Katsuki wakes up in excruciating pain. What the hell else is new?
He takes stock of his injuries: arms broken, bruises and burns all over his body, probably a cracked rib or two. And then there’s the strange electricity buzzing in his veins, the foreign pressure of eight people’s power bolstering his strength.
Oh, fuck no. There is no way he’s keeping the dumbass nerd’s bullshit OP super-quirk. Katsuki feels a little like he’s trying to blast off a bug that’s just crawled down his shirt. Gross, yikes, no, fuck, get it out!
He looks over to his side. Yup, there’s Deku, lying unconscious on the battlefield. So peaceful when he’s asleep, his mind supplies, before he explodokills that thought into oblivion and represses the remains way down into the Deku Vault, where such thoughts go.
Right. Time to put everything back where it belongs, because apparently that self-sacrificing shithead likes passing his quirk around like it’s the hot sauce at the Bakugo family dinner table.
Katsuki tries to sit up. Instant regret.
Oh, yeah. His arms are fucking broken, because One For All. He tries again, this time not putting any weight on the bags of useless bone shards attached to his shoulders. It’s a complicated maneuver that makes Katsuki send a mental thank you note to his past self for developing such amazing, godly ab muscles.
His next problem presents itself after he shuffles over to Deku. When Deku had passed the quirk along the first time, it was through the open, seeping wounds on their palms when they’d (yuck) clasped their hands together like they used to in kindergarten. There are two problems with replicating that method. The first is that Katsuki’s arms are broken, and he doesn’t have the manual dexterity to move his limbs. The second is that he’s already vowed to never, ever hold hands with Deku, ever again.
There’s only one available maneuver left, and it’s not one that Katsuki undertakes lightly. He leans forward, arms dangling uselessly at his sides, and mashes his mouth onto Deku’s like a demented mama bird spewing chewed-up worm chunks into the her baby fledglings’ open maws. Except the fledgling is Deku, and the regurgitated insect slurry is One for All.
Once skin-to-skin contact (Katsuki refuses to think of it as mouth-to-mouth, out of sheer self-preservation) is established, Katsuki plunges his tongue into Deku’s mouth and tries to imagine little One For All bits flowing back into Deku’s body. Deku just lays there, which makes sense, because he’s unconscious. His breath smells like rank, festering blood. All in all, it’s a deeply unsexy, disappointing experience.
Not that Katsuki’s thought about being lip-locked with Deku before enough to be disappointed by the actual event. Whatever. He hasn’t!
Take your shitty Quirk back , he thinks, I got a perfectly good one of my own. I don’t want your hand-me down, it smells like exposed bone marrow and old man.
Katsuki looks at Deku’s shattered body and tries to picture it lit up with lightning, smashing a villain through a wall. It’s unfairly easy, and sends a shiver of anticipation (for a good fight, obviously) up Katsuki’s spine. C’mon, Deku, you’ve made the Quirk your own already, take it back, it’s yours…
The shiver turns into a full-on thrum, energy racing through him and into Deku with every breath Katsuki exhales into Deku’s mouth. It’s like CPR, in a way. Resurrection. Katsuki’s bringing Deku the hero back to life.
“Yeah, that’s right. Take it, bitch,” he says, and it’s at that exact moment that he looks up and makes full eye contact with All Might.
On more than one occasion. Shitty Hair’s made him watch war movies and then listen to him cry for an hour about the manly bonds of brothers-in-arms. The silent communication between men who have witnessed things that never should have been seen or heard. Katsuki had always thought it was bullshit until this exact moment, when he and All Might form exactly that kind of understanding.
An unspoken message passes between them, pact sealed without either having to say a word.
This never happened.
Katsuki shuffles back over to the patch of ground he’d landed on and passes the fuck out. Though he drifts in and out of consciousness for the next day or two, the only thing he really registers as he heals is All Might’s distant voice:
“Don’t worry, my boy. Young Bakugo’s amnesia is nothing to be concerned about, in this line of business. Sometimes… Sometimes, I get amnesia, too.”
Katsuki’s ducking behind a shattered wall, regrouping with his classmates, and he’s just about to dart back into the fight when Deku grabs him and smashes their mouths together.
“Hrk,” says Katsuki, which is apparently Deku’s opportunity to spit into his mouth, the fucking freak. He doesn’t even get to register anything more than the sensation of Deku’s saliva plopping onto his palate before Deku’s pulled away, primly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Just in case,” says Deku, and then he fucking. He bunny hops away, and Katsuki tries to follow except he has to intercept the fire fucker as he tries to scorch off Deku’s stupid curls. Katsuki doesn’t know what Deku’s thinking, jumping out into the open like that. If he hadn’t been there—
Fuck. Of course. Deku’d predicted this. He ran out of there knowing that Katsuki would have no choice but to cover his back, and therefore get caught up with some side-character trash as Deku charged off to fight Shigaraki alone. He’d even left a little bit of DNA with Katsuki, because apparently he’s planning for his own goddamn death.
No way in hell is Katsuki going to let that happen.
He cracks his neck and charges, letting the sweltering heat of that blue flame really make him sweat.
“Alright, Discount Jack Skellington. I got another fight waiting for me, so let’s make this quick.”
Only after everything (the fight, the wreckage, Katsuki swooping in at exactly the right moment to keep Deku from getting dusted because he’s just that good) does Katsuki realize that Deku preparing to pass One for All looked exactly like Deku kissing him for the hell of it in front of literally everyone in Hero society.
The only one who has the balls to bring it up is Mochi Cheeks, blushing even pinker than usual as she says with a lilt in her voice: “So, Deku-kun, you… and Bakugo…”
Deku’s more frozen than Tape-face after his first-year SportsFest match against Half-and-Half. He gives an obviously fake laugh, high and hysterical, more on edge than he’d been during that entire semi-apocalyptic battle to the death. He even sends a desperate, pleading glance at Katsuki.
Too bad for him. There’s no way Katsuki’s bailing him out of this one. Watching him flounder is too damn good.
“Um. That was… a confession? Right! That’s it, I was confessing my feelings to K-Kacchan, because I have them. And I had to try just once because we all could have died, but now that we’re not dead it’s okay! Because Kacchan doesn’t feel the same way, and the whole thing is super, embarrassing, so we can just forget about it, okay? We’ll just all erase those twenty seconds from our memories, and it’ll be like it never happened at all! R-right, Kacchan? ”
Oh, so now Katsuki’s supposed to be the bad guy? They’re just gonna pretend like big bad Kacchan broke poor little baby Deku’s heart? Like hell.
“Not so fast, Deku.”
He puts a little bit of gravel in his voice just to see Deku’s spine straighten, stalks over with a predator’s unhurried grace.
“Don’t pretend you know what my feelings are. You confessed, so…” He curls an arm around Deku’s waist, hand at the small of his back. Hauls him close with a single pull. “Let me give you my response.”
Their third kiss is the best kiss ever in existence, because Katsuki’s initiating and neither of them are unconscious. Katsuki spreads his palm flat against Deku’s back, slants his mouth over Deku’s so he can guide him, gentle and slow. His other hand comes up to cup Deku’s jaw, stroking a single proprietary thumb over his cheekbone. He pulls away just a little to let Deku chase his mouth, swipes his tongue over Deku’s just to feel him gasp.
Deku’s too dazed to say anything for a good minute after Katsuki pulls away, but fortunately all the extras in the class feel a little awkward about watching the two of them suck face and clear out as soon as Katsuki glares at them.
Deku’s flushed and hazy-eyed, unconsciously pressing his lips together as if he’s trying to replicate the insistent pressure of their kiss. Katsuki savors the moment of rare peace before Deku comes back to himself with a jolt.
“Kacchan! You just… Why! It would’ve been so much easier if you’d just pretend-rejected me, and now, ugh, why do you always have to make things so difficult! What am I going to tell my mom? Now we actually have to be in a relationship!”
Katsuki leans back into his space, close enough to see Deku’s eyelashes flutter, and gives Deku his best cocky-bastard, king-of-the-world, Aldera-Middle-ain’t-shit smirk. Tried-and-true intimidation.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Deku.”
“Wh… What am I…”
He’s not sure why, but Deku sways forward a little. Katsuki steadies him with a hand on his hip.
“You’re playing chicken! You think dating you scares me? Hah? Well, I ain’t gonna swerve, Deku.” Katsuki hooks his thumb into Deku’s belt, tugs him forward just to show him he can, and Deku sucks in a ragged breath, which means that Katsuki’s intimidation tactics must really be working. “I’m gonna be the best goddamn boyfriend you’ll ever have. Game fucking on.”
When Katsuki’s shitty boyfriend starts getting a little too confident, Katsuki likes to suck his soul out through his dick just to remind Deku who’s boss.
It’s not like he doesn’t do it usually, but his special tactics are reserved for special occasions. Like when Deku wakes up the morning after all bouncy with that special, smug “I-just-railed-Kacchan-into-the-mattress”/”I-just-rode-Kacchan-into-the-sunset” glow. Or when he gets cocky and thinks he can impress Katsuki with limited edition All Might merch, or finishing his paperwork on days when Katsuki’s got a headache, or rearranging his schedule so he has time for a spar and a quickie “because it looked like you were having a bad day, Kacchan.”
“So, basically he does nice things for you and you reward him with blowjobs?” Shitty Hair had asked when Katsuki explained his system to him. He didn’t fucking get it. Katsuki wasn’t rewarding shit, he was punishing Deku for the crime of getting one up on him by reminding him definitively just who the better partner was. Case in point:
“Holy shit Kacchan keep doing that please please don’t stop,” gasps Deku, all in one breath. Katsuki, in fact, does not stop, further emphasizing his innate superiority in all boyfriendly skills. He even lets Deku tangle his fingers in his hair, mostly because it makes Deku’s face go all slack with helpless admiration.
He holds Deku’s gaze as Deku’s cock hits the back of his throat, Deku helplessly mesmerized by his challenging stare. It feels like victory, every single time.
“You’re so perfect, Kacchan,” breathes Deku, “So beautiful, the best, you’re amazing, oh, fuck, I’m gonna come, Kacchan, I love you!”
Damn right, shitty nerd. Damn right.
Katsuki’s in a good mood the rest of the morning, which is to be expected on let’s-wreck-Deku days, so the extra jolt of energy he feels all the way through patrol is easy to ignore. It’s normal to feel awesome as he blasts his way across the city rooftops, and if it feels like he’s going faster than usual, well. Time flies when you’re having fun, right?
What’s not normal is when he answers a call for a bank robbery and makes a steel door crumple from a single punch, golden lightning fizzing around his arms.
He stares at his arm, which has so cruelly betrayed him. At least it’s not broken this time.
The villains are easy to dispatch, and Katsuki radios back to HQ to let them know he’s gonna take five. His fingers drum impatiently against his gauntlet as he waits for Deku to pick up the phone, irritation spiking his heart rate.
“Kacchan!” Deku answers, his voice still infuriatingly syrupy from leftover morning-sex endorphins.
“Dekuuuu,” Katsuki growls. The lack of babbling on the other end of the line is all he needs to know that Deku understands just how much danger he’s in. “I’m going to ask you a question, and you better think about your answer, because if you lie to me I will slaughter you where you stand. Did you or did you not just pass One For All to me through your cum?”
Silence on the other end of the line. Then, a small, sheepish voice.
“I’m not sure I should answer that, Kacchan.”
Katsuki lets out a roar of incoherent rage.
“Deku! Get ready, ‘cause I’m gonna commit homicide on your dumb ass tonight—”
One of the other Pros on the scene looks over in alarm before realizing it’s just Ground Zero. Katsuki continues to growl threats into the phone. He’s on a roll with something along the lines of carving out every single one of Deku’s freckles like a deranged dermatologist when he has to pause for breath and stop drowning out Deku’s fast-talking stream of apologies.
“It wasn’t on purpose, I swear! You were just really handsome down there, and I couldn’t stop thinking about that time you had my quirk.”
“I’ll slaughter you.”
“I couldn’t help it. You were amazing. Not that you aren’t usually amazing, but with One For All...”
“I looked like a fuckin’ super saiyan.”
“You looked powerful. My quirk came so naturally to you. You were so strong.”
“Hmm. Keep talking.”
“It was incredible, Kacchan, it took me months to learn how to do anything with One For All and you figured it out in minutes,” Deku says, his voice all honeyed and breathy. He’s laying it on a bit thick, but it’s not like Katsuki really minds. Nerd’s getting warmer.
“You don’t even know what you looked like. You glowed, Kacchan, you were golden, like the sun. My hero. It’s burned into my memory— afterwards we were lying in the infirmary, hospital beds side by side, and I was so scared you’d wake up and see but I couldn’t control it, I touched myself thinking about how powerful you were, how beautiful…”
Katsuki’s brain is so scrambled that it takes way too long before he realizes that no the fuck he didn’t, both of Deku’s arms were broken back then. Deku’s just spouting shit because he knows that the idea of Deku helpless to resist him gets Katsuki harder than anything else. Especially since they know that most of the time it’s the other way around.
“Have I escaped death, Kacchan?” asks Deku, a teasing lilt to his voice. Katsuki drags his hand down the entire front of his face and groans.
“You’re getting that stupid power of yours back the same way, Deku. Tonight.”
Katsuki hates nothing more than getting captured. Right now, he’s tied up with his palms pressed together, Deku strapped to a chair with some fancy Quirk-inhibiting collar around his neck. Some feather chick is monologuing about her manifesto or whatever.
“Go stick your face in a puddle of piss,” he says, drawing the villainess’s focus to himself. If he goads her well enough, she might slip up, and, well, he really likes goading.
“No, she’s right,” says Deku mournfully, “It is all over for us. Ah, before you kill us, Raptorclaw-san… do you think Kacchan and I could have one last kiss?”
A white-knuckle shock of fear runs through Katsuki like one of the hot flashes his mom keeps complaining about.
“No way in hell,” he hisses. Featherfang, or whatever the hell her name is, laughs.
“I mean it,” Katsuki continues, promising righteous violence with his eyes, “We are not dying here, so you better find yourself a Plan B—”
“—Kacchan, could you just cooperate for once in your life—”
“You try to kiss me, I’ll bite your tongue off, asshole!”
“Not that I don’t enjoy watching Hero Deku crash and burn,” Featherfuck interjects, “But I wasn’t gonna let you suck face in front of me in the first place.”
“Trust me,” Deku says, ignoring her. Katsuki looks away, scoffing. It’s about as much of a yes as Deku’s ever gonna get.
Deku holds his gaze and flexes his cuffed arms. It’s a signal. Katsuki almost doubts his own interpretation of it, but he’s never wrong when it comes to reading Deku’s signals in the field.
Katsuki calls up in his mind the sheer cussed stubbornness Deku has every time he’s knocked down and gets back up, his symbol of determination, and his body comes alive with the strength of eight men.
Afterwards, in their apartment, Katsuki gives Deku the kiss he’s been begging for all afternoon, backing him up against the wall. He insinuates a knee between Deku’s thighs. Deku clings onto Katsuki’s shirt like a romance novel heroine, his usual excuse for copping a feel of Katsuki’s pecs.
When Deku’s sufficiently kiss-flustered enough to have trouble suckering Katsuki into not being mad at him anymore, Katsuki pulls away.
“What the hell was that about earlier? You didn’t even touch me.”
“Um,” says Deku, trying and failing to blink away the half-dazed look in his eyes. He tugs on Katsuki’s shirt, trying to get him closer. Katsuki does not move. “We kissed this morning, so. I took a gamble on some of my DNA still being in your digestive system.”
“Disgusting. I’m never making out with you again,” Katsuki says, though he’s already (damn his own lack of self-control) dipping down to mouth at Deku’s neck.
“That’s okay, Kacchan, ‘cause, ah! ‘cause we live together, so there are, hah, Kacchan, right there , trace amounts of my skin cells in the air that you can’t avoid breathing in—”
“I’ll wear a hazmat suit around home.”
Deku’s hand finds the back of Katsuki’s neck and pulls. Katsuki clamps a gross, sweaty hand between their mouths. Liplock denied.
He shuffles down to Deku’s collarbone instead, unzipping as he goes, and bites. The resulting sound is gratifying, and Deku bucks hard enough that Katsuki has to take the hand off Deku’s mouth to steady himself on Deku’s shoulders.
Deku’s voice is steel. Katsuki looks up into dilated pupils ringed by brilliant emerald green, Deku’s lips plump and slightly parted. Deku catches him staring, because of course he does, and his next words are slow and sweet and slightly pleading, just the way Katsuki likes.
“C’mon, please? You still have to give me my quirk back, remember?”
The hand on Katsuki’s neck plays with his hair a little, petting him like a skittish cat.
“You motherfucker,” Katsuki growls. Deku lets his stubby little eyelashes flutter, his smile too wide and fond to be entirely seductive. There are dark circles under his eyes, blackheads developing among the freckles scattered across his nose. He looks like he needs a good shower, some kinda rejuvenating face mask and twelve to fourteen hours’ sleep. He’s perfect.
“Kiss me,” Deku says.
Katsuki gives in.
“Take my quirk,” Deku says. There’re no less than ten giant robots doing their level best to demolish every skyscraper in Tokyo around them, because Katsuki’s life is a goddamn joke.
“Go fuck yourself,” Katsuki shoots back, “I’m not letting you jump in front of a laser or whatever your crappy plan is now. How many times do I gotta tell you that you’re not allowed to do anything but live?”
“I won’t run off alone, again. Promise. I just want to fight them with One For All together. I know you don’t like using it…”
“It’s your quirk.”
“Yeah, and you’re my Kacchan.”
Deku says it matter of fact, as light and easy as if he’s just listing off All Might trivia, or menu items at that ramen place they go to every Friday, or any one of the million simple facts that comprise the bedrock of his reality. Like it’s something he knows for sure.
Katsuki makes an awkward, terrible choking noise. He knows, without looking, that his face is going to be flushed bright red.
“You’re so fucking embarrassing.”
He can’t look Deku in the eye right now, but Katsuki holds out his hand, even though he doesn’t need to. There is enough of Deku in him, tiny little particles in his lungs and guts and bones, that Katsuki could receive One For All from oceans away. Still, it’s good to have Deku’s touch, skin on skin. It makes him feel unbeatable.
One For All still isn’t his, and it never will be. It doesn’t feel right under his skin. Powerful, yeah, he’s stronger than he is without it and that’s kinda awesome, but when he has it his muscles don’t ache with effort the way they have his whole life. His palms don’t sting the same.
But when that electric current courses through Katsuki’s fast-beating heart, it feels like having Deku cradle it with his hands. Sparks jump between them, gold and green and gold again. Right now, they’re perfectly in sync: one heartbeat, one purpose, one quirk.
“Win to save, save to win, yadda yadda, fuckin’ love you or whatever. Let’s go.”
Izuku is never going to tell Kacchan the real reason he likes giving him One For All. The first time it was necessity, the second time, desperation. Every other time afterwards… well.
It’s not just because there’s a secret little kinky part of him that has a thing for Kacchan with All Might’s power, even if that is a little added incentive. Shouto likes to joke that Izuku’s marking his territory, though that’s not it, either. And Izuku’s long since overcome the self-doubt that led him to almost anoint Mirio as All Might’s successor instead.
No, the real reason Izuku’s so comforted by granting Kacchan his strength is this: if Kacchan has One For All, he’ll refuse to die until he returns it to its rightful holder.
Izuku knows it’s a little hypocritical, especially coming from Mr. Sacrifice Play himself, as Kacchan calls him, but Izuku tends to suspend all questions of fairness and virtue when Kacchan’s involved. It’s a base need, like thirst or hunger. Kacchan has to be safe. That’s why he gets One For All, Izuku’s selfish little reminder that Kacchan’s life isn’t just his to throw away.
He likes knowing that even if they’re separated in battle, there’s a part of him still protecting Kacchan, his vestige doing its best to lend Kacchan strength. This borrowed quirk is a good-luck charm, a wish for precious safety, a demand for Kacchan to remember he still has to come home. It’s Izuku telling Kacchan that he trusts him to win this, even more than either of them trusts themselves.
Izuku focuses on the battle, letting the embers of One For All flare through his veins. He has to survive, too. Dying is not an option, not today.
He still has to take his quirk back, after all. Kacchan will make sure of it.