Chapter Text
Sunday
Frost collects on the outside of the windowsill.
Frigid air fills the room and Izuku bristles at the cold assaulting the tip of his nose. He ducks his head back under the covers and shifts closer to his bed companion. It doesn’t help matters that they —were too lazy to change into pjs— decided to go to bed naked.
The warmth radiating beneath the comforters is like a furnace, a welcome feeling when under the mercy of the cold weather. The heater in Izuku’s room broke down recently, and so his bed was inhabitable for the past few days. He has managed so far with thick duvets, small portable heaters, warm drinks, and extra layers, but nothing compares to the gentle heat of another body between his sheets.
Izuku curls up to Kacchan, wrapping both arms around his middle, hooking one leg over his hips, another between his knees, and brings himself flush against the bare back. He rubs his forhead in the space between Kacchan’s shoulder blades and settles, comfortable and happy.
It’s nice waking up like this.
Kacchan is like a sweltering sun on a winter afternoon, a hot spring in the frigid cold. Laying with him under the thick covers while the freezing air keeps his room blue and silent is the best place Izuku could ever hope to be. Coincidently, Kacchan gets cold easily so the sizzling warmth between their bodies is equally valuable.
It’s rare that Kacchan decides to stay past the morning’s early hours. He usually finds an excuse to be up and out of the door. Even when the quick meal he fixes and leaves on the kitchen table for when Izuku trudges out of bed gives a different message.
But lately, Kacchan stays.
It’s purely physical, what they have. Kacchan compared it to a quick and dirty sparring session. Mutually beneficial to both and is exceptionally good with a compatible partner, but not more than an activity with an end goal. Like many others.
They have sex and it’s not special.
At least, that’s what Kacchan says.
Frankly, he calls it ‘fucking’ and contributes its efficacy to his exceptional performance as a hero while dismissing any lingering meaning behind it with ‘blowing off steam’ retorts. Izuku doesn’t understand the causation vs correlation of the justification. Not that it matters to him. Izuku enjoys spending time with Kacchan. Besides, the sex is good. It’s been so long since he shared the bed with anyone else and being this intimately close to Kacchan has ruined anyone else for him already. Izuku was initially content with the arrangement they had, except boundaries had been pushed, lines between casual and exclusive are being crossed and Izuku isn’t sure his heart is quite ready for that shift.
Kacchan fidgets and scoots back ever so slightly to lean into Izuku’s tight embrace. Izuku presses his cheek to Kacchan’s back in return and smiles wide. His body is still sore from the shift the day before, muscles sinking into the mattress and joints achy. The comfort of having his own personal heater and cuddle buddy on a lazy Sunday morning is unparalleled. Almost enough to quell all his doubts.
Satisfied in the warm cocoon he’s created by tucking the duvet and stray blankets around him and Kacchan, Izuku starts sliding his feet on the inside of Kacchan’s calves.
“Shit! Fuck!” Kacchan curls up on himself in a ball, making Izuku’s head spring back with the motion. “Your feet are ice cubes, dammit, nerd.”
Izuku just envelopes Kacchan’s body with his own, folding his legs around him and slotting their hips together, determined to not give up his insulated nest. Kacchan groans; his voice is rough with sleep, rumbling against Izuku’s hand over his chest. He rubs his eyes then looks over his shoulders to glance at Izuku wrapped around him. Kacchan sighs... in exasperation? Fondness? “Oi, I gotta go on my morning run.”
Izuku shakes his head fervently, then loops his arms tighter around Kacchan’s waist. It’s not fair. The world is cold out there, still white from the snowfall of the night before, and the bed is warm and comfortable and smelling of fresh laundry and Kacchan’s cinnamon sticks shampoo. Kacchan has no business leaving him!
This time he can’t even use showering as an excuse to get up, because Izuku made sure to drag them both to the bathroom for a deep clean after their nightly activities, even when he wanted nothing more than to surrender to the post-coital high.
After some futile squirming, Kacchan slumps in his arms and Izuku gets ready to declare victory for the well-deserved lay-in after a gruelling shift, except Kacchan twists in Izuku’s hold and gets traitorously close.
Izuku hopes his face isn’t betraying the blush he’s feeling in his cheeks right now as Kacchan sneaks an arm around Izuku’s neck and pulls his face to the cosy space under his chin. With a feather light kiss to Izuku’s temple, a ghostly brush of lips against the sensitive skin that leaves Izuku giddy, Kacchan lets his breath tease the curvature of Izuku’s ears.
“Hey, whaddya want for breakfast, you dweeb?”
Kacchan’s voice is sultry and low, carrying a promise of something more. The implication —punctuated by the soft nuzzles of Kacchan’s cheeks against his— has Izuku blurting out, “Something sweet … from Kacchan…!”
“Oh.” Kacchan nibbles on the shell of his ears, catching it between his teeth lightly. “Well, your clingy ass is gonna have to let me go if you want to start the day with a meal.”
Izuku’s arms loosen involuntarily, under Kacchan’s command and a slave to his desires. Kacchan wastes no time retracting from him with eyes glinting in mischief before he dives in for a kiss.
At first, it’s a gentle lip lock as their hands find each other again and their minds clear from the morning haze. Kacchan lets his fingers trail along the hairs at the back of Izuku’s neck, and Izuku finds refuge in tracing the scars on Kacchan’s ribs.
After a few light pecks, Izuku takes his chance to capture Kacchan’s lower lip between his teeth before swiping it with his tongue. Kacchan follows his lead, which is very unlike him except not really. When Izuku catches him in those early hours of the day, the lines get blurry, and his childhood best friend doesn’t mind handing out the heart he holds so dearly. In these precious moments of serenity while the outside rages with a bitter coating of frigid white, they stay in bed and Kacchan lets Izuku hold him in his arms just a little longer, just a little tighter.
Izuku cranes his neck to the side and deepens their kiss, wondering all along if this is what love feels like. Warm when the world is cold. Safe when the outside is callous. Kind when life is cruel. Like Kacchan. Always like Kacchan.
Kacchan licks into the inside of Izuku’s mouth, breaking the kiss for just a moment to throw his leg across Izuku’s waist and climb over him. The heavy weight above Izuku is grounding, like a heat wave to bask in during those long summer days. Izuku thinks he can drown in this and die happy.
Or maybe just get sunburned and doozy with heat exhaustion as Kacchan takes a fistful of his hair and tips his head upward to meet his.
Slow, lazy morning kisses. Izuku feels warmth and pleasure and affection, mind swirling with the possibility of more. They’ve touched each other in more intimate ways than this and yet this steady dance of mouths and tongues makes Izuku’s insides turn to liquid gold.
With a not-so-gentle slap to the cheek, Kacchan slides off Izuku and out of the makeshift bundle of covers. The sudden opening leaves Izuku vulnerable to a gust of cold air, and he shivers in misery.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Kacchan stumbles as his nude body comes in contact with the reality that is Izuku’s unheated room. “Clothes! Where the hell are my clothes, Deku?”
Izuku resists the cocky urge to answer with “On my bedroom floor!” and instead cries, “No fair! Kacchan, I need you here.” He pouts, puckering out his lower lip and whimpering pathetically as to ignite any sympathy with his best kicked puppy expression. He flutters his eyelashes to drive the message home.
Kacchan isn’t even looking at him, the jerk. Izuku wraps himself up with the blankets.
“Then fix your damn heater! I ain’t ever coming back to this dump!” Kacchan sneers as he tiptoes around looking for the stray garments on Izuku’s messy floor. He always says this, but never means it. He will come back, even after giving Izuku an earful about how messy and cold his place is.
Izuku watches quietly as Kacchan bends down to examine articles of clothing. The sight of rippling and flexing muscles under the dim light of the winter sun filtering through the blinds is stunning and Izuku is suddenly appreciative of the view.
Izuku will always love staring at Kacchan’s back, that much will never change.
“Kacchan, you have a cute butt,” Izuku mutters with eyes wide in amazement.
“Shut it!” Kacchan spins around to hide his rear, cheeks a violent shade of pink. Izuku's face drops as the show is cut short, only to perk back up when he sees the good view of Kacchan’s front.
“Kacchan, you have very nice b—”
“Deku…” The growl has Izuku stopping in his tracks. Oh no, that sounds dangerous. Kacchan whirls what looks to be an undistinguishable piece of clothing around his fingers, and asks, “The fuck did you do to my shit last night?”
Once Izuku realises that this is in fact Kacchan’s torn and destroyed underwear, he blushes and hides his face in the sheets. “I got too excited…!” is his muffled reply.
“Figures.”
Izuku looks out into the open after a prolonged interval of tense silence to spot Kacchan rummaging in his dresser. “You better have some of your old UA shit laying around here,” Kacchan says, and pulls out an old pair of underwear and a washed-out shirt with ‘lingerie’ printed on the front.
Ever since Izuku grew into this new form after mastering One for All, he went six sizes up in clothing and shoes. It was a gradual process throughout the years that he barely noticed until he started tearing his hero suit during battles and in the dressing rooms.
Kacchan says his new 200cm height and extra 100kg weight gain in sheer muscles and body fat is a nuisance to public property and stealth missions at best, but Izuku sees the way Kacchan looks at him —like he’s three years old and watching All Might on TV for the first time, except there’s hunger and pride riddled in those red eyes— when he stops a train single handed so maybe that’s not all true.
Kacchan gets dressed then leaves.
This room feels so much colder without Kacchan in it, so Izuku gets up, dragging the thick duvet with him. He put on a pair of boxers before hurrying out of the room to chase after him.
The living room is empty, but Kacchan’s shoes are still by the entryway, which means he’s still here.
Izuku peaks his head into the kitchen and shuffles his feet by the door. Kacchan is hunching over the stove. The smell of food is filtering through the air and Izuku drinks in the scene before him.
Kacchan didn’t rush to leave. The oil heater is thrumming with noises as it warms the air. Kacchan is standing in Izuku’s kitchen, barefoot on cold tiles, dressed in nothing but boxers and a cotton top. The shirt clings tight around the chest but loose under the collar. Izuku wonders if he can walk over right now and kiss the strip of shoulder exposed to the air, if he could just reach up and hug Kacchan from behind, rub his cheek on Kacchan’s neck, and slide his hands under Kacchan’s clothes.
Maybe he could steal him away from the stove and they can dance together to the pop song faintly playing on the radio. Maybe Kacchan would hold Izuku’s hand and lead because he’s always been the better dancer between the two. And maybe they'll kiss and laugh and forget about the food till it gets cold and then Kacchan will scold him for being distracting, but he’ll be smiling and Izuku would know for sure he wants this too.
Is that okay? Is Izuku allowed to do think about him like this? Is he crossing the line with Kacchan’s boundaries? What are they to each other? Friends? Rivals? Soon-to-be lovers? Colleagues with benefits? Izuku needs to know, because his heart cannot cope with anything less than all of Kacchan right now.
Usually, Kacchan comes over late at night, they would have the mind-blowing sex that leaves him wanting for days later, then he’d be gone before the sun is up and Izuku blinks the sleep from his eyes. But lately, he’s been staying over for breakfast, inviting himself to Izuku’s closet, he’s been leaving his body wash and shampoo in Izuku’s place (“‘Cus yours is shit, nerd, and my skin deserves better than the four-in-one diesel you use on your body!”), and he’s been buying food to leave at Izuku’s flat. Izuku’s sheets are starting to smell like Kacchan and he’s not ready to let this go.
(He wants it to be this way forever.)
Kacchan has been kissing him when they’re not in the clutches of passion, showering alongside Izuku when he used to do so on his own, and allowing cuddles even when it’s too hot under the covers and Izuku thinks just maybe, Kacchan wants more too.
Over the mouth-watering scent of grilled fish, rice and miso soup, Izuku speaks up about this for the first time. “Kacchan, I need to ask you something?”
Kacchan looks up from brewing Sencha tea and smirks. “Not even a ‘good morning’ or a ‘thank you’?” Izuku splutters in embarrassment, much to Kacchan’s delight as he waves him off. “It’s too fucking early for your ‘sorry’s.”
Izuku bites the inside of his cheek and hikes the duvet higher up his shoulders as he watches Kacchan pour the hot water from one cup to another, until it reaches the ideal temperature for green tea leaves. Setting the Fukamushi teapot aside, Kacchan raises an eyebrow at him. “What’s this about, Deku?”
The thing is, Kacchan didn’t even go to the run he insisted on. He’s here in Izuku’s kitchen, in Izuku’s clothes, making Izuku breakfast. He doesn’t seem in a hurry to be anywhere else with the way his feet are nestled between Izuku’s under the table. So, maybe asking this question isn’t a lost cause.
The sweet aroma of the green leaves warms Izuku’s sinuses and calms his spiking nerves. Kacchan offers him a mug and Izuku drums his fingers on it in apprehension, soaking the warmth through to his skin. He looks back at Kacchan and tries not to focus on the hickey over his collarbone.
“It’s about our … arrangement?”
Kacchan bristles at the mention of the last word because this is his language, his phrasing. It was Kacchan who dropped the word, arrangement on Izuku between fervent kisses on their first night together.
Izuku swallows, underarms suddenly clammy, and continues. “Can I come home to you forever?”
“The fuck kind of proposal is that?” Kacchan’s face is impassive and calculated, but his tone is on the brink of an outburst. Izuku needs to play his cards well now.
With a deep breath, Izuku spills his heart, “I want … more, Kacchan! I don’t want this to be just sex anymore. Of course, the sex is amazing because Kacchan is amazing. And hot! So hot, it’s unbelievable. Everything about it has been great … I’m really enjoying myself and I know it’s been good for both of us! You’ve been much calmer at work lately, less tense, and angry. I’m not saying we should stop! I still want to do this! With you, I mean. Only you. Please don’t get the impression that I’m getting bored— I will never get tired of feeling Kacchan arou—”
“DEKU, YOUR FUCKING POINT?”
“I LIKE YOU, OKAY!”
With a hard slam, the plates clatter against the table with a soft ‘ping’ and Izuku retracts his hands in shame. He looks at the fine wood as he mutters his next words, trying to keep his feelings from flooding his confession. “And I know you may not like me the same way, but I want so badly to be with you! I want to have you in my arms and kiss you and hold your hand! I want to wake up every morning to you, even when you complain about my snoring! I want to go on dates with you, and bring you flowers and call you mine!”
With his eyes scrunched shut, Izuku isn’t sure what to expect when he looks back at Kacchan. After a sip of tea, Kacchan nods. “Okay.”
“… Okay?” Izuku blinks owlishly.
“Fine.”
“Kacchan, I don’t understand.”
“About fucking time, Deku.”
Izuku shakes his head in confusion and stares at Kacchan as he puts his teacup back on the table, picks up his chopsticks and eats his fish elegantly. “What do you mean?”
Only after Kacchan finishes chewing his bite does he answer. “Why the hell do you think I’m here in this stank apartment that’s frozen in an ice age making you tea, huh?” Kacchan drags out his last syllable, directing a pointed glare Izuku’s way.
“Because…” Izuku trails off, not quite catching on. There is a bird flying over his head, chirping in mockery as Kacchan taps his chopsticks against his bowl impatiently. A series of math equations float around in the air that look awfully like (Kacchan + sex)(Kacchan + food)/(Kacchan – complaining about my bad breath in the morning) = love? “….you like me?”
“No, it’s because I’m planning your homicide.” Kacchan snorts. “Duh, you chump.”
The duvet falls from Izuku’s shoulders and onto the floor.
“We can do that other stuff too, if you gotta. Though if you want me to keep coming over, you’re gonna have to start doing some chores around here ‘cus you ain’t having any visitors with this pigsty of a place. Seriously, how are you not ashamed? Does your mother know about that pile of laundry under your bed—? AGH! Deku, you fuck! Put me down!”
Let it be known it’s no easy feat to ambush Kacchan and catch him unguarded, but Izuku somehow managed to jump him and throw him over one shoulder with his excitement. In his defence, he had very little planned after initial thought of Hold. Kacchan. Now!
As swell and smooth their transition to commitment is, Izuku has fleeting worries that if he ties Kacchan down and they go domestic, then their spark, the fire holding them together, might disappear in the face of routine and normalcy. It’s a concern lingering at the back corner of his mind later in the day when he stands by his doorway to wave Kacchan goodbye.
Izuku twiddles his fingers and Kacchan shuffles his feet.
With a brisk cough, Kacchan salutes him before turning on his heel. Two steps and then he’s running back to Izuku to pull him down from the front of his hoodie. Izuku pushes Kacchan against the wall and they snog, hands touching each other everywhere like a bunch of hormonal teenagers in a parking lot. Kacchan slams Izuku on the flat entrance, and Izuku hooks his hands under Kacchan’s ass to pull him to his full height. A few minutes of desperate kisses and needy moans and then Kacchan is breaking away and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Izuku feels dizzy looking at the saliva connecting their wet lips.
Kacchan fixes up his jacket like nothing happened and walks away into the corridor. “See ya, nerd.”
Still catching his breath from what was undoubtedly the hottest thing that has happened to him in a long time, Izuku whoops his hand in the air then holds his fist to his chest as he starts body rolling in silent victory.
“I SAW THAT!” Kacchan shouts from down the hall.
Izuku runs inside and finishes celebrating, in private.