Archive of Our Own

Wood cleaves under Izuku’s ax with a groan. He methodically grabs another log and sets it on the stump, resuming proper position before swinging down in a tight arc.

His shoulders glisten with sweat in the overcast light, bared by his tattered muscle shirt he only tugs on for firewood and gardening tasks. Hair’s a damn mess, of course. Always is. Worse with the sweat, though. He’ll need to be strong-armed into a bath. There are ways to convince him, of course. Katsuki doesn’t mind ‘convincing’ him, but he hates the smug look Dunce Face will give when he hears about it. Kaminari, he means. Names. They all use names here. People have names.

Izuku bends to grab another log.

“You think we’ll have enough?” Jirou murmurs, pressing her lips around her cigarette. “Winter’s coming fast.”

Katsuki grunts.

“I’m serious, Bakugou. We’ve all been working ourselves to the bone, but this is going to be our first full winter out here. I’m not sure what we’re going to do if we’re not cut out for living off the grid.”

“We’ll make it work.”

“Ashido and Kaminari have rubbed their hands raw on that shitty loom. I don’t think Tokoyami’s slept in weeks. I’m just saying that this seems like a pretty bad idea. I don't care how good Todoroki is with his quirk; we could freeze out here if it turns out we didn’t plan this right.”

“You questioning me?”

Jirou hesitates. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, watching Izuku chop firewood. “Just wondering out loud.”

“We’ll make it work,” Katsuki says again. “Izuku and I ain’t gonna let any of you die.”

“If it’s in your power.” She flicks ash from the end of her cigarette. “Don’t pull rank shit on me again, Bakugou. Not unless it’s serious. Makes you sound like a dick.”

He was being a dick, it’s true. But this place is meant to be their pocket of peace. They’ve all bled for it. Everybody has made sacrifices to stay together, as stupid as it is to maintain a little society at the end of the world.

Katsuki shifts, watching wood split.

If it weren’t for Izuku’s stupid, gentle heart, it’d just be the two of them. More manageable that way.

Jirou leans harder on the porch railing. “You might smell like the prime omega, but we all know Izuku’s the one who calls the shots.”

A low jab. One Katsuki has to breathe through, let it pass. She’s annoyed. Fine. Let her be annoyed. “All we have is each other.” Something Izuku’s told him again and again, wet-eyed and resolute.

She eyes him, unimpressed. She’s heard the same phrase dozens of times. “I know.”

“Then don’t be such a shitty doubter.”

Izuku’s ax swings. He’s been at this for hours. It’s time to pack it up before it gets dark.

Katsuki lifts his palm to his mouth. “Oi, nerd! You stink worse than the sheep. Time for a bath.”

Izuku turns, ax at his side. He wipes his face with his shirt, revealing the sunken plane of his stomach. Katsuki’s eyes catch on the trail of hair under his naval. “Huh?”

“You’re both so gross,” Jirou mutters.

“Shut up,” he mutters back, staring at the waistband of Izuku’s shorts.

“What was that, Kacchan?” Izuku.

He raises his voice again. “Said you need a bath!”

Izuku drops his shirt, frowning. “At the river? It’s too cold.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “I’ll go with you.”

Izuku’s frown dissolves. His attention snaps to Katsuki, bright and hopeful. “You’ll bathe with me, Kacchan?”

“Ugh.” Jirou steps away from the railing. “Don’t be so loud this time.”

Katsuki flips her off as she heads back into the cabin. “Yeah, nerd,” he says, canting his neck to the side. Izuku’s hungry gaze tracks the motion. “I’ll join you. Come on.”

Izuku murmurs sleepily against his nape, nosing at him. He’s clean and smells like his natural musk, a milky scent with a strong bitter undertone. His fingers are freezing where they cling to Katsuki’s waist, digging into the divot above his hips. He always grabs at him with a desperate insistence. Doesn’t matter if they’re sleeping or fucking or strolling around the lake.

His purr is loud enough that it burrows into Katsuki. With the carefree way Izuku sleeps, it’s like he has no idea the world ended ten months ago.

Katsuki stares at their door in the dark, same as he does every night. The blanket around them is pure wool, as warm as it is itchy. Izuku’s stupid fucking All Might plushie digs into his shoulder, shoved between their bodies. They’re thinner than they were, leaner. Brute strength has grown wiry.

Four years of a promising heroics career down the drain, just like that. Society explodes and suddenly a job is an incomprehensible fantasy. Concepts like law and crime dissolve in the overwhelming need for survival. Katsuki had dedicated everything to his career, to the goal of Izuku’s suit. All that time, all that money, gone. Just like that. Grief for what they once had is one thing. Grief for what could have been is something else.

He never told Izuku about the suit. It’s too painful. Maybe someday. Not now. The wound of possibility is still fresh, barely scarred over.

Izuku grumbles, rolling his hips against Katsuki’s lower back. Insatiable asshole.

Katsuki ignores him. He watches the door. It’s a little too small for the opening, the hinges crudely forced into the wall. They’d grabbed the board of plywood on an excursion eight months ago. The rest of the group had breathed a sigh of relief at the little bit of buffer. Katsuki didn’t blame them. Izuku gets loud sometimes. Makes him loud too.

Whatever. The apocalypse does away with passé emotions like embarrassment or guilt. Besides, everybody’s cycle is synced to the prime omega’s, which means they’re all synced to Katsuki. They certainly don’t mind hearing or watching them go at it when the season comes back around.

Gets Izuku even more frantic, the watching. If he didn’t have Katsuki, he’d probably be fucking the rest of the group. Which is— Look, it’s fine. Katsuki doesn’t feel insecure in that, really. Izuku might have the hots for Jirou, but he’d kill for Katsuki. There’s the difference. And it’s a big difference.

Izuku nuzzles his nape, letting out a contented chirp. His purr rolls over Katsuki, unending. Sleeping in this position is uncomfortable and unreal.

They never thought they’d nest together. Before it all went to shit, Izuku was in teacher school and Katsuki was working every hour and they existed in a nebulous space of mutual acknowledgement of feelings and mutual awareness that there would be no acting on those feelings.

Yet here they are after everything, tangled up in each other.

Katsuki watches the door. He leans into Izuku’s body, feels the way he immediately molds to him. The end of the world is shockingly blasé. Now, anyways. They built this pocket of peace with their own hands. Fought and stole and struggled on the brink until they fell into routine. They have a house now. A real house. No electricity or any of that shit, but it’s got walls and a roof. And a well, crucially. Katsuki, as the prime omega of the pack, gets his own space. Which means that Izuku gets his space with him. The rest of the pack shares the main room.

It’s almost quaint. A house and a shed for a small herd of six stolen sheep and two lambs. Izuku built the fencing himself, birthed the babies in the spring, spent two weeks sleeping with the weak one out in the field because Katsuki didn’t want it in their nest.

Izuku talks about setting up a garden next thaw. He has all the excitement of an architect. Katsuki hasn’t seen him this free since early childhood. It seems the apocalypse has stolen everything from them, even the bad things.

Fangs press into his nape, twin pinpricks. They’re sharp, but pose no threat. Izuku only really gums at him in his sleep.

Katsuki idly licks the backs of his own fangs, tonguing at the serrated hooks lining them. No venom, but honestly the sharp edges on the backs of an omega’s fangs serve just fine.

Izuku’s tongue is wet and warm and annoying, laving at the thin skin covering his cervical vertebrae. He’s a leech. Always has been. Katsuki didn’t walk into this relationship blindly. Every day and night he lives with this. There’s no regret. Never regret. But shit, Izuku is clingy as fuck. He’s even worse now. Not that Katsuki supposes he can blame him; the apocalypse fucked everybody up. Kind of hard to shrug that shit off.

The air trembles.

His brow furrows, skin tingling. Something is wrong.

Izuku, oblivious, ruts against his ass without a care in the world. Must be nice. Fucker’s head is totally empty whenever he’s sleeping or fucking. Or both.

A sharp cry pierces the air.

Katsuki twitches in response, grimacing. Some unlucky animal nearby. If they’re lucky, there will be some scraps to pick at tomorrow. Izuku and Kaminari will eat it, anyways. Katsuki doesn’t touch that kind of shit.

A loud thud.

Izuku huffs against Katsuki’s neck, mumbling garbled by purrs. Would be incomprehensible regardless.

Yowling. High-pitched with a ragged edge.

“Hel——!”

Human.

Katsuki sits up, spine sharp. The phantom scent of blood fills his nostrils.

Izuku whines at the loss of his body, a hand blindly slapping against his hip. “K’chan?”

A scream rips through the air.

Izuku is beside him now, eyes wide. He sniffs the air. “Did you hear that?”

“Obviously,” Katsuki hisses. He smacks Izuku’s side. “Come on, get up. We gotta make sure Bird— Tokoyami’s fine.”

Izuku hops out of their nest, shaking the remainder of sleep from his body. He stands by the door, watching Katsuki extricate himself from the mess of blankets.

It’s silent. Completely quiet now.

They both creep out of their room in nothing but ratty t-shirts and sleep shorts. Tokoyami stands at his usual post on porch, keeping watch. Izuku’s shoulders lower at the sight of him, relieved. Katsuki isn’t so easily swayed.

“You hear that?” he asks as he opens the door, slipping on his boots.

“Yes.” Tokoyami nods. “The cloak of night is near impenetrable, but there were shadows in the distance. I saw a large animal.”

Izuku has his boots on now, alert. “And?” he asks.

“…A man,” he says. “We believe.”

“It was totally a dude,” Dark Shadow says. It lifts its claws. “Hulking guy.”

“Where?” Izuku is already scanning the area, head swiveling.

“By the tree line,” Tokoyami says. Dark Shadow hovers by his shoulder, its eyes narrowed.

Tree line means the edge of their ‘property,’ such as it is. They built a crooked, shitty fence at the edge, with a ton of junk laced around it. Bells, barbed wire, anything they could find. The cabin, such as it is, is an old, barebones safehouse All Might pointed Izuku toward right before everything totally went to shit. So in that sense, it really is theirs. Or it’s Izuku’s. But whatever is Izuku’s is also Katsuki’s.

Having somebody near the property line is bad. Really fucking bad. Thief, probably. Or a desperate person, the undying Deku in Katsuki’s head murmurs. The Deku in his head, just like the Deku in real life, is stupid as fuck.

Izuku slips down the stairs, swiftly crossing the dark grass.

Katsuki jumps off of the porch, boots sinking into wet earth. “Motherfucker— Don’t go alone!”

He catches Izuku’s elbow, legs stretching to keep pace. Fucker thinks a random stranger is in trouble and he loses his damn mind. It’s always been like this. Of all the things Katsuki dislikes about Izuku, there are few things he would say he genuinely hates. This is at the top of that list.

“He could be hurt,” Izuku says. Yeah, yeah, say something original you piece of shit.

There is a large shape curled on the ground on their side of the fence. Or what was the fence. It’s been cracked apart in one area. Definitely a bear. Shit.

The lump seems to be shaking. Heaving. It’s very large and smells of cedar and a sour body odor. A person.

An alpha.

Katsuki’s palms crackle. He catches snatches of Izuku’s face with each pop, pale with glistening eyes. “You’re gonna check, aren’t you?” he murmurs.

“We should, right?”

Absolutely not. Some part of Katsuki wants to snap at him. Are you stupid? Are you braindead? But he knows that’s not the case. Izuku is smart. He’s just disturbingly fixated on making bad choices.

Which is worse? Katsuki thinks to himself while Izuku crouches beside the twitching body. A bear or an alpha?

Izuku tracks the body’s pulse, then lifts the lids of its eyes. There’s a nasty gash on the head, leaking blood. “Not ill.”

“So?”

“Just checking.” He’s checking because it matters. He’s checking because the body could spread disease. He’s checking because he’s going to bring this fucker back home.

Katsuki knows Izuku. Knows him like he’s been buried into his own marrow, pumps his own blood. “He could be a carrier.”

“Carriers still have bloodshot eyes even if they’re absent of other symptoms.”

“We shouldn’t let him in,” leaves Katsuki.

Izuku doesn’t react.

“Izuku,” he stresses. “We shouldn’t.”

He pulls back the hair on the alpha’s torn head, eyes calculating the sum of the damage. Then he stands. “We can’t just leave him here. He’ll die.”

Shit. Katsuki leans closer to him. “This is a bad idea.”

Izuku hums.

“You’re the one who said no alphas.”

“You’re the one who said no alphas,” he replies. “I just agreed with you at the time. A lot less messy.” ‘Less messy’ is one way of putting it. ‘Safer’ is how Katsuki would frame it. Smarter. Izuku’s always been a bleeding heart, though, and what has it ever gotten him?

No. Izuku agreed with him because Izuku doesn’t tend to like alphas. An instinctual disdain he’s never been able to shake. ‘Less messy’ is bullshit.

Katsuki hates to pull out the manipulative trump card, here, but it’s serious. “Izuku. This is dangerous. You could get us hurt.”

Izuku swallows. A nick in his armor. The safety of the group is paramount. It becomes before everything. The safety of Katsuki comes before even that.

For a brief moment, Katsuki thinks he might have won this.

Then Izuku’s eyes shutter, resolute. “If it comes to it, I’ll handle it.”

Stubborn jackass.

Izuku stands, brushing his hands off. His jaw sets. In the low light, he looks like shit. He’s Izuku, though; he usually looks like shit. Sometimes Katsuki loses his mind—usually when they’re fucking—and that’s when he thinks he looks good.

Here, with the sunken pockets of his face highlighted by the sliver of moon in the sky, he looks ragged. Simultaneously young and old. Anything but twenty-one.

Izuku clears his throat. “I can take him in myself. I know you don’t approve of this.”

“And let you throw out your back again? Fuckin’ move aside. I’ll get his feet.”

Izuku moves. There’s no manipulation in him, no games. He meant what he said. Katsuki knows. Doesn’t make any of this less stupid or awful, but he knows.

He bends, grabbing the bastard’s feet. Izuku heaves him up by his shoulders and they slowly shuffle up the hill.

Izuku washes his hands fastidiously after locking the alpha in the shed. Katsuki knows it’s as much for hygiene as it is to scrub the alpha’s scent from his skin. He’d watched Izuku’s lips pull back instinctively whenever he caught a whiff as he worked.

Fuck, this was such a bad idea.

“We’re a group of all omegas,” he murmurs as Izuku uses the manual pump, splattering more water into his recently dumped bucket. Shit’s freezing these days and only getting colder. “You know how alphas get about omegas.”

“Don’t be bioessentialist,” Izuku says robotically. He coats his hands in suds from their well-worn soap bar.

“I’m not being bioessentialist. I’m saying that there’s social dynamics and shit. We don’t know this guy. He could be a freak for all we know.”

“Or he could be kind.” Izuku returns to scrubbing his hands, the skin red under their threadbare washcloth.

“Everybody’s gonna be pissed that you did this without consulting the group.”

“We make decisions without their input all the time. Also it won’t be everybody. You and Jirou, probably.”

Katsuki’s teeth grind. Izuku’s right. That just pisses him off more. Once Izuku gets an idea in his head, once he gets a glimmer of insight, he runs with it as far as he can take it.

Izuku’s skin is raw. He keeps cleaning.

Katsuki catches his hands, halting the movement. His fingers curl against Izuku’s. Water-chilled and rough and crooked. “And what if something happens?”

Izuku’s thumbs idly stroke the backs of Katsuki’s hands. “I told you. I’ll handle it.”

There’s a part of Katsuki that wants to point out the obvious. They have no idea what this alpha’s character is or what his quirk could be. So much shit Katsuki doesn’t know. So much shit he does. Like how Izuku is an omega and he’s quirkless and he gives bad people too many chances to play nice.

Katsuki has better sense than to say any of this. Because they both are already aware.

There are bags under Izuku’s eyes. He sleeps like a rock every night that Katsuki is with him, but in this moment he looks haggard. Izuku does not enact kindness lightly. He never has. He forces it into the world, fights for kindness with his teeth first. It’s scary as hell, always has been.

“Don’t get hurt,” Katsuki says lowly. This much he can’t help. It’s a command as much as a plea.

Izuku nods. “I won’t.”

Katsuki sags at the promise. His joints ache, wary of the cold. It’s dark. Izuku still has the faintest scent of blood on him. They need to go to sleep. Actually sleep, not just stare at the door.

Katsuki never sleeps through the night. He wishes he could say it had to do with Izuku—that he could blame it on his clinginess or his purring or his awkward rutting or some other inconvenience that comes from sleeping with another person. But the truth is that he would be up all night regardless of his sleeping arrangements. Katsuki has always valued his solitude. But in this world, solitude is deadly. Awake in a nest with a sleeping Izuku is the only time he’s truly alone.

“Come on,” he manages, tugging at Izuku’s hands. “Bed.”

Izuku follows.

It was a pandemic. Not was—is. But people talk about it in past tense and nobody’s making clocks anymore, so who fucking cares about is/was/will.

It was a pandemic. Came from some other country. China, maybe, or the Philippines, perhaps, or hell, could’ve been Russia. Some country that the news could gesture to and say, See, that’s how filthy those people are. Point is, it was some disease that wasn’t supposed to breach the borders of Japan, yadda yadda, but it somehow did, yadda yadda, every foreigner and vulnerable population in the country got blamed, so on and so forth, and lots of people got sick and lots more people died.

Respiratory transmission. Results in obstructed airways, loss of motor function, high fever, delirium. Lots of viruses like that in the past, many more in store for the future. It made people go crazy, a lot of the time. They’d get violent, irrational. It’s not like it turned people into zombies or shit, though. No sci-fi garbage. It was treatable, had a prognosis of survival for a good number of healthy bodies. Things looked bad and they were bad for most poor bastards who caught it, but it wasn’t necessarily the end of anything. It didn’t have to go the way it did.

One day, everything was normal. The next, they were standing on the precipice. Everything was on the line. The future of their individual lives, the survival of their very species. People were told to shelter in place, businesses to shut down. Did they do that?

Of course they fuckin didn’t.

“It isn’t surprising,” Izuku said the first night they shared out in the woods, hiding from disease and disorder. “Capitalism is a death cult.”

Katsuki stared up at the night sky, his skull pounding. A middle-aged man had slammed his suitcase into his skull when they’d attempted to leave the lobby of his apartment building. No reason for that. Dude wasn’t even sick. People were just crazy assholes. Izuku had slugged the guy in the face and apologized to Katsuki as if he’d been the one who’d caused the dumb looking egg forming on Katsuki’s temple. “You learn that in one of your fancy college books?”

“No,” Izuku said. He added another stick to the meager fire at his feet. “I knew that one for a while.”

Katsuki didn’t know what to say to that. They’d packed their bags and snuck off without telling anyone but their families and All Might. City was in chaos anyways. Izuku insisted on managing the affairs of their parents; he was always nicer than Katsuki. Always thinking of others. He probably wouldn’t have left at all if Katsuki hadn’t been there, but Katsuki brings out the selfish side of him.

If people had been even a fraction as considerate as Izuku, none of this would have happened. Nobody would have been fucked. But no. That’s not how people operated. Society valued convenience and capital over everything. That’s how the rules were made. People lived under those rules, so they behaved accordingly. Who could blame them?

Katsuki.

He blamed them. Vehemently. Without mercy.

“It could be worse,” Izuku said lightly. “We chose to leave, so we weren’t caught in a bad situation. And we’re together. I feel very lucky to have Kacchan at my side.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki said. His heart thumped in his chest, steady. Alive.

Izuku peered over him. His lips parted, hesitant. Katsuki could smell his scent curling in the air, the warm flush of interesting that always colored it when they were together. “You know…” He trailed off.

“Know what?” But he knew. Knew it in every glance they ever stole at one another, the quiet moments and the loud moments and everything in between. Izuku and he were in love. Irrevocably. It fucking sucked. Two omegas, two men, desperately in love in the kind of sappy way that felt like it should have been confined to torrid romances.

It was something inconceivable to polite society. Too bad polite society had choked on its own vomit and died.

Izuku licked his bottom lip, omegan fangs bared in the firelight. Katsuki’s eyes traced his mouth. “It’s just us now, Kacchan. All we have is each other. From here on out.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki said. “You and me. Ride or die. All that.”

Izuku leaned closer. His breath hitched, then quickened.

Katsuki did not shy away.

“Wait, so, like.” Ashido doesn’t stop her knitting. After weaving the world’s shittiest wool, she’s been knitting for four days without end. She successfully made three whole hats, so far. “Where did you find this guy?”

“On the border of the property,” Katsuki says. He stacks the firewood by their dented wood stove. “You didn’t hear him last night?”

“Dude, yeah. Freaked me out.” Kaminari hangs his arm off of the couch. Half of the springs are busted, his body sinking into the cushion under his face. “What was attacking him?”

“Ran off, but I think it was a bear.”

He whistles. “A bear’s not good.”

Kacchan stands, brushing his hands on his jeans. “No shit. Bear’s really fucking bad. We gotta make sure we’ve got everything locked down.”

“Do bears eat sheep?” Todoroki asks, sitting beside Kaminari, his body at a perfect ninety-degree angle as usual because he’s a fucking freak.

“I think they eat anything,” Katsuki says. He hisses, picking a splinter from his palm. Izuku would be annoyed if he saw. That’s super preventable, Kacchan. “Besides, that’s not the problem. We got an alpha on our land.”

“Yeah, that’s a pretty big problem.” Jirou fiddles with one of Ashido’s three hats. It looks like shit. They all look like shit. Smell worse. They’re warm, though. “You get a read on him?”

“No. He was passed out. Izuku patched him up.”

“So we don’t know his character at all.”

Kacchan flicks the splinter at the woodstove, baring his teeth. “No. No fucking clue.”

“That could be a problem,” Ashido says. She pinches the words between her lips, uncertain. “Y’know how some… I mean, I hate to say this, but, uh…”

“Alphas are disgusting,” Katsuki says flatly. “Yeah, I fucking know. We all know.”

“I don’t have an opinion on it,” Todoroki says.

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“You’re just an anti-alpha weirdo,” Kaminari says. He raises a finger. “But you’re right.”

He rolls his eyes harder.

“It’s about that time of the season anyways, isn’t it?” Kaminari rolls onto his side. “You’re starting to smell a little different. As far as I can tell, anyways; Midoriya-kun’s been smothering you like crazy lately. Though that’s probably also a tell?”

Right. Right, of course. Heats tend to sneak up on Katsuki. He’s always relied on Izuku awkwardly signaling it to him in the past. Now that they’re in a relationship, he relies on Izuku huffing him like he’s a limited edition perfume or some shit to tell him it’ll be coming on soon.

“That’s a problem,” Jirou says seriously. “We can’t have that going on with an unknown alpha in the area.”

“Should we tell him?” Todoroki asks.

“Tell who? The alpha?”

“Yeah.”

“No,” Katsuki hisses. “Are you stupid? He’ll go full knothead.”

Todoroki shrugs. “My brother Natsuo is an alpha and my heats never bothered him.”

“That’s your brother, dumbass! This is a total stranger.”

“When Midoriya and Tokoyami come back, we’ll need to talk about this,” Jirou says.

Katsuki rubs his face.

“‘I’m serious, Bakugou. We all need to sit down and talk. You and Midoriya aren’t a pack of two anymore. You have to consider the rest of us.”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” he spits, bitter. “Deku’s the one who made the call. I told him.”

“I’m not mad,” Todoroki says.

Of course you’re not, he almost says. Izuku knew you wouldn’t be. Izuku knew you’re a bleeding heart just like him. No self-preservation in either of you sorry fucks.

Jirou’s eyes narrow. She is mad. Izuku knew she would be. Such a nice guy until he gets some moral conviction in his head. Then he doesn’t care if he upsets anybody, not even Katsuki.

Anger burns in the center of his chest. A familiar emotion. Maybe the most familiar emotion in his arsenal. He’s not just mad at Izuku. He’s mad at everybody. Everything. It’s the opposite of directionless rage; it has too many targets. He spent the better part of his teens learning how to rein it in.

“I’ll talk to Izuku,” he says tightly.

“I just said you’re not the only two here,” Jirou says, unimpressed.

Fuck do I know that. It didn’t have to be like this. If they hadn’t run into these fuckers, it would just be Katsuki and Izuku. Better that way. Safer.

He doesn’t feel guilty about this thought. He has it all the time. Life would be a lot easier if it was just the two of them. Katsuki cares about these people. About a lot of people. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t also know logic. Logic says it’s better when there are less mouths to feed.

“…He’s gonna be pretty upset today,” Katsuki admits. Hates it. An admission of Izuku’s weakness is an admission of his own. They’re intertwined in this way, too.

Jirou searches him.

“Oh,” Todoroki says. “Yeah, probably.”

Ashido nods, preoccupied with her piss poor knitting.

“Ohhh,” Kaminari intones. “Right. Yeah, should wait to break that news…”

Jirou’s jaw twitches. She doesn’t press it, though.

Katsuki scrubs his face, sucking in a sharp breath. Another weakness he allows himself. Sometimes, in this new world, it feels like that’s all he has left for himself.

Izuku rinses his hands in the river, kneeling in the cold water. “I’m fine,” he says. Tight, emotionless, controlled. “I’ve killed before.”

Katsuki hates this side of him. Hates the blank, the nothing. Stupid fuck needs therapy. There’s no therapy in the apocalypse, though. Just sheep shearing and wood chopping. And fucking. Lots of fucking. No reason not to, not anymore. There used to be a million reasons.

The truth is, this side of Izuku is him as much as an other side. This is hard for Katsuki to accept. They’ve had to swallow a lot of harsh truths over the past ten months, though.

It’s a return to form, to how things used to be before it all went to shit. Because when it went to shit, Izuku seems the best he’d ever been. Lighter. Warmer. Alive.

The Izuku of the after times is an Izuku who laughs at every joke, who spends hours fussing over the sheep every morning, who presses his nose against Katsuki’s nape each night in their nest, his purr so loud it vibrates both their skeletons.

The end of the world brought a peace to their lives. Solitude granted freedom. Izuku and he hold hands now, scent each other regularly, fuck in the river and their nest and the shed. Life has never been more precarious or precious.

“He’ll feed us,” Izuku continues. “Good meat. We took the best care of him that we could.”

“He wouldn’t have survived the winter,” Katsuki says. “He was a small lamb.”

Izuku stands, wiping his hands on his pants. His lips quiver. A ghost of an emotion. He swallows it down, nodding. The bony curve of his wrist scrubs against his eyes. “I’m glad Tokoyami-kun was able to help. It was quick, at least.”

He looks lost, standing there with empty eyes. Something in Katsuki aches at the sight. That soft core of his body that always seems to open itself up whenever Izuku’s involved. Stupid thing loves to get stabbed over and over.

Can’t be helped. It’s the same for Izuku, he knows.

Katsuki takes a step, offering his throat.

Izuku slots into place without a word, pressing neck to neck, check to chest. His skin is cold. He smells the same as he always does. Milky and bitter and omega.

Katsuki closes his eyes, leaning closer.

The alpha is barely conscious. His cloudy eyes track Izuku’s arms as they shift above him, fingers parting his hair to examine the gash along his skull.

Katsuki stands at the doorway to the shed, watching Izuku fret with the breathing corpse. “He smells like shit.”

Izuku grunts. His KN-95 muffles it.

“I’m serious. You’re gonna have to bathe again after this.”

He doesn’t even scrunch his face at that. Just proof of how much this guy reeks. Or how much Izuku hates the scent of alphas, which Katsuki has known as long as he’s been properly aware of Izuku as an omega. So, their whole lives.

Izuku hates alphas. Probably his best kept secret. Thing is, he’s lousy at secrets. Look at One For All and that whole shit show. Or maybe he’s just lousy at secrets where Katsuki is involved. Hard to say.

Anyways, Izuku hates alphas. He’s ashamed of this. Calls it ‘prejudice.’ Katsuki calls it ‘common sense.’ This is a classic argument between them, rendered even more frustrating because they both agree with each other but Izuku’s too much of a pussy to say it out loud. But Iida-kun was an alpha, Izuku murmured one night during the early days of the whole End of the World. I really liked Iida-kun.

Okay, so there are a few good ones. Doesn’t make that the rule.

I just don’t want to assume, so…

“This is the best I’m able to do,” Izuku says, flicking his bloody fingers at the floor. “He’s going to get an infection. No helping it.”

Katsuki grunts.

“I have to wash up. Um.” Izuku’s eyes linger on the alpha, out of focus. “Don’t wait for me. I’ll be quick.”

“I’ll scent you when you get back,” Katsuki says.

Izuku’s shoulders relax a centimeter or two. He nods, swallowing. “Thank you.”

“Tch. You’re my mate. You’re supposed to smell like me anyways.”

“Water.”

They freeze.

Well. Alpha fuck is fully conscious, apparently.

He coughs. “Water.”

“‘Please’ would be frickin’ nice,” Katsuki mutters.

Izuku shoots him a look. He turns to the alpha. “We can get you water. What’s your name?”

The alpha croaks out something. Katsuki doesn’t care.

Izuku’s voice gentles. He goes straight to Hero Mode, reassuring the alpha that everything’s gonna be okay, that he’s in good hands, all that shit. He’s still wearing the KN-95 because the alpha smells like shit. He’s still keeping a distance of about a meter because he’s not a total moron.

Katsuki wishes Izuku weren’t such a moral bastion. He’s wished this repeatedly throughout his life, with different tenors of frustration and desperation.

While Izuku dabs at the alpha’s forehead, cooing, Katsuki clenches his jaw until his teeth creak.

Dinner is fucking awkward. In what world would it not be? Izuku’s hosting an alpha in the shed and everybody’s gonna go into heat soon. Shit’s fucked.

“Sooo,” Ashido says. “He got a name?”

Izuku tells them. He enunciates it like it matters, like it’ll inspire charity in the group. Katsuki doesn’t bother checking if it does. Irrelevant. This shit is bad. Real bad.

“We should only see him in pairs,” Jirou says.

“Yes,” Katsuki says immediately.

“Okay,” Izuku agrees. “At least two at a time.”

“Uh.” Kaminari fiddles with his spoon. “Can I opt out?”

Izuku takes a sip from his water. All their water is boiled before drinking. It tastes like shit. “Sure.”

Let’s all opt out, Katsuki wants to say. Let’s all leave the sorry fuck in there and let him die of infection.

“There’s an apothecary close to here, right?” Izuku eats the last of his bowl. Lamb stew. No spices, so it tastes like shit. Everything tastes like shit. His portion is smaller than the rest. Katsuki has stopped bugging him about it. It’s useless. They’ll all need to start bulking up soon, though. Heats take a lot out of the body. Just more prep to add to the pile of chores as winter creeps closer.

“I believe so, about ten kilometers,” Tokoyami says.

“Oh, okay. That’s closer than I thought. I wonder if they have any antibiotics.”

Katsuki catches Jirou’s eyes. Then Ashido’s. Kaminari’s. Tokoyami’s. Todoroki is too busy holding unnerving eye contact with Izuku, who of course is too busy looking at the table. Fucker never looks at people’s eyes.

Talk to him, Jirou mouths.

Despite his own frustration with Izuku, defensiveness flares in his gut. Izuku is his to reprimand, no one else’s. No one else understands the logic that he operates under. No one else has stayed with Izuku through the kind of shit that Katsuki has. They don’t get it.

Katsuki gets it.

Katsuki is the only one who gets it.

Izuku’s lips brush against his nape, damp. “Your heat’s coming up,” he murmurs, husky.

“Yours too,” Katsuki points out. Finally, an in. He readjusts his head against his pillow. Of course Izuku already knew. “Everybody’s.”

“Mm.”

“That alpha’s gonna be a problem.”

Izuku presses his nose into the juncture of Katsuki’s throat, taking deep drags.

“I’m serious,” Katsuki says. “An alpha around omegas is already a problem. We’re already starting pre-heat in a few days. If he sticks around, we’re gonna have to do something.”

Silence as Izuku nuzzles him.

“Nerd, I’m not kidding, this is a prob—”

“I know,” he says. “I don’t want an alpha to stick around, either. But y’know. It’s dangerous out there. And he’s hurt very badly.”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s still an alpha.”

“A tied up alpha.”

“Tons of recorded stories of them getting sudden super strength when they’re exposed to omegas in heat.”

Izuku’s grip on him tightens. “He’s not getting to anyone.”

“If something happens…”

“I’ll handle it. Told you.” Izuku’s teeth gently rake against his neck. His hips press into Katsuki’s back, separated only by their sleep shorts. Idiot isn’t thinking about what he’s doing at all; he never does. Fighting or sex, doesn’t matter. His body moves on its own. “Mn. Mm, Kacchan…”

Katsuki stares at their door.

“H-haa, Kacchan…” Izuku whines, tongue laving at his skin.

“Guess we’re not continuing this conversation.”

“S-sorry… You smell really good.”

“You always say that.”

“‘Cause it’s true. Wh-what do you wanna talk about?” Izuku doesn’t stop grinding against him. He reeks of interest, bitter and milky. Katsuki’s core flutters in sympathy, his cock hard.

“Forget about it.” He rolls over. Izuku’s flushed face stares at him with dumb, fucked out eyes. His glossy pupils lazily track his hand as it ducks between them, shoving the All Might plushie out of the way and pushing down their clothes. He grabs Izuku’s cock, eliciting a small squeal. Moron’s obviously about to get his dick wet and he’s still surprised. Typical. Katsuki leans closer, fangs nicking Izuku’s bottom lip. He slides his fingers down to the base, knuckles brushing into a thick nest of pubic hair. Loser’s already dribbling pre-cum like a faucet. “You wanna fuck me?”

“Yeah,” Izuku breathes. He spreads his legs, balls unsticking from his thigh as his hips twitch up. “Yuh-yeah, Kacchan, please. Been a while.”

It’s been one day.

Katsuki doesn’t mock him, even if it’s deserved. Izuku is desperate and besotted and obsessed and that’s exactly how Katsuki likes him. Truthfully, it’s been a while for him too. He slings a leg over Izuku’s hip and hikes their bodies closer.

Izuku lets out a grateful sob when he’s angled into the other omega’s passage, fingers digging into Katsuki the way a drowning man clings to driftwood. “Oh, Kacchan, Kacchan, s’good, Kacchan’s the best, smells so good, best omega, Kacchan—”

Katsuki kisses him to shut him up.

They got to be alone for four months before stumbling on others. It was hardly bliss, but there was a strange carefree charm to the way their relationship progressed. By which Katsuki means, they fucked. A lot. Constantly.

They’d made it to the safehouse in about a week and a half. Slept in the woods, squeezed into Katsuki’s little pop-up tent fit for a single person, Izuku molded to his spine like a backpack. That was the first place they ‘made love’ as Izuku puts it. Covered in dirt and bruises while Izuku slobbered all over Katsuki with wild, dark eyes that didn’t stop weeping or staring. The hurried slap of their skin, Izuku pressing so deep into him it felt like he was trying to shove his balls in too. It was as disgusting as it was addicting. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to— Kacchan— Kacchan— I’ve wanted you so bad and now— Now, Kacchan—

Everything had given way. Society, morals, Izuku’s stupidly insistent self-control. Katsuki had always secretly understood this. Izuku probably had, too. That, in the end, all they could depend on was each other. The truth was open and simple, now. They openly lived by it.

The world had always been dangerous, but its dangers took on new tenors. People didn’t trust each other. Fair enough. If one saw another person, it was safe to assume they were either hostile or ill or both. Basically: take shit from no one. So Katsuki and Izuku did the smart thing; they tried not to see anybody. Stuck to the wilderness. Made a straight shot for the safehouse, nestled at the base of a mountain. Mount Itoh, Izuku said, but society was dead so Katsuki figured they could call the mountain whatever the hell they wanted now.

Izuku used to tell him not to call it the end of the world. All like, it’s not the end of the world, Kacchan. It’s not. It’s not…

He stopped at some point. Katsuki wasn’t sure when.

Anyways, he wanted to say the trip sucked, but it didn’t really. Katsuki was fine in the woods and Izuku wasn’t much for complaining. Hell, the freak loved rolling around in the mud. Had to force him to bathe. At night, he insisted on keeping watch, but Katsuki was pretty sure he was just using it as an excuse to leer at him in his sleep. Izuku had always given him looks in the past, but now he clearly felt entitled to act on those looks. And why shouldn’t he? Katsuki wasn’t going to stop him.

It got a little better at the safehouse. There were moth-bitten emergency nesting materials in the mostly bare place, a good stockpile of food for a little time, and a dry spot to call home. Izuku insisted on carrying him across the threshold. It was stupid. Katsuki cuffed him for it and then picked him up and walked him through the damn doorway, just so they’d be even.

There’s sheep at that local farm, Kacchan, do you think we could…?

So they did. Of course they did. Society was over. Theft wasn’t a thing anymore, though of course Izuku checked the area for any would-be owners. Bleeding heart idiot. He was lucky that he improved significantly as a lay with the constant practice or else he would have become almost intolerable.

As precarious as existence became, it was better in some ways. Mostly because of the fucking. And the kissing and the cuddling and all of that shit. They shared their heat together. Bit each other until they were more bruise than skin.

All of Katsuki’s dreams were dead, but fishing with Izuku found him with so many of the things he had been desperately working toward. Izuku’s smile. Izuku’s laugh. The stretch of his teeth, his head thrown back, eyes scrunched shut with the force of his elation. His laughter would rattle around Katsuki’s skull long since it ceased, that bright and pure sound. Carefree, elated.

The world had gone to shit and things were finally okay.

If that was all it took, maybe Katsuki would have vied for the end of the world as doggedly as he did for the suit. The suit very well could have brought Izuku’s joy back, but Katsuki would never know. This had, though. That was certain. So he took what he could from the circumstances. Izuku had resurrected and all it took was the apocalypse.

Katsuki would do whatever it took to preserve him.

Then those fuckers had to show up. Hell knows how they did. Doesn’t matter in the end. What matters is that five fucking mouths to feed showed up in their woods, by their mountain. Mouths that they recognized. Mouths that recognized them.

“It’s our class,” Izuku said.

Katsuki didn’t move.

“Our friends,” he stressed.

Izuku’s friends. Katsuki did not say this. Obviously they had been his friends once, too. As far as he could call anyone ‘friends’ with a straight face. Katsuki wasn’t the type. But this was the damn apocalypse or close enough. He thought they’d shed all the dead weight in their lives.

That it would just be the two of them.

“We don’t need more people,” Katsuki hissed.

Izuku just looked at him with those baleful eyes. There was no choice to him. No. With Izuku, there never was.

For Katsuki either.

Izuku’s scent is blooming. It always gets extra musky in pre-heat, tangles with the bitter and milky notes. Katsuki’s throat dries with each drag. He presses his nose into Izuku’s nape at breakfast, Izuku sipping his weak tea while they sit curled up on the porch. The air is cold. Izuku’s purr is loud and content. Katsuki keeps rubbing his face stupidly against the knobs of his spine, breathing him in. Instincts and such. Izuku’s almost ripe. And if Izuku is almost ripe, then Katsuki certainly is nearly there.

“We should feed him soon,” Izuku says.

“The alpha?”

“Mmhm.”

“Never should’ve brought him in.”

“Couldn’t let him die.”

“He might die anyway.”

Izuku’s back tenses under his cheek. “Have to try.”

Katsuki reaches around, feels the give of Izuku’s loose shirt, the hard jut of ribs underneath. “You gotta bulk for heat. You’re too thin.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’re too thin.”

Izuku huffs. Fucker’s probably rolling his eyes.

An urge pulls at Katsuki’s gut. He used to stuff those feelings down in the hopes they’d drown or dissolve in his stomach acid. Now he follows them. He presses his mouth to Izuku’s nape, fine hairs tickling his lips. He parts just enough to let the flats of his teeth scrape.

Izuku stiffens. Then he relaxes, sagging against Katsuki’s body. His purr grows louder. The force rattles both of their bodies. It’s cute. Izuku is, unfortunately, stupidly cute.

Katsuki nuzzles harder.

“Bite?” Izuku asks, breathless.

“Not yet,” Katsuki murmurs. “When heat hits.”

“Mm.”

The loose skin at Izuku’s nape smells extra enticing. Almost as good at his armpits or his crotch. It’s that good. Another sign of impending heat. Katsuki closes his eyes, breathing in. That bitter note that sets Izuku apart from other omegas, that he was always insecure about, tickles the back of Katsuki’s palate.

“I should check on him,” Izuku says.

Katsuki grunts in question.

Izuku says a name.

“Huh?”

“The alpha,” he says, exasperated. “I gotta check his bandages. Feed him, too, if he’s up for it. You want to go check with me?”

“I don’t want to,” Katsuki says. “I will, though. Pairs. That’s what we decided.”

“Right.” Izuku stretches, spine popping. He’s skinny as shit. Wiry. Katsuki’ll have to find a way to coax him into eating more. Heat and winter coming up. It’s a bad combination. “Let’s go check if he’s up first.”

Katsuki rises with him, stepping down the porch. His hand finds Izuku’s lower back, palm molding to the dip above his hips. He can feel Izuku shooting him a look. The heat lingers on his jaw, prickles his skin with a sense of smug satisfaction. He knows the expression even without seeing it. Dark-eyed, wet. Wanting.

It’s been more than a bit of an ego boost, how constantly and desperately Izuku wants to fuck him. This isn’t assumption, either; Izuku’s intention is loud in the air, his scent obvious.

By the time they make it to the shed, it’s dissipated some, replaced by tension. The sheep stare blankly at them, a few stepping forward with the hopes of food.

“It’s not time for you yet,” Izuku chides, patting one’s head. “Keep grazing, okay?”

“They don’t speak Japanese, dipshit.”

Izuku rolls his eyes, reaching for the shed door. Katsuki preemptively wrinkles his nose before it opens.

It doesn’t do shit all for him. Smell is bad. Rot and alpha. Fucker has an infection for sure.

“Good morning,” Izuku greets, voice soft. “How are you feeling?”

The alpha’s head lifts . His eyes crack open. “Water?”

“Ah, right.” Izuku pats at the pockets of his pants as though he somehow had something relevant there. “I can get you some water. Do you think you can stomach a little breakfast?”

The alpha grunts, tugging at the ties on his wrists. His head looks nasty. Real nasty. The stitching on his skull has split near his eye. The skin is swollen, bright and shiny, ruddy with fever. “Yes.”

Izuku nods. “That’s good. We’ll go get you some. Just sit tight, okay?” When he turns, he hesitates as his gaze falls on Katsuki. “Are you coming with me?”

“I’ll wait here,” he says.

Izuku’s eyes search him.

“At the door,” Katsuki says. Resents the need to clarify. “I’m not going anywhere near that fuck without someone else.”

“…Okay.” Izuku shifts from foot to foot. A flicker of disagreement flies across his face. Stubborn jackass.

Katsuki’s stubborn jackass.

Izuku passes him, swiping his wrist against his as he does. Warmth settles in Katsuki’s chest at the contact, Izuku’s scent mingling with his in that short burst of contact.

As he turns the corner, the warmth dies.

Katsuki lifts his chin, eyes raking over the pathetic form of the alpha. Hunched over, blood sluggishly leaking from the stitched wound on his head. Nasty gash. Izuku did what he could, but it’s hardly a professional job. No antibiotics. The swelling and discoloration make that pretty clear.

“Quit looking at me like that,” the alpha rasps.

Wind ruffles Katsuki’s hair. No sound or scent of Izuku’s return. “Not much worth looking at.”

The alpha’s eyes narrow. “You got no idea what I’ve been through.”

Katsuki snorts. “You got trauma? Some chip on your shoulder? Look around you, dipshit. You ain’t unique. Get the fuck in line.”

The alpha’s lips pull back, revealing his fangs. Ugly things. Katsuki’s always felt this way. Everything about alphas has elicited a disturbed the hell is that? from the animal part of his brain. More a mild confusion than anything. Izuku is the one who’s genuinely repulsed by them. It’s darkly funny how Katsuki is the more vocally anti-alpha of the two of them, considering that Izuku used to throw up after attending study sessions with alphas back when university was a thing.

Point is, this alpha is ugly as fuck and Katsuki is not impressed. “You gonna just growl at me, fucker? Shut up.”

“When I get out of these,” the alpha says lowly, tugging at his wrist bindings, “you won’t be so high and mighty.”

Katsuki snorts. He stands from the doorway, palms flexing at his sides. They’re damp with sweat, ready to pop. Fat chance this half-dead alpha has any shot against him.

“Kacchan!” Izuku rushes to the entrance. “You—”

“Was just standing here, keeping watch,” Katsuki says. “Don’t worry so much.”

“I’m always going to worry about Kacchan,” he mumbles. Then he lifts the glass and bowl in his hands, eyes turning to the alpha. That stupid fucking alpha who smells like shit and is now covering his ugly-ass fangs with a polite, close-lipped smile. Fucker. “I got you some breakfast and water!”

“Thank you so much,” the alpha says.

Katsuki doesn’t move from his post at the doorway. He watches Izuku kneel, watches him give his gentle smile, watches him be a damn hero. Izuku’s nature is a cursed nature. A suicidal nature.

When Izuku looks at this alpha, he probably sees someone in need of saving. Doesn’t matter if he likes the alpha, doesn’t matter if he would rather be doing anything else, doesn’t matter if he intellectually knows it’s dumb to help him. He has to reach out. He has to help.

Katsuki sees something entirely different. He doesn’t feel bad about this. It’s just a difference in perspective. Now that they’re on their own, he’s come to terms with a lot of his feelings. Feelings for Izuku, for himself, for the world. For this, too. Katsuki knows intimately how many resources they have in that safehouse, how many more they’ll need to gather before winter truly hits.

Katsuki watches Izuku spoon porridge into the new mouth to feed.

Izuku nips harshly at his nape as he mounts him.

“Oi, knock it off,” Katsuki snaps. “What’s gotten into you?”

“S-sorry, ’s just close to…y’know and…”

Sure. They’re in pre-heat. Izuku’s insatiable enough outside of their cycle. He’s absolutely obsessed with fucking Katsuki during heat to the neglect of all else. It’s a wonder how he survived before they got together. Barely, he’d sheepishly confided when Katsuki had asked. Sometimes I thought I’d die.

Katsuki never ribbed him about it again.

But this… Motherfucker is mounting him constantly. Was getting into position to do it while Katsuki was cooking dinner, earlier, which is off limits. An audience can’t be helped when heat happens, but he does not want any of those fuckers watching Izuku fuck him in their shitty little kitchen. He’s aggressive with it, too. Weirdly focused.

“You’re being a freak,” Katsuki says.

“I don’t like the alpha being around,” Izuku admits. He lets out a shaky whine, flattening Katsuki into their nest. “W-wanna make Kacchan smell just like me, don’t like how he smells, hate alpha smells. Just wanna smell Kacchan and me.”

“You’re the one who brought him in!”

“I knowww,” he whines. He grinds the hard length of his cock against Katsuki’s ass. “Hhha, but it’s the right thing to do. Even if I didn’t wanna… Gotta…do the right thing. Mng. Sorry Kacchan, sorry, gotta…stuff you full. G-gotta get you pr…preg…”

Katsuki groans in irritation. Two omegas can’t produce children together. Both of them know this. Knowing this does not dissuade Izuku from trying to knock him up. If anything, it makes him more determined, as though his love and horniness will overcome nature. Usually he can keep a lid on it until they’re properly in the throes of heat. This shitty alpha must really be setting him off.

“Pup Kacchan,” Izuku breathes. “Gotta pup Kacchan.”

“We’re living in a shack off the grid,” Katsuki says. “You’re lucky you can’t pup me, dumbass.”

“C-can I fuck you? Please? I haven’t fucked you since last night.” The desperation in Izuku’s voice—so pathetic, so devoid of dignity—sends a flood of heat through Katsuki. His cock aches against the seam of his shorts, rubbing harshly into their nest with each heave of Izuku’s hips.

Katsuki sighs, reaching for his waistband.

Breakfast is quiet. Izuku’s outside with that damn alpha. Todoroki’s keeping watch with him. The house is cold. Of course it’s cold; winter is coming and they have four jackets between them all. Two of those are from Katsuki and Izuku.

Dead weight, Katsuki thinks. Doesn’t hate himself for this, not like Izuku would if he had the same thought. It’s a well-worn thought at this point, anyways.

They’d been happy, alone. As close to happy as Katsuki’s ever seen Izuku, anyways. Learning to fell trees, patching each others’ wounds, splitting their hands building a fence for the property, falling into their nest together at the end of the day. The sting of insects and the stench of sheep. Izuku’s skin under his mouth, warm and twitching with each breathless laugh.

In some ways, a pack is sensible. Katsuki recognizes that. Everybody does what they can to pull their weight. Able bodies and minds, strong hands and honed instincts from their brief careers. Tokoyami’s nighttime vigils have saved their asses from wolves twice. Todoroki’s quirk is beyond useful when it comes to the harsh temperatures. Everybody—even that absolute idiot, Kaminari—has proven their utility.

It’s the alpha, really. That shit brings out all of Katsuki’s irritation tenfold. Nobody in this pack has questioned his relationship to Izuku, nobody has challenged anything he or Izuku has said, really. Well. Besides Jirou. But she stands down when it comes to it. So it’s just minor irritations—people eating more food, people needing more medicine, people stealing Izuku’s attention.

Katsuki stabs his chopsticks through his portion of lamb. Kaminari gives him a look at the sound, curious and wary. He really is a dunce face. Title should have stuck.

No. No, people have names. All they have is people. End of the world and all that. Izuku said as much. And he was right, like all the other miserable shit the fucker’s right about. Izuku seems to only ever be capable of being right about awful things.

“You good, dude?” Kaminari asks.

“Whatever,” Katsuki says. Resents he has to say even that much. How he’s doing is none of anyone’s fucking business. He can handle himself. The idiot who needs a check-in is Izuku, but what’s new there? Story of their lives.

“You, uh, talked to Midoriya-kun, right?”

Katsuki picks up the meat speared on his chopsticks and tears it off with his teeth.

Kaminari leans closer. “About the, y’know, pre-heat situation.”

“Fucker’s aware.”

“Okay,” Kaminari says, but he holds the word in his mouth like it’s a delicate thing.

“You got something you wanna say?”

“Uh. A million things, haha.” Kaminari’s gaze sweeps across the table. He leans even closer. His scent is irritating to Katsuki’s nose at this point in his cycle. Not offensive, just not Izuku. And that rankles him. Kaminari has always smelled faintly medicinal to him or something. A note of it interlaced with his body odor. Nothing like Izuku. No one else smells like Izuku.

Katsuki shifts slightly away from him, shoveling rice into his mouth.

“Y’know, we’re all omegas,” Kaminari says.

No shit.

“So that, uh. That alpha…”

Katsuki slams his palm onto the table. Everyone freezes. Ashido’s head whips up, eyes wide. Jirou and Tokoyami don’t move, eyes on their bowls.

“That alpha,” Katsuki says, “is a bad fucking decision. You don’t gotta tell me. That’s all Izuku.”

“…Right,” Kaminari says weakly.

“Any of you got any better ideas for that alpha? Hah?”

No one says anything.

“Just. It’ll… When heat happens, what’re we doing with him?” Kaminari manages.

“Tying him up in there,” Katsuki says. “Unless any of you’d rather we throw him out into the woods for that bear to finish him off.”

Silence.

The selfish part of him is disappointed by that. He’d hoped one of them would have at least said the quiet, obvious thing. That tossing the fucker outside is exactly what they should do. That it’s smart. That it’s right.

But no. Izuku might be the biggest bleeding heart around, but he’s hardly alone in his stupid sentiments.

The door to the house opens. Boots thump against the floor as Todoroki and Izuku shuck them. Katsuki’s shoulders tighten.

“You should talk to him,” Jirou says.

“About what,” he bites out.

She just gives him a look. As if it’s his job to appeal to Izuku on everything, as if they can’t talk for their fucking selves.

“Tell him yourself. I ain’t your representative.” His eyes dart toward the living area. He hears Todoroki’s voice lowly saying some random shit. “Besides, I’m the prime omega here, not him.”

Ashido opens her mouth. Izuku and Todoroki come into the kitchen, cutting off whatever dumb shit she was going to add.

“Smells good!” Izuku chirps. He leans down, scenting the top of Katsuki’s head. He presses harder than usual. Probably a mix of pre-heat jitters and that stupid fucking alpha messing with him. He smells fresh, at least. Must have cleaned up before coming back.

Todoroki reeks of alpha, though. Gross. There’ll need to be a rule about smells if that alpha fuck stays around.

If.

Izuku purrs, settling beside Katsuki at the table. When he opens his mouth, Katsuki presses rice onto his waiting tongue without a thought.

“Okay, jeez, get a room.” Kaminari grimaces, waving at the air.

Katsuki flips him off.

“The alpha has a fever,” Todoroki says, sitting beside Tokoyami. “How many antibiotics do we have left?”

“Should be enough to get him through,” Izuku says. He his entire weight onto Katsuki’s side. “Also, he has a name, Todoroki-kun. It’s—”

Katsuki tunes him out, rolling his eyes.

Slowly, their scents start to mingle again. Izuku and Katsuki, exactly how it should be. Kaminari signals to him again that it’s too much. He doesn’t give a shit. They’re the interlopers, all of them. They can deal.

Katsuki’s living out his happy ending. They can be part of it if they want, but they’re not taking it from him.

“I know you moved the antibiotics out of our supplies.”

Katsuki stiffens. His hands are sweaty in the grip of work gloves, firewood held in one as his vision wavers on the firewood stack against the side of the house.

“I…” Ashido hesitates, eyes darting to the side. “I just want to make sure we know where they are. Um. In case something happens.”

Katsuki swallows, forces his body to stand casually. “Quite the accusation you just leveled, you know that?”

“I’m not going to tell anyone.”

He frowns.

“I’m not,” she stresses. “I… I get it. We only have so much and… I won’t tell them. I feel awful about it, but I won’t. But if something happens to one of us, we need to know where they are.”

“What’s your opinion on that alpha?”

She folds her arms across her chest, shoulders curling inward. “I helped Midoriya yesterday,” she says. “That alpha’s in a pretty bad way. I… I don’t think he’ll make it even if we try everything, honestly.”

Katsuki grunts. Not shocking.

“But Midoriya… We both know him. I don’t think he’s ever given up on anybody.”

No. No, he hasn’t. Katsuki stacks the wood in his hand and bends for another log. That’s always been Deku’s greatest sin. And look where it’s gotten him—blood on his hands and in bed with his bully.

“Bakugou.”

“I ain’t telling you,” he says, standing. “Not today. I’ll tell you in three days.”

Dead leaves crunch under Ashido’s shoes. “Three days,” she echoes. “Why three?”

Katsuki shrugs, turning the wood in his hand. The glove is thick, makes his palms sweat horribly. Izuku packed them. Izuku insists he use them to protect himself. Gets pissed if he finds Katsuki with splinters. Izuku stacks shit with bare hands, though. A hypocrite, through and through. A bleeding heart to the end. “‘Cause he should be dead by then.”

The cold aches. Izuku’s teeth don’t. His body is a little furnace against Katsuki’s back, fangs scraping along the knobs of his spine over and over.

Katsuki stares at the doorway while Izuku pants loudly from his open mouth. “I’ll go check on that loser with you tomorrow.”

The motion stutters, then stops. “You sure? Kaminari-kun offered.”

Idiot opted out just days earlier. “Tch. That guy’s useless.”

“I’ll just be checking on him,” Izuku says. He shifts, fingers curling along Katsuki’s waist. “His fever’s not getting better. I think he has an infection.”

Obviously. “Heat’s coming up,” Katsuki says.

“Mm. Yeah.”

“You won’t be able to see him when that happens.”

“It’s just for a few minutes to feed him. I should really start giving him meds, too.”

“During heat? Are you stupid?”

“I can defend myself, Kacchan,” he says coldly, “same as you.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “I know you can. It’s still stupid.”

Izuku’s nose bumps against his nape.

“Izuku, if anything happens—”

“I’ll handle it. I told you.”

That’s the real horror, isn’t it? Izuku taking on more than he should and reaping the consequences.

“You don’t gotta do this stuff alone,” Katsuki says. Hates the rasp of his voice, hates the tremor it masks more. “Thought we all taught you that a thousand times over.”

“You did,” Izuku says into his spine. “But I chose this. And I won’t let my choices hurt you.”

Too late, Katsuki wants to say. Bitterness swells in his chest. He has no right to act on it. Not when he’s had a hand in all of this. Instead, he exhales. Feels the demon exit. It will return. “If he dies, I don’t want you to like it’s your fault. He’s in bad shape.”

Izuku doesn’t say anything. He curls closer to Katsuki, pressing his temple into his nape.

Neither of them gets much sleep that night.

The alpha stares at them dumbly, mouth agape. The wound of his face is festering, skin swollen and shiny, closing up one eye. Yellow puss glistens from the gash. He looks like absolute shit and smells worse.

Decay. It’s all Katsuki can sense in this space. Rot.

Izuku is quick with all of his checks. The prognosis looks shitty. Izuku gives no indication of this, of course. He might not be a doctor, but he’s got bedside manner out the ass. He would have been good at it in another world. Izuku could have been a lot of things.

“Here’s breakfast,” Izuku murmurs.

The alpha’s head lolls.

“Please? I know you haven’t been feeling well, but you need to regain your strength.”

“Even the smell is making me sick,” the alpha croaks. “I can’t.”

Izuku stands. He readjusts the mask over his face. “Alright. I’ll set this outside, then, and try to clean you up some.”

When he slips out of the shed, he bumps Katsuki’s shoulder. An unsaid command. Not that Katsuki plans to follow any command from Izuku, but it aligns with his own sense. Don’t move. Yeah. No shit.

The alpha’s nostrils flare with each inhale even though his mouth is agape. He looks incredibly stupid. And dying. Fuck, maybe it would be for the best to put him out of his misery at this rate. There’s no way they’ve remotely got the ability to save this guy.

“You’re in heat,” the alpha says.

“Shut up.” It leaves Katsuki’s mouth reflexively, before he even processes the alpha’s words. When he does, tension races up his spine. Shit. Shit.

The binding around the alpha’s wrists digs into his skin, blisters squelching as his arms tense. Blood and clear lymph run down his purple hands. “You are.” His voice hitches. “You’re both in heat, holy shit.”

“We’re not in heat, you stupid fuck,” Katsuki snaps. Not yet. A few more days. “Calm down. We’re saving your life, aren’t we? Show some damn respect.”

“Are you all omegas or what? Fuck’re you gonna do in heat? You’re all gonna die.”

His lips pull back from his teeth. “You alphas are dumb as shit, damn. We’re fine. Don’t need any of your worthless kind.”

“You’re in heat,” the alpha says again. He repeats it. Again. Again.

“Infection’s gone to your head,” Katsuki says. Which is a certainty. Fucker’s out of it. He’s getting sick of this. Izuku is taking way too damn long setting that shit aside. He must have gone to the house to give it to someone.

“Freckled one is cute,” the alpha says. “Ignoring the ugly ass scar on his face. Shame about the smell. He’s not sweet at all. Doesn’t matter really, though.”

Disgust roils in Katsuki’s stomach. He shifts away from the door. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You, though.” The alpha dumbly licks around his open mouth. His teeth are thick, coated in scum and blood. “You smell real good.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow.

“Real good,” the alpha says. He wrestles onto his knees. His wrists squelch rhythmically, white knuckles peeking out of the swollen, bruised meat of his hands. “Knew it was you I smelled, that night. Tried to get closer, but these woods… Dangerous shit out there.”

His nape itches with sweat, despite the cold.

The alpha’s eyes are wide and wet, pupils blown. “Mean face, you got, but damn. That smell. I could take you and the cute-ugly one.”

“You’re disgusting.” Alphas really are the same. Or most. Fuck, whatever, it’s all in this new world. The good ones are faraway or gone entirely. Truth is, Katsuki never even liked the good ones. And Izuku might claim the contrary, but it’s the same for him. Disgusting, slobbering dog-cocked beasts. Best case scenario, they don’t want to hurt you. Worst case scenario… “Only reason you’re alive is because Izuku took pity on you. If it were my decision, I woulda stomped your skull when you were lying out there—”

The rope snaps.

His world slows. Katsuki notes the alpha struggling to his feet, the swelling scent of alpha interest, the long line of fangs. One moment the rotting thing is far and the next, it’s close. Its breath washes over his face, damp and rancid. Katsuki’s palms heat. Everything is reflex. He lifts a popping palm, but it’s all underwater. Slow. Slower than slow; the world is reduced to screenshots. Frame by frame. The teeth are large, the tongue white with bacteria. The mouth reeks of death and rape.

A hand roughly shoves him into the doorway.

Everything snaps back into time. Katsuki’s skull knocks against the wood, his vision jittering as his hearing realigns.

Izuku’s snarl is loud and rattling. It muffles quickly when his bared teeth crack into the alpha’s arm, wrenching that thing’s whole body to the side with the sharp twist of his head. Blood spurts as he pulls back, hitting Izuku’s face and throat and the alpha’s ratty shirt.

“Shit!” the alpha screams. Some other expletives too. Probably. Katsuki is lost watching Izuku, the heaving of his chest, the glistening of his fangs, the black pits of his eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch him,” Izuku says lowly.

The room stinks with the curdled scents of aggressive omega and alpha. Katsuki chokes on his next inhale, eyes watering. Blood gushes from the alpha’s injured arm, a sticky deluge.

Katsuki knows the press of Izuku’s teeth intimately, has felt them slice through his nape and snag when he’s tried to pull his mouth back. Those hooks on the backs of their teeth, offering defense in the absence of venom. It’s always bloody during heats, plunging their fangs into each other and ripping them back out. The nape is sensitive, but it’s also sturdy in an omega. A patch of loose skin rests over the spine. It’s built to take it.

The alpha’s skin is thin. It reeks of rot. His lips pull back to reveal large fangs, caging in his snarl. It’s lower than Izuku’s, louder. Izuku rolls his shoulders, puffs up as much as a human can. His teeth are sharp, lips pulled fully back to reveal the all the dangerous parts of his skull.

The alpha lunges. Izuku doesn’t move.

Blood fills Katsuki’s nose, suffocates him. He gags, staggering against the wall. His vision fizzles, dissolves and reforms on the dark mass of Izuku’s ratty hair, the bright spot of his red mouth.

The alpha is down, curled between Izuku’s feet.

“He’s mine,” Izuku hisses, brandishing his bloody fangs. He looks crazed. Animal. Half of the size of that alpha and yet he looms over him.

The alpha groans on the ground, clutching his throat. Blood bubbles past his hands, staining his skin and the dirt. The sour stench presses itself between Katsuki’s teeth, soaks his tongue. A terrified, dying alpha, and the enraged omega posturing with a mess of blood and drool dripping from his chin.

Slick trickles past Katsuki’s inner thigh. Humiliating? Yeah. Sure. Involuntary, though. It’s that time of the cycle or whatever. Stress. Izuku’s teeth. Izuku fatally biting an alpha. Lots of factors involved in this.

Izuku can smell it, of course. Obviously. He’s panting, mouth hanging open. His own scent spikes in response, violent and interested. A weird tangle in Katsuki’s olfactory. Just makes him leak more, which is awkward as fuck. His pulse hiccups in his hips, hot and wet. Which is now making Izuku slick in response. Shit, this is chaos. The alpha on the ground just continues to gurgle and bleed. He’s hard. Katsuki feels his lips curl. Dumbass creature.

Izuku licks his fangs and spits the blood out with a grimace. He looks at Katsuki with large, dark pupils. He shakes his head, blinking hard. His eyes fall on the alpha. “I gotta handle that,” he rasps.

He smells so fucking good. Katsuki swallows thickly. Again. He’s in full heat now, all because Izuku tore out a guy’s throat. Stupid fucking bodies. Katsuki swallows. Swallows and swallows. A ragged purr pulls from his throat.

Izuku purrs back, a fucked up little chorus punctuated by the alpha’s gasps. “My ax.”

“What?” Katsuki manages.

“I need my ax. To handle it.”

“What?” Katsuki repeats. His head swims.

“Clean cut. Gotta. Make it quick. ’S a. A mercy. I. I gotta make it quick. C’mon.”

“N-no.” Izuku smells good. This place smells like shit. Katsuki drags in air and fails to breathe. Izuku smells good and Izuku just hurt that alpha really fucking bad. So bad. And now Izuku’s going to… “I can do it.”

“You’re in heat, Kacchan. No.”

“Just get me some air and I’ll be fine,” he snaps, pulse thudding against the underside of his skin.

“There’s no time,” Izuku says. His voice is rough and soft, rattling with the drag of his purr. “Let’s get my. My ax. He’s not going anywhere.”

As he passes, Katsuki gets a thick whiff of his scent. The musk of his pre and his slick and the excited, horrified adrenaline forcing his body forward. It’s sickening. It’s elating. He needs Izuku inside of him this second.

Fucking bodies.

His eyes dart to the gurgling alpha—blood and blood and all the fluids of the body, splattering onto the dirt—before he follows Izuku out of the shed.

Clarity trickles in with each inhalation of clean air. A limited clarity, but clarity nonetheless. Izuku just ripped his teeth into that alpha’s jugular. Death is certain. Katsuki doesn’t feel bad about it one bit.

The pack is gathered on the lawn, staring at them.

Shit.

“What’re you all staring at?” Katsuki snaps, irritated. One of the troubles of having a pack when they could just be a pair.

“My ax,” Izuku says and shuffles off.

“What’s going on?” Jirou, of course. Always picking at every decision Izuku or Katsuki ever makes. Though this wasn’t a decision. It was all motion. All sound and smell. Stimulus and response. Reflex.

Katsuki shrugs. Drags in more clean air. Slick trickles down his thigh. Irritating fucking body. “Situation. Alpha’s got to go.”

“Got to go?” Ashido echoes. “What do you mean?”

Izuku returns, walking with long strides. “I said I’d handle it,” he says, lifting his ax onto his shoulder. “So I’ll handle it.”

“Handle what?” Todoroki asks.

Kaminari’s eyes dart between them all. “You, uh, sure you don’t need back-up?”

“No,” Izuku says. He walks back toward the shed. “I’ll handle it.”

As the door swings shut, all eyes turn to Katsuki.

“He’s handling it,” Katsuki says. Isn’t sure what more there is to say.

“Okay, but what happened?” Kaminari asks.

“Are you okay?” Ashido asks, eyes wide.

Jirou frowns at him.

Katsuki just gestures at the swelling on his face. He’s too tired for this shit.

“So Midoriya’s going to talk to the alpha with an ax?” Todoroki says.

Dark Shadow curls around Tokoyami’s hip, eyes narrowed. “More than talk,” it says.

“I really think he needs somebody with him if he’s gonna, uh.”

“He’s got it,” Katsuki tells Kaminari. “He said he’ll handle it. Alpha Fuck’s not moving anytime soon anyways.”

“He wounded him?” Tokoyami asks.

“Fatally.”

“Oh,” Todoroki says. He looks around. “Midoriya was covered in blood. Why?”

“Because he tore out the fucker’s throat.”

“And you’re in heat?”

Ashido nudges Todoroki. He gives her a confused look.

Katsuki licks the backs of his fangs. He can still taste that room. “Izuku triggered it.”

A loud thud.

He closes his eyes. Takes a breath. Clean air. Clears his head a good deal. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

They trail after him as he makes his way to the porch, awkwardly filing into the house as Katsuki leans against the railing, watching them. Izuku still hasn’t left the shed.

Another thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Jirou closes the door on the rest of the procession, turning to Katsuki. “He’s going to be so fucked up from this.”

Katsuki grunts. What is there to say, really? Yes. Obviously. Izuku is the most gentle person Katsuki has ever known and he has a body count larger than any of them. It will keep climbing.

They wait in silence. Katsuki isn’t sure how long. It feels like no time and yet it also feels like forever. Time has no logic, similar to many stints holding vigil in waiting rooms over the years.

The wind ruffles his hair, clean and cold. Not a comfort, but something else. Here. Real. A promise of things to come. Jirou fiddles with her pack of cigarettes. Last pack she’s got, maybe the last pack she’ll ever get.

Katsuki breathes. Breathes in air the taste of winter and exhales it hot. He waits, same way as he’s always waited for the bad things. Slowly and helplessly and silently now that he is a man. The waiting is, he knows, as important and any other part. It is finite and yet it is also never ending.

The shed door opens eventually, though, despite it. Sheep lift their heads. None look bothered. Izuku slips out of the tiny hut. His sleeves are rolled up, clumps of hair clinging to his sweat-glistening forehead. His hands are empty, curled loosely at his sides.

Katsuki shifts. Every instinct in him screams at him to run to Izuku, to check him over properly, to clean him and wrap his wounds and to kiss him stupid and to roll over and present for sex.

Logic wins out. Thank fuck.

No. Katsuki stands beside Jirou and he waits for Izuku to come to him. Because he will. He is. Always.

Izuku has a slight limp. He doesn’t reek of pain, though. His eyes are empty. He climbs the steps to the porch and stands beside them by the railing, unspeaking.

What is there to say, really?

The wind brushes their faces. Katsuki notes the steady pose of Izuku’s body, the flecks of blood staining the edges of his clothes. A musty sweater they’d pulled from the safehouse. It’d been too big for him, an ugly shade that clashes with his hair, but he instantly became attached. Because of course he did. He’s Izuku.

Katsuki knows Izuku.

The wind is cold. Growing colder.

Jirou steps away from the railing, flipping open her pack of cigarettes. Katsuki continues to commit Izuku to memory. Over and over. Years of this. The both of them always do this. They’ve stopped protesting it. No point. No point in a lot of things, anymore.

Jirou holds out a cigarette. Izuku takes it. She offers her lighter next, clicking until the tiny flame dances. He lights the cigarette. Brings it to his lips. Takes a drag. Then he turns and heads down the lawn.

Katsuki watches his back grow smaller.

“You think he’s gonna do anything risky?” Jirou murmurs.

“Nah.” Izuku cares about nothing more than the survival of their little group, than the survival of Katsuki, and he recognizes how crucial his own wellbeing is tied to that fate. Or he doesn’t want to be a burden, at the very least.

He’ll pull through. He always does.

Izuku slings his body onto the pen of the sheep enclosure and sits, one leg dangling just above the ground. Smoke drifts from his turned head.

“Just give him time,” Katsuki says. “And space. He’ll need that.”

“From everybody?”

No. Of course not. “From you guys.”

Jirou grunts in acknowledgement.

Katsuki is what Izuku needs right now. He is what he’s always needed. Air and food and him. The world is hell, but it’s also finally aligned.

All they have is each other. In exchange, they lost everything else. It was a fair price.

Katsuki steps off the porch, making his way across the dead grass to join Izuku.