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Izuku stares.
The tiny vial of testosterone does not stare back, given that it does not have eyes.
Izuku worries at the skin of his inner lip until it gives between his teeth, leaving behind the taste of metal. This is what he wanted, he keeps trying to tell himself. Quite literally begged for it with tears in his eyes and the silent acknowledgement that he might not make it much longer without it.
Still. If he picks up that vial and needle, there’s no going back.
Yes, there is. His doctor, his mom, the internet all assured him that some effects of testosterone can be reversed with time. Hearing that always made something icky sit heavy in his stomach.
Izuku’s fingers twitch against his thigh, curling into the fabric of his shorts. He should probably wash his hands again. They’re not clean anymore.
“What’re you staring into space for?”
The voice makes Izuku jump halfway out of his seat, stool wobbling precariously under his shifting weight. Kacchan’s standing next to him, eyeing him with curiosity and a light flicker of amusement in her eyes as Izuku slaps a hand over his chest as if to calm his racing heart.
“K-Kacchan! You scared me!”
Kacchan scoffs at that, turning her head to peer down at the vial on the table in front of them. Izuku chooses to keep his eyes on her, on her shower-warmed skin and the scent of her fruity body wash radiating off of her. Izuku sniffs the air as subtly as he can manage, which probably isn’t that subtle at all, given the way Kacchan wrinkles her nose in mock disgust. Still, she leans into him anyway, propping herself up with a hand on the back of Izuku’s chair while the other finds the curve of her own hip over her tank top. Izuku kinda wants to feel the dip of her waist under his palm.
“So…” Kacchan starts, raising a perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow at him. “Are you waiting for something?”
Izuku swallows. “No, I just… my brain won’t let me.” He finishes lamely, turning away from those sharp red eyes. It feels like an excuse, but it’s not meant to be one. There’s several sequences of actions that need to happen before that needle touches his skin, and Izuku just can’t bring himself to tip that first domino to start the process. There’s a term for that, he thinks. It won’t come to him now.
“Do you not want to?” She asks, and Izuku’s eyes snap to hers, panic already clawing up his throat.
“No! No, I- I do. I need this.” It comes out in a rush, like if he didn’t speak fast enough, Kacchan would make up her mind and take the vial from him, and he’d never have this chance again. Izuku knows Kacchan would logically never do that, of course. She’s been perfect throughout the whole process. Every doctor’s appointment, she’s been outside in the waiting room for him. She bought him his first binder and packer. She never spoke a word about the scars criss-crossing his arms, fresh or healed, no matter how much Izuku could tell she wanted to ask. She got in a screaming match with his mom, who normally is one of Kacchan’s favorite people on the planet, when she’d initially denied Izuku the chance of getting hormones.
(Izuku still feels guilty that their relationship is still in a tentative state, despite how fiercely Kacchan asserts that he has nothing to be sorry about.)
Kacchan is his person, so really, he has no reason to fear that she will take this from him. The last bit of his apprehension slowly melts away as Kacchan turns her full attention on him, eyes flitting across his face with a pinch in her mouth. It’s Kacchan’s thinking face, a part of his brain supplies helpfully. The one she makes when she’s got something on her mind but doesn’t yet have the words to say what she wants.
Kacchan’s hands rise to cup his jaw before sliding down around the back of his neck, tickling the sensitive hairs there. His haircut is yet another thing Kacchan has done for him. Just another thing to add onto the long list of things Kacchan is good at.
Izuku takes a deep breath. He’s had a lot of time recently to conclude that the only way out of his panic is through.
“I think I’m scared, mostly.” Izuku starts off slowly. He pauses, and feels more than sees the slight nod of acknowledgement Kacchan gives him, a sign to continue. “I didn’t think I would make it this far. In transition or- or in life, I guess.” It feels strange to admit aloud, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. Kacchan’s thumbs sweep soothingly across the nape of his neck, and his fingers find her hips, bunching up and releasing the fabric of her shirt as he finds his words.
“I never saw myself at this age. Every birthday is weird, because I guess in the back of my mind, I didn’t think I’d have another. But now I feel so…. sick. Like my stomach is in knots, because I feel excited. I wanna see what I’ll look like next year, what my voice will sound like. I want to know if I’ll be taller. Heavier, more muscular. I wanna know if I’ll be able to look down at you under my arm and feel like I’m protecting you from the world.”
Kacchan’s been watching him silently parse through his words up to this point but now, she giggles. Other people get Kacchan’s loud cackling, but Izuku is the only one who gets her to laugh like this. It sounds like early morning sun and wind on a cool spring day and the rest of his life.
“Oh, is that what you want? Me to be some tiny little thing under you?” Kacchan’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, but her eyes are painfully fond.
Izuku can’t even pretend to lie. “Yes.”
Kacchan hums, dipping down to kiss him softly. It’s a gentle thing, even when her tongue finds its way behind his teeth, coaxing and prodding. It could’ve been seconds or hours by the time Kacchan pulls back again, her lips wet and pink, eyes bright where Izuku’s are dazed and hazy.
“Can I do it for you?” She asks. And she’s really asking, not doing that thing she does sometimes where she frames a demand as a question. If Izuku says no, she’ll back off, and not bring it up again. But the longer Izuku stares into her beautiful red eyes, he realizes he doesn’t want to say no. So he doesn’t.
Kacchan slips out of his embrace to wash her hands at the kitchen sink, returning with a syringe, alcohol wipe, and paper towel in hand. She lays it all down neatly on the counter before uncapping the vial and tearing open the alcohol wipe, making sure the top of the vial is thoroughly clean before picking up the syringe and uncapping it in one swift motion.
“This is one dose, right?” Kacchan asks, eyes focused as she presses the needle into the rubbery top of the vial before flipping it over and pulling back on the plunger.
Izuku hums in affirmation, watching as Kacchan slowly fills up the needle, doing her best to keep it as air bubble free as she can. Izuku doesn’t bother telling her that a few air bubbles won’t kill him. Not like she’d care anyway, Kacchan refuses to do anything less than perfectly.
Once the vial is empty, Kacchan sets it and the needle to the side for a moment, picking up the alcohol wipe again and stepping into Izuku’s space. Her hand lands softly on his knee, fingertips already pushing beneath the material of his shorts as her eyes find his.
“Thigh, stomach, or arm?”
Izuku’s lips twitch as he suppresses the lovesick grin that threatens to overtake him. “Thigh.” He answers, not commenting about the way she seemingly decided that on her own already. She nods, pushing his shorts up almost all the way up to his hip, fingers gentle as she swipes the alcohol over a patch of skin on his outer thigh.
Once she’s deemed him sufficiently disinfected, she deposits the alcohol wipe on the counter and picks up the needle again before swiftly lowering to her knees beside him. She looks up at him then, a silent question in the tilt of her eyebrows. Izuku would be lying if he said he didn’t feel like his heart was on the verge of bursting out of his chest. He lays a hand over Kacchan’s, the one still tangled in his shorts at his hip, before letting out a slow breath.
“Okay.”
Kacchan gives him an encouraging smile, a small one just for him, before he feels the slight sting of the needle piercing his skin. It doesn’t hurt, and Kacchan is gentle yet efficient as she pushes down on the plunger. It’s over just as quick as it began, and soon enough Kacchan is pulling the needle away and pressing warm kisses to his knee. Izuku’s hand makes its way into her hair, still slightly damp from her shower, but soft. So, so soft.
Kacchan rises to her feet, recapping the needle before setting it down and letting Izuku pull her against him. He’s muttering he thinks, where he’s pressed against her neck, but the words are indecipherable even to him. He just feels so much, too much, there’s so many words and simultaneously not enough.
Kacchan pulls back from him, her pleased expression pinching into a slight frown. Her hands cup his cheeks, thumbs swiping beneath his eyes, coming away wet.
“Handsome boy, why are you crying?” She mutters, pressing their foreheads together. Izuku guesses that’s what the burn in the back of his throat was about.
“Nothing.” He chokes, a smile on his lips stretching so wide his stress-bitten lips burn with it. “I’m so good. Thank you. You’re perfect. I love you.”
Kacchan kisses him hard then, pressing so far into Izuku’s space he distantly thinks she’s a step away from trying to join him on this tiny stool. Not that he would mind. He would make it work. He would make anything work, if it’s for her.
Izuku doesn’t have enough oxygen left to keep crying by the time Kacchan lets him go. And maybe that was the point, Izuku doesn’t know.
“I love you. I love you.” Kacchan stresses. They're so close, foreheads still digging hard into each other, and Izuku feels himself start to go cross-eyed trying to keep eye contact at this distance.
Izuku kind of wants to start crying again. Or laugh hysterically until he passes out. Or sleep for a million years, or fuck Kacchan through their mattress until they make a mess of it, or put on some brainless TV show while they lay on the couch just enjoying each other’s company. He doesn’t know. His body feels like a livewire, primed for anything at any moment.
Kacchan sighs, tucking her face into his neck. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy and sticky. Izuku’s arms find their way around her automatically, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces sliding into place.
It’s a long moment of silence and breathing later before Kacchan speaks again.
“I heard T makes you horny.”
Izuku barks out a startled laugh, skin heating at the way he can feel her pressing a smile into his neck, followed closely by teeth and tongue.
“Did you?” He asks.
“Mmh.” She hums, straightening until she can press their faces close, nudging his nose with her own.
“Interesting little fact. I guess we’ll find out if it’s true soon enough.”
Kacchan pushes her lips out in a cute little pout, her hands slipping from Izuku’s shoulders where they’d been resting, down his chest, until they lay suggestively against the waistband of his shorts.
“Soon? Not now?” Kacchan’s very good at looking innocent when she wants to. Izuku’s not as strong of a man against eyes like that as he pretends to be.
Kacchan’s high pitched squeal as Izuku throws her over his shoulder and stalks out of the kitchen is music to his ears