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Bakugou stayed after school that day.
He told his friends he had something to do, told the teachers he forgot something in his locker, but really, he was waiting. He didn’t even know what for--maybe for proof that he hadn’t gone too far. Maybe for Deku to just show up at all, so he had a reason to kick his ass and not feel so bad about it.
Except, the rooftop was quiet, empty but for the sound of the wind tugging at the chain-link fence surrounding the field below, and the fading hum of traffic. The sun was starting to sink low, bleeding orange, and pink across the horizon.
Bakugou sat on the edge, elbows on his knees, staring at the concrete between his boots. He replayed the words in his head for the hundredth time.
“Take a swan dive off the roof, and pray for a Quirk in your next life.”
He’d said it as a joke, because Deku never listened anyway, or got mad. But afterward, watching him flinch like it didn’t hurt when it hurt the most, was enough to make Bakugou do some inner reflecting.
The image burned behind his eyelids every time he blinked. He didn’t mean it. Not really. He just went a little too far, and didn’t know how to stop being angry at Deku for never giving up, and for being angry at himself for caring in the first place.
So he waited, and waited--texted dad to let him know he’d been home later tonight.
By the time the sun dipped behind the buildings, the sky had turned deep gold, and Bakugou was starting to think maybe Deku had gone home. He’d be fine, and maybe this guilt in his gut would fade by tomorrow, because he would never actually do something like that.
Would he?
Then, Katsuki heard the rooftop door creak open, the chains above rattling like bones. He turned, heart in his throat.
Midoriya stood there, shoulders slumped, his uniform wrinkled, and dirtied. His eyes were rimmed red, and he didn’t have his bag. He didn’t even seem to notice Bakugou sitting there.
He stood immediately. “What the fuck are you doing up here?”
Deku’s gaze lifted, and for a moment, Bakugou saw something he’d never seen before. Not fear, not awe. Defeat.
“I’m… going to get that Quirk, Kacchan,” he said. His voice cracked on his name. “I'm doing what you told me to do.”
Bakugou moved closer, brows knit. He kicked his bag out of the way, and showed the palm of his hand, sparks popping.
“You said it yourself, right? I can’t be a hero without a quirk, so...I’m gonna go get one. Somehow.”
“Oi, look, moron. I didn’t mean that. The swan dive thing, that was--” He looked away. “I was just talkin’ shit.” He caught Izuku’s big green eyes again, trying to ignore the sting in his throat. “It meant nothing, alright?”
Deku shook his head, stepping closer to the ledge, and challenging Bakugou at the same time. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Like hell it doesn’t!” Bakugou barked, moving in front of him. “Don’t talk like that! What the hell’s gotten into you?!”
“I just want to be like you,” he said. “You’re strong. Everyone likes you. Even when you yell at me, I thought if I tried hard enough, you’d see I could be strong, too. But I don’t even have a Quirk. I can’t save anyone.” He dropped his head, curls hanging loosely and framing his face. “You were right.”
He took another shaky step forward, knocking into Bakugou. He retaliated and shoved Midoriya--hard--straight down into the gravel.
“Stop it, Izuku!”
The impact knocked the breath out of him. Deku blinked up, stunned, tears still streaming, while Bakugou hovered over him, palms cracking with sparks he couldn’t control.
He was shaking.
“You think I want you to do something fuckin’ stupid like that?! You think I hate you that much?!” Bakugou’s voice broke. Izuku gasped when he saw tears.
“You’re--” Katsuki gritted his teeth, and wiped his eyes. “You’re just so damn annoying. Always smiling, and always trying to help. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”
“Then... why do you say those things?”
“’Cause I’m a damn idiot, that’s why.”
Neither of them moved for a long moment. The wind tugged at Deku’s hair, lifting strands that caught the dying light. Bakugou could see every freckle on his face, every tear trail. He couldn’t leave him like this.
He offered a hand. “C’mon. Get up.”
Deku hesitated. Then, he looked to his Kacchan with hope, and reached for it. His palm was trembling against Bakugou’s, but they held tight.
“You don’t need one to be a hero, you hear me? You just… you already act like one. That’s why I’m hard on you. I was... jealous. Because it comes so naturally to you.”
Deku’s lips parted, eyes wide as he was pulled to his feet. “Kacchan…”
Bakugou turned away, shoulders hunched. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll blow your ass sky-high.”
Deku laughed.
For a long time, the only sound was the wind. The sunset stretched over the buildings, spilling light across the gravel, painting their shadows long, and thin. Bakugou stood rigid, chest heaving, hands trembling with leftover adrenaline.
Deku was standing by his side, shoulders shaking. The sound of him crying, really crying, made Bakugou’s stomach twist like a knife.
He’d seen Deku get hurt before. Scrapes and bruises when they were kids, but never this way. It was everything Bakugou had ever said finally sinking into him, heavy and sharp, more destructive than his fists.
“Stop crying,” he said, giving his leg a half-hearted kick. “You’re fine.”
“I’m not,” Deku rasped, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. “You don’t understand how hard it is without a Quirk.”
He waited.
“I try so hard,” Deku went on between sobs. “You, and everyone says it’s pointless, but I can’t stop. I need to be strong. You’re already better, and you always have been. And you don’t have to work as hard as me because you were born with something amazing already.”
Bakugou’s throat closed up. He never thought of that before. Then again, it wasn’t like they ever had any meaningful conversations.
“You were the first hero in my life, Kacchan.”
Bakugou gasped, eyes softening.
He took a slow step forward, the gravel underfoot loud in the quiet air. For once, his voice wasn’t a weapon; it was small and unsteady.
“Izuku. Look at me.”
Deku did, eyes glassy. Bakugou reached out carefully, not touching him, only hovering close enough to block out the breeze.
“You don’t have to prove anything, got it? You’re not weak, you’re just” --he sighed-- “stupid enough to keep trying. And that’s… I dunno. That’s kinda strong, too.”
He reached forward, grabbing Deku’s sleeve, and moving them closer to the door. “Just--don’t stand that close to a ledge again. You freaked me out.”
Deku sniffled. “Okay.”
Bakugou huffed, and looked away. “I’ll never say that crap again. So don’t do anymore stupid shit. Understand?”
There was a pause--one of those quiet, weighty ones where the air feels too thick. Then Deku’s voice came out small and trembling, but honest: “Then… stop being so mean to me.”
“Huh?”
“I like you,” Deku said. He grabbed Bakugou’s arm. “I always have. Even when you yell. Even when you scare me. I just… I like you a lot.”
The world went completely still. His hands, still half-raised to push him away, went rigid. For a long moment, he stared with eyes wide, face burning in the fading light.
“Wha--what exactly are you saying?”
“That I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”
Bakugou’s heart slammed against his ribs. He couldn’t remember the last time someone said something so simple, and made it feel like the ground had shifted under his feet. Like his Quirk fully activated.
He turned away, trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck. He was use to the heat, but this was different. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here before someone locks us in.”
As they started toward the door, Deku’s hand brushed his--just a ghost of contact--and Bakugou didn’t pull away. Instead, he took it, holding hard.
He just kept walking, lip caught between his teeth, pretending not to notice the warmth crawling up his arms. They didn’t say much on the walk back, but held hands the whole way. It felt right, like everything was back in place.
The sky had gone dark, the air thick with summer humidity, and the buzz of cicadas. When they reached Midoriya’s house, they slowed by the gate. “You really don’t have to come in--”
“I’m coming in.”
“What? Kacchan, it’s fine!” Deku let go of his hand to wave them. “Really!”
Bakugou gave him a look sharp enough to slice air. “Not arguing about it. You’re not staying alone tonight.”
Deku hesitated, then nodded, cheeks pink. “Okay…”
When the door opened, Inko Midoriya gasped like she’d seen a ghost. “Katsuki Bakugou? Goodness! It’s been years, honey!”
Bakugou, who could face down villains without blinking, suddenly stood frozen in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets. “Uh. Hey, Auntie Inko. Been a while.”
“You’re so tall now! And still helping my Izuku, I hope?” She ruffled his hair.
He scratched at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”
“Mom, Kacchan’s just staying for the night. We… uh… talked things out.”
Inko blinked at both of them--red-rimmed eyes, dusty uniforms, that silent tension between them--and seemed to understand more than she said. “Alright then. You boys must be hungry.”
Dinner was weirdly normal.
Inko fussed over them, piling curry on both plates, while Bakugou mumbled polite thank-yous, and Deku pretended not to notice him stealing extra rice. By the time the dishes were done, Inko announced she was turning in early.
“You can use the futon, Katsuki,” she said kindly, “and Izuku can get you blankets.”
His ears went red. “Thank you, Auntie.”
When the lights dimmed, and Inko’s door clicked shut, the quiet came back. Deku sat cross-legged on his bed while Bakugou spread the futon on the floor. The apartment smelled faintly of soap and curry and the rain that had started to fall outside.
Bakugou finally broke the silence. “You still eat too slow.”
“You still talk too fast.” They fell quiet again, the kind of quiet that wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. After a while, Deku said, “Kacchan?”
“What?”
“Thanks… for staying.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it. Just making sure you don’t do something dumb.”
“I’m not going to,” Deku said. “Not anymore.” Thunder rolled somewhere far off. Midoriya laid back, staring at the ceiling. “Kacchan?”
“What now?”
“Did you mean what you said? That I already act like a hero?”
Bakugou turned to face the wall. “Don’t make me say it again.”
A small grin crept across Deku’s face. “Then I’ll keep trying to be one, and you’ll stop worrying about me.”
Bakugou snorted. “Like that’s ever gonna happen.” The rain picked up, tapping against the window, and for the first time in years, Bakugou let himself relax near him.
“Goodnight, Kacchan.”
“…’Night, Deku.”
He didn’t fall asleep for a long time, but when he finally did, it was to the sound of Izuku’s steady breathing a few feet away--and the strange, quiet realization that he’d do anything to make sure he never heard that boy cry again.
The rain came harder after midnight--steady, drumming against the roof, slipping through the cracked window in soft hisses. Their home seemed to shrink around the sound.
Bakugou lay on the futon, staring at the ceiling, every thunderclap making his muscles twitch. He told himself it was stupid--he wasn’t a kid anymore--but storms always hit different when he wasn’t home.
He turned over for what felt like the hundredth time, listening to Deku’s breathing above him on the bed.
The rain hit the window again--sharp, sudden. Bakugou cursed under his breath, sitting up. “Deku. Wake up.”
A muffled yawn answered him. “Kacchan, you okay...? What time is it...?”
“I can’t sleep.”
Deku rubbed his eyes, blinking at him through the dim light. “It’s just the rain.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like it.” He sounded irritated, but Deku knew that tone--it was the one he used when he was embarrassed. Half a beat passed, then Bakugou exhaled hard.
“Tch. Move over.”
“Huh?”
“Move the hell over,” he repeated, eyes darting away. “I’m not sleeping on the floor while it sounds like the world’s ending out there.”
Deku blinked, then shifted to one side of the bed. He patted the blankets. “You used to do this back when we were kids, Kacchan.”
Bakugou grumbled, but climbed in anyway, right under the sheets with him. “Shut up,” he said.
“Okay,” Deku said, smiling into the dark.
They lay there, the silence filled only by the rhythm of rain. Gradually, Bakugou’s shoulders relaxed, and Deku’s breathing steadied again, soft and close.
Bakugou turned his head. In the glow of the streetlight through the curtains, he could see the outline of Deku’s face--peaceful, faintly smiling even in sleep. Something in Bakugou’s chest ached. Not sharp--just deep, like the slow pull of gravity.
He’d spent so long trying to push this idiot away, but here he was, warm, trusting, just inches apart, and Bakugou realized he didn’t want to be anywhere else.
He reached out, stopping himself halfway before his fingers brushed Deku’s cheek. Instead, he let his hand fall back to the blanket, swallowing hard.
“You really are a damn nerd.”
Deku stirred, murmuring in his sleep as he cuddled close. “Goodnight, Kacchan…love you…”
Bakugou stared at him for a long time, heart thudding, rain still beating against the glass. No, he didn’t mean it, Bakugou told himself. Izuku still clung to what their childhood use to be, even when he said love you. He did it at all the sleepovers they had, even though Katsuki never said it back, and half the time, didn’t even want him there in the first place.
And that’s when it hit him. Quiet, certain, but unstoppable. That thing in his chest wasn’t just guilt, and it certaintly wasn’t pride. It was him. Deku. Izuku Midoriya.
The one he loved. The one he has loved.
He ended up sleeping through the night better than he ever had.
Sunlight crept through the curtains, a pale wash over the small room. The storm had passed, leaving the air clean, and bright. The only sound now was birds outside.
Bakugou woke first.
For a moment he didn’t know where he was, the unfamiliar ceiling, the faint smell of soap and that sweet green tea he associated with Auntie Inko’s place. Then, there was the most familiar warmth beside him.
Deku, still half-buried in the covers, hair a tangled mess of green curls, cheeks slightly pink, dotted with those pretty little freckles. His face was turned toward Bakugou, lips parted in sleep, breath soft against his shoulder. He was so cute it made his chest burn.
Every instinct screamed to bolt upright, but the other part of him, the one that remembered how small they’d been the last time this happened, stayed perfectly still.
He sighed quietly, staring at the ceiling only to gather himself before turning to Deku again. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep like that, but shit, if it didn’t give him butterflies.
Deku stirring beside him made his stomach drop. He rubbed an eye. “Mmm… Kacchan?”
Bakugou grunted, turning his face away because it was on fire. Was he always this damn cute?! “Yeah?”
“Just makin’ sure you’re still here…” Then, he nuzzled back into Bakugou’s shoulder, and sighed like it was the only thing keeping him grounded, keeping him sure.
Shit. This was just like Bakugou’s favourite romance manga. He thinks back on how to approach something so intimate.
“You still drool in your sleep, nerd.” He gritted his teeth--maybe that wasn’t his best.
Deku sat up, blushing. “Wha--nuh-uh! I don’t!”
Bakugou glanced down, and pointed to the multiple wet patches on his shirt. Before Deku could combust from embarrassment, a cry on his lips, the door slid open.
“Good morning, boys!” Inko stood in the doorway, holding a tray of breakfast. Rice balls, onigiri, miso soup, and tea. Both Katsuki and Midoriya were still, eyes locked. Maybe if they didn’t move, she wouldn’t see them--like they were kids again.
“Oh!” Bakugou grinded his teeth a little harder. “I didn’t realize you two--oh my, look at you! Just like when you were little.”
Bakugou’s face went scarlet. “It’s not what it looks like!”
Deku, equally red, waved his hands. “M-Mom! We just--uh--the storm--you know how Kacchan doesn’t like the rain...”
Inko laughed, setting the tray down on the desk. “Relax, boys. I think it’s sweet. You’re both safe, and that’s what matters.”
Bakugou muttered under his breath, “Can die any second, but sure, this is fine.”
“It’s nice to have you back, Katsuki,” Inko said, before they both shyly watched her leave. Bakugou huffed, and crossed his arms.
“You stayed all night,” Izuku said.
“Yeah, well… somebody had to make sure you didn’t fall out the window or somethin’…”
“Thank you.”
Fuck, why was he so cute?!
The way he said it--gentle, genuine--made Bakugou’s stomach twist in that same strange way it had the night before. He looked away, and muttered, “Stop thankin’ me. It’s weird.”
But he didn’t move away. Deku reached for the tray, handing him one of the onigiri. “Then eat. Mom made these for both of us.”
“Fine. But we can’t be late for school.”
They ate in silence for a while, the morning sunlight glinting off the window. When Deku smiled again--bright, easy--Bakugou finally understood how fragile that smile had been the day before, and how much he wanted to keep it safe.
He didn’t say it out loud, but the thought was there, solid and certain: he wasn’t letting go again.
Neither of them said much for a while. The clink of chopsticks against bowls filled the quiet space, comfortable and heavy all at once.
Deku sat cross-legged on the bed, eating slowly. Bakugou moved to the desk for some space, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on his rice bowl like it might offer an answer to everything he didn’t know how to say. He wasn’t good at this things.
The air between them still felt fragile--like one wrong word could break the peace they’d somehow built overnight. Bakugou finally exhaled, setting his bowl down.
“Can’t believe you were gonna leave your mom alone like that.”
Deku froze mid-bite. His hand trembled just a little. “Oh… that.”
Bakugou glanced at him, jaw tight, arms crossed. “Yeah. That.”
Deku stared at his hands. His voice came out small, quiet. “I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to do it.”
For a second, Bakugou didn’t answer. He just looked at him--at the tired eyes, the faint bruises under them from crying, the way his shoulders curled inward like he was trying to make himself smaller.
Then Bakugou shook his head slowly. “Yeah, you would’ve.”
Deku looked up, startled.
Bakugou leaned back in the chair. “You’ve got more guts than anyone I know. You’d throw yourself head-first into a fight, into danger, into… anything. You don’t even think twice. You just keep goin’, even when everyone tells you not to.” He hesitated, voice softer. “That’s what scares me.”
Deku blinked, eyes wide and shining. “Kacchan…”
Bakugou turned away, pretending to scowl. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just sayin’--you’ve always had guts. You just don’t know when to use them.”
“I’ll… try to use them better next time.”
“Good. Do that.”
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore. It was the kind that sits warm in your chest, the kind that feels like maybe things will be okay. Bakugou went back to eating, pretending not to notice the small smile tugging at the corners of Deku’s mouth.
The days that followed were different.
No one really said it out loud, but something had changed. Bakugou didn’t walk ahead of him anymore, or behind.
He walked with him--sometimes even slowing down so Deku could keep up, muttering about how “you walk too slow, nerd,” even though he was the one adjusting his pace.
At school, whenever someone made a comment about Deku being quirkless, Kacchan’s eyes would narrow, and the offender would suddenly find an urgent reason to walk away. He stopped getting shoved in the hallways, and started smiling more again. And after school, Kacchan always came home with him.
It started as just to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, but it became routine--drop bags by the door, greet Auntie Inko, and sit cross-legged on the floor with notebooks open, pretending to do homework while they talked about everything else.
Kacchan complained the whole time, but he always stayed until dinner, and helped with clean up, too. Sometimes he stayed later.
He’d show off tiny explosions in his palm, using them to light the corner of a page, or just to make Deku laugh. “See that? Controlled. No burn marks this time.”
Izuku grinned. “You’re getting really good at that, Kacchan!” He tried to act bored, but his heart thumped every time Deku’s eyes lit up like that.
It was stupid. He’d seen that smile a thousand times before, so why did it hit harder now? Why did every laugh feel like an ache in his chest?
He figured it out one evening when the room went quiet between them--when Deku’s hand brushed his by accident reaching for a pencil.
Kacchan froze. His breath caught, and he realized it wasn’t new. He’d felt this for years. That weird tightness in his chest whenever Deku looked at someone else. The anger when Deku didn’t give up. The shame when he made him cry. It wasn’t hate. It never was. He liked him.
And he didn’t know what to do with that truth sitting heavy and alive in his chest. So one night, he just did something. Because he needed to know.
They were packing up their books, the room glowing gold from the lamp, the rain starting again outside. Deku was laughing at something dumb he said, head tilted back, freckles catching the light.
And he leaned forward. It wasn’t rough or planned--just a soft, sudden kiss. Barely more than a breath, but it was enough to make Deku freeze, eyes wide, pencil slipping from his hand. When they broke apart, both of them stared at each other, cheeks blazing.
“K-Kacchan! What--what was that for?!” he stammered. “I-I...”
“I dunno. Just ’cause.”
“Because what?!”
Bakugou eyes darted away, cheeks red. “’Cuz you’re so damn cute. Alright? Sorry, or whatever...”
Deku made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a gasp, face going crimson. “Kacchan!”
“I said I’m sorry!” He blurted, running a hand through his hair. “Should’ve asked first...”
Before he could move away, Deku launched forward--not thinking, just feeling--and tackled him square in the chest. They hit the floor with a thud. Bakugou blinked up at him, stunned, as Deku stared down.
“Then you should’ve done this first.” He hugged him tight. Bakugou froze for a second before wrapping an arm around him, grinning against his hair.
“You’re an idiot.” And that was the exact moment the door cracked open.
“Oh! Sorry, boys!”
They both whipped their heads toward the door--where Inko stood, holding a plate of cookies, eyes wide, and a little too cheerful.
“Just checking in,” she said, setting the sweets down, and quickly retreating. “It’s so nice to see you two getting along again!”
The door closed.
The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of Deku’s face meeting his hands as he groaned. “She’s never going to let me live that down.”
Bakugou laughed, really laughed, the kind that shook his shoulders and made his eyes soften. “Guess you’re stuck with me now, nerd.”
Deku peeked through his fingers, cheeks still glowing. “I will always follow you, Kacchan.”
A few days later, Bakugou told Deku to come over to his house, and the Bakugou household hadn’t changed much. Same warm lights, same smell of curry and cleaning spray, same faint hum of the old TV in the living room.
As soon as Izuku stepped through the door, he felt that familiar comfort rush back, the kind you only get from a place you used to know by heart.
“Hag! We’re home,” Katsuki called, kicking off his shoes.
“Don’t you yell in my house, you little shit!” came the immediate reply from the kitchen. Izuku blinked, startled, then chuckled softly. Yep. Nothing’s changed.
Mitsuki Bakugou came bustling out with a hand on her hip, still as fierce, and radiant as ever. Her hair was a little shorter, her grin just as sharp.
When she saw Izuku, she froze for half a second, then broke into a wide smile. “Well, I’ll be damned! If it isn’t little Midoriya! About time you brought him back around, you little brat.”
“Don’t start,” Bakugou barked, turning bright red. “You’re already embarrassing me!”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed, swatting at him with a dish towel. “You’re lucky he’s still willing to be seen with you after all the crap you pulled when you were younger.”
Bakugou snatched at the towel. “Quit it!”
Mitsuki tugged back, both of them wrestling for a second like it was totally normal, while Izuku laughed helplessly at the doorway.
“It’s okay, Auntie Mitsuki,” Izuku said between chuckles. “Really.”
She grinned, clearly delighted, and finally yanked the towel out of her son’s hand. “You hear that, Katsuki? He still calls me Auntie. Not like you, you ungrateful brat.”
“Hag, you’re gonna make me move out!”
“You’re going to live in the dorms anyway, idiot!”
Their bickering followed them all the way to the kitchen, where Masaru Bakugou was calmly setting the table like he couldn’t even hear them. He smiled when Izuku stepped in.
“Ah, Izuku! It’s been a long time,” Masaru said warmly.
Izuku smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, too long.”
Masaru chuckled, voice calm and steady, the exact opposite of his wife’s. “I always told Katsuki you’d come around again. I’m glad you did.”
Izuku nodded, watching the two Bakugous still arguing in the background. “I missed this place.”
Masaru hummed, stacking plates. “You were always welcome here, son.”
That simple word son hit harder than it should have. Izuku’s chest tightened, but he smiled softly. “Thanks.”
He remembered being small, sitting right here while Masaru taught them to fold paper cranes or let them lick the curry spoon before dinner.
He remembered Katsuki sulking when Masaru ruffled his hair first, and how that had turned into a fight--the kind that ended with Katsuki shouting, “Stop trying to steal my dad, Deku! He’s mine! It’s not my fault you don’t have one!”
Back then, Izuku hadn’t understood what that meant. He just knew it hurt. Now, older, and sitting in the same room again, he finally did. Kacchan had been scared, too.
Dinner was loud.
Mitsuki and Katsuki bickered nonstop--about seasoning, about how loud he chewed, about his elbows on the table. “Put your damn napkin in your lap while you’re at it.”
“I’m eatin’, hag!”
Masaru calmly poured more tea, unfazed. “So, Izuku, how’s school treating you?”
Izuku smiled. “It’s good! I’m still working hard to keep up with Kacchan.”
“That’s good to hear,” Masaru said with a gentle grin.
“You chew like a wild animal!”
“You made the food too chewy!”
Masaru just sighed, resting his chin on his hand, and Izuku laughed softly. It was home. This is where he belonged.
After dinner, Mitsuki started pulling out old photo albums, and Katsuki nearly fell out of his chair trying to grab them.
“Hag, don’t you dare--!”
“Oh, I dare,” she said gleefully, flipping to the first page. “Look at this one, Izuku! His first sports day. Look at that pout!”
“Give it back!”
Masaru calmly sipped his tea while Izuku tried not to choke laughing. “You were adorable, Kacchan!”
“Shut up, nerd!”
“I’m not laughing at you, I swear!”
“That’s worse!”
Masaru smiled, serene in the middle of the storm. “You two haven’t changed a bit.”
“Feels like we’re kids again.”
Bakugou grumbled, tugging the album out of his mother’s grip. “Yeah, yeah. Quit that.” For a brief second, Mitsuki and Masaru exchanged a knowing look--proud, fond, a little relieved.
And Izuku, sitting there surrounded by laughter and warmth, realized he wasn’t just happy to be with Kacchan again.
He was happy to be home.
Later, when they decided it was time for bed, Izuku took in Bakugou’s room, and saw that it hadn’t changed much.
Same posters, same faint smell of smoke and laundry detergent, same scuffed floor where he’d tested his quirk one too many times. Izuku smiled when he stepped in.
“It’s exactly how I remember it.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
They pulled out the futon together. Katsuki tossed Izuku a pillow, muttering, “You can have that one. Don’t drool on my floor.”
“I don’t drool! Maybe. Sometimes...”
“Tell that to my shirts.”
For a few minutes, they lay there in the dim light, the sounds of Mitsuki clattering dishes downstairs, and Masaru’s calm voice somewhere in the background. It was peaceful, comfortable in a way that made Izuku’s chest feel tight.
The quiet stretched until his voice broke it, small, and hesitant. “Kacchan?”
Katsuki rolled over, half-asleep already. “What?”
“I’m… kinda scared.”
“Scared?! Of WHAT?!”
“I dunno. I just… can’t sleep.”
Bakugou groaned, shoving the blanket off his face. “What the hell do you have to even be scared about?! I even brought out that stupid night light you like! You know--the dumb one shaped like All Might.”
Izuku’s cheeks went pink. “I didn’t say I liked it…”
“Yeah, you did! You stared at it for like an hour the last time you were here then you were off snoring--”
“How do you even remember that stuff--”
“I remember EVERYTHING WHEN IT COMES TO YOU, IDIOT!”
From downstairs, Mitsuki’s voice cut through the ceiling. “STOP YELLING! IT’S EIGHT O’CLOCK AT NIGHT!”
Izuku laughed nervously, fidgeting with his fingers. “Sorry.”
Bakugou sighed, ignoring his mother, glaring at the ceiling. “Whatever. Come up here, then.”
“Huh?”
He patted the bed beside him without looking over. “You heard me, Deku. Get up here before you start crying or somethin’.”
Izuku hesitated, then climbed up, careful to stay on the edge--but the moment he settled, Bakugou’s warmth was right there beside him. Familiar, and safe.
They lay like that for a while, the soft hum of the night light casting a golden glow across the room. Izuku turned on his side, staring up at Bakugou’s face in the faint light until the other boy finally muttered, “What?”
Izuku blinked, cheeks warm. “Can we… kiss?”
Bakugou froze. His ears went bright red. “What--now?” Izuku nodded, smiling sheepishly. “Fine. But quick.”
It was just a peck--gentle, nervous, over before either of them could really think about it. When they pulled apart, they both turned the opposite way immediately.
“Now go to sleep.”
Izuku giggled softly. “Okay.” A few minutes later, he shifted closer, wrapping an arm, and then a leg around Bakugou.
“Oi--what are you--”
“I can feel your heart pounding,” Izuku whispered. “I like you too, Kacchan.”
Bakugou whipped around, scandalized. “WHAT?! WHEN DID I SAY THAT, IDIOT?!”
Before Izuku could answer, the door slammed open. “WHAT’S ALL THE YELLING--oh. Aww.” Mitsuki’s grin was immediate.
“MOM--”
“MASARU! The romance manga you’ve been buying him are finally working! Come see this shit!”
“HAG!” Bakugou bellowed, face red to his ears. “AND DAD!!! YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT BUYING ME THOSE!!!”
From down the hall came Masaru’s calm voice. “Your mother knows everything, Katsuki.”
“MOM--OUT! GET THE HELL OUT!” Izuku was shaking with laughter, covering his face with his hands as Mitsuki cackled and finally shut the door behind her.
Bakugou turned to glare at him, still red as a tomato. “Don’t you dare laugh.” But Izuku couldn’t help it.
“Your mom’s the best.”
“Shut up! I’M THE BEST, not her!”
He gave Izuku a gentle shove--more of a push out of flustered panic than actual anger--but Izuku lost his balance and fell off the bed with a soft thud.
“Izuku...” Bakugou sat up immediately, reaching down. “Damn it, I didn’t mean to--”
“I’m fine, Kacchan.”
Bakugou sighed, reaching down to pull him up--but Izuku grabbed his wrist and yanked. Bakugou yelped as he toppled forward, landing right beside him on the futon with a whump.
“Deku! What the hell--”
They wrestled clumsily, half shouting insults that didn’t mean anything. Bakugou’s quirk crackled faintly in his palms, harmless sparks lighting the air like tiny fireflies while they rolled across the blankets.
“Say you’re sorry!”
“Screw you!” Bakugou barked. Their laughter echoed through the little house, warm and alive. Eventually, breathless and grinning, they collapsed side by side on the futon.
“You’re annoying as shit...”
Izuku turned his head toward him. “But you like me anyway.”
Bakugou snorted, closing his eyes. “Yeah… guess so.”