Graduation. Adulthood. Heroes.
All of that was great and whatever – everything Izuku had ever wanted. Mostly.
There was only one thing which had never come to fruition, and Izuku was watching him from across the crowded ballroom.
Count on Yaoyorozu’s family to throw the most outrageous graduation party in UA history. Izuku supposed it was only natural, on some level. With the fame their class had gleaned over the years, it was a miracle all of them had survived their school experience. On top of that, he, Kacchan, and Todoroki were lauded by newspapers and heroes alike as the The Power Three, a trio of heroes with the collective ability to feasibly surpass every hero in recorded history.
This ballroom, black-tie affair wasn’t just for the graduating class’ celebration, but for heroes, hero offices, and others to come and be a part of the next generation of talent spreading out into the world.
Izuku didn’t care for any of that. Not right now. He was on his own personal mission – his own set of standards which he’d held himself to, and had not yet risen to meet.
Namely, finding out if Katsuki Bakugou, explosive terror of UA, wanted Izuku like he thought he had for the past three years. For someone so aggressive, Kacchan had never made a move, but for moves to attack him or stare at him every time he thought Izuku wasn’t looking. The big doofus.
Well, that was changing today. This was the beginning of the rest of their lives, and Izuku wasn’t going to hit the starting line with a head full of what-if’s and should-have’s.
“Kacchan!” Izuku said, smile at the ready as he approached Kacchan, who was chatting with a hero Izuku only distantly recognized. He might have even been from Korea, if he recalled.
“Hi there, thank you for coming,” Izuku said, nodding his head in respect. Before Kacchan could say a word, Izuku hooked his arm in Kacchan’s and clung to his side with his lips still curved at the unnamed hero. “Could you excuse us for a moment, please? Bakugou’s presence is required.”
Izuku barely waited for a word of assent before he turned and dragged Kacchan with him.
“Oiy oiy, Deku,” Kacchan said gruffly, digging fingers in the collar of his crisp dress shirt and yanking as they weaved through the crowd. “Where the fuck you taking me?”
“I’m saving you,” Izuku said, polite, frozen smile in place as he waved at someone or other and continued through without pause. “You look about thirteen minutes from implosion.”
“Thank fuck,” was all Kacchan said, his lips a stiff line which Izuku knew was his best attempt at a friendly expression. Bless him, he was trying so hard right now. That was a monumental difference from fourteen year-old Kacchan and this eighteen year-old, slightly self-controlled one.
The biggest difference, though? They were friends.
Skirting the outer border of round dining tables, Izuku bumped his shoulder against Kacchan’s arm for attention. Kacchan looked over with a frown, his eyes narrowing a little at Izuku’s mischievous grin. In that moment, Kacchan followed Izuku’s hand in time to watch him snatch a full, opened bottle of champagne from the ice bucket of one of the tables.
Izuku fled through the ballroom doors, fingers linked with Kacchan's, already giggling by the time the door shut and they were alone in the vast hallway.
“You sneaky sonofabitch,” Kacchan said, humor in his voice as they strolled down the corridor, arms brushing. Loosening his tie, then whipping it off and pocketing it, Kacchan slid a considering look toward Izuku, who offered the bottle out. Kacchan took it. “First year Deku was way too pussy to run off with a bottle of anything, let alone –“ Kacchan scanned the champagne label. His eyebrows shot up. “Let alone damn fuckin’ expensive champagne.”
“Hey,” Izuku said with a laugh, watching with delight as Kacchan brought the bottle to his lips and took a long drink. “We have nearly died multiple times. We deserve all of the champagne.”
“Cheers to that shit,” Kacchan said with a short laugh, the sharp curve of his grin always giving Izuku a moment’s dazed pause.
Izuku robotically took the bottle offered and drank – a little too long – until Kacchan was clapping him on the back with one hand and snatching back the bottle with the other.
“Save some for me, asshole,” he said gruffly, amusement in his voice as he took another drink, this time his arm slung heavy and casual over Izuku’s shoulder.
Friends still gave Izuku playful hassle for being such a powerful hero, yet relatively short and absolutely stocky. Secretly, though, he was glad he never grew too much more. He liked fitting perfectly under Kacchan’s arm.
The sound of laughter down the hall stiffened them both. At once, Izuku grabbed Kacchan’s wrist and sidestepped into the nearest room, slamming the door behind them. Both laughing, their backs leaning against the door panel, Kacchan twisted the lock and drank again.
Grinning, Izuku stole the bottle from his mouth, only shrieking with laughter as champagne spilled from Kacchan’s lips and down his shirt.
“Motherfucker,” Kacchan said, swiping his suited arm across his chin, as he took steps toward Izuku, who couldn’t stop vibrating with mirth. Kacchan’s scarred fingers worked open the first three buttons of his dress shirt, leaving the sharp line of his collarbone bare. His eyes flickered with red flame, the corner of his mouth curled. “I’ll kill you for that.”
“To be fair,” Izuku said, his shoulders shaking as he refrained from full-out guffaws. “You’ve tried to kill me for less.”
The malice disappeared from Kacchan’s face like a match going out, and Kacchan plucked the bottle from Izuku’s hand for another drink.
Dragging his attention from the way Kacchan’s throat worked as he swallowed, Izuku turned and looked around the room.
“Nice library,” he said to himself, in awe. He wandered the wall, hand out, fingers trailing the bumpy spines, reading titles as he went. The smell of books and leather and ink brought a slow curve of lips as he paused to look up at the volumes which travelled to the ceiling. Pulling out a book at random, Izuku scanned through the pages, sinking in to the comfort of written word.
“Earth to nerd, come in, nerd,” Kacchan said. He thumped his shoulders against the wall of shelves, very close to Izuku.
“Says the guy who came out first in the entire school,” Izuku said casually, not looking up as he turned a page.
“Dude, I’m a genius, not a nerd. Get it straight. The fuck you reading anyway?”
Izuku paused, gaze flicking up to meet Kacchan’s expectant expression.
“Come back,” Izuku said softly. “Even as a shadow, even as a dream.”
Their eyes held. Kacchan swallowed, his throat clicking softly in the silence.
“That’s pretty gay,” he said.
“Oh yeah?” Izuku said innocently, shutting the book and re-shelving it, directly beside Kacchan’s ear. His arm leaned on Kacchan’s shoulder, their toes touching, knees bumping. “I’m pretty gay, too, y’know?” Izuku said, his attention lingering on Kacchan’s softly parted lips for a moment.
“What?” Kacchan said, his high cheekbones staining pink as he rolled his eyes and scoffed. “So what? Who the fuck cares?”
“You don’t care?” Izuku said, his hand dropping from the shelf to rest on Kacchan’s shoulder. He looked up at Kacchan, his eyes hooded. He licked his dry lips, rubbing them together, catching the flicker of Kacchan’s gaze. Izuku’s mouth quirked.
“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Kacchan said, his back now pressed flat against the shelf, although Izuku had made no move to corner him against it. He was doing it to himself. “Are you wasted already, dude? What a goddamn lightweight. I’m never drinkin’ with you again.”
“I’m not drunk,” Izuku said, his free had lightly taking the champagne from Kacchan’s loose grip. His gaze unwavering from Kacchan’s wide-eyed expression, Izuku tipped his chin back and drank. Bringing the bottle down, gripping it by the neck as it rested against his thigh, Izuku trailed his tongue along his bottom lip, catching beads of champagne. Again, Kacchan’s glanced low.
“Are you?” Izuku asked, hushed. He grinned a little as Kacchan’s eyes shot up, bright red, intent and unsure. “Drunk, I mean.”
“No,” Kacchan said, his voice a mere wisp of breath.
Izuku’s lashes lowered as he went to his toes, the hand on Kacchan's shoulder sliding around to cup the nape of his neck. His lips were a breath away from Kacchan’s. The shudder of Kacchan’s uneven breath played around his mouth.
The wind knocked out of Izuku’s lungs as Kacchan’s hand collided with his chest and sent him stumbling back.
“Wh-what the hell, stupid Deku?” Kacchan said, steam rising from his clenched fists, unnoticed by Kacchan, but the only thing Izuku could look at. Kacchan’s face was red hot as he gawked, skirting two high-backed leather chairs, and ending up standing behind a wide, mahogany desk. “Are you fuckin’ crazy? Who the hell would wanna kiss you? Jeezus, you’ve had one too many concussions, man. Get that shit checked out.”
Izuku had been prepared for this. There was no way Kacchan would just give in – not if he’d spent the last several years watching Izuku from afar, and seemingly finding no courage to approach him in this manner.
Izuku had given himself this mission. He never failed a challenge. If he thought of it like that, the nerves couldn’t settle over him or weigh him down.
“You look at my lips all the time, though,” Izuku said quietly, eyes trained on Kacchan’s panicked, angry ones. He looked like a cornered animal, his teeth bared in a snapping snarl.
“That’s a fuckin’ lie if I ever heard one,” Kacchan said with a harsh, short laugh.
Placing the champagne on a side table, Izuku watched Kacchan closely, undoing the buttons of his suit and shrugging out of his jacket. His scarred hand slowly folded up one sleeve, baring his subtly muscled forearm. Kacchan’s scrutiny dropped to where the skin was revealed and shot back up. Izuku’s lips were already pulling in a small smile.
“You never said a word to me about it,” Izuku said, rolling his other sleeve as he made his leisurely way toward the opposite side of the desk. “Never flirted, never touched me in a way you didn’t touch any of our other friends.”
“Well, fuckin’ obviously because –“
“But you looked.” Izuku stripped his tie from his neck and let it fall to the floor, his gaze unwavering. “Did it never occur to you that I was looking to see if you were looking, Kacchan? Because I was. Every time.”
“I don’t –“ Kacchan blinked at Izuku as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re saying that –“
“That I was hoping you’d do more than look at me,” Izuku said, flicking open the line of buttons down to his belt.
His hands were shaking now. The offer was on the table. Technically, the mission was complete. Izuku had gotten Kacchan’s attention, sent his message across. The rest was blind hope that he was right about this.
Kacchan leaned forward, his large hands spread wide on the polished desk. His face was all twisted up in a myriad of emotions even Izuku, after a lifetime of watching them, couldn’t read. He only heard the frustrated sigh.
“Are you fuckin’ with me right now? Because –“
Disregarding every proper bone in his body, Izuku hauled himself up onto the desk, knickknacks flying and rolling off as he crawled on his hands and knees to Kacchan.
Visibly startled, Kacchan snatched his hands from the desk like it was on fire, eyes bulging as he took a step back.
“You’ve fuckin’ lost it man. I’m not –“
“Are you going to spend your entire life wishing you’d kissed me or are you gonna grow some balls and fucking do it?” Izuku snapped, bringing his legs around to sit on the ledge of the desk with a glare.
Kacchan thrust himself between Izuku’s thighs with a force so sudden, Izuku could only gasp as Kacchan’s hot, vicious tongue plunged between his open lips and devoured. Firm fingers fisted in his curls, held him fast as Kacchan delved deep into his mouth, slicking and curling and sucking at his tongue, clumsily knocking their teeth together, swallowing Izuku’s moans like a man starved.
Izuku’s back slammed against the desk. Something shattered in the distance. Kacchan’s hands were everywhere, ripping at his shirt, tearing a hole in the seam at Izuku’s shoulder, fumbling with Izuku’s belt, diving into his boxers to cup and grind and rub his calloused palm over Izuku’s aching, increasing hardness.
Another fervid clash of lips, Kacchan groaning a sound Izuku had only heard in his dreams, their open mouths in a battle of their own, licking each other open, biting down, lapping at the copper burst in Izuku’s mouth. Izuku’s legs came around Kacchan’s waist, kept him close as Izuku mindlessly thrust his hips against Kacchan’s busy hand.
“Do y’know,” Kacchan rasped into Izuku’s open, gasping mouth as his fingers wrapped tightly around his pulsing cock, “how fuckin’ long?”
Izuku whimpered, his hands grappling to find skin, Kacchan still fully clothed in his suit. Buttons popped and flew in his rush to run his hands over those shoulders, down his chest, thumbnail scraping over a hardened nipple.
Kacchan hissed, dropped his head with a hard thump against the desk, his mouth beside Izuku’s ear.
“Gonna eat you up, little Deku,” Kacchan gritted out, his voice scraped out like he’d already run a marathon. “Again and again.”
“Kacchan, I –“
“HOLY EVERYTHING THAT IS GOOD IN THE WORLD,” Kirishima’s voice came from the doorway, followed by multiple shrieks, gasps, and the sound of someone collapsing to the floor. “NO. OH, NO.”
Dazed, Izuku tilted his chin further and further until he could view the doorway upside down. Kacchan didn’t move from his spot atop Izuku, probably to protect the fact that hidden between them was Izuku’s dick in Kacchan’s hand.
Yaoyorozu – key in hand, Kirishima, Kaminari, Ochako, and a collapsed Iida were framed in the doorway, each a measure of horrified, shocked, and curious.
“Um,” Izuku said.
“You guys each owe me fifty,” Ochako said hollowly, then turned, hefted her hands beneath Iida’s armpits and dragged him away.
Kirishima tilted his head, eyes narrowed as he attempted to figure out everything that was happening here. Kaminari slowly brought his phone out and snapped a photo, flash and all.
“That desk is three hundred years old.”
“It’s, uh,” Izuku flicked a look to Kacchan, who’s looked frozen in time, never to move again through shock. “Very sturdy?”
“I’m.” Yaoyorozu pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m just –“
“Shut the door,” Kacchan said, his voice a deep, threatening rumble. “And lock it behind you. I’m not fucking done here and I won’t be ‘til I damn well feel like it.”
“You know what?” Yaoyorozu said, hands on her hips. “I’m going to do just that. Let us never speak of this again.”
She walked between Kirishima and Kaminari, hooking her fingers in both of their collars and dragging them along.
“Come on boys. Leave this to the grown-ups.”
The door shut, the click of the lock relaxing Izuku’s tense body. He looked up and met Kacchan’s heated expression.
“Not done with me yet?” he said, his voice finally wobbling, his earlier confidence crumbling.
“This is your fault,” Kacchan said, leaning in, their noses brushing. “Take responsibility.”
“For how long?” Izuku said, a smile in his voice as he brought his arms warmly around Kacchan’s broad back.