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Your Hold On Me

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Katsuki carefully bundles up the clothes Deku had hidden at the bottom of his closet and carries them out of the bedroom without waking him. I even ironed, my ass, he thought bitterly. Why he even believed the idiot, Katsuki didn’t know. Deku had just taken what he wanted to wear and ironed on a day to day basis, which is stupid and resulted in the mountain of clothing Katsuki is carrying right now.

He drops them right next to the ironing board picks his phone up, to ring his mother. She had been calling him since he got back but he had been rather busy, first with the mission then with Deku. He spreads the first shirt out and gets to work.

His mother picks up on the second ring. “Katsuki.”

“You called,” he says, repositioning the shirt on the board and ironing out the wrinkles. She’s on speakers so his hands are free.

“You finally deigned to speak to me.”

Katsuki clenches his teeth, already dreading the conversation. He knows what’s coming before she says, “look Katsuki. You are finally back and it’s time to think- “

He slides his thumb over the screen before he can stop himself. Then, sighing, Katsuki picks the phone back up and as soon as it connects, grits out a, “no.”

“Just listen to me! You are almost 28 and went aboard to experience it all and now that you are finally back, you really need to think about settling down.”

Carefully switching the shirt for a pair of dress pants, Katsuki takes a deep breath. From the corner of his eyes he can see Deku coming out of the bedroom and going to the bathroom.

“- are you even listening.”

“No,” he repeats and hears a sigh on the other end of the phone. There is a short moment of silence before his mother speaks up again.

“Look, Katsuki. Do you even have a place to stay? Just come home and we can talk about this face to face.”

“I’m staying with Deku,” he says, chasing the warmth the hot iron leaves behind with his other hand. The heat left behind weirdly reminds him of the small sparks he used to create in his hands as a kid, when he first got his Quirk. It’s soothing.

“Still? Didn’t he move out?”

“I’m not staying with you,” he tells her as he carefully hangs the pants up and reaches for Deku’s dress shirt. It’s the only formal wear he owns and Katsuki is suddenly realizing that Deku last wore them to his farewell party. “You probably have some dates lined up. I’m not interested.”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“Tell dad I’m coming for a visit on Friday before going back to the states.”

“Going back? Why?”

Katsuki repositions the shirt to iron the back. “Some paperwork leftovers. I’ll only stay a month.” Chasing the heat of the iron, Katsuki spreads his hand over the white fabric of Deku’s dress shirt and then, suddenly there is a flash of pale skin and for one moment, he feels the heat of Deku’s skin beneath his palm instead of the fading heat left behind by the iron. The fabric crumbles beneath his hand and he immediately lets go and smooths it out again, feeling like an idiot for crumbling it up in the first place.

Then his memories flash back to the hand shaped bruises on Deku’s hips and all the other marks he had left on Deku in his embarrassingly possessive moments and bangs his head against the ironing board. “Fuck,” he mutters, forehead pressed against Deku’s stupid shirt as he remembers pressing his forehead between Deku’s shoulder blades and whispering all kinds of stupid confessions because Deku thought he only wanted sex.

“I’m going to fucking marry him,” Katsuki grit out. After all the embarrassing shit he said yesterday, he deserves it.

“What?” His mother asks just as there is a small noise.

Katsuki looks up to see Deku standing in the doorway, comb lying at his feet and slowly backing away. “I- Ah, I’ll just- “and then he turns around like the coward that he is and slams the bathroom door shut.

Katsuki pulls the plug of the iron out with more force than necessary and rushes to the bathroom door. “Don’t you hide, Deku!”

“I’m not hiding,” Deku screams back but the door remains firmly shut.

Katsuki growls, hits the door with his shoulder and shouts, “then open the damn door!”

“I can’t!”

“Why not? Make sense, damn Deku!”

“I really can’t,” Deku replies and Katsuki closes his eyes, thinks of all the confessions he made yesterday and the ones Deku made in reply.

“Don’t freak out, Nerd. I told you all this yesterday. It’s nothing new.”

Katsuki can hear Izuku take a deep breath, before he replies with a trembling voice. “We haven’t got any rings.” He sounds slightly hysteric so Katsuki stops pushing and rests forehead against the door.

“So, we will go get some. Get out Deku.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Rings.”

“I swear to god,” Katsuki starts, takes a breath and tries again. “Will you come out if I buy rings.”

Deku doesn’t reply for a while. Doesn’t make any noise at all. The he whispers, “Kacchan.”

Katsuki slowly sits down on the ground and picks up the comb Deku had dropped. “What?”

“I’m not running,” Deku says.

“What is this then?” Katsuki carefully picks Deku’s hair out from between its teeth.

“I just don’t want to look at you right now.”

“You aren’t making any sense,” Katsuki tells him. Then he gets up and goes back to the ironing. He carefully stretches Deku’s white shirt out again and manages to get the wrinkles he made earlier out of it. When he looks up after he’s done, Deku is standing in front of the bathroom, not quite facing Katsuki.

Katsuki picks out another piece of clothing, presses the hot iron against it and chases the heat with the palm of his other hand. It helps him wait Deku out. He’s not good at this. But he fights against the urge to rush Deku for answers and instead tries to remember what he was doing before Deku slammed the bathroom door in his face.

“It’s no good,” Deku whispers. “I can’t think straight with you around.”

Katsuki doesn’t look up again. Continues his ironing and waits until Deku comes and sits in front of the ironing board and fidgets with his fingers. “Explain,” he says.

Deku looks up, looks down again and reaches out to grab the leg of the ironing board. “I told you to say stop, Kacchan.”

“And I told you I would.”

“But this…” Deku closes his eyes and seems to gather his thoughts. “This is not saying stop. This is encouraging all the ugly feelings.”

Katsuki takes a deep breath before he finally puts the iron away and pulls out the plug. He sits down across from Deku on the ground, the legs of the ironing board between them. Deku’s knuckles have gone white with the strength of his grip on it, his wet hair dripping.

Katsuki sighs and pulls the hanger off the sofa and stretches the white dress shirt out between them. “See those?” he asks, pointing out the thin lines of wrinkles he didn’t get out properly. “Thought of you in bed last night, thought of the marks I left on your skin and I couldn’t help it. I just gripped the shirt and couldn’t get myself to let go.”

He says it carefully, forces the words out against the embarrassment he feels, weights his options and continues, not looking up at Deku. “I want you. It makes me stupid. I had to iron this twice. But,” he crumbles the shirt up in his hand and then stops at Deku’s sharp inhale. “But it’s ok. Because you tell me to stop, I’ll stop. No matter how stupid you make me.”

He takes Deku’s hand from the leg of the ironing board and puts it on the shirt. “I trust you to say stop when it’s too much. Trust me to do the same.”

Deku waits a moment, takes a shaky breath and then lets his fingers burrow deep into the fabric as he crumbles it up.

“Stop,” Katsuki says and Izuku jerks up, looking at him. “See,” Katsuki grins. “You stopped. It’s alright, Izuku.”

And then Deku’s face falls and Katsuki only has a short moment to brace himself before Izuku pushes the ironing board away and crawls in his lap, burying his face in Katsuki’s neck. His wet hair shocks him for a moment before Deku’s heat engulfs him and his right hand sneaks up the back of Deku’s shirt without him really thinking about it. When he feels the heat of Deku’s back against his palm, he traces the warmth of his skin, down to his waist and goes back to his shoulder blade again, acutely aware that Deku is not like the fleeting warmth of the iron but a solid warmth in his arms.

He’s not going anywhere.

Katsuki allows himself only one moment of embarrassment at all the stuff he said earlier before nudging Deku’s side. “So?”

“Hmm,” Deku answers and Katsuki’s patience runs thin.

“Rings?”

There is a moment of silence before Deku says, “Ok.”

“Ok,” Katsuki says.

Over the speaker, his mother says, “sweet, I’ll make an appointment at the registry office. What kind of wedding do you want, Izuku? Is a spring wedding ok?”

Katsuki can feel Deku flush in his arms even without seeing his face. He goes stiff all over and tries to hide himself even further against Katsuki’s skin. His wet hair makes Katsuki cringe away for a moment.

“Old hag!”

“Careful, Katsuki. I recorded all that. Very lovely. Who thought that you-”

Katsuki abruptly ends the call and wills himself to calm down. Then, he hides his own face in Deku’s neck, tries not to think about everything he said, and his mother heard and then groans. He lets himself fall forward, until Deku’s back hits the ground and he’s hovering above him. “Tell me that didn’t just happen.”

Damn Deku is red from neck up and gives an awkward laugh, looking as happy as yesterday morning when he told Katsuki he loved him. “That didn’t just happen,” he says.

Katsuki bends down, chases a water drop down Izuku’s throat and bites at his collarbone, then sucks at it. He doesn’t need Deku’s hand to sneak down his pants, or his mouth on his earlobe. He’s more than ready to forget the awkward conversation looming in his future and take Izuku back to bed. “I don’t think you’ll ever have to stop, Deku. You can have all of me, if I can devour you.”

Deku shudders against him and pulls him down. “Yeah, yeah. That sounds good. Great.”

And then Katsuki stops thinking about anything that’s not Deku.