head in place by the crook of his shoulder.

“i always do.” he said, and turned to leave.

the bar wasn’t far from their apartment. they had walked here after patrol, and now katsuki was walking them both back, arms casually tucked under both of izuku’s legs to keep him from falling, uncomplaining of the bite of—

almost-winter. izuku buried his face deeper in the crook of katsuki’s shoulder, partly to shield himself from the cold and partly to hear the soft hitch of katsuki’s breath— because this was a ticklish spot. izuku came to learn of it in a position not dissimilar to this,

and had taken advantage of the way katsuki would boom with laughter if he nuzzled his nose into the patch of skin near his nape.

“what’cha thinkin’ of, freckles?”

izuku jolted slightly at the sudden disturbance of silence, shaking his head when no excuse—

came to mind.

katsuki scoffed. “come on. i could practically HEAR the gears turnin’ in your head.”

izuku made a non-committal noise, still sulking for a moment, before muttering just loud enough for katsuki to hear.

“monoma’s an asshole.”

katsuki barked out a sharp laugh at that, hitching izuku up.

“asshole, huh?” he mused. “what, he say somethin’ to you?”

izuku lowered his head again, putting his warm forehead against the back of katsuki’s neck and shaking his head, just so he could feel izuku’s lie.

and he could tell that katsuki wasn’t entirely convinced, because the hum he let out was more appeasing than understanding.

“whatever it is, fuck him, freckles.” katsuki said, because he never really outgrew his explosive vocabulary. “he was always a little shit.”

and then, he unhooked one arm from below izuku’s leg, and he reached up to tug at the end of one of izuku’s sweater sleeves, where his arms were wrapped around his neck. tugged it down so the hem reached his wrist instead of his elbow, like katsuki knew he was going to get cold—

soon. and his fingers grazed the skin of izuku’s palm, and his touch lingered like a dying ember, setting izuku aflame past all the haze, and oh.

oh.

izuku felt himself reel back with the sudden epiphany of all his grievances. the ache in his chest at monoma’s assumptions. the sharp, unwelcome twinge that came after everyone’s laughs.

it was because of this. this. katsuki’s hand brushing his. this, and all other moments—

like these. these lingering touches, and eye-smiles, and soft-spoken words and tugs on sleeves. little things that were previously mundane now wrought in intimacy, shiny and golden with something strange but important. something that izuku didn’t understand. something that—

izuku wanted more than anything.

and the fear of it all culminating in one stupid comment in a stupid reunion, planting a seed of doubt in his head that has long lingered: was it really, really so difficult to imagine he and katsuki together, in more ways than one?

because what if it was TRUE? what if, even with all this progress, all the years of reconciliation and learning and growing, he and katsuki were made to crash and burn? what if they were built to fall apart? what if it was just a matter of time—

izuku took a shuddering breath.

what if everyone was right?

it took him a moment to realize that katsuki was chattering about something or other, and that he was already unlocking the front door to their apartment. izuku, stiff and frozen on his back, tried his best to wave away the thoughts for a more sober—

moment and listen.

“—so fuckin’ helpless, nerd.” katsuki said, fondly, bending his knees in front of the couch so that he could slide izuku off with a grunt, depositing him carefully onto the cushions. “imagine what you’d do without me.”

and oh, thank sunk a hole in izuku’s chest. and for a moment he felt like he was drowning, curling his knees up on the couch.

“i don’t know.” izuku said, voice small, and wavering. “i… i don’t want to.”

that seemed to make katsuki stop in his tracks, turning around with a look on his face that was more concerned than confused.

“what?”

izuku shook his head, vision spinning. “it’s what they say.”

katsuki crouched by the front of the couch, eyes firm with barely contained protectiveness. “what who said? what did they say?”

“it’s what everyone imagines.” izuku murmured. “they can’t imagine you with me.”

katsuki seemed to lean away from him at that, eyes widening a little. and if izuku were more sober, then he’d hear the way his breath hitched, the way something lit up in katsuki’s crimson irises. something bright.

something like hope.

izuku scrambled to take it back, drawing his knees further up. and oh god, what did that sound like? even to his drunk ears, it was too soft, too telling, too… something. and he wasn’t…

he wasn’t ready to take this leap. to jeopardize their friendship.

“i—“ izuku shook his head, eyes wide. “i didn’t— i didn’t mean it like that.”

katsuki’s face shuttered, for a moment, discouraged, but it didn’t stop him from leaning in a little, still knelt on their carpeted floor, hand on one of the cushions next to izuku.

“then how did you mean it?”

“i…” izuku breathed.

and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of the way katsuki was looking at him. with too much faith and expectation and something that set izuku’s gut alight with warmth.

“i don’t know,” he murmured.

and there was something in katsuki’s eyes that made izuku’s hand unfurl from where it had laid on his knee, hesitantly reaching for the space between his and katsuki’s. and oh, they were just a hair’s breadth away, and it would only take one—

swift movement, just one—

and katsuki took it. gingerly, intwining their fingers together, like izuku’s hand would break into a thousand pieces if he wasn’t careful. and izuku let out a breath, staggering and silent.

“we’ve just—“ he said, trembling. “we’ve changed, haven’t we?”

there was a small swill of silence.

it took a moment, but katsuki nodded. and he watched their interlinked hands like izuku’s fingerprints held the answers for everything left unsaid between them.

“for the better,” katsuki murmured.

and that seemed to be all that izuku was waiting for.

izuku leaned in, and did the only think his intoxicated brain could muster.

he kissed him.

it was barely a kiss, more of a poorly-aimed peck, landing by the edge of katsuki’s mouth. and katsuki’s response was almost instantaneous; his eyes going dark, a hand coming up to where izuku’s lips had just been. like he had just been branded.

but it wasn’t a rejection. even drunk, izuku could see the way the corner of his mouth twitched, the way his eyes seemed to search into izuku’s.

“izuku.” katsuki said, breathless. “you’re drunk.”

and it sounded too much like he was trying to convince himself that nothing happened.

“no!” izuku protested, voice high. and then, he shook his head, because even a fool could tell. “i mean, yes, but i meant it.”

katsuki looked at him so fondly, so full of faith, it almost hurt. “i know.”

“i—“ izuku stammered, and he felt like he was grasping at straws, trying to prove something. “i can— i can kiss you again.”

katsuki was still for a moment, and izuku felt like he had ruined it, had ruined everything, until—

katsuki squeezed his hand, and his voice was so gentle, izuku thought he was dreaming. “you can kiss me tomorrow.”

and izuku didn’t remember going to sleep. didn’t remember katsuki setting him on his bed, tucking the sheets around his shoulders, didn’t remember katsuki watching him for a moment before pacing restlessly in the living room, eventually retiring to the couch.

didn’t remember anything at all until he saw it for himself in the morning, and katsuki was there, slumped on the couch looking like he just woke up after hearing izuku’s shuffling in the next room.

because he was always there, in some way, in some form.

and katsuki saw him, groggy and half-lidded by the doorway, and couldn’t help but blurt.

“did you mean it?”

they were the first words coming out of his mouth, his shirt sleep-rumpled, creases of the couch cushion outlined on his cheek.

and all at once, the memories of last night flooded him. of cold nights. and warm sake. of even warmer necks and prophetical hands.

and izuku did as he promised.

he crossed the threshold of the living room.

he kissed him. again. and again. and again.

when they eventually parted, it was katsuki who spoke first again, tired and grinning with puffy, sleepy eyes, cupping isuzu’s face like he had never touched him before.

“i love you,” katsuki said. “i didn’t want the first time i told you that to be when you were drunk. i wasn’t sure if you would remember.”

and izuku laughed, something too bright and loud for the cold morning air.

“i love you, too.”

FIN.

my god this was so rushed. was writing all up until the very last second. i told myself IM POSTING TODAY NO MATTER WHAT!! and lo and behold.

come scream at me at cc!! lemme know what you think!!

curiouscat.live/kingfischerr

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