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The morning’s villain take down is quick and easy; minimal property damage and no casualties. They had the would-be-ATM robber cuffed and headed to lock up before even figuring out what his quirk was. Typically there wouldn’t be a press line for something like this - it was over before anyone noticed what had happened. But there’s always one or two shady man-on-the-street, internet reporter types hanging around and dumb Deku was too polite to ignore their inane questions.
“There’s a rumor on the internet that you live with your parents,” The so-called “reporter” has dyed black hair and fake nails that wrap around a cheap mic, “Is it true?”
“Uh, sort of?” Deku answers when that cheap mic is shoved in his face, he makes brief eye contact with the camera, which is really just a phone, before looking back at the interviewer. “I live with my mom.”
“Isn’t it unusual for a pro hero ranked in the top twenty of Japan’s best not to live independently?” She presses with a mocking, faux-confused grin. It’s really pissing Dynamight off.
“Maybe.” Deku admits with a shrug, bringing his full awe-shucks, school-boy charm to bear on this one stupid, fake reporter. “But I wanted her to live somewhere with better security and I couldn’t really afford two places in the city. Tokyo rent is crazy, right?”
Then the finisher. He scratches the back of his neck and gives a shy grin, “Plus, I just really love my mom!”
Katsuki lets out an audible scoff. The reporter melts on the spot. The sound bite’s gonna go viral and get clipped and remixed for days. Stupid Deku and his stupid, earnest charm. It’ll probably raise his popularity score by five whole points. Which puts his overall position above Dynamight in the rankings. Again.
“Oh my god, can we leave already?” Dynamight growls, yanking Deku away from the reporter by his dangly bunny ears. They were stupid anyway. “Loser momma’s boy.”
“Ach! Ka- Dynamight!” Deku protests, but lets himself be carted off anyway, “I was just telling the truth!”
The worst part is that Katsuki knows it already. Izuku has no idea the effect his sweetie-pie, boy-next-door attitude has on the internet at large or women in particular. Some pros staff publicists and writers to craft witty one-liners or personal narratives that drive their public perception. Izuku does it just by being himself.
It pisses Katsuki the hell off.
He scoffs again and shoves Izuku forward by the shoulder, getting them back on patrol schedule. “This is why you’re a super virgin.”
Deku squawks, swinging at him, “Hey, it’s not like you’re dating anyone either!”
“I didn’t say anything about dating!” Katsuki yells over him, sparks flying off his finger tips, “Stop putting words in my mouth!”
“No quirk-use on the street!”
“SHADDUP!”
-
That’s life for them these days. A steady routine of patrolling, training, and blowing off steam together. Only occasionally changing things up with a sting operation or a cross-agency investigation. They’re still technically under Endeavor’s agency, but the old man effectively retired once Shouto graduated UA and he’s been running the show pretty efficiently ever since. It chafes a little to technically be working for that half n’ half bastard, but running an agency requires a hell of a lot more paperwork than teenaged Katsuki realized, so he’s okay with letting the two-toned freak handle it for a while.
Besides, they don’t really have the money to open their own agency without doing something drastic, like taking a loan from his parents which…
Hell. No.
So, yeah. That’s life post-graduation. Being a pro hero involves less ass-kicking and more ass-kissing than Katsuki ever imagined, but whenever he gets really annoyed with it, he drags Deku’s ass to the gym and they wail on each other until they’re both too tired to care anymore.
It’s good. Stable. He’s looking down the barrel of 25, bracing for a quarter life crisis, but not really feeling it. For once in his life, he just wants to keep everything the way it “I’m going on a blind date this weekend.”
They’re on mandatory leave for the day. Shoto requires at least six rest days a month for all pro heroes. Not even their emergency phones are allowed to be on. It would have been unthinkable ten years ago, but there are just fewer emergencies than there used to be. Good change, right?
Deku doesn’t act like he’s dropped a bomb or started a war, just fires another banana across the racing track in their video game. Katsuki’s world is so rocked, he actually lets the lame attack hit him. Then watches as his character slips off the edge of the map and disappears into a void.
Their positions in the race ranking flip, the screen flashing with noise and colors.
“Shitty nerd,” He spits, foot tapping as he impatiently waits for his character to respawn, “You did that on purpose.”
Izuku sticks his tongue out and to the side, “Like I need to play tricks to beat you.”
“Oh, it’s on.”
The trash talk resumes along with some light elbow-jabbing that ends up undermining both of them. Computer-controlled characters take all three top spots. Izuku, who's currently leading with the highest number of wins for the day, clicks through the route options while Katsuki refreshes their drinks.
“That was a dumb joke.” He mutters from the kitchen. “Like you’d let yourself get set up with some random extra.”
The apartment isn't very big, so even though he was muttering to himself, Izuku still responds. “I wasn’t joking. I really am going on a blind date this weekend.”
Again, Katsuki’s normally reliable hands betray him and a splash of mango juice overshoots the rim of his glass. He grunts his annoyance and forcefully rips off a square of paper towel to clean it up. “Why the hell would you do that?”
Izuku shrugs, looking back at the screen without really seeing it. “I dunno. Uraraka suggested it. She’s setting the whole thing up.”
“She’s always saying shit like that.” Katsuki challenges, wiping the counter clean with harsh swipes of a paper towel. “You never agree to it. What the hell changed?”
“I don’t-”
“Stop saying you don’t know. You're a shitty liar.” Katsuki stalks back into the living room and thrusts a full glass of juice into Izuku’s hands, trying to glare hard enough to make him come clean.
Izuku swallows and nervously shifts the cool glass from one hand to the other, controller abandoned beside him. His eyes refuse to settle on a single point in the room.
“I’ve been thinking about things lately, I guess. And talking about them. With people.” He says evasively.
“Which people?” Katsuki demands, wracking his brain for what they’ve talked about the last few weeks. Hero rankings. New villain rumors. That shit All Might documentary they both hated. Nothing unusual.
“Everybody.” Izuku says with another shrug. “Ochaco-chan. Todoroki. My mom. They all kinda made me realize that I’m holding onto this idea of what my first date is supposed to be - or, or what I want it to be. But it could have happened by now and the longer I wait for it, the less likely it seems like it’s gonna happen. And I don’t want to miss out on life, at least on trying new things in life, just because I’m too stubborn to see that just because something isn’t exactly the way I pictured it doesn’t mean it can’t be good.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Heh!?” Green eyes bug out as orange liquid sloshes over his glass, soaking the sleeve of his sweater.
Katsuki scoffs. In his opinion, Izuku’s ideas of romance and dating are all basically stuck in middle school - theme parks and crepes? Throw up. But they’re not exactly groundbreaking. With the personality of a dim puppy and a body a Greek statue would envy, he can’t picture a world where Izuku couldn’t get exactly what he wanted from anyone without resorting to something as inane as a blind date.
“That’s stupid.” Katsuki repeats, a frown cutting across his face as he glares at his friend. “Why the hell would you settle for some extra? It’s a waste‘a both your time! You know exactly what you want, so why the hell wouldn’t you just go for it.”
He’s practically spoiling for a fight, braced for Izuku to meet him head on - either to rebut the point or to literally take a swing at him - so he’s not prepared for the way Izuku seems to collapse in on himself, enormous eyes watching him like there’s a cavern between them.
“I’m not like you, Kacchan.” He says, “I can’t just take whatever I want all the time.”
“Why the hell not?” He demands.
“I’m not as brave as you.”
After the quiet admission, before Katsuki can come up with an appropriately infuriated response, Izuku downs the entire glass of juice in three huge swallows, and then gets to his feet.
“I should get going,” He says, already halfway out the door, “I promised Mom I’d pick up some ingredients for dinner. Sorry for being annoying, Kacchan. I’ll talk to you later.”
The room is still filled with bright afternoon sunshine. On their mutual days off, Izuku and Katsuki usually hang out until well after the sun goes down. Even cooking dinner and doing the washing up together. Instead, Katsuki finds himself inexplicably alone with his thoughts before 2 pm. After sitting in shocked silence - accompanied only by the cheerful, ringing music from the selection screen - Katsuki lets out a furious scoff.
“Tch.” He says, “Damn that nerd. Always getting weird about things for no reason.”
He sets about cleaning up the abandoned snack wrappers, mugs, and drinking glasses from the living room with more aggression than is usually used for tidying up. He mutters to himself the whole time. Mostly about Izuku and how hopelessly weird he is.
But truthfully, and only after several long minutes of angry puttering, Katsuki can admit to himself that his frustration isn’t really with Izuku. He can’t stop thinking about Izuku’s face as he left in a hurry; the way he tried to duck his face out of the light to hide the tears that slid down his cheeks as he left.
In his heart, Katsuki believed he stopped making Izuku cry years ago. That their relationship would only improve as they grew close in adulthood. Izuku had been able to talk through his feelings with seemingly everyone else on Earth and come to a rational, obvious solution. It’s only talking to Katsuki that makes him cry. Probably explains why he didn’t talk to him about this in the first place.
Katsuki sets his used glass in the sink and runs hot water over it before wiping away the lip stain with a soapy washcloth. That damn nerd. Always needing to talk about his feelings.
But it didn’t seem right. A blind date just for the sake of it. Who would willingly give up their ideal of a first date just because it didn’t happen right away? Stumbling through conversation with some extra who doesn’t know the first thing about you except what you look like right there that day. And what was the point of that, huh? Everybody looks nice on a first date. It’s not that hard to impress.
But why bother getting to know that version of a person? What about how you look after a hard workout; in the middle of a fight; after you spend the night hunting the sewers for a missing person? If they ditch you after that then what was the fucking point of all that small talk?
Katsuki washes the dishes until his hands are pink and wrinkled from the hot water, carefully taking down Izuku’s stupid points one by one in his own head. Then, as he watches the water slowly drain down the sink, it hits him.
The nerd has a date.
The nerd has a date.
He’s going to have his first date before Katsuki.
“Oh, hell no.” Katsuki mutters, hunting for his phone. There’s no way he’s letting Izuku get ahead of him like that. He thumbs to a familiar contact in his phone and hits call with twice the amount of required force. It only rings once before connecting. “Hey, Pinky, you’re gonna set me up on one of those stupid dates you're always threatening me with and you’re gonna do it by Saturday.”
-
Katsuki does everything by the book with a little plus ultra added in. He books a reservation at a nice place downtown, the kind with a fixed menu and private rooms in the back. Pinky had tried to argue with him.
“That’s too nice for a blind date! It should be low-key, so neither of you feels pressured to stay longer than you want.”
“Shut up! Like I’m gonna go on a date in public with a bunch of freaking extras hanging around, recording the whole thing on their damn phones. Besides, no one is going to want to leave this date! It’s gonna be the best first date ever.”
She sighed, but relented and passed the information along to whoever she’d found to go on a date with him with less than two days warning. Despite his determination to make everything go perfectly, he’s still pretty pissed off about the whole concept.
Still, he looks good as hell as he catches his reflection in the mirrored glass of the restaurant’s door. A black sports jacket over a white t-shirt with a deep v-neck that shows off his collar bones. Fitted, black jeans and black leather dress shoes. It’s simple but classic. You don’t need to peacock when your body speaks for itself.
As the host leads him through the main dining room, several heads turn his way and hushed whispers follow. The clientele is too upscale to point and the lightly tinkling piano music covers most of it, but there’s enough of a reaction that he feels vindicated in sticking to his choices.
Even though the idea of sitting in a quiet room with a total stranger gives him the heebie jeebies.
Lesser of two weevils, or whatever.
The host only stays long enough to pour him a fresh cup of barley tea and then leaves, shutting the door behind herself. The sound of the dining room cuts off in an instant, leaving him alone with his thoughts in the dim, close space.
It’s a nice room. The tatami is clean and looks new. Each wall has a watercolor painting of a stylized koi fish. The overhead lamp is covered with a black metal shade that makes the soft yellow light fall in pools across the table, each seat cushion neatly lit.
It takes Katsuki all of thirty seconds to absorb the entirety of the room and then there’s nothing left to do but wait and resist the urge to stare at the clock on his phone.
It’s excruciating.
He wishes he wasn’t so dedicated to being the best; then he could have shown up late.
The extra ten minutes inch by.
Then the appointed time arrives.
And then it passes.
Katsuki watches his phone tick over from 7:00 to 7:01 with a muttered, “What the hell!?”
Who’s late for a first date!? What kind of impression is that!?
Katsuki steams and sends off random threats to Mina for every additional five minutes his date is blowing this. At this point, he tells her, he’s definitely not going through with this damn date. The only reason he sticks around is so he can tell this guy he’s an asshole to his face.
Because he is definitely coming. Katsuki is not getting stood up on his first-ever date. That’s just not something that’s going to happen to him.
A fact that gets harder and harder to convince himself of when fifteen minutes pass and the asshole still hasn’t shown up. This is way later than just a missed train can excuse.
He’s jittery, leg bouncing hard against the underside of the low table, as he debates just leaving.
He still hasn’t made his mind up when the door finally slides open, sounds from the distant-seeming dining room spilling in, and his head snaps up, glaring and snapping before the host has even let the stranger in.
“Hey, asshole, what the hell were you-”
The stranger enters bowing, also talking before entering the room, so that they jumble over each other. “I’m so sorry! There was an emergency at the end of my shift and I didn’t have time to- !?”
Katsuki’s jaw snaps shut at the same time Izuku stops chattering and finally looks up.
He looks ridiculous. He’s in his gym shorts with an Endeavor Agency t-shirt on top. Someone put an oversized sport jacket on him; probably the host, considering the restaurant’s dress policy. His face is flushed and there’s a chunk missing from his usual halo of curls.
Katsuki’s stomach does a weird thing where it seems to flip upside down for a second. Then Izuku turns to the host with his wide eyes shining.
“Oh, um, I think there’s been a mistake?” He says, bowing his head in apology for the inconvenience. “I’m here to meet someone, but this is my friend…”
“Yeah, what the hell?” Katsuki barges in, coming to his senses as he realizes there’s been some sort of insane coincidence. “I booked this room specifically for privacy, you shouldn’t just be bringing random people back here!”
“Kacchan be polite.” Izuku scolds, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder.
Kacchan scowls at him. “It’s a reservation, it’s their job to honor it!”
Izuku’s face gets that scrunched-up constipated look it gets right before he really lays into Katsuki and Katsuki’s grinning, bracing for the fight, when the host clears her throat.
“I’m sorry for any confusion,” She says softly.
“Haa!” Katsuki crows, “See?”
“But there’s been no mistake.” She finishes as if he hasn’t spoken, “Both of your names are on the reservation for this room.”
“Hah?”
“What?”
They ask in tandem, then trade a silent glance.
“Mina.” Katsuki growls.
“Ochaco.” Izuku groans.
To the hapless host, Katsuki makes a dismissive gesture, “It ain’t your problem. Do me a favor and get me the second most expensive bottle of wine you have. Don’t care what kind it is.”
“Right away sir.” She says and leaves with a polite bow, not bothering to close the door since Izuku’s still halfway through it.
He hesitates, slippered feet shifting in and out of the room.
“Sit down, nerd.” Katsuki sighs, “The least we can do is figure out sufficient revenge for the losers who did this to us.”
“I don’t understand.” Izuku shakes his head, sliding down onto the cushion across from Katsuki. “Why would they do this?”
“I dunno, a lame joke, probably.” At Izuku’s confused expression, he rolls his eyes and gestures between them, “We’re too lame to get dates on our own, so they stick us with each other to rip the bandaid off. Hardy har har.”
There’s a cut on Izuku’s bottom lip, probably from whatever fight made him so late for his first-ever date. His teeth worry at it as he considers Katsuki’s assessment of the situation.
“I don’t know…” He says slowly, fingers absently tapping on the table. “That’s not really something I can see Ochaco doing. Or Mina, actually. They don’t like pranks like that.”
Katsuki exhales, knowing it’s true. If it was Shitty Hair or Sparky setting this up, maybe he could see it. But not from Pinky. “Shit, then. I don’t know.”
The waiter makes an appearance then, accompanied by the requested bottle. She pours them each a glass and explains a few things about the evening’s meal. Where it came from and all that shit. Katsuki half-listens, but is more interested in the facial journey Izuku goes on as he tries to piece together his theory of why this is all happening.
When they’re finally alone together, Katsuki drains his glass in one swallow and then gestures for Izuku to get on with it already. “Seriously, spit out whatever’s spinning in that egg head of yours.”
“That’s a mixed metaphor.” Izuku points out, but Katsuki valiantly resists taking the bait, so after a few seconds of tense silence, he sighs and gives in. “Do you think that maybe there’s a chance they set this up on purpose?”
“Heh?” Katsuki tilts his head, “Obviously - they couldn’t have done it by mistake.”
“I meant not as a joke,” Izuku swallows, nerves burning through his system, “Have you ever- no, never mind, it’s stupid.”
“Spit it out.” Katsuki insists, folding his arms and stubbornly glaring.
“Well, we already spend all our time together and talk about everything and plan to stay together for the rest of our lives,” Izuku’s fingers fidget back and forth in his laugh, his eyes taking in every part of the room except where Kacchan sits, “So, maybe, for some reason, our friends were under the impression that we both wanted to get together but never said it out loud?”
“Tch,” Katsuki scoffs, “I already told you, if I want something, I take it. I wouldn’t need Mina to trick you into it. She should know me better than that.”
“So you’ve never…?” Once again, Izuku stops himself and Katsuki makes an annoyed sound.
“Oh my god, will you finish a sentence please?”
“Will you let me think for a minute?” Izuku snaps back, a stubborn expression settling on his face. “I told you, I don’t have an easy time with this stuff! I’m trying to figure out what I can ask you!”
“You can ask me anything, don’t you know that by now!?” Without noticing it, they’ve both been steadily raising their voices and the sound outside their small room has died down.
At the same volume, Izuku replies. “I really don’t, Kacchan! It may have escaped your notice, but you can be really easy to upset sometimes!”
“I’m only pissed off because you’re pissing me off!” He insists, “If you have something to say, just say it.”
“Fine!” Izuku inhales deeply, “Kacchan, I’m in lo-”
“Um, excuse me.” This place is really nice. The paper door slides silently open as the waitress sticks her head in the room with a placating smile. “The other patrons have noticed that-”
“GET. OUT!” They shout, turning in unison to berate the interruption before they totally realize what’s happened.
The waitress blinks at them, reeling back in reflex, and then slowly but surely, her eyes fill with tears.
“Ack!” Izuku jumps forward, bowing, “Sorry! I lost my temper! Sorry!”
But no amount of sorries can recover their reputation or stop any of the many eyes following them as they are escorted out of the building. They don’t even make Katsuki pay for the wine - the manager just solemnly informs him that he won’t be permitted back in the restaurant.
Which is too damn bad, because Katsuki had really been looking forward to trying it.
If only Izuku could have managed to have a normal conversation for once in his life, we might have made it through dinner. Katsuki thinks to himself.
Speaking of Izuku, Katsuki turns to complain to him, but the head of green hair that was just there is now rapidly retreating down the sidewalk, dodging other bodies with unusual speed and grace.
“Hey!” Katsuki calls out, “Izuku you - damn you, get back here!”
He has to run to catch up and even then only barely manages to grab his hand in time to keep him from flying across the nearest crosswalk and disappearing into the train station.
“What is wrong with you today?” Katsuki demands, yanking him away from the road and pinning him against the nearest wall.
“Nothing.” Izuku lies, his bottom lip trembling, eye lashes damp with unspilt tears.
“You’re a terrible liar.” Katsuki reiterates for the one millionth time in his life, shaking the bastard for good measure.
Izuku’s eyes squeeze shut and he tilts his head back against the wall, exposing the long column of his throat in the process. As usual, Katsuki finds himself staring at the well between his collar bones, more than a little transfixed by the swell and dip of his partner’s Adam’s apple.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku says, swallowing back a sob. “I-it was just a long day and I was late to my first date and you were there and this- it wasn’t how I wanted this to go.”
Then the strangest thing happens. Izuku tilts his head forward and melts into the cage of Katsuki’s body. His head is a heavy weight on his shoulder, his hands drag up his torso and find a resting place in his shirt. Katsuki’s heart pounds as he slowly raises his own hand and threads it soothingly into Izuku’s wild curls.
This isn’t something they do. Touch is reserved for fighting and training. For elbow jabs and shoulders pressed together on Katsuki’’s small couch while playing video games. But if it’s what Izuku wants…
Katsuki lets his head tip to the side, resting it against Izuku’s on his shoulder. He exhales, sending curls bouncing around his neck.
“Shit,” He breathes out, “This was it the whole time?”
Minutely, Izuku nods. And then he quietly adds, “Kacchan’s always been my dream.”
There is not a lot of coverage on this sidewalk in the heart of Tokyo. Every second that passes is one second closer to someone inevitably noticing them and causing a scene. Pro Heroes caught canoodling in broad daylight. It’ll ruin Dynamite’s status as an aloof heart throb and Deku’s reputation as the down-to-earth, always-available guy.
Still, Kacchan can’t help but tip Izuku’s face up and give him what he wants.
After all, the first person to ever fall for Izuku’s charm is Kacchan and he’s never learned how to let him down gently.